The Bitch is Back

Guys, I am exhausted. The past month and a half has found me all over the East Coast, and I made my first foray into the Midwest. (Hayyyy Chicago, you be good gurl.) Should we take a little journey to see where I went and how fabulously lost I still am??? BLOKAY, sounds good!

Miami

Gurl. GURRRLLL. Gurl DOWN. 

(Gone. With. The. Wind.)

Have you ever been to Miami? No? Because it's not a real place, not even a little bit. It is the land of beautiful people, topless swimmers, outrageous night clubs, and expensive restaurants. Miami also has the Ke$ha-esque ability to turn any atmosphere into a glitter filled, alcohol infused, parental disappointment worthy party. Of course, all of that being said, the first night that I was there on "vacation," my friends and I promptly fell asleep at 9:30pm and slept until 9:30am. Like they always say, when in Miami.... sleep for 12 hours? 

(I've never been so refreshed and disappointed in myself at the same time. Blarg.)

We spent the next couple of days making up for it by laying by the pool and drinking many a "Bucket-O-Liquor," which was the specialty of the hotel we were staying at. I can honestly say that I feel like I did everything I wanted to do in Miami. It's a ridiculous city that I am glad I visited... but I don't know if I'll go back anytime soon. The one thing I did not do was find love in that place. I realized, unlike most strippers, I do not tend to do as well in climates that require less clothing. I am one of those people that would do really well in a place that involves sweaters and layers, like Canada. (Its aboot time I move further north, EH? I'm done. I swear.) 

DC Pride

Holy crap ballz. Last year, for DC Pride, I drank far too much at brunch and ended up falling asleep at 8pm. I saw some of the parade and ended up with a press-on tattoo. (On. My. Face.) This year I wanted to do Pride the way it was meant to be done. I wanted to remember everything. I wanted to feel the pride of my people. I wanted to enjoy adult beverages. I wanted to attend the parade. I wanted to dance at the gay clubs. I wanted to see the festival. I wanted the weekend to leave me bleeding rainbows. (I said all of those in my head like Veruca Salt. You know, from Willy Wonka.)

(She understands what's important in life. Ain't nobody got time to be good.)

I decided to throw a little pre-parade BBQ for all of my lovely gays. We dabbled with drinks, danced in the heat, and pounded some meat. (Ew, pervs, I meant burgers and hot dogs. Grow up.) The parade was spectacular and over-the-top, like it should be. There were bears on bikes, Mormons in cars, gay boys in underwear, cowboys in ass-less chaps, and Wonder Woman (literally — Linda Carter) leading the parade. The true fun, however, began after the parade and post-survival nap. My friends and I owned the night by pre-gaming at my place and then dancing up a storm at Cobalt, in the heart of the gayborhood. What I wasn't expecting was my lovely departure from classy, upstanding citizen to drunken, dancing floozy. 

(Too soon? Sorry, Reese.)

After a few (many) drinks at the bar, I decided it was time to make my way to the bathroom. Unbeknownst to me, on this simple walk across the bar I would encounter two gentleman friends. One of these gentleman I knew from a previous date, whom you have never heard of. (The date had gone well... I can't jinx that shit!) When I got semi-close, he pulled me in and began to dance with me. I shimmied and shook and maybe even Mac Daddied it up with him a little. Once my confidence was boosted, I realized my bladder had slowly begun to take over my entire body. No matter how much I tried to Vulcan Mind-Meld my bladder into disappearing, I had to abandon my impromptu make-out to take care of nature. 

On my way out of the bathroom, I went a-searchin' for the man of my dreams (for one night only). Instead, what I found was his friend, who decided that it was now his turn to shimmy, shake, and Mac with me. I decided that all this attention was a gift from the Pride gods, and I needed to accept my new fate as the Pride Vixen, otherwise, I would be disappointing the fates. Much to my chagrin, the original shimmy shaker walked up and decided to throw a hissy fit. Unfortunately for me, it was not because I had made out with both of them, rather it was because the both of them... WERE DATING. 

(Mothertruckin' ass dogs.)

Other than assisting in being a homewrecker, the rest of DC Pride went perfectly. I saw Icona Pop and Emeli Sande play the festival, and I took home a new award in the amount of sweat one person can sweat in a 90-minute period. It's really a gift. 

Chicago

I'm not gonna spend a lot of time discussing Chicago. 

NY Pride

DOMA was repealed four days before NY Pride happened. I can say, from the bottom of my heart, I have never cried so much during a parade in my life. (Except for that one time in Disney World. We still don't talk about that.)

The night I arrived in NY, Swifty, her husband, and I made our way downtown to the West Village to go to a gay bar or club. We found ourselves, first, at Pieces, where the bar was completely and totally overcrowded. To our surprise, there was a coat check available at the front of the bar... a coat-check in JUNE. Turns out it wasn't a coat-check at all, it was a CLOTHING-CHECK. That's right: You could check your clothing at the door and walk around in your boxer-briefs, briefs, or JOCK STRAPS. 

