Flasked

It’s Pride month and I’ve been going a little stir crazy here in the OOB so I decided to drive the half hour north to downtown Portland for a queer dance party at a place called Flask. I want to meet hot babes and queers so bad because I’m horny as fuck, but when it comes right down to it, I’m happy being solo.

That said, I still went. And of course, I went early, cause if not, I would have sculked right into the couch and the idea of going to a queer party on a Wednesday night, would have been a distant dream. I saw one masc of center individual who was tattooed and sporting a baseball hat backward with low riding cargo pants. I kept looking at them but they would not look in my direction. It’s like whoa, OK, I get the point.

I was standing near the water cooler (yes, they had one with paper cups and I was most appreciative after I finished my IPA) and this girl started chatting me up. She was cute. A skateboarder type. Kinda reminded me of my first girlfriend. She was 26 and when she found out I lived in PDX she said OH MY GOD THE ROSE CITY ROLLERS! And then we started a convo about roller derby and how Maine has seven leagues and that really anyone can learn to do it and I should try it because it’s fun. 

I should have got her number. But two of her guy friends came up who looked like they had a few hard runs at Provincetown and I couldn’t take the energy. So I split. 

I kept going in and out of the bar. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to stay or go. I will say, the music was pretty good and there were many people on the dance floor. In fact, the room was full of people with diverse genders – transmen and women and drag queens and queer women and gay guys. When I remarked the vibe reminded me of Sisters, the old dyke bar, this middle-aged (OK, my age) queer says to me, Yeah but do you remember Sisters? They had issues with trans people. I vaguely remember this and I said Well, this party is pretty gender diverse, the middle-aged queer’s partner says to me Yeah, and might as well rolled their eyes back into their head.

Admittedly, I came to them a little culture shocked. When they asked if I was from here, I said yes, but I’d lived in New York and PDX. Okay. #snob. But I couldn’t help it. 

At this point, I’m feeling done. I circle around to see if I can get derby girl’s number. I see her, but she’s at the bar, she’s with her dudes, she’s talking to a white blonde haired femme. I’m like, forget it. Window closed. 

So I pick up 295 and I head on homo.

 

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