Life in a Gay Bar
Robbed of the high school experience, we revel like teenagers in our bars. Welcome to a world of debauchery and decadence. You are either a Heather with attitude, sleazy slut, drunkity lush, mooching hustler or just plain ass insane. Some of you are all of the above.
Take me for example. I'm a girl-next-door with a sweet disposition and sunny smile. (think Sookie Stackhouse). Sure, I have haters. One fringe group has unsuccessfully tried to tag me with the moniker "evil midget". I squashed that effort by selectively sleeping with the power brokers. Call it ssslutty sabotage. I call it sssuper smart.
I hadn't been out at the Bourbon Pub in three weeks. By New Orleans standards, that qualifies me as "fresh meat". Within minutes of making my rounds, I got invited to two parties. I was feeling special.
Heck, a nice guy named Bruce even took a fancy to me and bought me a beer! Of course, that obligated me to totally make out with him at Lafittes in Exile. That's apparently where my morality has fallen to folks. Give me free beer and we'll make out! LOL.
Shortly after the public makeout session, I am approached by another guy. He has a friend that thinks I am special, but he is too shy to approach me. Hey, if someone is crazy enough to think I am special, I'll take the time to give free hugs and make conversation. I am just darn sweet that way!
Right as I am leaving Lafittes, I hear someone shout... "HEY YOU! COME BACK HERE!" I freeze and think, "WHATTA I DO?!" I twirl around and sheepishly ask, "Whoooo meeee?"
An older guy approaches me. You would have thought he was looking at Jesus Christ Superstar! Only it was me. Apparently, I let him do something tawdry to me at a trashy bar known for blowjobs years ago. While my mind was a total blank, he tearfully expressed how much he always cherished our moment together. Awkward!
I hung my head down in shame and went home.