Avitable’s high school yearbook post made me think about whether I’d forgotten to tell any of the tales of my misspent youth on here. Since I am old (well, compared to Mr. I Graduated in 1994, I’m old), my memory isn’t so great any more. I had to think long and hard about this.
My first thought was that I had to have told the tale of me lifting my shirt to a backyard full of men drinking beer at a party. Then I wondered if I told the tale of going to Mexicali with 5 hot guys. I pondered the tale of the broken champagne bottles on the tennis court of a private neighborhood in Pacific Grove. Then it occurred to me that while I might not have told any of those tales to you before, I sure as hell hadn’t told you my tale of going to an underground punk club with no name in San Francisco and seeing lesbian sex in the bathroom.
It was summer. It was the early 80’s. It was about as hot as San Francisco ever gets, which isn’t very hot. I had safety pins in my ears, torn black lace tights and high heels on with a matching lace tank top that showed off my red bra underneath. My skirt wasn’t short but the slit in it was long. My eyes were ringed in black. My short hair was spiky and blue. My fingernails were black. I actually looked very “club” compared to the hardcore punks in there.
The place had no name and was the size of a postage stamp. I doubt you could have fit more than 60 people in it. That night, it was almost packed. I danced until my feet hurt and the black rings around my eyes started to melt and drip black streaks down my cheeks. I was starting to look like a zombie and I had to pee. My date pointed to a dark corner of the club. I headed over there and sure enough there were two doors, indicating two bathrooms. Neither had a sign on it. I opened the door on the right and came face to face with urinals… and lesbian sex.
The girl who was the lickee looked up at me and said, “We came in HERE so you freaks that call yourselves girls wouldn’t get a free show. Ya mind?”
The girl on her knees doing all the licking made some kind of angry muffled retort.
The lickee glared at me and I left.
As I peed in the ladies room, I wondered… why was it okay for men to see them having sex, but not women? Personally, in my experience, it was the men who wanted a free show of lesbian sex, not the women. It was a really odd, surreal experience.
I told my friend about it when I came out of the bathroom. He just laughed and told me I should watch what happened on the dance floor on the nights the place was packed so tight you couldn’t get to the bathrooms. After that, I was almost glad I never went back there on a packed night.
I hope you freaks all have a happy Humpday!