Sunday, March 6, 2011

Do You Believe In Life After Love? (OR: YOU! I Wanna Take You To A Gay Bar!)

It's been a weird week.  I guess it all began last Saturday.

There was a conversation that needed to happen but left me in a state of sadness.  So I was busy being melancholy in my cave when there was a knock on the door.  It was The Fonz.  He was wearing a satiny black tiger-striped blouse and toting a bottle of vodka.  Purple Hair and The Fallen Nun were with him, laughing and wearing equally ridiculous outfits.  Purple Hair had on a sparkly gold cape and The Fallen Nun had a brightly-colored Western motif going on. 

"Yo baby gurrrl, you goin dancin with us?"  asks The Fonz.  Earlier, a bunch of us had talked about going out to a club down in the Industrial District.  I wasn't really in the mood anymore, but I couldn't say "no" to Fonzie and his epic guido attire.  I went straight to my closet to put an outfit together. 

I should probably mention that this was a club I hadn't been to before.  It was not my usual 80's night or Bollywood-themed discotheque.  It wasn't a seedy dubstep dive or a Top 40 bump-and-grind fest. 

This was a gay club. 

When I go dancing, it's usually just about dancing for me.  Therefore, it doesn't really matter to me if it's a gay club or not.  Plus, it's no secret that the homosexual community has better dance music.  Anyway, my friends weren't going to let me just wear my standard black dress this time around.  Purple Hair went to go dig through her closet and came back with a sparkly red cape.  I skeptically put it on with a black skirt, my power boots, and a big chunky silver cuff bracelet I hadn't really worn since high school.  My friends cheered.  I was Little Red Riding Hood meets Wonder Woman, and I was on my way to a club called Blow Pony.

Play this song for dramatic effect: 

We borrowed Mr. Syracuse's SUV and headed towards downtown.  The club itself was a little bit hard to find.  When we finally arrived, there was a line stretched all the way down the block.  To our disappointment, the line was full of gay suburban hipsters.  We were the most flamboyant people there.  I felt a little stupid, as I should have.  Feel free to laugh at me, queer readers. 

In my defense, things were a lot more flamboyant inside the club.  I did not feel completely out of place in the sparkly red cape.  But I did feel like alcohol was necessary if I really was going to wear that all evening.  The Fonz had similar feelings about his guido shirt (which, by the way, belonged to Purple Hair).  We went and got some PBR while the DJ spun Lady Gaga remixes and some guy in a speedo danced the stage. 

The club was really crowded and the four of us had a hard time keeping track of each other.  It wasn't long until we lost The Fonz.  I figured he just went to the bathroom or something and kept dancing.  The music was great and I was having I blast. 

A Cher song came on and everyone in the whole place knew all of the words.  Generally, I hate Cher, but at that moment the only thing I could do was turn to The Fallen Nun and belt out the following words:

"Do youuuu beliiiiiiieve in liiiife after love?"

That's more than slightly embarrassing.  But it was a "when in Rome..." situation.

Anyway, The Fonz remained missing for most of the night.  We found him when we were about to leave.  He was drunk and making new friends.  When we left the club, it wasn't long until he was peeing on the sidewalk.  "Lauren, we need to have an awkward moment tonight.  I'm going to pee in front of the car!" he announced. 

Then we all went home and made tacos.  It was a successful evening.  Honestly, I think I had more fun at that club than I normally do at straight clubs.  I think it's because of the music. 

Seriously.  There must be a miniature gay man trapped inside my brain and managing my musical preferences.  If you take a look at my iPod, you'll quickly discover that the Lady Gaga/80s synthpop/eurodance to rock music ratio is disturbingly unbalanced. 

But I digress.  The day after the gay club adventure brought it's own surprises (Urgent Care, anyone?) but I'll save that for another post.  I'm trying to get better at splitting things up into digestable episodes instead of just dumping a million paragraphs of dribble upon you guys. 

So that's all for now.  There will be more to come. 


  1. Gay club experiences have always been weird for me but I'll have to admit that the music is way better than the normal clubs! I actually stopped going to Gay clubs after by ex boyfriend was hit upon by a series of men and I had to play bodyguard. Glad that you had fun, and waiting for the surprise! :)

  2. Gay bars are the best!!! I love drag shows! The Electric Six are also pretty rockin. *hugs


  3. This awkward moment has been brought to you by The Fonz.

    I look forward to the next installment.

  4. Oh Lauren, you always have the best stories. No night at a gay bar would be complete without at least one awkward moment. Looking forward to the Urgent Care story. I can only assume that you didn't die since you did write this post...unless you're a ghostwriter.

  5. Unfortunately for me, my only gay bar/club experiences have been here in Pittsburgh, where the gay community has a reputation for being especially skeezy. Sounds like the place you went was a much better time.

    Also, I'm pretty sure I'm the only gay man in existence who doesn't like Lady Gaga.

  6. I've never been to a gay bar, but I'm dying to make it to one. I've heard so many times from so many people how much funner they are than straight clubs. It's a must. =]

  7. There's a gay bar in T.O. that my friends used to take me too. I have far more fun there than the normal night clubs.

    The music, I agree is better there, plus I cannot deny that NOT being hit on and groped by random men when all I want to do is dance is a big bonus.


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