Pandora's Box

Things were very different last night than the last time I'd been to The Cafe.

C came with me this time, so I was half-hoping I would see my December dance partner (DDP) and half-hoping that I wouldn't. When I saw him through the crowd, I immediately turned my back and downed the remainder of my Cape Cod. Though C and I have an agreement that I can dance with whomever I want, I had a feeing that she wouldn't want me dancing with strange men in front of her. Whether it was the booze blurring my vision or the crowd obscuring my view, I lost sight of him.

C and I snuck in some nasty grinds between dancing with the four friends we'd met up with at the club. The dj mixed in some of my favorite hip hop tunes that sang out some of my desires, "...Let's get it on in public..."

As "Milkshake" started to sound out from the speakers, I squeezed my body through the railing that separated me from the dance floor. As I turned to face C where she sat on her barstool, I felt two hands grab me tightly around the waist. I was then pulled up close against a warm body.

I turned, expecting to see a familiar face. Perhaps hoping it would be DDP.

"Hey, you wanna dance?" I had never seen this guy before. If he hadn't had that pretty boy face with his warm Latino features smiling brightly at me, I might have kneed him in the balls for being so aggressive.

I used to admire boldness in men and women, but sometimes I wonder if men are just innately that way - their sex drives spurring them on where their bravery might otherwise fail them.

As I pulled away, I struggled with my mixed feelings of annoyance and confusion as I tried to break down that train of thought:

1. I was disappointed that it hadn't been DDP.

2. I'm having fun exploring my new identity as bisexual. And I enjoy playing with sexual energy with men. In another context, this man with his good looks would easily have warranted my attention, at least briefly.

3. DDP had nonverbally asked me to dance with him. He hadn't just grabbed me, as this guy did, assuming I was interested. (C agreed that the issue finally came down to this and said she would have been pissed at me if I'd danced with him, rewarding his inappropriate behavior).

4. I want to be cooler than I am. I am all in favor of polyamory philosophically. And a part of me loved the orgy-like atmosphere the Cafe developed last night, but a part of me is too much of a snob to ever truly live by a free-love ideal.

5. The Cafe was once a lesbian bar. Having been a bit of an old school lesbian, there is still a part of me that is bothered by straight people's presence in queer bars. Another difference from DDP was that DDP had also been dancing sensually with other men, making our connection even more queer in its heterosexuality.

C argued that she has no problem with straight people in traditionally queer bars so long as she remains comfortable being affectionate with me. My fears, however, come from past experience. In high school, my friends and I would sneak into Tracks, a gay bar in southeast DC (I grew up outside DC). This was the place where I learned to be comfortable with my sexuality - from picking up women there to going home with a transvestite. The fluidity and queerness of my sexuality was not only tolerated, but celebrated. But then straight people discovered the great music and the three large dancefloors. Before long, during one of my last times there, I had a woman watch me walking by holding my female lover's hand and call out, "Ew! Lesbians." It takes just one sour apple... I guess I see straight people and get nervous waiting for the sour apple to expose itself. Of course, I'd invited my own straight friend to join us there and she did. She was quickly picked up by one of the straight guys there and I was happy they were having so much fun. But I know my friend is not a sour apple.

Of course, this fear of the sour apple won't keep me from going back. Maybe human kind will pleasantly surprise me and the sour apple will never be revealed. Let's hope.