We stayed standing for an hour (obvs oogling) before heading to the next bar. We decided to head to Stonewall... yes, of the Stonewall Riot fame. For those of you who know me, I am more than mildly obsessed with social media, so it should come as no surprise to you that I am an avid user of Foursquare. (Because it isn't creepy that someone can track your every move.) Well, I went to check into Stonewall and was surprised to see there was an event I could check into. The event was titled "LESBO GO-GO."

First I felt: 

Then I was all like: 

After I realized it was dancing, I was like: 

(Cause, bitch, I DON'T PLAY with my music)

We rolled into this history-making bar and bee-lined to the upstairs and downed a few drinks. I don't think I have been around that many dancing lesbians ever in my life. It took me a few minutes to get over the fact that I had changed the color of my shirt with my own sweat. (I'm impressive like that.) Just as I was getting over this not-so-secret fabric changing power I have, my friend Nomad (she, like, travels lots, duh), showed up and immediately pulled me up on the stage in front of all the lesbians. Much to my surprise, I danced like my life depended on it. At one point, whilst on stage, I thought I was so impressive I could definitely try out for So You Think You Can Dance... or at least their drunk bar version of the show. 

The weekend only got better from there. Brunching, dancing, and lots of eating ensued. There was the emotional Pride Parade — Edie Windsor was the Grand Marshall of the parade. I got ramotional. It was quite the weekend. 

Match.com

So, over a year after I originally talked about it, I finally took the plunge and purchased a membership to match.com. When I originally dabbled in it, I didn't pay for it and kinda let it hang by the wayside. On Sunday, however, my good lady friend Simba and I had our own little Sunday Funday that ended with buying a SIX-month membership. I don't know how things got so aggressive. 

(THIS IS WHAT MY INSIDES FEEL LIKE ABOUT DATING.)

The six-month membership comes with a guarantee; the site guarantees that if you do not find love within the six months that you paid for, then you get a SECOND six months for free. Because I am half-Jewish, I casually want to not find love and get another six months for free. (Hey, it's a deal! Gimme a break people.) I'll be sure to let you know how it goes. 

Miami: A new meaning to Hot Mess

DC Pride: Politically incorrect and loving it 

Chicago: Shhh

NY Pride: Am I a lesbian now?

Match.com: Jesus, Joseph, and Mary

Black Bieber: I'm a Blieber?

My life in the last couple months has been in shambles (more than usual, jerks) and I use my weekends as my time to let loose on a lot of the frustrations I have. My wonderful friends have been supportive and have let me crash on their couches and in their beds (mostly girls...mostly...). This past weekend was no different though it was a bit more shamble-y than normal. On Friday I found myself enticed with Black Bieber, and I am not really ashamed.

(ok...maybe I'm a little ashamed...)

I'd like to first provide you with a little context of how I met Black Bieber and how this night came about. Full disclosure....I have a girlfriend. I know, I know it's shocking. How can this flaming homosexual have a girlfriend? How does she not know he is gay? IS there something wrong with her? Well, to sort of answer that,  she is one of my original friends from college and we became a couple in a moment that I remember vividly, and she remembers in theory. It was a August 27th, 2007 and we had just moved into our residence hall at UMD. It was 1:30am when there was a knock at my door and there was girlfriend and her roommate, mistress (this will make sense in a minute... actually, it won't but whatevs) completely and totally drunk. 

mistress: We like that you are gay

girlfriend: I want you to be my gay boyfriend

mistress: And I want to be your mistress

Me: Doesn't sound like I have much of a choice do I?

girlfriend: Nope, not really *Lunges forward and kisses me*

*mistress then lunges forward and full on makes out with me*

And ever since then girlfriend and I have celebrated our month anniversaries as little accomplishments. It's sad that this is the longest and healthiest relationship either one of us has ever been in. (I know, I know its a shocker...maybe I should have "chosen" to be straight. I seem to be more successful...) This past Friday was our 56th month anniversary and we decided to celebrate it the best way we know how...with drinks at a gay sports bar followed up by dancing at a gay club. (girlfriend is secretly a gay man on the inside, she prefers to hit up ze gay bars. This may be why she is single, verdict is still out on why I am still single....ok, ok we all obviously know why I am still single, rude.)

We had dinner at Nellie's (the gay sports bar in DC where I am 90% certain no one gives a fuck about the sports on the screens. They are there for "kitschy" decorations, which is a stereotype I embrace) with an old friend from college to catch up. It was a fairly long dinner where shots were taken and men were stared at. At the end of dinner I was exhausted and girlfriend and I were both yawning, but I had promised some of my gay DC friends I'd make an appearance at a birthday party down the street and I am nothing if not a people pleaser. 

When we got there we were immediately ushered over to the drinks table and my friend Erik made me the strongest drink known to man and convinced us to make our way back to Nellies for a drank. I was so tired and wanted to go back home and sleep, but I felt obligated to go at least for one drink. (I know, shocker, I feel obligated to drink.) In my mind I kept saying to myself: 

I had to get my shit together so I could show girlfriend a night full of glitter, rainbows, and happiness. When we got to Nellie's we ordered a drink and a shot and I decided to put my head into the game and work it out. I was always told not to be a quitter (I am not sure my parents meant this for drinking, but at least I am applying the things I learned. baby steps...) When everyone decided to go to Town (big, gay, sweaty dance bar) we decided our night had not run its course yet and went along with them. As soon as we got in we grabbed drinks and listened to a little Britney Spears. After getting a little liquored up we made our way upstairs to the main dance area. It was packed and we were finally in the right state to be up there. We found our friends and began dancing our hearts out. 

