OMG I Went to a Gay Bar

Not to do the whole chatty Kathy thing but I went to one and Oh My God.

Met with a friend for drinks when we were joined by a third friend, a gay friend, who as according to his reputation, wanted to go to a gay bar to score some gay pussy. The gay friend, whom I don't know very well, asked me "So do you have any women in your life?"

This question has plagued me since I moved to Tacoma and I'd hoped it would stop in New York City but even though I have not shut down libido-wise, sometimes the cards don't stack right and I've always had to be somewhat ashamed when I reply "No."

I said "Not really."

He said "That's too bad. You really are very attractive. If I had any hot girl friends I'd be sure to hook you up with them."

We talked for a little bit about this and before long some questions arose about the size of my penis (I said jokingly that it was tiny, which is normally a funny response but in this case was taken seriously; my friend said "I've never been able to get with a guy with a very small penis") and my straight friend mentioned my weight, which I'd previously said was around two hundred pounds. I took it down to one-ninety in this conversation but the result was still the same.

"All muscle," he said. "Feel his arms."

My gay friend did not feel my arms. I pressed him about the penis thing and he said "It's all immaterial anyway, since I'm not in your domain." I had missed a beat in trying to rib him about his penis preferences anyway, which to me made me sound closeted (which, if I am, I'm so deep I don't know it and it will be a long before I find a nice pair of shoes or searsucker slacks). I wondered if anyone else thought similarly. At any rate, I decided to chicken out of the macho one-upmanship and just said "Yeah [you are not in my domain]."

Along we went, stopped at a bar that just had a neon sign of a cock (like the male chicken, get it?) but there was a three-dollar cover and no one inside, so we went next door to a bar with a one-syllable name that wasn't "Hump" but I like to imagine it was.

Inside there was a drag-queen calling out bingo numbers and on a couch in the corner three dudes were pawing up on each other. No one appeared very drunk. My gay friend, surprisingly, averred that "Drag queens are the worst people on earth." My straight friend didn't have a problem with her, though; he thought she was funny.

We played a round of bingo but no one was hitting on any of the three of us so before long our drinks were done and so were we.

Before we left, though, we decided to go to the bathroom. On the door was a sign that read "Only One Person in the Bathroom at a Time" (gay bars use MLA-style capitalization). I went into one, where there was a trough, and, you know, when all of a sudden a lanky dude with a mohawk exploded into the place, leapt over to the sink, and he must've already had his pants unzipped because he began very promptly to precipitate all up in that sink.

I've never had a bashful bladder before, but of a sudden I couldn't even buy a trickle for the trough.

It got even worse when another guy, this one with a faux-hawk and checked shirt, busted in and started using the trough with me. I got started for a minute then stopped, then the sink-soiler left and I started to groove.

When I got out of the bathroom my gay friend said to my straight friend "Nice job watching the door." Apparently he got busted in on as well. Sheepish grins all around.

We left the Hump and my gay friend decided he'd try his luck at the Cock. My straight friend and I (the normal people) chose rather to take the train home.

I admire the persistence and sexual frankness exhibited by some young gay men, not to mention their reckless talent for laying tons of people. I normally consider myself pretty sex-libbed, but recent toe-to-toes with serious sluts have prompted some reconsideration on that front. Oh well, as a good friend of mine used to say, "Tons of unprotected sex, no bugs and no kids. This guy did all-right!"

Jenga.