It is now Tuesday, and yet, for some reason I am STILL blogging about the weekend! Why? Because I can. Just go with it.
On Saturday, right after I was hopelessly rejected by The Coworker (don't worry, it's all good... no, really), I went with friend Suzy-Q to one of the more prominent gay clubs in town. Why a gay club, you may ask? I really don't know. (For what it's worth, they do have a room for the straight people... but it's kind of gross.)
Anyway, we finally got to the club with about an hour to spare (we like to come in late and make a scene... or we were just very late in leaving the house, as we were attempting to cut SQ's bangs in the bathroom before we left!) About two minutes in it became very clear that at least one of us was going to have to get a little drunk before any of this became fun. So off to the bar we went, ordering two of the girliest drinks known to man. Which, coincidentally, it turns out, contain very little alcohol. Go figure. (Luckily SQ is a light-weight in the purest sense, so she still had a bit of a buzz... although personally I think it was just a sugar rush.)
Heading to the straight room (which was crowded, smelly, and moderately violent) we finally heard a song we recognized and could dance to! It was all going pretty smoothly until a feral-haired girl with about five too many accidentally scratched me in the face and spilled her drink on both me and a friend of SQ's! Then a small fight broke out in the middle of the dance floor, which was a bit of a disaster zone to begin with. In the end though, everything got smoothed out and we ended the night by dancing to something pop-y and 80's-inspired in the main (read: gay) room.
After the club we promptly tripped outside and right into the path of two very talkative 40-year-olds. Normally I would have been thoroughly annoyed at being accosted by two men so obviously our senior, but these two were... different somehow. Talking to them was almost easier than talking to guys our own age, and even better was that there was a very decided lack of "smoothness" about them. (In fact one of them was like a cross between Greg Kinnear and Duckie from "Pretty in Pink," if you can imagine that!) Also, talking to the guy I was talking to was much more like talking than being hit on outside of a club. Even when we hugged goodbye, after being told to "move along" by security, there was no real grabbiness... just a nice firm hug (which I honestly needed after my night of crushed hopes.)
Okay, okay... I know what you're thinking, "They were gay! You half-wit!" But no, they were not. I may go months on end thinking that a guy I like might potentially like me back... but when it comes to gay or straight, I'm not that dense!