Get Into the Groove

Saturday night I had yet another frustrating, dead-end date with yet another elusive, hard-to-read dude.

He seemed attractive and intelligent-a musician who plays with a few different bands as well as works during the day making high-end instruments. He lives in Brooklyn, works in Brooklyn (yet doesn't know how to get anywhere in Brooklyn, via subway or otherwise, which I found highly suspect)and spent a lot of time discussing his last relationship. Which ended, oh, 5 years ago or so?

The date ended after a few hours, which was kind of fine with me, because after hearing "my ex, who was crazy and had a lot of problems" for about the 17th time in one night..I was ready to bail myself out. I walked him to the train and gave him a hug, to which he was genuinely taken aback. "Nobody likes to hug anymore," he said. "Can I have another one?"

I was happy to oblige. Why the hell not.

So what does a girl do when her lame-ass night ends with a sad guy wanting a little extra time against my breasts? She takes herself to a lesbian bar and dances all night with a bunch of hottie women.

Lesty was on her way when I texted her at 10:30 or so, with another friend in tow. We waited on line for a couple minutes outside the joint, a very inconspicuous place on a quiet corner in "Gowanus" or whatever the hell that neighborhood is..is it even considered Park Slope? Either way, I checked out my competition. There were girls of all shapes and sizes waiting to get in as well. A few men accompanying them, but for the most part, a Sapphic smorgasbord stood in front of me.

The bar was surprisingly large, and in the back, a pole was set up, with an extremely fit, dexterous, and scantily clad woman wrapped around it, sliding up and down it, having sexy time with it. I'm 99.9% hetero, but we were all in agreement that we would consider crossing over to the other team for Pole Lady.

We found ourselves mushed into the very crowded dance floor, and just went with the flow, gyrating to the mix of Justin Timberlake, 90's hip hop, "I'm Britney, Bitch", and 70's disco that pulsated through the room. Beautiful women sandwiched us from all sides, gave us the eye, flirted, and laughed at our ineptness at flirting back. I'm shy enough when a guy throws a little attention my way, place a girl in the mix and I'm all sorts of retarded. But no matter, we spent hours getting our groove on.

My guy friends are all chagrined to hear that I did NOT put my .01% gayness into action and hook up with another woman that night...I did indeed go home alone, which is becoming pretty much the story of my life these days...but you never know. There's always next Saturday ;)