![]() Usually these come from straight people, and sometimes queers from the north-east and west coast. Telling people that I had a drag queen sit on my head on my first trip to a gay bar and announce to the room that she was “rubbing (her) taint on a twelve-year-old” has become a regular party anecdote for me-even when I often have to sputter something mollifying afterwards to answer the looks of horror the story can get. Why are you sitting on the floor, Zack? Honey, you have got to speak up.” “What’s your name, babydoll?” she asked me. I haven’t met one who doesn’t have a preternatural sense of who needs to be singled out and doted on. I still believe that Florida’s drag queens are the best in the country. “Ladies and gentleman, we have a virgin.” The bar let out a singular, affable roar. Eighteen? They can’t hear you, honey.” She pushed the microphone closer to my mouth. ![]() Is this your first time at a gay bar, Mr.
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