I'm sorry.
Really I am.
You were in so the wrong place at such the wrong time.
When I walked out of Qbar with the terribly handsome gentleman I was still ever so slightly (understate much?) pissed about the advents of Wednesday night,
Hence, when I heard the shout of "Oi homÃ' (Oy Fag!) coming from your general direction, I didn't stop to ascertain that it was in fact you who shouted that stupid comment.
Instead, very shave-headed and leather-jacketed, I proceeded to get up in your grill, shouldering you backwards up Laugarvegur while berating you for your supposed vocal homophobia.
It was only later that I realized that; 1, it wasn't you who shouted the statement in question, and 2, you in fact were trying to tell me about your gay cousin and his husband and how you thought that was perfectly OK.
In the immortal words of the only good Meg Ryan movie (French Kiss for those of you wondering): "What can I say, I'm an asshole?"
Mea culpa.
Mea culpa maxima.
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