Agent Angie-Straight Girl in a Gay Land
For a straight girl, I go to a lot of gay and lesbian bars. The most recent experience occurred this past Friday. Post-work, I lazed around and gossiped with Bill, one of my newest and already dearest NY friends. He lives in Williamsburg, and after a few beers we realized we’d been struck with the dancing urge. It was no surprise that 20 minutes later we found ourselves at Sugarland, Bill’s favorite bar in the vicinity. The place was almost entirely empty, we grabbed a couple drinks and sauntered up the stairs and out to the roof deck. We found ourselves amongst a trio of ultra-trendy hipsters (thick, black way-farer eye glasses, side-swept hair), led by a tall gangly guy, with an inexplicable accent (when he told me he hailed from Michigan, I was a little skeptical). Mr. Side-Swept termed Sugarland as “busted.” These men were more than a little dismayed to find themselves in a “slow” scene.
Later on, we had better luck chatting up Sicilian bartender Ernie, and Matt, Sugarland’s spanking new and adorable go-go dancer. I found myself in an open conversation, the kind I rarely enter into with strangers, entirely devoid of the filter that many straights use to help them avoid topics like sex and love. I stood there, abashed by the frankness of our conversation–we told bedroom stories and shared anxieties about dating. Thanks to the open and relaxed atmosphere (which gets Sugarland on the GL), we found it easy to flaunt our dance moves, as sparse as the room was, to DJ remixes of The Gossip and Kylie Minogue.
Our next stop was Metropolitan where the gay community was clearly in full swing. It seemed as if everyone knew each other already, even in this crowded space. We ran smack into the trio from Sugarland once again, clearly enjoying themselves more this time around. The plethora of outdoor seating reaffirmed Metropolitan’s slot on the GL, as did the lack of cover charge (Sugarland came down a notch on that score).
Anyway, I was happy to tag along that night. I was told I was cute and greeted with a chivalrous kiss on the hand by a sweet stranger (who wasn’t trying to hit on me), and I didn’t have to worry about the obligatory creeper sneaking up behind me on the dance floor. I enjoyed my escape from New York’s occasionally distant and dare I say repressed, straight dating world.
Thanks Angie Gayland rules!