First, a reminder that my life is now in a totally different place, time and world. Now I’m a soccer mom, settled down with a PTA mom, living the quiet white picket fence life and loving every second of it . . . for the most part.
This post concerns events that happened during my bar dancing, girl jumping, fast driving, money slinging days that are long past.
I was dating three women at the same time: Janie, Robin and Karen. They were all straight and all now married . . . to men. But that’s not really the story that I want to relate. I want to talk about Robin.
I had first seen Robin when I was 17 and using a fake ID to get into sleezy little gay bars. Back then you walked down a dark alley, found the door with the light over it and stood while some guy on the inside looked through the little hole to see if you looked queer enough to come in. When you got inside there was a world of normal gays and lesbians and then there were many many freaks, most not gay of all shapes, sizes, colors, and degrees of weirdness. The music was good, your fake ID didn’t have to be perfect, and there were girls to dance with. Of course, you did have to stand in a half inch of urine if you wanted to go to the restroom and the neighborhoods were not particularly safe.
Anyway, on some Saturday nights – the goregous people would arrive. Usually it would be a crowd of about 6. 2 or 3 gay men with 3 or 4 striaght women. They would be dressed as if they just left the country club and were now hitting the real fun. They were fantastic dancers and one looked like the most sexy, fun woman on the face of the Earth. She always wore fun, brightly colored dresses that did all sorts of tricks as she danced. And, she was a fantabulous dancer and cute and from what I could tell, very witty and well-liked but . . . straight and not material for the young lesbians. She was with the pretty boys. So, year after year I’d see her.
Skip a few years. I went through college and law school and the first few years as an attorney. Then – then I was back. I was back in the same gay bars, looking at the same people. But there had been a huge change. I’d usually come in after going to the country club and sometimes would have a nice looking gay guy with me. I don’t think I even realized it but . . . I had become . . . one of them.

So one night, after dinner and dancing at the country club, there I was when “she” came in. She was looking just as sexy and fun as I had remembered.
I found out a lot about her that night. Her name was Robin. She only liked to date black men because that’s who she was attracted to. I was the attorney for her employer and she had never even kissed another women.
The next morning as I was leaving her house in the quiet little neighborhood, with hose and heels tucked under my arm, I was amazed. After all of those years . . . I had just had sex with Robin. And she really was all that and more.
As our “dating” progressed, Robin didn’t really like the fact that I was dating other women, once telling me that the only thing different about me and the black men she’d dated was that I owned my own car. So we had some rough spots but the day that I knew we had come to our end was the day I opened her frig and saw the watermelon and 2 half-eaten KFC snack boxes. Yes, I had been replaced.
You can’t make this shit up.