I’ll be honest:  the fashions this year drives me a little crazy.  The tight, camel-toe inducing high-waisted acid-wash jeans.  The double or triple belt look originally made famous by Madonna.  The giant, bug-eyed sunglasses.  The big flannel t-shirts and your boyfriend’s sweaters.  All of them immediately make me smell our rancid cafeteria and remember the sweaty boys trying to grope us during high school dances.  All of them make me slightly nauseous.  One thing that never has made me nauseous is the music from the 80’s - and truthfully, the music was worse than the fashion. 

Last night, I stopped by #hashbrownnetworking to say hi to a few people and to beg for free Wordpress help from @jasonkenney and @trevordickerson.  They’re working on the Write Club RVA site so it will eventually be usable.  I didn’t stay long, but I did stay long enough to stick Jason with the bill for my iced tea (thanks, J!).  After I met up with one of my new favorite people from the Twitterverse.  She’s also kind of anonymous - writes a pretty snarky food blog, so I’m not planning to use her name.  Instead I’ll refer to her as SFB.  (note:  she’s now the second “anonymous” friend I have - gets kind of tiring remember to refer to them publicly by their twitter or blog names. In fact, if I refer to The Checkout Girl by her real name, none of my family members know who I’m talking about, so she’s just called TCG).  We met at Nations, a gay bar down near the Science Museum (I can already hear my mom groaning as she reads this).  On Thursdays, they host the Drag Race - a bunch of Drag Queens lip-syncing their way around the stage.  Some of them are a little scary, evidenced by this tweet:

Come on, pretty baby, kiss me deadly . . .

Anyway, Snarky Food Blogger introduced me to her many gay friends, all of whom were exceptionally nice, funny, and bending over backward to make me feel welcome.  The commentary from our table on all things spandex and tucked was quite interesting.  I think SFB and I were one of 4 women in there (plus the queens, of course).  The one straight guy in the bar (although why a straight guy would come alone to a gay bar is sort of beyond my comprehension) kept trying to hit on SFB, but she rebuffed him like a pro.  I had new boots and some funky tights, so the boys kept examining the textures of the tights and commenting on my overall ensemble.  At first I thought they were making fun of me - it’s been a long time since I hung out with a group of gay men - then realized they were 100% serious.  DO NOT ask a gay man if you look “fat in these pants” because sugarbuns, they will tell you.  And you may not like what you hear. 

We stayed at Nations for most of the drag race while I practiced memorizing names:  Vito, guy with good glasses.  Peanut, beautiful black man with good hat.  William, stepped out from Glee with a voice to match.  Sam, some sort of doctor, good pants.  Everyone smelled good.  There was a lot of hugging and laughing, which reminded me of my old friend Ed, who used to play with my hair and help with my outfits when I was still in high school.  He was the best date for a movie because he was gorgeous, would hold my hand, and safely deliver me to my doorstep every night with no pawing or drooling.  Excellent. 

Next we headed to Cous Cous to listen to a friend of SFB spin.  I’d never been to Cous Cous but it’s beautiful inside, especially with the weird Federico Fellini-esque movie playing over our heads. That dude had some wacky visions.  I was put off when the pierced and gauged waiter told me that even though he’d handed me a menu, the kitchen. was. CLOSED.  Apparently he wanted me to check out the menu to get hungry so that I could be denied. 

And all I wanted was a little saganaki.  Pfffttt.

Although the music was good, Vito was itching to go dancing, and I was falling asleep in my water. I can’t sit still around midnight - that’s nighty-night time for the middle-aged.  SFB’s man showed up for a while and we compared iPhone apps before boring the rest of the table to tears.  He left soon after, and the three of us headed to Mars Bar.  Apparently, said SFB, their 80’s dance night was a must.  I was wearing high heels and feeling uncomfortable, but determined to have fun, so I went along for the ride.  I’m really glad I did.

The high point was a slightly overweight guy, at least as old as me, wearing a black t-shirt, tight jeans, a sparkly glove, and the infamous MJ red leather jacket complete with all the zippers.  Depending on how goofy you felt this guy was, you could say that unfortunately Billie Jean was blasting and he was completely rockin’ out.  “Rockin’ out” included crotch grabs, leg kicks, and a lot of break dancing hand gestures and robotic movements.  The dancefloor was packed, and SFB was actually hit on the back of her head from MJ Lite.  I nearly was kicked in the face later as he jammed to “Take On Me”.  Other than that, being surrounded by a bunch of happy gay men who can really shake their moneymakers was a lot of fun.  I haven’t danced that much since 1996.  Even though most of the youngsters could sing all the lyrics to Toni Basil, no one but me (and possibly SFB) knew the proper refrain shouted during the quiet sections of Billy Idol’s “Mony Mony”.  I realized this unfortunate fact after I shook my fist in the air and screamed, “Get Drunk, Get High, Get L…” oops.  I was the only one yelling it.  Maybe it was just a Michigan thing. 

We danced for about an hour, then SFB dragged me by the hand onto a frigid street in Shockoe Bottom.  We went across the street to another bar, where of course she knew the bartender.  One of the straight boys from Mars Bar “ended up” there and starting chatting with us.  SFB is most possibly the friendliest person I’ve ever met - she will talk to anyone, anywhere, and they started playing a word game on the bar’s computer.  I was fairly certain he was trying to get up the nerve to get SFB’s digits, but we blew out of there before he’d finished the second set of word games.  Not sure what it is about SFB but she makes those boys go crazy.

SFB and I were starving, and what else do you do when you’re hungry and it’s the middle of the night?

(I still managed to lose a little weight this week despite the delicious cheesy bread stuffs I inhaled last night)

I headed home soon after.  It’s amazing how fast you can make it out of the city in the middle of the night.  It’s not something I will do often, but it was a lot of fun, and the first time in nearly 3 months I actually stopped thinking about all the other crap for an extended period of time. I used to love dancing - and although I don’t love all the smoke and the college kids groping each other, it was definitely good for me. I can’t drink while on this new medication I’m taking, so it’s easy to stay awake and focused and not worry about driving.  I’m a barfly’s dream partner:  a permanent designated driver for the foreseeable future.  I’ve gone out a lot since all this stuff happened, but normally I swing drastically between blissful “unawareness” and sudden drops into a reality I wish wasn’t mine.  For whatever reason - whether it is the medication’s effects or just a stroke of good luck - I was able to go out, conversate (I love that made up word), laugh, have fun, and be safe and healthy at the same time.  It was way worth the exhaustion I’ve had today from staying up far too late.