Two weeks after my twenty-first birthday I was invited to a co-worker's birthday party. I Mapquested the address and arrived on time, swinging my Sentra into the dark parking lot. I glanced at the address again, not sure I was at the right place.
That's when I noticed the purple lights showingcasing Diamonds - the night club was smack in the middle of a deserted strip mall. At least three homeless people were scrounging in the dumpster and I was quite certain I was the whitest thing for at least fifty miles.
My key never left the ignition.
I have avoided clubs ever since, the horror of my first experience seared into my memory as I assumed all dance joints were the same.
I recently discovered my male Twin - read: soulmate if only he wasn't gay. Oh, the disappointments in life. He invited my girls and me out on a Friday night, promising wicked fun and plenty of gorgeous men for all of us. Jigna, Ashley, and I set about looking hot, forlornly surveying our closets and finding little in the way of "clubbing attire." In the end we chose what made us stand out, ironically all wearing varying shades of gray, laughing at our self-made titles: Indian Sex Kitten, Sultry Princess, and Fun-loving Flirt.
We made our way to Colin's house, discovering upon arrival that my Twin displayed black cowboy boots, a perfect match to the ones on my feet. Hmm, maybe I can Google a gay-reversal spell. He introduced us to his friends Alyson and Cydney and we all laughed as Alyson declared war against Colin's razor for mauling her shapely legs. She lost so much blood from the cuts that she could have been a traveling Red Cross. The clock struck ten and we piled in the car to head downtown, pathetic mimics of Bollywood dancers as we jammed to the Slumdog Millionaire score.
We swung by Chip's place, another of the lovely gays we met through Colin, and crowded into the living room as introductions were exchanged. Jeff and I did flight attendant fingers, the typical gesture upon meeting a new co-worker in "real" life.
Then I saw him.
Oh snap.
Tattoos, dark hair, sinful eyes - please let him be straight, please let him be straight, please let him be straight! I chanted inwardly. Thankfully my reverie was interrupted and my attentions diverted by a squeal from Jigna as the resident mini-dog tried to make chew toys of her fingers. We laughingly assured her he was no harm but I played the loyal friend and protected her from Fifi's canines.
Finally, our group ever-growing, we zipped through Atlanta until at last we arrived at Primal, a mere door on the side of a plain building. I was surprised until we stepped indoors - the place opened up on itself and we played Colin's entourage as he informed the staff with a flourish that he was on The List. The dance floor was suddenly before us and I finally stopped to notice what the rest of the fair sex was wearing. Shit. The entire disco-illuminated space was full of toothpicks in LBD's. Actually, make that Practically Invisible Little Black Dresses. Too bad I left mine at the back of my closet. Oh wait, I don't own a PILBD. Perhaps my dominatrix outfit would suffice - even then I'd be wearing more than three girls here put together. Added to mental checklist: polish my metal corset.
Colin's friend Justin tended bar as Colin ordered the first round of shots. Ashley and I being non drinkers - as in we've never downed at entire glass of alcohol in our twenty-two years - we tentatively anticipated what my Twin called a Space Pussy. Personally I think they should rename it Cat-In-Orbit and omit potential clientele embarrassment. A toast to the night and we all guzzled the pink liquid as cool fire coated my insides.
Interesting.
Jigna and I sipped our Sex on the Beach while Ashley nursed her weakened Appletini and we all posed for pictures on the patio. Our new friend Marcus was there, his broad smile Cheshire-like against his dark skin. We chatted about the wiles of KFC going healthy while I halfway flirted, resolving to take my Gaydar to the shop for a checkup as soon as possible. Josh mentioned his ex-girlfriend while he ahhed over Jigna's clothes, declaring we all must have gay men who shopped for us. I exchanged confused looks with my friends. I reeeaaaalllly need to get that Gaydar fixed.
We all made our way back to the dance floor to break it down as I pondered my state of consciousness. Am I drunk? I don't feel drunk. Then again, what exactly does drunk feel like? I'm pretty sure I'll remember it all in the morning and that's what counts, right? Then I laughed giddily as I almost tripped and I reconsidered my musings.
Usher yelled "Yeah" and I was transported back to Prom, thanking my stars that I was enjoying myself MUCH more this night. Most of the boys and girls got dirty, hips grinding and booties shaking as the loud beat pounded through the cement floor.
I took a breather and tried to ignore Devil boy, for upon discovering he was straight he may as well have pinned me to the wall with his wicked pitchfork, so strong was his hold over me. I mentioned to him that I liked bad boys. "Then you'd better stay away from me," he murmured temptingly. Damn him. Those dark ones always know what they are doing.
Ashley was swept away by a hottie with a body from West Virginia and Jigna chatted flirtatiously with a guy who called himself Bermuda. I thought I should warn her that she might get lost if she stayed around him too long. I stood there and stuck out my lip, abandoned by the gays, the Blood Bank and Cydney nowhere in sight, and swearing I'd never end up like the Asian wallflowers on the far side of the room, I grabbed the Devil's hand.
"Let's dance."
Before I knew it we were practically one person, fused together from top to bottom as we swayed to the beat, and I suddenly started to panic.
Oh god, could I get pregnant? I was pretty sure this was safe, but dear gosh, there were countless demons mere inches from me. I feared their iron will might cause them to swim through four layers of clothing and there is no WAY I'm gonna have a kid. I've already told my parents that any child of mine will be left in a basket on their doorstep and they have my permission to christen it Moses, no matter the sex.
Although I knew I was overreacting, the thought of a kid made my head swim - or maybe it was the liquor, but I'm just saying - and I reluctantly broke free as Chip and Russell made a seqway in and I joined them in their dance. Our entire group was there, Cydney and Alyson right at home on top of the box, and we shook it till the lights came on. Colin loudly congratulated us for closing down the club.
We wound down the night in Russell's retro studio on Tenth Street, his giant white headboard the coolest thing I've ever seen. Kathy Griffin droned on the plasma television as a drunken Jeff and Josh begged me to belt out Broadway - perhaps if I had had as much to drink as THEM I'd have been warbling like a Mimi on crack. We gathered our things to go and bid everyone farewell, promising to join them all again soon. Surprisingly the boy I deemed Devilish ensured that my girlfriends and I made a safe arrival to my car, a real-life Ying Yang, good and bad in the perfect recipe.
I fell into bed back at the apartment, glancing at the clock before I drifted off.
5 am.
I giggled. It had definitely been a night to remember.
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