My friend, Neil, and I had been working in the Olympic Theatre off Broadway in New York City.  I was doing character make up, and he was one of the choreographers.  This was some years ago, when being gay was still semi-private, but Neil was very comfortable with himself.  He was extremely flamboyant, and loved being openly, and sometimes shockingly, gay.

Anyway, Neil suggested we stop at a bar he knew.  I was just eighteen, but that was the legal drinking age in New York at the time.  As soon as we entered the place, Neil saw a friend of his toward the rear of the room, and scurried off to begin a conversation.  I was left at the bar.

As I said, this was some years ago.  So long ago in fact, that the term, “straight” meant, “not under the influence,” rather than, “not gay.”  Well, I sat by myself for a while, and had two beers.  Then, as I was beginning my third, a nice looking, well-dressed gentleman sat next to me.  We kind of nodded to each other and each flashed a friendly smile.

After a few minutes, my neighbor asked, “So, are you straight?”

Having now had nearly three beers, I answered honestly, “Well, not completely.”

“Really?” he said.  “How’s that working out?”

“Actually, it feels pretty good.  Right now, I can use the chance to blow off some energy.”

“Do you come here a lot?” he asked.  “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“No,” I said, pointing to my flaming buddy, Neil, who was now surrounded by the Village People.  “I’m here with my friend.  We usually go right home after work.”

“Oh.  Where do you work?”

“Not far from here.  Over at the Olympic Theatre” I said, indicating the general direction with my head.  “Neil’s a choreographer and I’m in make up.”

“That’s interesting,” he nodded.  “Are you and Neil serious?”

Well, I was just doing this make up thing for fun.  I never really saw it as a career.  So I replied, “Neil is, but I’m just goofing around ‘til I find something better.”

“Really?  How does Neil feel about that?”

“Oh, I know it bothers him.  He says I’m so good at it, it’s a shame I’m not more committed.  But, at this point in my life, I want to keep my options open.  I want to get a lot more diverse experiences under my belt before I settle down.  Neil’s just going to have to accept it.”

“That’s good.  Someone your age needs to stay loose.  Do you think Neil would mind if you tried it with me?”

“I guess not.  Where are you playing?”

“Excuse me?”

“What show are you in?”

“What do you mean, what show?”

“Your play?”

“Oh.  My PLAY.  Well, I like just about anything.  Just as long as there’s not a lot of pain.”

“No.  There’s no pain.  Sometimes, depending on the complexity of the work, I may need you to sit still for a couple of hours.  But you can take an occasional break.”

He looked a little surprised.  “That sounds really intense.  I’d like to give it a try right now.  Let’s go in the back.”

“The back of what?”

“Here.  In the back room,” he replied, standing up.

“I can’t do it HERE.  I don’t have my stuff.”

“Hell, Sweetie, you’ve got all the stuff you need,” he whispered, his hand on my shoulder and his gaze a little lower.

I gulped.  All of a sudden, I noticed there weren’t any women in the bar – and there were a lot of men dancing with each other.  “We’re not taking about make up, are we?”

Well, once I understood what was going on, I explained to my new pal that it was all a misunderstanding.  We both had a good laugh at ourselves and had a couple more drinks together.  Actually, he was a pretty neat guy.  Just not my type.

-- Modified on 6/27/2004 5:56:45 AM