Social Retardation - Oh so Wrong at Wrong Bar

So today I have been prompted to write to you because of this note I received on Facebook from one of my best friends. It reads:

"You REALLY need to blog about our experience last night. I'm still perplexed. I will try and not talk to strangers and feel compelled to engage people because liquor was bought ! My bad..."

As you know, I aim to please my people, and upon thought I decided to tell you what we know now. Like storytellers, I wish to share my life.

Yesterday was like any Wednesday-so it seemed. In the afternoon I decided to head down to Hump Day Bump, a popular queer party at Wrong Bar on Queen St in Toronto. I felt like dancing and being beautiful, so that was the plan.

After a couple of drinks with my darling friend, we made a pact to try and talk to one person that evening- to not look so perfect in stone, as it may not be the best way to attract people.

This friend of mine refers to me as Oprul...as in Oprah but with real flava! However apparently I have become Dark Oprul to him as late. I know he does not mean this in a mean way. Actually I think he is referring to my new found ability to go for what I want without hesitation and within any given moment.

I digress. So Dark Oprul and her friend-sidekick, Rail (Oprul's Gayle) decided that is was time to socialize and begin our funny little challenge.
Oprul and her Rail.


We got over it quite quickly when we started surveying the options. In fact I commented that I was not drunk enough to find anyone there in my good taste. Rail told me I needed to drink more.

So after 2 glasses of wine and the kickin' tunes playing by hey Mr.DJ, we decided to shake our money makers and just have fun!

Dancefloors are a place that I feel quite powerful if I am feeling the musica. I was feeling the New Jack Swing that was swinging my way. So we danced like Lady Gaga.

Within moments a man and woman, who at the time were holding down the dancefloor with us, came over and said hi. They asked if they could dance with us, we said sure - no harm done. All seemed well when I was battling Rail on Rhythm Nation choreography (and I graciously accept that he won!).

We danced, we spoke and then I was Sticky and Sweet and I wanted air. We all went out of Wrong Bar to speak. I spoke to the male and Rail to the female, who I could tell was totally jonesing on my boy!

We spoke candidly about about the woman's new born and her open relationship with her boyfriend/baby daddy (yes I said baby daddy. Sorry). Then we went back into the bar and took a tequila shot. This is when the trap was set. Boo for booze! The shot went down okay though.

With the warmth of the sting of that poison in our bellies, somehow we were transformed into these individuals BFF's in their mind. They prayed on innocent Rail and asked him if he wanted to go to somewhere to talk and have a drink. I was reluctant, but I thought what the hell. Don't be a bitch, just have fun!

I should always listen to my sketchstinct.

So we went for a drink. Luckily they kept feeding us booze, but the price for this buzz was belligerence! Dear god. The dude was cool - I had no issues with him. But the woman, like most white people upon excessive alcohol intake, began to get aggressive.

For the first time EVER I was told "excuse me. can you not talk for a second. I can see you like to talk, but it's not your turn." When people talk shit, I like to bring it back down to sense. CRIME CRIME!

Only the power of Ganesha kept me from trunk slappin' that beyach. Do you know who I is?!

This also lead into Rail getting a softcore massage from this girl and I just sat there and thought, "who the hell are these people and what planet do they come from??"

She spoke of her bisexuality and her desire to raise her daughter with love. I related amicably, citing my 10 year old niece and how I wish the same of her.
Though for some reason this chick seemed quite defensive about my lesbianism. Highlights included comments like "well you are a dyke, that is the way dykes are."

I listened like a good toddler and really tried to take her perspective in. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a good listener.

Rail and I are pretty traditional queers. Yes it is true, we do exist! I mean I can get my freak on like the next, but my desire lays within a pretty contextual framework when it comes to relationships. So I listened to what she had to say - it was noisy. A wholelotanada.

Don't misunderstand me-I have friends who are into open-relationships and bisexual. I adore them as the people they are. This girl was neither, nor. She was a moron.

At that point I should have pulled out my dildo and knocked her unconscious, but I forgot it at home.

Heavily distracted by the Baby Blue going on in a bizarre massage of Rail to my right - with a light intoxication to fluff my fire, we finished up and left the wanksters paradise like Amy outta rehab; quick!

This is the moral of the story. If you have an opinion, allow it to flow from a place of honesty and integrity. Do not use queering as an excuse to behave without responsibility, class or intelligence. Let others speak without being afraid of not being heard and wait your turn. Yes, love is all that matters, but what is your kind of love?!

Most crucially, do not feel obliged to hang out with sketchy people that buy you drinks at bars!!!