Drunk, (not so) Str8 Men

Seriously...what is it about being in a room of gay men that makes str8 men either a) crawl into their own ass in an attempt to disappear; or b) crawl into everyone else's ass in an attempt to prove that they're not only okay with gay men, but almost ready to embrace "We Are Family" as their new anthem, erect a Pride flag in their front lawn and invest in a butt plug?

So if you've read the blogs of the other Mean Girls, you know that we attended a party at J&J's house. The party is their annual White Elephant Gift Exchange. I got a yard-long, 1/4 pound piece of beef jerky and J1's grandmother's poker chip set. Courtesy of FitnessNerd. Ass Face. I thought we were friends?

The party was once again, a rounded mix of gay, str8, lesbian, married, single, black, Asian, Indian (dot, not feather) and Blanche. They provided some punch made of what, I'm not sure, but I think there was orange juice. When I poured myself a cup and went to take a drink, I noticed a hair in my cup. It wasn't mine. I'm not even sure it was human, but it curbed my desire to drink said punch. Luckily, I stopped along the way to J&J's to pick up a bottle of Bacardi Limon for FitnessNerd and me (and anyone else for that matter, I suppose). So I filled a styrofoam poinsettia cup half full with Limon, dropped in some ice and in the remaining space dribbled some Diet Coke. I was now ready to face the party.

I had met most of the attendees at last year's WEGE or at other parties throughout the year, so I was mostly comfortable mingling and chatting here and there, but there were a few newbies including a str8 guy. He kind of reminded me of someone but I can't quite put my finger on who...actually, I know who it is...he was in Steven King's "DreamCatchers" and is in some series on some station now. Anyway, when he started drinking it was all over.

The conversation in the smoker's lounge started out about tits and his love of tits and his desire to play with tits. An hour later I hear him say, "someone should have wrapped up a dildo and brought it for the WEGE." I did a double take, but you know, anymore nothing fazes me. I got kissed by a str8 guy at a Halloween party this year. I got a phone number from a m/f swinger couple at the Old Oaken Bucket Game. Nothing fazes me. I just wonder what it is in the combination of alcohol, gay men and parties that helps men lower their inhibitions and admit either discreetly or overtly that they're comfortable with the idea of being with another man. Am I the only one this happens to?

As the night went on, I did my best to avoid getting too close to the drunk, str8, anal-penetration curious guy, but at one point he did wind up with his arm around me telling me that I was really cool. I appreciate that. It was my warm fuzzy of the night. Then FitnessNerd told me that he hates one of the songs I've chosen for the show tomorrow night. Now I've decided to perform to "Favorite Things," by Julie What's-Her-Face as Maria-What's-Her-Face from "Sound of Music." It's cute, it's lilting, it's affirming. It'll go well with my fuck me boots.