Dont Mince Words

When you hit a certain age, you realize there’s no great place to live. You are either in the ‘burbs with the marrieds, or in the cheap area surrounded by young ones and Bud. What’s that leave me? West Hollywood.

I live in the least target-rich environment on earth. But the view is great. At least SOMEONE in LA has a relationship. I love the ‘moes. They do have the best neighborhoods. I’m several doors down from barely-yogurt Pinkberry as well as a one-stop leather shop. And, if I hit bottom, the 12-Step store is right next door.

However, when you live and work amongst the gays, you forget what straight men are. Tonight my libido was resuscitated in Barney’s Beanery, five blocks from my house. There were sports games on and men were watching. As I ate dinner with a girlfriend, I felt like horny teen girl again.

“Look at that one over there with the broad shoulders. He’s not gay either.”

On my way out, I was so dazed by the spectacle, I walked over to an age-appropriate guy, handed him my card and said, “Hi, if you are single and straight, give me a call and let’s get a beer sometime. I live in a gay neighborhood and I don’t see real men often.”

He smiled, introduced himself and said sure. He made my day. Maybe I made his.

After dinner, we walked another 1/2 mile to a work/movie party. There seemed to be an overabundance of straight men there, but they all had that homogeneous LA guy look: emo bedhead, 15 pounds underweight, trying too hard to look hip.

So who hits on me? A skinny, gay black guy with a Yankees cap on.

“Gurl, look at you. You got it going on with that hair. Who does your hair?” he asked.

What response could I give that would repulse him and make him go away, like tossing water on the Wicked Witch?

“Fantastic Sams,” I said.

I want to believe that gay guys have straight brothers or friends that I can go out with. But I think I’m going to stick with what I know: bars with pool tables and sports games are usually full of straight guys. Back to the Beanery I go.