The Hunting Party and Fate's Intevention

My friends and I went out on a Monday in hopes of ensnaring some cute guys because gay men operate a lot like a pack of wolves. They cooperate, they act on instinct, and they attack from every angle as they target the youngest and most helpless. It's all very interesting, and it's such a pleasure to watch. Forget Planet Earth! Seeing three queens work together to snag a man is more interesting than anything you'd see on the Discovery Channel.

We eyed a potential shag for me, a nice and burly manly man who didn't smile and was the type of guy who would enjoy rough sex then fall asleep on top of you. The plan was for one of us to go to the bar to get a drink, then casually ask the man if he had a cigarette. I don't smoke, but it's a good way to find out whether or not his mouth would taste like a tar pit. The second person would pretend to be drunk and walk over to the conversation and act like a trainwreck, leaving the third person (me) to swoop in and act as the cool and sane breath of fresh air.

Before we could implement our plan, a song came on the video monitors. It was showtunes night at Sidetrack, where many different showtunes are played and all the queens sing along. It's like being in a seaside pub with the drunken whalers singing a classic pub song as they raise their beer mugs, except the pub is a video bar and the whalers are gay men and the beer mugs are martini glasses. The men are still drunk, no matter what time period you're in.

Anyway, a song came on the monitor and it was the Skid Row song from "Little Shop of Horrors." My fantasy man who I thought would fuck me vertically against a wall suddenly dissolved into a big flaming nancy boy who shrieked when he saw that his favorite movie musical was playing. The sight of him singing along and doing all of Audrey's hand gestures as she lamented about living in Skid Row was enough to make me throw up in my mouth a little.

What do we call this? Deus ex machina? Serendipity? Fate's cruel joke on the gay boys? Whatever you want to call it, it was definitely a harsh lesson in the difference between fantasy and reality. I also learned that instinct means next to nothing when you're on a manhunt.

I would also like to thank Sidetrack for having showtunes nights. Not only does it entertain the masses, but it also acts as Wonder Woman's golden lasso. It forces people to tell the truth and reveal their fondness for impersonating female vocalists, something that a lot of gay men try to hide. That saved me from a potentially awkward situation in the bedroom! Thank you, Sidetrack!