Miss Popularity at Dick's Bar

Technical Difficulties: This was the post that I thought was up at noon, but discovered that blogger just does not want to remember the correct time zone for my blog. So here it is again for the first time.

(For anyone who ended up dating a gay man. Yeah, you know you did.)

I met Brian while I was auditioning for Woyzeck. Although few people showed up, the director was taking his time with each and every auditioner, so I ended up sitting in the reception area for about two hours. Brian was the “receptionist” which didn’t really involve much. ( I was cast in the production as Carl the Village Idiot and Child #2.)

When I first started talking to him because of his affectation, I thought he was gay. I wasn’t particularly surprised when he asked me out to coffee because gay men love me. I was constantly being asked out to dinner, parties, movies, dances, graduations by gay men. But Brian spent our first date trying to convince me that he was straight. He certainly acted the gentleman, walking me home, kissing me good night, making sure I got inside safe, calling the next day to set up our next date. And he was fun-a dramatic conversationalist, well read, funny, but still fairly well gay in his affectation. But I was young and foolish…and lonely with low self-esteem, a diabolical mixture for dating hijinx.

Our second date-perogis and chocolate egg creams at Veselka-was great. We went back to his place and fooled around, but when I decided to go, he immediately walked me home with no "baby just stay a few more minutes" whining (he lived nearby) and made sure I was safe. A few days later he called me to tell me he was reffing a pool game at a bar around the corner. I was only 19 and looked about 15, so I told him there was no way I could get in. He assured me there wouldn’t be a problem.

The bar, it turned out, was Dick’s Bar, a notorious gay dive. A not just a young gay dive, but a fifty year old man wearing chaps gay dive. Still you put me in the middle of a pack of gay men, I’m going to do well. Brian introduced me around. It was clear that he was well known there. He got me a drink and quickly returned to the pool tournament, while I sat at the bar with a dreary fag downing martinis who kept telling me that I was an old soul.

During a break in the tournament, Brian came over to apologize about not being able to spend much time with me, “I didn’t realize I was Miss Popularity.”

I was dating Miss Popularity at Dick’s Bar.

He leaned in and said, “I hope you understand why we can’t be affectionate here.”

“I think I figured it out.”

Finally, I decided to go home. As usual Brian insisted on walking me home, but then he had to return to the tournament. A week later I got an irate phone call. “Why haven’t you called me?” he asked. “Because you’re gay.” “How can you say that? I thought we went through this.” “Brian, you took me to a gay bar on our third date. You were clearly trying to communicate something to me. Now if you need me to be your beard for some reason, I’m OK with that, but don’t lie to me.”

Brian was horribly insulted that I would think he was gay and never called again. A year later I saw him walking down the street with his arm around some girl’s shoulder. I saw him sneer at me in triumph as he passed, while I wondered if he had taken her to Dick’s yet.