Follow by Email

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Gay Pride for the straight girl

If you have never been to a Pride weekend or seen a Pride parade, do it.  Find out when the next one is in your area and go.  It is the biggest display of love and acceptance you will ever experience.  It is also a buffet of flamboyant outfits, naked men and topless women.  There is good food, great music and wild nightlife.  I have been to San Diego's (which was very calm and well organized) and San Francisco's (which was a wild and crazy cluster-fuck of fun).

My first San Francisco Pride weekend was in 2009.  I went with a gay friend and a bisexual friend.  I represented the straighties.  (We were one lesbian and one tranny short of a tolerance panel.)  Walking around the maze that is San Francisco during Pride is like getting lost in a giant circus tent.  Over there is a group of people partaking in a hula hooping competition.  Over there is a guy painted from head to toe.  Is he hot in all that body paint?  Look, a band!  Let's dance!  Aaaaand there's another naked guy.  Can't not look at his penis.

Throughout the weekend, I kept getting yelled at as we walked down the street.  One time, these teenage kids started following us and one called out, "Look at the ass on that bitch!"  Another time, I was wearing a turquoise dress and this old homeless guy shouted, "Hey turk!  Hey turquoise!"  He may not have had any teeth, but he knew his colors.  (He should put that on his resume.  If he ever decides he needs one.)  Eventually, my friends said to me, "What is going on?!"  I said, "We're in my town, that's what's going on!  I'm hot in Northern California!"

My Northern California hotness got us into a club for free that night.  It was Michael Jackson night (awesome) so my gay and I were dancing our asses off and swallowing drink after countless drink.  We started eyeballing the very attractive bartender and tried to figure out if he was gay or straight.  When I had enough liquid courage (translation: when I was drunk as shit) I walked up to the bartender and said, "My gay wants to know if you're gay or straight."  (Yep, I totally threw him under the bus.  Luckily, he still loves me.)  The bartender said he was straight, so I said, "In that case, my girlfriend wants to know if you're single."  The girlfriend I was referring to was me!  Damn, I was smooth.  You should really be taking notes.

He said he was single and my vagina did a back flip.  I said I'd be sure to tell my friend and then I walked back to my gay and told him the story.  He thanked me very much for throwing him under the bus and as punishment I had to buy him a drink.  I went back to single, straight bartender and ordered another round of drinks.  I made my best attempt to use my sexiest voice and apparently it worked because he said, "If you keep doing that, you're gonna get me in trouble."  So I got all doe eyed and innocent faced and was like, "Doing what?"

He eventually asked me for my number and I was so drunk, I forgot my own phone number.  When I finally remembered it, I was so drunk I couldn't physically write it down.  Like my brain forgot how to tell my hand how to write.  It took me several attempts and several napkins and every ounce of concentration I could muster and I finally managed to write it down somewhat legibly.  He didn't end up calling me...that night.

He called me the next morning!  When I was sober!  (I'm pretty sure random sexcapades are supposed to happen while wasted so as to justify the stupidity.)  My friends decided to walk around and enjoy the festivities for a while so we could use the room.  We decided to meet outside the hotel first.  I thought it would be "safer" to walk around and talk a little before, ya know, banging a stranger.  We got through about a half a block of clumsy small talk when he suggested we go back.  Thank God.

When we were back at the hotel, standing side by side waiting for the elevator, he looked at me out of the corner of his eyes and said, "So.  Awkward and weird."  I was like, "You mean you don't do this all the time?"  Hahaha.  We got to the room and the awkwardness continued.  It felt like maybe one of us was an escort, but we didn't know which of us it was.  We finally got comfortable, so to speak, and he proved to be a pretty good time.  I guess he was the escort.

In the middle of our second go round, my friends called and said they wanted to come back to the room and take naps.  They asked if a half hour was enough time.  I turned to single, straight bartender and said, "Can you wrap this up in 30 minutes?"  He said yes.  I told my friends I'd see them soon, hung up and said, "Let's do this!"  He was young, only 26, so he took direction well.

It ended up working out just fine, but sober, random sexcapades are not the way to go.  Stick to drunk, random sexcapades, the way God intended.  Actually, it's probably safer not to have random sexcapades at all, but let's face it people.  Life happens.  Sometimes ya gotta bang a bartender at Gay Pride.

No comments:

Post a Comment