You down your third shot of the evening as you wait for your girlfriend, Indiana, to return from the bathroom. You look away for one second, and suddenly there’s a suspiciously old, drunk man who can barely sit up straight sitting across from you, eyeing you up and down.

“Hey doll. What’s a sexy little thing like you doing here all sad and lonely?” He gets handsy very quickly, invading your personal space. Just as you’re about to tell him to fuck off when you feel two arms wrap around your waist.

“Sorry.” You hear Indie’s voice, “This one’s mine.” She says to the creepy man, who immediately glares.

“Girls being with girls is unnatural.” The man slurs. So he can support himself hitting on girls young enough to be his daughter, but not a little lesbian-ness? Pathetic.

Indiana takes your hand and drags you through the bar, away from the creep as he goes on some religious rant about lesbians going to hell.