The motto, I’ll try anything once, is one that I try to be true to in my life. For one reason, I live in San Francisco and almost anything goes in this city, which is a big incentive as to why I live here. The other is that life tends to be more fun when you treat it like an adventure. I have come to learn that in order for my culture to remain interesting to me, I have to take advantage of the freedom we all have to try new things. One way I practice this is to force myself to meet new people and follow up with them, especially if they live life as an experiment. It’s these connections to new people, the getting to know them and experiencing their worlds, that ultimately makes my own life that much more exciting.
Last Saturday night was one of those adventurous nights. A friend had invited me to see her dance at Chez Badunkadunk—she explained it was a place where women danced for other women,—which intrigued me on many levels. First, my friend had mentioned that there may be burlesque dancing and that anyone could sign up to dance there in the future. I had thought about dancing in public myself, particularly burlesque since I found the outfits so hot, but I had never been sure that I would enjoy doing it in front of leering men. Having women as an audience seemed like a good testing ground if I was ever going to try. Second, I was finally coming out of my cocoon, the one that wraps itself around you after a break-up. My sexual energy was up and running so I was interested in being in sexy, dancing environments since the dance floor was where I often felt sexiest. Lastly, since it was a dance night for women, I figured she must have meant that it was also a dance night for lesbians. Poonam, my Indian friend, was two steps out of the closet. She had just finished her second relationship, and for those of us whom she called friends, we were ready to show her what she had been missing all of those years.
When we got to the club, we chose the couch on the stage next to the stripper’s pole. We wanted to be supportive for my friend, but I am the type of person that if everyone was sitting a few rows back, I would sit in the empty front row.
“I don’t know how into this I will be,” Poonam said, while I stood up to get water and one-dollar bills to tuck into private places.
“Let’s just see how it goes. We’ll stay for my friend and then we can leave and go dancing.” I could tell that Poonam was initially out of her comfort zone while I felt smack dab in the middle of mine.
When I came back Poonam’s friend, David, had showed up with his rollerblades in hand. I knew David only from the fact that he had started the Asexual Visibility and Education Network here in San Francisco. He was tall, dark, and well, asexual, so I made a mental note to pick his brain later in the night to find out why. The three of us chatted and once in awhile turned back to watch the women work the pole. We tucked dollar bills into G-strings and into my friend’s cleavage, and then giggled when one woman laid flat down on top of Poonam and me. While I was open to anything, I have always been quite certain that I am straight. I like looking at a beautiful woman as much as men do (and many straight women would concur), but the one kiss I had with a woman in the past didn’t make my knees buckle, nor did it make me moan with delight like that first kiss with a man. In fact, I had to run away from her after it happened, learning that it had been a ploy by her unattractive boyfriend to try to get a threesome started, back in the day when I might still consider one until I saw what the boyfriend actually looked like.
