The wonderful thing about getting to the club at 7:25 is all the parking! The lame thing was that although the event supposedly started at 7:30, they were not yet ready for us. I know that I would have had to wait in line anyways, but still, it was freezing, and I was probably dressed more warmly than any of the other handful of women standing around bitching. Despite several warnings that the other side of Machine (I didn’t realize it had another side) was full of men in “ass-less” chaps, my friends and I went in and ordered drinks.
With that kind of build-up, the desultory handful of conservatively dressed men inside was something of a let-down, but the bar tender was friendly, and my friend bought me a drink. Soon enough we were allowed back into the (temporarily) Lesbian side of Machine, and, after forking over cash and being festooned with stamps and a glow in the dark bracelet, proceeded down into the bowels. After picking up my speed-dating accessories, I headed for the bar. A femme was leaving just as I got there.
“Watch my seat!” She called over her shoulder.
“Don’t sit there!” Proclaimed a cute, long-haired Native American stud, pointing jocularly at the stool next to her.
“That’s alright”, I said, perching on the stool next to her as we exchanged flirtatious smiles. “So, you’re watching the stool…does it do tricks?”
It was time for speed dating, my first time. I walked over to a seat marked with an O, as instructed, exchanging sidelong admiring glances with a dark chocolate stud looking fine in the red staff shirt. Her breasts seemed small for her build. Was she wearing a a binder?
I think that I went into speed dating with just the right attitude. Because of the demographics of the women at Machine, it was a fair bet that there would not be very many I was interested in, so I was determined to just enjoy myself. It’s so hard to actually meet people and hold a conversation with them when you’re out dancing, I was just really looking forward to maybe gaining a little familiarity with some of the folk I shared the dance floor with.
Through some twist of fate the first two women I met were the only ones I was interested in (since dark chocolate wasn’t on the menu). The very first was the same Native Stud I had been flirting with earlier, while the second was a round-faced thick brown stud from South Africa.
The white faces flowed by me in a sea of friendly conversations characterized by a complete absence of any kind of sexual spark.
Highlights of my encounters included a very nice compact, older yellow-boned bull dyke who seemed to like me, but..IDK, wasn’t really my type. There was a tall lanky tomboy who–it turned out–I had danced with previously at Pearl, but that time she was wearing three inch heels! And there was a petite white woman who was a grade ahead of me in High School. When I said I was in the GSA, she said she used to fantasize about going in, but then tell herself it was “not for her.”
There was also a low-key femme with glasses and dreadlocks. The topic of our conversation was tattoos, so of course she had to point out mine.
“What is that?” She asked pointing out my Labris. “Some kind of symbol from D & D?” Although I was disappointed in her knowledge of Lesbian symbology, I had to give her bonus points for knowing about Dungeons & Dragons.
“No, it’s a Goddess symbol from ancient Crete…it’s also a Lesbian symbol.
It occurred to me that that symbol is something of an older one–I usually get complements from older women on it. Which gave me a sudden suspicion…
“How old are you?” I asked her.
I wish my tattoo looked this cool!
Okay, bonus question: of the women I met speed dating, which one did I end up grinding with for hours on the dance floor?
Continue the night.
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