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  • Guest Post: The Night my Best Friend Dragged Me to a Gay Bar by Sammy Goode

Today we have a special treat, as our very own Sammy is here to share with us…

The Night my Best Friend Dragged Me to a Gay Bar OR For god’s sake Sam, That’s confetti not a used condom! 

If you know anything about me, then you know I come as a package deal—a foursome—GASP!!  That’s right, first there’s Me (lovely cougar-esque hetero gal), Hubs, (ex-cowboy—need I say more??), Rick, (best friend for a million years and world renown authority on ALL things GAY), and his partner, Freddie, (sensitive and loving gal-pal).  Yes—we four are nigh on inseparable, or so I thought until the invite for the gay bar came in the mail.  Then, this occurred in the Sammy household:

Sammy:  SQUEEEEE!!   OMG, OMG, OMG!  We’re going to a gay bar!!!!!

Hubs:  That’s nice hon—What did you say?

Sammy:  Oh my god—I have nothing to wear!!  I mean. What does one wear in order to charm in a flirtatious, come-hither kind of way yet not be so alluring as to turn gay boys back into hetero loving schlubs who wear bad clothes and hate to shop?

Hubs:  Wait, we’re going where?  Did you just call me a schlub??

Sammy:  Boots or no boots—I mean will they say sexy hetero or lesbian on the prowl??  Or is that only if I wear my Doc Martens??

Hubs:  A gay bar—we’re going to a gay bar?  I am not going to a––Doc Martens??  I thought you agreed to stay on a clothing budget—Doc Martens are very expensive and…

Sammy:  GASP!  CONDOMS!  OMG there are going to be used condoms everywhere in the men’s room—you know what they say about gay men and bathrooms—well, you’ll just have to go to the bathroom before we leave the house—you cannot possibly be going into a bathroom full of used condoms.

Hubs:  Buying those boots could not have kept you under budg—WHAT??  Condoms??  What do you mean I need condoms—we haven’t used cond—

Sammy:  Going now, honey, I have to shop for a new outfit!  HAHAHA Gay bar boys here I come!!!

Hubs: oms…oh god…I think I’m going to be sick.


Needless to say—the night in question Hubs stayed home with a migraine and I went as part of a ménage—hehe—so much fun!

So, where to begin?  Shall I mention the bouncer—in the leather vest and short shorts that looked down at me from his height of six foot plus enough inches that he had to squat low, thrusting out those manly quads to speak to little ole me??  Sigh!  Or, shall I tell you about Jay, our bartender who wore a tight little tank top with sequins artfully scattered about and skin-tight purple leather pants that laced up the sides—Rawr!!!  At some point in the evening I think I asked him to come home and live in my spare room—I think he said yes as long as he could bring Joe the bouncer along.  How cool would that have been—2 gay boys living in my spare room??

No, while all of that was clearly entertaining, I think I should skip right to the part where Rick asked me to dance and we became the meat filling for a gay man’s dream—the gaywich!!!   Here’s how it all played out:

Rick (self-proclaimed authority on all things gay):  Freddie babe, you want to dance?

Freddie:  No honey, I think you should take Sammy out for a spin on the floor—she’s so cute in her Doc Martens and mini skirt.

Rick:  Do I have to?

Freddie:  Be nice.

Me: Ohpleaseopleaseohplease!

Rick:  (loud sigh) C’mon Sam, but just know–you get one dance—only one and then you have to promise to hide back in the corner the rest of the night so the boys don’t think we are running a charity for wayward lesbian wannabees.

(Rick is always giving me such lovely compliments—I don’t know what I do to deserve them!!  OR him, for that matter!!!)

Me:  thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!

Rick:  Dear god, shoot me now.  Let’s go—and no breathing on me!

Me: Right—no breathing.

Rick:  And no pawing me or my shirt—it’s new and I don’t want any girl germs on it!

Me:  Ok—no breathing, pawing or girl germs—check!

Rick:  And for god’s sakes try to look like you don’t know me—oh god—this is such a nightmare.

Me:  got it—nobreathingpawinggirlgerms—act like a stranger—check!

Rick:  Just kill me now!

(Rick’s love for me had never been clearer!  I was overcome!)


Needless to say, we were magic on the dance floor.  There we were amidst barely clothed gay boys of every age and color—all sweaty and writhing—I nearly fainted–twice!  Rick was doing his classic John Travolta hip thrusts and I was doing a sexy sashay around him when it happened!  The GAYWICH!  It went down like this:

Rick was writhing on the floor at my feet—I may have accidentally tripped him on a daring dance move and then stepped on him-–not really sure cause my eyes were suddenly drawn to the gorgeous hunk of gay man meat to my left—bronzed, pecs that I could sit on, and the bluest faux eyes that colored contacts have ever made!!  He was a god!!!  IN SPANDEX!!!!

Just as I bent down to tell Rick about spandex boy, I noticed that standing directly to my left was mantastic boy number 2—broad shouldered, slim hipped, pleather-clad Legolas wannabe—my god all he needed were the elf ears and even I would have climbed that like there was no tomorrow!!

I stepped on Rick again to get to the twinky little elf!  While the boys and I were getting acquainted and Rick was clawing his way back into a standing position, the last song of the night was announced!   It was the Weather Girls—yes—they were singing—wait for it—IT’S RAINING MEN!!!!!!

Before you could blink an eye and say—“but I WILL respect you in the morning”—Rick and I were hurled together in a tight embrace—OOF—with Spandex “oh my—you really can see and feel everything through those tights” guy on the right, AND Legolas “That’s woodland elf to you Bitch!” wannabe guy on the left!

And the dirty dancing commenced!!!!  And by that I mean that sweat stains really are impossible to get out of silk!  Just ask my dry cleaner!

We danced, we cried, (well Rick cried—turns out I broke his left toe—damn those Doc Martens!); we were poetry in motion right there on the dance floor.  Me, my bestie, and two total strangers—it was so magical!!

Later that night, when we arrived back at my home and Rick opened the car door to shove me out onto the pavement, calling out a loving, “later, bitch” as he drove away, I knew my life had been forever changed!!

As I climbed into bed that night, the man of my dreams turned to me and kissed me on the cheek, sleepily asking, “Did you have a good time Sam?”  With a sweet sigh, I said, Yes—oh yes—darling Hubs!   We snuggled together in perfect wedded bliss!  And just as I drifted off to sleep, I remembered that I had forgotten to take down Rick’s phone number from where I had earlier written it–-on the ladies room wall under the heading—Looking for a hot Lesbian Lover??  Call Ricky at 555-123….

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