Nasty Nana

While innocently enjoying our baked goods at Donna Bell’s Bake Shop prior to the evening performance of the new Broadway revival of Godspell, Juan and I got groped by grandma.  Nothing like being sexually violated by a senior citizen to get you in the mood for show tunes.

I’d been in Jersey all weekend because my parents were up from Virginia visiting Juan and Val.  Due to the freak Nor’easter snowstorm (seriously - an earthquake, hurricane and freak blizzard in the span of three months!?),we spent most of the weekend trapped in the house watching movies and eating.  So by Sunday, we were stir crazy and needed to get out of the house.

We coasted into the city with virtually no traffic and easily found a parking space - thank you, Sunday night shows - and had a tasty Thai dinner.  Craving something sweet before show time, we headed to Donna Bell’s.

Donna Bell’s is cozy and kitschy, and with the Xanadu soundtrack playing in the background, we were soon grooving and enjoying some sweet treats.  The store doesn’t really have seating, just two padded alcoves on either side of the entrance door that hold at most, two people.  Val decided that she and Trish needed sisterly bonding time, so Juan and I sat across from them at the other alcove.

An older, well-dressed woman approached Juan and I, asking if we were enjoying our pastries.  Seems innocent enough, right?  We exchanged casual pleasantries and told her how great everything tasted.  Moving in closer, she asked with a mischievous smile, “Are you brothers or lovers?”  Okay, a little weird for a stranger, but hell, this is New York, not Kalamazoo.  Trying to be funny I replied, “We’re brothers…” and then lowering my voice to a sultry whisper finished, “…and lovers.”  Then I laughed, telling her I was just joking, explaining that my brother’s married and that I’m gay. 

Well, that little bit of personal info gave her just the opening she needed to get all up in our “bid-nez.”  She moved in closer - nearly straddling my knee - telling us how cute we were and how she wanted to kiss us, especially Juan.  Now, you’d think when an old lady asks, “Can I give you a kiss?” she means a peck on the cheek.  Oh no, granny was not playing around.  After Juan consented to a kiss, she went in for a mouth to mouth.  I kid you not.

Of course, Val and Trish were in hysterics at this point and the bakery staff was uncomfortably whispering to each other behind the counter.  Surely they were discussing how to get granny’s order together as quickly as possible so they could politely rush their sexually frustrated customer out the door.  So we just played along, thinking she’d soon be on her way with a box of lemon bars to satiate her growing “appetite.”

Soon enough, granny was fully pressed against my leg, her hand gripping me mid-thigh and slowly working toward my family jewels.  Awkward.  She then decided a kiss from Juan was not enough and that I’d be the main course following Juan’s appetizer.  Before I knew what was happening, granny lunged and planted one on my lips.  No tongue, thank God.

Granny was very expensively appointed and did not smell of alcohol, so it wasn’t like some stinky bag lady was getting all up in my grill.  Besides, we were in the middle of a public space with witnesses all around.  And she was old.  It’s not like I couldn’t take her down if she decided to go all Blanche Devereaux on me.  She was obviously just an eccentric, lonely - albeit horny - old lady.  So we played along, waiting for the bakery staff to hurry up and complete her order. 

After another uncomfortable five minutes or so of inappropriate flirting, granny asked us to guess her age.  We politely declined.  I was not about to open that bag of worms.  Unfazed, she continued her weird bakeshop pick-up, telling us she owned restaurants in Connecticut and that they didn’t have “boys like us” up there.  Oh Lord, granny’s got yellow fever, too.

Trish could not contain herself any longer and boldly whipped out her iPhone to memorialize the evening for posterity’s sake.  Granny didn’t blink.  “Oh, look, she’s going to take a picture of us,” granny happily exclaimed. 

Finally, after about five more minutes of freaky flirting, granny seemed to give up, said good-bye and walked out of the shop.  Turns out she hadn’t even ordered anything.  She literally walked into the shop with the sole purpose of trying to get herself into a Filipino sandwich.  Nasty!   

You’re probably thinking, “Fausto, why didn’t you politely tell granny to beat it?”  Well, the situation was so unexpected and unbelievable that I was almost shocked into immobility.  It was like watching a surreal episode of Punk’d.  I was simultaneously revolted and yet strangely curious to see just how far grandma would push the envelope.  Sure, if we were at a gay bar and some old troll was hitting on me, I’d have politely cut it off before any kind of lip contact occurred.  But this was a cute little old lady.

I guess I should take it as a compliment.  Or start therapy now to deal with the inevitable psychological scarring.

Oh, the show was fine, too.  When I've recovered, I'll be posting my review.