19 December 2010


On one of my jaunts in the city with no where to go and no one to do, I headed to the gayborhood dive for a few brews and some "ha ha's." The bar itself shall remain nameless for fear that one of the resident drag queens will stab me repeatedly with a bedazzled size 11 high heel. You laugh, but have you heard of the Stonewall Riots? Them bitches be serious.

As soon as I walk in, there is a pretty good looking rugged guy standing by the DJ booth suavely like the Marlboro man, staring at me with a pretty inviting smile. I get a drink, get in the zone, and walk up to him.

DeeCue: Hey, how's it going tonight?
Norman: It's great. I have the day off so it's off to a good start.
DeeCue: Start? I take it you normally work at night? What do you do? Bartend? Waiter? Gigolo?
Norman: I own [fill in the blank with name of themed gay bar].
DeeCue: Oh, do you now? So you like to take a break from your bar and hang out in another bar? Doesn't that get old?
Norman: Eh, I like to research always and check out the competition in the area.
DeeCue: I see; well maybe we should hang out some time when you aren't working or researching.
Norman: Absolutely; here is my number.

My night continued without him: a shot here; a beer there; a make out sesh elsewhere - overall a calm night. So of course, when the hour hits 3 am, I call Norman and ask to hang out. A cab ride cross-town later, I find myself in a gorgeous pre-war apartment. (A little more about me: I am a fan of period architecture with it's crown mouldings, 12' ceilings, solid oak floors, and the history associated with it.) Naturally, at that ungodly hour, I ask for a tour and he quietly says, "That's not what you came here for."

We fucked until we passed out. I woke up around 7 am for my morning wazz and to get the flock out of there. Now, because I did not get the grand tour, I was left to search for the bathroom in this strange house on my own. "How strange was it?" you ask? I walked out to a newspaper cluttered livingroom. No pissoir there. I walked into a linen closet. I walked into the kitchen. I finally got to the bathroom, but the toilet was oddly equipped with a six inch seat. Hmm. Also, the bath tub had a little plastic stool. I paid no mind since I was half-groggy anyhow. But my ill-attentiveness cost me. Instead of walking back into the bedroom to fetch my clothes to make a quiet getaway, I walked into a different room and was shocked to find an old woman in a white night gown with fine, white hair laying on a twin bed - eyes opened.

Point of the conversation: Always take the tour.

- DeeCue

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