Friday night I had a Gayte (gay date) with one of my best gays, Christian. We met up for Appletinis at his gorgeous West End town home, and then took a cab to Bound’ry for dinner, sharing a crisply refreshing bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, and devouring a scrumptious dinner of Cajun trout and sautéed vegetables. Then onward to TRIBE (my most favorite gay bar in town), for an evening of dancing, martini-ing and gaiety. (no pun intended)
One White Gummy Bear Martini later, and the muted colors of the overhead lighting poured through the room as the gay heavens opened and all of my dearest friends emerged from the neon-lit Church street,. John-Todd and Eric were there, perched at the corner of the bar beneath the magenta lights; five minutes after we connected, I could almost hear a chorus of Lady Gaga, Ke$ha and Shakira, uniting as one untouchable trinity, as yet another group of friends came into the mix, making me as giddy as a twelve-year-old getting to meet Justin Bieber. We all ventured into the side bar area, only to discover Joe-The-Opera-Singer, and Lee Druce, one of my most favorite people of all time.
My phone started to “teleport” (that’s the text tone I have set to go off when I receive messages) - “Hey gorgeous! I‘m outside TRIBE. Where are you? - Shawn. He had been at the movie theater with friends, seeing that god-awful “Eclipse” movie - or whatever the latest “Twilight” film had been released in theaters, and knew that I was going to TRIBE, and decided to come too! Christian was having a difficult time keeping everyone’s names straight, not that there is anything straight about being in a gay bar. His eyes widened as our Gayte turned from a quiet night out, to a small group of people conversing at the bar, to thirty-five people taking over the entire establishment.
I was too busy playing “catch-up” with everyone to realize that Eric bought me a shot. If I could just shut up long enough to drink it, that probably would have been nice, I presume. Several taps on the shoulder, and I came around, but I don’t really enjoy “shots” as they are intended - well, no, it’s not that I don’t enjoy them, it’s that it’s just too much for me to swallow all in one gulp (that’s what she said), not to mention, shots like “Lemon Drops” are so delicious, it seems a sin to waste the tastiness of it by swallowing it too quickly (this is the last time I swear - that’s what she said). I wouldn’t drink it all in one swig, so I casually sipped it throughout the next two conversations.
By this point of the night, with what to my wondering eyes did appear, Holy Bejeezes, Judson. It’s been at least a year since we’d seen each other, and here we were, on a random Friday night, at TRIBE, finding the smiles and chatty reflections of ourselves in the corner of our favorite meeting place.
Christian, by this time of the evening, turned to me in disbelief, and with no abandon proclaimed: “We OBVIOUSLY need to hang out more often. How is it that you know EVERY gay man in NASHVILLE!!?!?” I laughed. Then, I pondered this quandary of a notion. You know, I have absolutely no idea how I have so many gay male friends in Nashville, but it’s true. I knew nearly thirty gay men at the bar, all whom are astonishingly handsome, and always know how to make me feel like the queen of queens. Ha. That was COMPLETELY an unintentional pun.
I didn’t get home until nearly a quarter till four in the morning. I hardly ever stay out that late, but I was having so much fun, that taxiing up in a Checker Cab and heading home seemed so dull, and thus, we kept the night rolling. When I finally got home though, after deciding my night had gone on long enough, I put in one of my favorite Judy Garland movies of all time (I suppose that’s a little cliché after spending the evening at a gay bar), “The Clock”, and fell asleep to my dearest Ms. Garland. How is it, that no matter what time of day, the sound of her voice is always so comforting?
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