In The Gayborhood

Last night, I went out with my favorite lesbians. They're good people (i.e. they like TV and dogs and vote blue), and they're good drinkers. We hit three bars and I lost count of the drinks. At one point, we ended up in what I now know is the gayest gay bar in gaytown. I thought I'd already been to the gayest gay bar in gaytown, but turns out, I'd barely scratched the surface. This place had nearly naked women dancing on the bar and giving out body shots. Half of the lady clientele was more masculine than every guy I've ever slept with. At one point, my favorite lesbians got into a fight and then had to talk it out. You know, because they're lesbians.

And at a certain point for me though, it was just depressing. I need to find some straight friends around here. One straight friend around here, even. Thing is, I pass so easily for gay that I'm always comfortable in these crowds. Plus, there's always a lot of booze involved, which is another big plus for me. But then I realize that I'm not getting what I want out of these nights. I'm not getting anyone to go home with.

People, my mother asked one of my judges to find me a husband. This is desperation time. I may have to venture out of the gayborhood. Dear god, pray for me if I have to go up to Sunset.