I’ve always been referred to as a “fag hag”, or “fruitfly” as this blog connotes, so no one was more shocked than me that I visited my first gay bar only this month. Every one of my friends I’ve told, both gay and straight, has asked, “Wait, YOU have never been to a gay bar?” Living in New York City, there are plenty of gay bars to spend one’s evening, but it seems that all “my gays” (as Kathy Griffin so refers to them) know Therapy.
Maybe I’ve watched way too much Queer as Folk -- I do own Season Two on DVD -- but standing outside the bar, I was expecting something like Babylon, the club depicted in the series, but slightly more tame. Therapy was nothing like it (Thank G-d), but was unlike any bar I’d ever been to. And yet it had nothing to do with the drinks or the ambiance -- two things I would normally assess immediately -- it was about the people.
Before walking in, my friend, a fellow “fruitfly”, told me that I would feel invisible once inside. It’s not about us -- it’s about the men, she elaborated. And honestly I didn’t really find that to be true. I was greeted by a friendly bouncer, and despite a few looks that seemed to say “Hey, you don’t have a penis”, most seemed to say “Thank you for supporting us”. (The gazes at Therapy seem to be really talkative, I know.) I made some crack to my female friend that we could pretend to be transvestites (beautiful, impeccably-dressed transvestites), but it wasn’t necessary; we were accompanying our adorable friend visiting from San Francisco and he’s all the cred we needed.
After finding another friend I was meeting there AND my female friend’s friend (See? Everyone really does go there!), I sat down, and it began … the impromptu striptease. After finally getting over the debate in my own head whether this act was legal, I just started to laugh. OK, it was partially because the poor boy didn’t have the best body or an iota of rhythm, but I just couldn’t help but laugh and smile. Honestly, I’ve never been in a bar situation where I felt like we all came to the bar together, even though I’d never met the people before in my life. I really felt like we were all there celebrating the same event (and cheering on the poor fool on stage).
After describing the sense of community (I know, barf) to my gay colleague at work the next day, all he said was “Yeah” with a dash of “Duh.” He gets it, and I guess now, I do too.