Slowly we started noticing our friends disappearing and before long it was just the two of us surrounded by a sea of men and some women. (haha...seamen..semen...haha I'm 12) girlfriend was hit on multiple times by various lesbians tryna get a little piece of her Armenian lovin'. Like any good friend she wasn't focused on making a lesbian connection, we were focused on each other and the beats that were taking over our bodies. And then it happened, a gorgeous 6'2" black man walked up to girlfriend and began talking to her. 

GB(gorgeous black man): Hey are you two....together?

girlfriend: Nope just friends dancing

GB: Do you mind if I step in and dance with him?

Without words girlfriend started to walk away and letting him know that it was a-okay to dance with me. My heart stopped. I wasn't able to process everything that was going on. He sauntered closer to me and we began dancing furiously to the beat and holding each other closer and closer, both a little hot and bothered in this room that had become a sauna. And then....then he kissed me. 

Maybe because I have been on so many dates with white dudes recently, but this felt like home. The saying is true...once you go black, you don't go back. It just felt right. Obviously, the classy guy that I am, I danced and macked it with him for awhile before thinking about checking on girlfriend, who had so graciously sacrificed herself so I could get a little lovin'. Just as I turn around I find her dancing with an attractive, shirtless, black man. Turns out he is GB's friend who had been really into girlfriend. (Is this really happening? Is this random night turning into a love connection? IS HE GOING TO BE MY BOYFRIEND???? i have issues I need to work through obviously....)

After a little bit more mackin' it GB  told me he had to go to the bathroom with his friend and he didn't want me to leave (so sweet, our first date is turning out so great! shhh, just let me have this) He gave me his number just in case I couldn't find him. (omgz its so serious guyz! preppin' to meet the fam next where they tell me I am what GB has needed for so long) girlfriend and I gab about the hotties we have bagged and how wonderful and glittery this night has been. How stupid were we to think that we should have gone to sleep instead of going out and meeting my husband! (yup...marriage is always on the mind. suck it) 

When they got back, the two gorgeous men pulled us up on stage and I started immediately mackin' it with GB so everyone in the club would know the man I was with. (I felt like a dog peeing on a house..this is MY man bitches, get in line! muhahaha) I decided at this point it may be a good idea to find out a few of the essentials...like his name.

Me: Sooo do you live around here?

GB: Oh, uh, yeah kinda. Not far. 

Me: Cool, so interesting! What do you do for a living? Are you an accountant, financial advisor, work for the government? (I had decided he worked as a lobbyist on the hill...)

GB: Uh well I am in school right now. Just studying away!

Me: Thats cool too, some people take some extra time to graduate. Are you a fifth or sixth year senior? Not that it matters! (I had now decided he was supporting his whole family while going to school! So noble! )

GB: Nope I go to community college, its my first year *Kisses me before I can say anything*

Me: Did you just get a late start to school? I know a lot of people who go back later. (I had now decided he had tried to start his own business when he left h.s. and that to make it a bigger business he wanted to get a college degree....so many excuses)

GB: Errr..no. I didn't take any time off

Me: Sooooo.....how old are you?

GB: My friend and I are both 18.

WHAAAAATTTTTTTT?!?!?! Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!! This isn't happening to me! It can't happen! I'm dying. This is what death feels like. I finally find an attractive, beautiful, black man and he is 18. I am almost 6 years older than him. I felt dirty. I felt wronged. I felt like the end of the world had just happened. I pulled on his hand and saw massive "X's" and I couldn't begin to process these emotions. Luckily for me GB and his shirtless friend needed to go to the bathroom, again telling me not to go anywhere. I turned to girlfriend and told her of our predicament, and do you know what she did? Do you know how she handled my heartbreak? She laughed. A lot. A loud hardy laugh. And kept saying "At least I didn't make out with mine" RUDE. We bolted out of the club before they got back and immediately got into a cab. On the way home we discussed all the reasons why this age difference was wrong.

1. When we entered college, they were entering 7th grade

2. When we were having our first drinks, they were discussing the SAT's

3. A majority of photos in this post won't make sense to them 

4. By the time they could legally drink, we will be closer to 30 than I'd like to admit

5. They probably know all the teletubby names 

6. THEY WERE BORN IN THE MID-90s

girlfriend just kept repeating that I had found my Black Bieber. And I will admit, if this tall attractive black man had been a multi-millionaire, my list of reasons why it shouldn't happen would go out the door. BUT, thats not what happened and instead I am left feeling like "To Catch a Predator" is waiting outside my door at all times. 

(This is the photo we left for the cabby on our way home...)

Fabulously Lost: Heartbroken and possibly wanted by Chris Hansen 

girlfriend: Still my only healthy relationship

Black Bieber: Too hot too trot, and still 18

Town: Where my dignity might be in the lost and found