Thursday, October 16, 2014

None Foreshadowing. None.

It was a 30th birthday party.

You get dressed up, actually put on eyeliner, only to have it run down your face later while you get your drink on.

A few of us ladies got together in West Hollywood, prime time for getting your lady dance on and being told your fabulous a million times to boost your ego.

West Hollywood is a central, or western I suppose,  location for some pretty prominent gay bars. We checked in to our sleeping situation, had snacks, beers, and laughs, and headed out on the town.

We hit up a few places here and there, but ultimately end at the Mecca of West Hollywood gay bars, The Abbey.

I'll set the scene.

You wait in line by a velvet rope, but don't touch it because velvet is disgusting. You are going to spend the evening screaming at each other because the techno music is just blasting. It's obviously dark, and packed wall-to-wall with people dancing, drinking, and just having a blessed time.

Oh yes, and the dancers.

Oiled up men in tiny glow-in-the-dark banana hammocks are hanging from the ceiling, getting down at podiums above your head, and setting the mood, if you will.

I happened to be at the bar ordering a drink (surprise), when a dancer dropped from the ceiling and was dancing on the bar next to my elbows. I was doing my best to stop from blushing, when he stopped dancing and popped a squat.

First thing, being at eye level with the crotch of a man in a banana hammock squatting has been checked off the list. He looks at me and says, "excuse me?"

I look up, darting my eyes to avoid the private region and say, "yes?"

And then he speaks the most curious line I might have experienced to date.

"Aren't you the girl that's marrying Blake O'Brien?"

Imagine my surprise as my mind wanders to why Feyoncé might know this guy.

1. Blake secretly designed a line of man thongs and is known throughout the gay community as, "Blakey."
2. Blake and this man met at pole dancing class.
or
3. They are past lovers.

So, of course none of these things were true, and I won't tell you who he actually is for his own anonymity. But I swear to God, Blake, you seriously know everyone everywhere.

Everywhere.

Thanks for soundin' down.