This is what you get when you pay about a good $70-100 for lower floor seats to a Golden State Warriors game.
This is what you get when you pay $30. See the difference? I think Celtic basketball players tend to be mistaken for actual nose boogers from here.
Lucky for white people, St. Patty’s Day landed on a Saturday this year. It pretty much gives people a chance to heal before going back to work on Monday.
I consider myself a pretty truthful guy and I don’t get off on telling things that make me more flattering then I actually am. With that being said, this in no way is a falsified story from what actually happened when I decided to go to a gay club with my girlfriend’s friends.
For my non-San Francisco readers out there that don’t know, the Castro is gay. I mean gayer then a bag of Skittles. When gay people fart in public on the streets, an actual black dildo ejects out of their butt. I kid you not, this place is makes straight men’s buttholes quiver. It really is that gay.
This isn’t even the place where my man card got violated. Add about four practically naked male go-go dancers in speedos, videos of naked men in the showers and you almost have something that represents the Edge bar. So I am minding my own business trying to get a drink when one of the go-go dancers comes up from behind me and asks if I want to take some shots with him. I religiously point to my girlfriend and tell him I can’t but he politely buys drinks for the both of us. So I shoot the shit with this Channing Tatum looking guy and I realize, this mother fucker doesn’t really know what it means when a guy has a girlfriend! I honestly don’t really get where this dude thinks I might be gay (well aside me being at a gay bar), so a sense of discomfort quickly comes over my body in wondering what the hell I am projecting to the crowd. I know wearing a A’s hat doesn’t get you far in SF but it was St. Patrick’s Day after all.
Our conversations quickly go from, “So what are you doing here?” and I tell him that I am with my girlfriend’s friends (you know those straight bitches that think it is a riot to go to a gay bar) and he gives me that deceiving nod with those rolling eyes and says, “Sure…right”. Mind you, this guy had at least 60 pounds more then me and looked like your average Joe that worked out at 24 Hour Fitness. Any God Hates Fag jokes could have put me in a coma where I am sure he would have stuck his dick in my mouth just to teach me a lesson. After our shots, I get the invite from him that he will be dancing at another club and if we still want to drink, to meet him there. Later my girl would tell me that he did in fact think I was cute and did question if she was with me or not. Saddest part of all, my girlfriend was pretty attracted to him and out of us two, I was the one that could have taken him home. Talk about your ego being stroked the wrong way.
I will have to say I did learn something. If I was to ever be single again, I know one of the keys in approaching someone is just plain confidence and taking control of the situation. Go for the gusto and if the girl doesn’t bite, move on to the next fish. It’s as simple as that and oddly, I learned this from a gay man of all people.
Sunday brunch at The Grove on the Fillmore. I think I had enough liquor for one weekend warrior. Time to do some laundry and shit on the toilet.
