Party Like a Straight, Party Like a Straight

Damn, that could be a hit- Party like a Rockstar, the remix. Where's Diddy? It's true. I took a walk on the wild side. I actually went out with the Straights a few times in the past two weeks and have had a superior time. I think the gays have lost their luster. The summer season '07 belongs to the Straights. But can the Gays stand up in the Fall? Thanks.

Anyways, Picture it: New York 2007. I am minding my own bizznass at somebody's night lounge. I am with a couple lady friends from work. It's middle of the week, not very crowded, and we are waisted. I was falling over tables, and am even told that I dived across a table, and danced like a crazy person. I remember running into a classmate and dancing with her and her friends. It's all very fuzzy.

My lady friends go to the bathroom and leave me alone. Next thing you know some guy appears, as if from nowhere, and wants to ask me a question. He wants to know if I like boys or girls. I say, I am offended, sir...boys of course. Cool, we are talking and he introduces me to his friend...then we just started making out- me and the friend that is. No idea how it happens. We didn't say anything, and in fact I am pretty sure he didn't speak English. My drunk French ain't right either.

Re-enter friends from bathroom. They are pissed. They think a straight club is for straights. Wrong. They storm out and leave me! Whatever, me and french boy continue to make out. That is until the bouncer says that we can't be doing that in there. Oh yeah? I went from 0 to 60 in 3.5 and started cussing the, really huge man, out. I threaten to sue, write a letter, and hold a press conference, but ultimatley just volunteerd to leave. Mid way through my ridiculousness I knew how ridiculous I was being, but I had to stay committed. I still thought it best to get out of there.

Meanwhile, the French guys, and it turns out there are four, are trying to get me to their hotel room. Now, I have a lot of hotential. A lot, but it's just that- hotential. I am entertaining it for shits and giggles, but some other guy sent his hag over to convince me to "share" a cab with them. I hadn't talked to any of them all night. I am like where did you all come from!? They want to know if I want to share a cab to 127. I heard one hundred and went I'm gonna stop you there. That's too far. Dude was hot though, so I thought it over. I mean, hotentionally. I decide to decline. I turn back around, and take a last look at the French guys and decide to go home. I mean that would make a good story, but it's not a good look. Furthermore, it's probably a story better heard than told...

Mind you all of this happened at a straight club, when I was completely wasted and acting a damn fool, and all in business casual. I hadn't planned on going out that day. I thought I looked crazy. Apparently not. I definitely felt crazy.

What is it with me and the frogs? I mean seriously.