under the disco ball.

last week saw me bravely (and briefly) venture outside the dark, neon-lit world of the gay bar and into "straight-man-land....." a strange place i know nothing about.

a place where the men aren't constantly recounting their last sexual escapades in great detail, a place where i know more about fashion than my male counterparts, a place where men's jeans are bigger than my arm and football is discussed as a a sport, not as a fantasy. (but really, i've got to give the gays a little credit... who doesn't love buff men in tight pants wrestling each other?)

and what i found in this strange place wasn't so scary after all. in fact, after several conversations with a couple of cute, single (and most importantly, straight) men, i wondered to myself why i've spent so many nights under the disco ball dancing by myself amongst a group of men groping one another instead of me. (not that i want a man groping me on the dance floor, but you know what i mean.)

because, at the end of the day, as much as i love my beautiful gay friends, i want a man to dance with me. i want a man to take me home, to meet me at the end of the aisle, to have babies with me and grow old with me.

and preferably, not one who is a total a**hole or a big stoner. not one who sends me vulgar text messages, or one who asks me to take shots with him on our first date (on a tuesday night). definitely not one who has an affair with his (male) roommate behind my back, or confesses to me that he's "tried the bi thing."

and so it continues.... perhaps with just a little less time spent under the disco ball.