So this woman bought me a drink, and in my nine years of legal drinking, no stranger has ever bought me a drink before. It actually took me a minute to figure out that she wasn’t a bartender.
We got to talking, and she asked me what was my story. I launched into a complicated story about how I was supposed to take my Ex girlfriend out, but after going all the way south on 95, had missed the Braintree exit off 93N and ended up back in Boston, with gridlocked traffic going the other direction.
“No,” She said. “I mean, what’s your story?”
“Yeah,” She said–clearly I was not the brightest bulb in the pack. “Are you single, really single?”
“Yes, I’m single” I said, studying her. Was she interested in me? With her mature, Waspy frame she reminded me of someone’s mom when I was in High School.
“So, are you a Lesbian?”
“Well, I’m Bisexual.” I told her. I swear the temperature dropped ten degrees as she tried to process my response.
She made some kind of flippant comment about how she might be open to men, but”the right woman just always came along.”
“Well, the right woman hasn’t come along for me. That’s why I’m trying to get out.” I replied, awkwardly.
“So what are you looking for here? Men? Women?”
“Well,” I said, scanning the sea of mawkish gay white men (we were at Club Cafe on “Dyke Night”, but that hadn’t stopped the regulars) “I doubt I’d find any men I’d be interested in here. So I guess I’m looking for women.” But besides her–and we were clearly not a love connection–I might as well not have bothered. That night I only danced with men–because there were no single women on the floor to dance with!
Over the last year of going to “Dyke Nights” around Boston (usually at Machine or the Milky Way, check out http://www.dykenight.com) I have found that while they are always an adventure, and are great for dancing and watching sexy women dance, they are actually not a very good place to meet women. At least, not single women. Women tend to go out dancing in couples, or occasionally in tight knit cliques. Usually I find myself dancing alone, or occasionally with a woman until her girlfriend gives me too much of the evil eye.
My new favorite song is Beyonce’s “Put a Ring on It.” Not because of it’s catchy rhythm, easy dance steps, or dubious morality. (I mean really! If Beyonce want’s your SO, is a ring really going to stop her?)
I love this song because of one simple sentence: “All the single Ladies, put your hands up!”
When this song comes on I am doing two things: throwing my hands up in the air for all I am worth, and scanning the dance floor for other women who are doing the same.When “Put a Ring on It” came on at a previous Dyke Night, I realized that while I was dancing sandwiched between a couple of catty queens critiquing everyone’s costumes and a crowd of couples grinding and groping, the handful of “Single Ladies” were rockin’ out on the other side of the dance floor. I actually managed to dance with this really cute butch girl that way.
So Dyke Night is not a good place to meet Women. Where is? Especially when you’re a single mom?
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