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I Don’t Recommend Taking Your Date To A Gay Bar

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I’ve never claimed to be good at dating. I’m like the Michael Bay of the dating game. I’m loud, obnoxious and shallow, and I’m not even going to pretend I’m good at what I do anymore. I’ve had some disastrous first dates. Hell, I’ve unintentionally constructed an epic list of horror stories just this past year alone.

I once accidentally ended up on a blind date with one of my ex’s best friends two weeks after our breakup. It was a pretty awkward night. I once went on a Tinder date with a girl whose parents were screenwriters in Hollywood and she spent all night shamelessly name dropping. I don’t care that you met Will Smith once. I’m just trying to get a painful HJ in the restroom and go home. I once got too drunk on a first date at a pub and ended up passing out. Good times.

So the experience I’m about to rant about wasn’t necessarily as painful as the other ones I just mentioned. It wasn’t nearly as awkward as accidentally being on a date with my ex’s friend. It wasn’t nearly as obnoxious as a stereotypical LA name-dropper. And it DEFINITELY wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as passing out at a crowded bar, leaving my poor date to awkwardly drag me out and look like a female Cosby.

But recently I accidentally took a date to a gay bar.

I love gay people. I went to an arts school so half of my best friends are gay dudes and they all know how to dress themselves better than me. But still, that doesn’t mean a gay bar is the ideal date location. And I didn’t even realize until halfway through the night. I naively ignored the clues, but I eventually put the pieces together slowly and meticulously like a Sherlock Holmes dicktective.

Perhaps I was too blind to some of the obvious signals. The bar was called LLL. And I didn’t know that LLL stood for “Leonard’s Leather Lounge.” Should have done more research. I was there for a comedy show I was performing in. I figured I could take my date to my stand-up show, and if I have a good set she’ll be impressed and give me a few curable STIs an hour later.

While I chilled at the bar and we talked, I looked around and realized, wow, LLL is a real sausage fest tonight. I had been there before and I used to think, wow, all the dudes who hang at LLL are so polite. They would buy me drinks and they’d grab my biceps and ask me if I worked out. Super flattering. After that, I noticed the rainbow flags. Granted, every other time I had been at LLL I was drunk out of my mind, far too inebriated to solve this homosexual puzzle.

But all the signs lined up perfectly. The VERY friendly dudes, the rainbow flags, the suspicious music choices (WAY too much Barbra Streisand for one night). A lightbulb popped over my head and I realized where I was. The worst part? Due to a SEVERE miscommunication, my “date” assumed I was actually gay since I took her there, which I didn’t realize until weeks later.

Despite being straight, I’m now her gay best friend. We’re going shopping next week.

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Wally Bryton

TFM's most beloved writer

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