Herd Behavior, Part 2

(I’m a 25-year-old Brony. I use a Brony lanyard with several Pony buttons on it to wear my name tag, and a wallet that has a short leather Rainbow Dash tail sticking out of my back pocket. I also have looks that some consider girly, and am often confused for a girl. I am serving a male customer who appears to be around my age.)

Customer: “Hi… I’m here to pick up my Dad’s prescriptions.”

Me: “Certainly, I just need the name and date of birth.”

Customer: “So, when do you get off?”

Me: “Uh… why?”

Customer: “Well, I was wondering if you might want to go out for drinks a little later.”

Me: “Whoa, buddy, stop right there. I’m probably not your type, anyway, since I’m a guy.”

Customer: “Oh, yeah, I can tell. I like your wallet by the way.”

Me: “Thanks. I’m a Brony, but, uh… I don’t really swing that way, man. I have a girlfriend; she actually gave me the bracelet as a gift.”

(I take out my wallet, and show him the picture of us in the front.)

Customer: “Oh! That’s a cute picture. That’s too bad.”

Me: “No big deal, though. I’m actually kind of flattered; you’re the first guy to hit on me thinking I’m a guy. Usually it’s some pervert that thinks I’m a girl. It’s usually one of those ‘anything that moves and has boobs’ types.”

Customer: “Hah! No way! Have a good one. Gimme a brohoof, and tell your girlfriend she’s lucky.”

(We brohoof, and he leaves. Thank Celestia for people who can take ‘no’ for an answer!)