Out With A Bang
I had so much pent-up gaynergy from my time in Stuttgart that the minute I got back to Fayetteville all I wanted to do was go to a gay bar and dance! So Rusty took me to a drag show at Club Xanadu on Dickson Street. We were meeting up with her friend Katie, who was also bringing 3 of her friends—all male, all gay. I was excited to meet some gay Arkansans.
While we waited for Katie to arrive, I noticed one of the mirrored walls had a large hole in it. I surveyed the crowd to get an idea of who might have done it. Was it the No Fats/No Fems bro in the corner who got angry when the bartender cut him off and punched the wall? Or was it the stout lesbian who pushed that gangster into the wall when she saw him give his diamond studded cross necklace to her lipstick lesbian?
Katie finally arrived. As I gave her a hug I noticed a very attractive male standing behind her waiting to be introduced. He was in his late 20’s with brown hair and soft lashes. I turned to Rusty and mouthed, “OMG!” As soon as she introduced us I was all over him. However, every time I leaned in to ask him a question he’d lean away to answer. It couldn’t have been my breath because I had just eaten 17 Altoids (and had the stomach cramps to prove it). What was up? Everything was explained when the rest of Katie’s friends showed up and one of them was his boyfriend. As he hugged his man he looked over to me almost like, “Now you get it?” I smiled and moved on.
Half way through the drag show I felt a tug on my arm. When I turned around there was a short, plump Latina.
“Nice to see you!” she yelled up to me. I crouched down.
“I’m sorry baby girl, but you don’t know me. We’ve never met.”
“I know. My name is Perla. P as in pyramid,” she said while shaking my hand.
That’s when I realized what was going on. She was some gay’s hag sent over to tell me that I had an admirer. Normally, if a guy has his girl come over that means they’re ugly. Just as I told her that I had a boyfriend a boy walked up behind her. My jaw hit the floor. He was corn fed, farm bred, body shred, toe to head yumminess!
“Is that your friend?” I said as I pushed her out of the way and stretched out my hand. He and I must have shook hands for at least a minute. I could tell he was young.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“I’m turning 19 in a month. I’ll be a freshman at KU in the fall,” he said. “How old are you?”
“31,” I said.
“You don’t look that old,” he said.
“You’re so cute,” I said and then let go of his hand. A shake is as far as we got. The idea of making out with an 18 year-old on the dance floor seemed tacky. Of course I regretted it 5 minutes later when he lifted his shirt on stage and exposed his abs. I still had a smile on my face, though, because it made me happy knowing there are courageous young teens in the conservative South doing their part in the gay crusade by coming out early… Dammit, I’m a fool for not kissing him!
