After a thoroughpat down by a woman with a crew cut, Linda and I walked in to find a half-empty dance floor and some scattered tables. Linda headed over to the bar while I grabbed a seat. Even though this was my first time in a gay club, I felt so at home.
Immediately, a shiny suit-wearing person stepped up and started talking. He looked at me as if I was a ham sandwich and he was coming off a week long fast.
“Finally, a sister; I have been here waiting for my friend Larry, but I don’t think he is going to show up,” he said, sitting down at our table.
“I was starting to get nervous because there isn’t anything but guys here and they are starting to give me funny looks.”
I just cocked my eyebrows and looked at him. How could I put this delicately?
“You do know this is a gay bar, don’t you,” I asked, taking the beer Linda brought me as she sat down beside me.
His eyebrows shot up and I could see the question pop into his eyes: ‘So what are y’all doing here?’