I was a little freaked the first time.
Overwhelmed the second time.
The guy--so not my type, but cute as all hell, kept eying me, using the mirror over the bar, thinking himself a stealthy creeper--again a turn off.
I had gone in the hopes of meeting up with a total RJ type, I'd hooked up with the week before, it was pretty dead so I finished off my beer; cool to call it a night--new porn and fresh tube of lube in the car, catching him shyly counting the money in his wallet, over hearing the big lez bartender say, "Five bucks" glancing to my empty bottle.
He counted out the change in his pocket and another Corona was set in front of me.
My first real lesson on judging a book by it's cover...I called him "meat locker" at breakfast the next morning--he didn't get the reverence.