Outings...

Flying solo has never been easy for me. Going out to parties, bars etc...if I am flying solo it seems to make me more introverted than when I have a wingman or partner in crime. I need balance in all things and it seems in social partners as well. The past few adventures have been aborted due to this malady. If left only on my own for too long I keep to myself and eventually make a hasty bolt for the door without good-byes or fan fair.

I should have known better to go out last night when while riding the V train downtown a homeless man with crutches started shouting at me, “what are you looking at pancake ass,” I continued to stare trying to figure out what exactly “pancake ass” meant to someone seated and facing you. Clearly my ass was away from him and I there is one thing I know about my body, my ass is NOT flat. Occasionally it’s been known to reach out and grab things off low lying shelves. Puzzled I finally averted my eyes as to not warrant further interaction with crazy town’s latest escapee.

By the time I got to the bar I knew the night was going to be in the crapper. Poppi, my main reason for the adventure, was there and we chatted for a bit, but things seemed to be on a downward spiral as the karaoke guy hadn’t showed up and personal news was less than stellar. However, I sallied forth got a margarita and found a perch to see if the night would prove me wrong and produce some merriment. Only, I really didn’t feel like being merry. I sat on Mt. Judgemore looking around for anyone “interesting” to talk to and found only a smattering of people who from ease dropping on conversations spoke a language not in my vernacular. There was no Oscar dishing or fashion opinions on what Michelle Obama had worn, no Britney, no Christina, nothing to be said on the out of control closings on Broadway, clearly I was in a gay bar but out of my element.

Lesbian parties seem like a slow way to die. As someone who prides themselves on being a host of note these functions always seem like someone’s after thought instead of being the focus. At the other end of the spectrum I have never, NOT had fun at a gay bar. There’s a joy that is usually tangible an energy, maybe because there is the underlining promise of sex in the air, but whatever it is the girls are lacking. Or maybe I’m lacking in my inability to participate without backup? Whatever the case it goes on the list of 2009 Change or Die policy reform. It is a brave new world afterall…..