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I’m an openly gay civilian sailor in the United States Merchant Marine, and currently assigned to a ship in Texas. Because I’m a raging homo I’m not afraid to talk to women, like, at all. Last time I went out drinking with our ship’s electrician I got him phone numbers of two beautiful women and ended up getting him laid. Word got around the ship that I’m a good wingman. Our ship’s commander asked me to go out drinking with him. I thought I’d be on wingman duty. I ended up having to be a “mean girl” when he told a woman at the bar that he likes swimming in the saltwater because it’s good for his athlete’s foot and jock itch. Like bruh I can help you get a pretty girl’s phone number but not if you start the convo by telling her about fungus on your genitalia. I’m a gay wingman, not a goddamned miracle worker. Yikes.