Although I occasionally patronize gay bars, I had never in my thirty-five years seen a drag show. So, with all the hubbub in the news these days, I decided to check one out. I went online to see where I might find one and discovered that a bar I knew very well was hosting a drag extravaganza the coming Saturday. It featured several national drag queen stars, as well as some of our local talent.
I arrived at the tavern fairly early only to find the place already busy and crackling with an air of excited anticipation. A stool at the far end of the bar became vacant so I pounced on it and ordered a beer. As an avowed people watcher, it was the perfect vantage point to watch the Saturday night merriment.
Within the growing crowd, I noticed two fellows whose vibe clashed with the generally convivial atmosphere. One was a big guy who was leering and aggressive. The other was a smaller man who obviously did not appreciate the man's attention. Rejection only made the first guy more aggressive. Over the next twenty minutes, their drama made a circuit around the floor in front of the stage. The small man would pull away, saying go away or leave me alone. The lout would stay close on his heels becoming more assertive, even physical.
I pointed them out to the bartender. "Who's that asshole?" I asked.
A glance was all he needed. "That asshole is the owner's brother. I've 86-ed him several times but the owner always lets him back in. I've given up with the guy."
Now, when I was a kid I never liked bullies on the playground. I like the adult version even less. I tried to ignore the ugly scene but it kept getting louder and more annoying. The surrounding crowd sneered and kvetched but no one intervened so the ugliness slowly ramped up. Secretly, I'm sure, many wanted the little guy to simply relent. After all, isn't that what submissives do?
Finally, I'd had enough. I emptied my beer with one chug and wove menacingly through the crowd. The bully had a firm grip on the smaller guy's arm so when I stepped between them I was instantly nose to nose with the asshole. He was startled as I stared hot daggers into his beady eyes.
"Go bother someone else, Fuckface." Subtlety is not my forte and when provoked my otherwise sonorous voice seems to echo from the flaming depths of hell. "This gentleman obviously does not welcome your attention."
I watched the moment of assessment flash through his eyes. He was a tad taller than my six foot one but there was nothing soft about me. He, on the other hand, was oafish; big and in size but smooshy and feint of heart. I grabbed the wrist that held the smaller man, squeezing with a force that imperiled his bones.
His befuddled mind was unable to summon anything more than the obvious. "Are you threatening me?" he asked.
"Bother him again and I will leave you broken and bloody on the floor. A promise, not a threat."
He held my stare for a pathetic moment longer, attempting to salvage a shred of dignity. There was none to be had. He huffed once and sulked away to the amusement of the assembled crowd. I turned to the victim of his bullying.
"Maybe now we can all enjoy the evening in peace." My voice had resumed its normal calm tenor. "I'm at the bar if he bothers you again."
"No, let me buy you a drink. I mean, come on," he pleaded, "that's the least I can do. By the way, I'm Ethan."
For the first time, I got a good look at him. He was a bit younger than me, maybe thirty. As his tension dissipated, he assumed a look of warmth and kindness so natural it was surely his resting face. There was a winsome charm in his smile and he had green eyes so lustrous and clear they shone like an aura. He was maybe five-nine and trim with the suggestion of nimble grace. It was obvious why the lout was fixated on him. Ethan was a very attractive guy. He gently took my arm and urged me toward the tables that ringed the room.
He called to the passing waiter, "Oh Phillip, could you get me a wine and something for ...?"
"Marc. Just a longneck Bud for me."
Ethan smiled deeply into my eyes. "Of course, a beer-drinking man." I searched his tone for sarcasm but he seemed genuinely pleased at my lack of pretense. "Come with me."
He led me to an empty booth. It was a couple of steps up from the floor allowing a good view of the stage. He scooched in while I sat toward the edge, leaving a good distance between us.
"This is kind of a first for me," I said.
He gave me a quizzical look. "First time at a gay bar?"
"No. No. First time seeing a drag show. I come here at times but usually on Saturday afternoons to watch the games."
"Oh my god, Marc. You come to a gay bar to watch football and drink beer?" He teased with a trace of intrigue. "What kind of a guy are you?"
I blushed with a laugh. "The kind that doesn't fit well with the clubbing scene." I found his playful ribbing charming. "But, I watch games in straight bars too. I'm versatile that way."
A laugh erupted from Ethan. "So you're versatile?"
I emphasized, "In that way."
Our drinks arrived and Ethan offered a toast "To your first time."
"Cheers to first times," I said. We laughed and took a drink.
Ethan continued, "Interesting. So you're not the clubbing type or the cruising type either."
"Why do you say that?"
"I practically had to beg you to have a drink with me. I'm not used to begging for a man's attention." He gave me a beguiling grin. "And you're versatile in your taste in bars. I wonder are you versatile in your taste in sex partners, too? Or perhaps you're just bi-curious and painfully shy?"
His green eyes were whimsical and flirtatious. I was convinced that Ethan never had to beg for a man's attention. Unlike the lout that bullied him earlier, most men would beg for his. Yet he didn't make me beg and that made me feel special.
"Well, yes and no. I do enjoy a woman's company and I've been with men, as well. I even have a trans female friend that I dallied with once."
