straight jacket weekend

straight jacket weekend
twas a whopper!

early after i came out, i remember my mother giving me a list of 'concerns' she had about me being gay. most of them were borderline rational, in that i could see the point she was trying to make, even if her logic was fractured or at best flawed. she was making efforts- and i appreciated that, but one giant bone of contention for us was the issue of gay clubs vs. straight clubs.

she used to give me a lot of grief when i would take my older sister out with me to gay clubs. her theory was the only reason i was taking her there, was to try and convert her. she said 'at best, you are trying to promote that lifestyle with her, and get her all liquored up'...oh mother, dont you know i dont have to give my sister liquor to get her to make out with girls. (my mother isnt a big fan of being reminded of my sisters bisexuality, because shes getting married) all joking aside, i have good reason to only frequent gay clubs, and to be honest- my sexuality has nothing to do with it.

really ashley? being gay has nothing to do with you going to the gay club? yah- really. im not a big club person as it is. sure, im a social person- but clubs are a bit too impersonal for my taste- id much rather have a house party but when i do choose to go out and have a good time- i want to do just that. i have never been in a straight club and felt comfortable- ever. its not that i feel people are judging me, its not that i fear im going to hit on a straight girl and be rejected, its not that im surrounded by drunk people. the reason i dont feel comfortable at clubs is 'gay' doesnt seem to register with the guys there. blame it on the ahh ahh ahha ahhhaaalcohol if you like, but i dont want to dance with you- and when i say im gay i mean it.

if it was merely me being hypersensitive about an unwelcomed dance request, i would understand if you thought i was being dramatic- but it doesnt stop at just a request for a boogie. nay my friends, lets take a trip in my giant boat of awkward to this past weekend.

straight jacket weekend
my girlfriend has a lot of straight friends from college who come up to the dc area every so often to party. if i thought my girlfriend threw down hard, the first time i met all her 'friends from back home', i knew just where she learned it from. its as if these girls were born and bred with beer pong balls in hand, shot glasses at the ready, and an unquenchable thirst for miller light.

enter stage right, ashley- sucks at beer pong (unless if by luck im on a roll, in which case i claim to be a god until i start sucking again, then the shame comes), trys not to projectile vomit after any shot (not including red-headed sluts, which i can take with ease, but im sure thats just further confirmation of the fact that lindsay lohan and i are meant to be together, but i digress), and not a miller girl (or a bud girl, or a beer girl).

ok, so maybe im not a perfect fit with her hard-partying friends but i try. so they were coming up to celebrate two of their 25th birthdays. we went to see bob marley (of boondock saints fame) at the dc improv and then had plans to go to a club afterwards. i had to prepare. not that i encourage people to resort to drinking in order to be more comfortable in social situations, however i see alcohol as a tool to do just that. unhealthy? sure, but as i can count on two hands how many times ive gotten shwasted im not stressing it too much.

terrible life choice #1 of the night. while at the show i wanted to insure that i wouldnt have to drink at the club later so i tried to drink as much as possible while watching the comedians. as im not a regular drinker, attempting to keep up with everyone else at the table was a bad idea. you know all those fun rhymes your mother taught you to prevent you from getting sick while drinking? beer before liquor never sicker, liquor before beer in the clear. fuck that noise!! i chose to start off with corona, followed by too many cranberry and vodkas with orange juice, then i remember a shot that tasted like chocolate (then baby vomit, then vodka, then vanilla..a roller coaster of flavors), then came the champagne bottles.

terrible life choice #2 of the night. agh, just recalling all that sauce made me nauseous. but we pressed on. we climbed into the DD-mobile and were whisked away to the club. now i initially had high hopes for the club, as a hot go-go dancer friend of mines girlfriend is the dj there. i assumed, 'hey you have got a gay dj, maybe its not a super straight establishment, this could be fun.' i understand fun can be a subjective term, but it would not be a word id choose to describe this place. the second floor reeked of vomit- and thats not a smell one can just swallow and disregard, that shit eats up your nostrils. we then made the mistake of trying to move, all of my fears were confirmed and almost instantly i was sober...yes- it was the famed 'walk of grope'.

the walk of grope, is just that. a walk where one gets groped- over and over again. i dont think words can accurately express how i feel when this crap happens. its not like we all werent taught as youngsters 'keep your hands to yourself', and as adults we were taught 'sexual assault on your record makes getting a job hard'. so why is the concept so difficult for some straight men to understand? im not a violent beast, but i did turn around several times mid ass-fondle and said 'hey, dont touch thats hers' pointing to danielle.

thats my main issue with these jerks. i have a hard time being a hard, bitch. what i should be saying is, 'get your fucking mitts off me asshole, i said i dont want to dance or get near you'; what i am saying is, 'woah sir, you touched me- watchout friend! have a great night!' so that forces danielle to step up to defend my honor (because chivelry is NOT dead ladies!), and she always does so in a strong fashion. one of the many reasons i love her- she makes me feel safe.

after two hours of:
-being touched
-being stopped to ask 'are you sure you dont want to dance?'
-being touched
-being asked if the reason i was saying i was gay was actually because i wasnt interested in them
-being touched
-being told i wasnt gay
we finally started to wind down as a group. actually what really happened was i got really sick of feeling as if i was trapped in a cage of uncomfortable so i ran out of the club and slowly but surely, the gang followed.

my argument with my mother, i feel is a valid one. the reason i take my sister to the gay clubs with me time and time again, and find myself going to straight clubs only when forced is protection. i know that in straight clubs (or, to be a bit more fair, clubs that are saturated with a tremendous concentration of drunk straight guys) im not safe. the lesson i learned this weekend should be, dont go to the straight clubs drunk but the lesson id rather take from this weekend is dont touch me douchebag.