I woke up Sunday morning in a Motel 6 next to a strip club to a woman yelling "I need a large black trash bag quick!" The Italian I was entangled in and I turned to each other and laughingly said, "I don’t want to know."
The evening started out much classier, I swear. Donning a suit, I listened to NCLR’s lead counsel Shannon Minter talk about the role of the State of Oregon in the LGBT rights movement. I felt inspired, excited and elegant for four glorious hours before heading out to the after party.
Still wearing my sophisticated lawyer bling, I strutted out to take full advantage of my night in “the big city.” When you’re stuck in law school in a small town, it’s easy to get excited about having more than one gay bar to attend. Because I often sacrifice my body for this blog, I make it out a bit more than my fellow law students, a fact that became apparent as my colleagues began to fawn over every queer in sight, including each other.
Not one for the drama of dating colleagues, I arranged to meet Zuko, an Italian soft butch folksinger, for a drink, away from the other law students and lawyers. Yet, no matter how hard I tried to avoid it, we ended up together right in the middle of the incestuous debauchery.
Law students work hard and party harder, and I have to admit it was rather entertaining to watch everyone let their hair down. I eventually broke down and joined in the fun, allowing a fellow law student to feel me up. Oh the scandal, and oh the joy!
At midnight, Zuko, Trouble (a fellow law student), and I left the crowd and headed to the E-Room, an all lesbian, all the time bar across town. Zuko and I met at this spot a few weeks earlier as performers at a drag king friend’s bachelor party. She sang a hilarious song she wrote for the couple, and I, of course, stripped naked and gave the groom a lap dance on stage.
Unable to stop thinking about her fingers sliding up and down the guitar strings, I found Zuko on Facebook and very boldly asked her out. She replied that she was kinda sorta seeing someone long distance, and I said I was fine with being friends. For the next couple of weeks, we emailed, IMed and texted, and eventually the girl and her worked out the details of their now open relationship.
So here we were, back where we first met, singing karaoke trios with Trouble and drinking Jack and gingers. At last call I still didn’t have a place to stay and my sober ride home was no longer sober. Zuko’s friends graciously offered up their floor, but I had other plans.
I noticed we passed a Motel 6 on the way to the bar, and that’s just where I wanted to be.
To be continued…
Blogger Bio: Queerie Bradshaw loves shoes, social justice and sex. Born a farmer’s daughter, she believes everyone deserves a good roll in the hay, and feels empowered by her feminine sexuality. She frequently travels both domestically and abroad, exploring women and wine from all regions. Now a law student who dances burlesque on the side, she fights for international rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of good porn. You can follow her on Twitter (twitter.com/QueerieBradshaw) or become a fan of hers on Facebook.