Gay black pride events in DC kicked off during the daytime. We met up at the Fireplace during off-peak hours. I discovered the night before, that I was barred for life. So, I snuck in during the day. What the hell I am on vacation! Jake looked exactly as I remembered clean shaven and cute.
“I’ve already done some shopping,” he said. “I’ve been to Tyson’s, Georgetown, and now I’m here having a drink.”
Shocker, 2 pm on a Saturday; it would be the same thing if it were a Tuesday. Jake had a pattern: a daily diet of shopping and happy hour. He was stuck like each day was like Groundhog Day. Who cared! I loved his energy, always living in the moment.
He drove me around in his new car, wearing Gucci shoes while I relaxed and managed the music on the passenger’s side. We went to a day party at the Park at Fourteenth, a classy black nightclub with overpriced cocktails. For some reason, my VIP pass didn’t gain me free entry into the club. They charged us $10 each at the door to see people in t-shirts, drinking $12 drinks in plastic cups at four o’clock in the afternoon!
I never quite understood why people charged during pride events, especially during the day. It should be a celebration where every hour is happy hour! Instead, it’s a concoction of costly cocktails, outrageous door charges, and C-list celebrities in straight clubs with homophobic bouncers. The only people benefiting from those events were the so-called celebrities and promoters. The ultimate setup: you pay for travel, hotel, cabs, bars, clubs, food, and condoms. What are you getting out of it—sex with a stranger? With all that money spent, you can go to Paris!
I glided across the room in a sheer black frock paired with leopard skinny jeans. Two drinks later, it still felt weird to be at a club before nightfall. Had it been a rooftop, equipped with a pool and shirtless guests I could have envisioned it.
I ran into an ex-boyfriend, accompanied by a coterie of his friends. While Jake was away, Ray and a friend of his confronted me. “Why you write about me on your blog?” His friend demanded. “I’m bipolar and insecure?” Where was security when you needed it? Not happening, could you imagine having a police incident in the beginning of my vacation? I don’t think so.
When Jake returned we decided to leave and go to happy hour at Hotel Helix. I greeted a cluster of queens at the table who eyed us up and down. I recognized the bartender from across the room. I skipped around the bar and gave Sam a hug. He whipped up his signature drink: a blue Cosmo. Five minutes later every queen in the building had one. I noticed that one of the queens was really possessive towards Jake. He never mentioned dating anyone beforehand. He invited us to the cookout and Jake suggested that he was going to follow them. He developed a migraine and decided to come over to where I stayed.
Jake and I relaxed on the sofa after we settled on a movie. I placed my head on his lap as he caressed the top of my head. I started to feel this erect penis on the side of my face. Even though, Jake chose a gay movie, frequented gay clubs, and lived with a gay man—that was not a homosexual make. He never dated a man before nor has he ever had sex with one. Yet this stiffness in the pants told me he wanted to. Jake still dated women and had a daughter in Texas. Perhaps, he didn’t have the balls to pull out his dick and balls?
“I should go before your friend shows up,” he said while standing up. “Damn, you got me so hard.”