Flirting, Fumbles, and the Fierce Protectors

Life has a funny way of turning ordinary nights into unforgettable stories. This post is a two-for-one special—two very different nights, two very different cities, and one recurring theme: men getting way too intense about “protecting” me.

Story One: The Drink That Almost Started a Brawl

Back in my college days, I was out with my usual crew, enjoying a night of laughter and questionable dance moves. Among the crowd was my friend’s neighbor—a guy I had a massive crush on. So when he offered me a sip of his drink, I didn’t hesitate. I knew him, I trusted him, and let’s be honest—I was trying to flirt.

But to the rest of my group, he was a total stranger. Cue the panic. My friends, bless their protective hearts, freaked out thinking I had just accepted a drink from a random guy. And honestly? I get it. People don’t always have the best intentions, and they were just looking out for me.

Once I explained the situation, everyone calmed down, and the night rolled on. Or so I thought.

Apparently, someone forgot to loop in my friend’s boyfriend—a 250-pound linebacker for the university football team. When I stepped outside for some air, I found him pinning my crush against a brick wall, ready to throw down. It took some fast talking to explain that the drink was consensual and the guy wasn’t a threat. Thankfully, no punches were thrown, but it was a close call.

Story Two: The Dance Floor Debacle in La Crosse

Fast forward a few years. I was visiting my mom in La Crosse and decided to hit up a local gay bar with a group of friends—two of us in wheelchairs, just out to dance and have a good time.

A guy approached me and asked me to dance. I said yes, and he said, “No, I want you to get out of your chair and dance.” I figured, why not? I’d give it my best shot. What he didn’t seem to realize was that I couldn’t exactly move like an able-bodied person. So there I was, carefully walking around the dance floor, trying not to faceplant while he tried to lead.

After about 20 minutes, I was exhausted and asked to go back to my chair. He helped me back and returned to his group. But later, he came back—this time insisting I get up on stage with him. My friend and I looked at the stage: no ramp, four feet high. Not happening.

I explained that I physically couldn’t get up there safely. That’s when he lost it—yelling at my group, accusing them of holding me back. His friends eventually pulled him away, but the night wasn’t over.

Later, he confronted my friend (also in a wheelchair) outside the bathroom. Things got heated—fast. We had to drag my friend out of the bar before it turned into a full-blown fight.

The Common Thread

Here’s what I don’t get: whether a guy is straight or gay, there seems to be this instinct to protect me—sometimes to the point of aggression. And while I appreciate the sentiment (sort of), it’s frustrating that the same energy doesn’t seem to exist when it comes to finding a partner who treats me with respect, kindness, and equality.

I’m not looking for a knight in shining armor. I’m looking for someone who sees me, listens to me, and doesn’t assume I need saving.

Anyway, I hope you got a few laughs out of these stories. Life’s never boring, that’s for sure.