Lesbians – Shaken, Not Stirred

I got drunk at my Mom’s Xmas party. I mean REALLY drunk. Slurring-my-speech drunk. Barely-standing drunk. There was this lesbian/trans couple who nobody was talking to. I knew who they were. I had been told beforehand by my concerned mother who was unsure how to introduce them and needed reassurance that she had, indeed, done the right thing by inviting them both as a couple even though she only knew one of them, especially given that it was sure to be a somewhat conservative crowd. (Apparently, I’m considered something like a liberal advisor in my family.) So anyway, I took it upon myself to not only go talk to them and be friendly but to make good and sure they knew I was an ultra-liberal and supported their cause. But I didn’t come out and say it, not wanting to officially ‘out’ them (and confirm people’s suspicions) if I was overheard, and I was far too drunk to be articulate, so I just stood there making thinly-veiled hints and vague references to hating red states, Joe Dobson and Focus on the Family, reading liberal blogs, etc. Before I was even done, they were rolling their eyes at each other and shaking their heads, which of course I saw, but it failed to stop me. I figured I could still rescue it so I kept right on going. Finally, I left, having both failed to impress or to make friends. I was horrible. I was a monster!

They might as well have just come out and said, “We get it! You’re a liberal and you know we’re lesbians! Now go to bed!” Well, I made a real ass of myself and, obviously, was REALLY embarrassed the next morning. I continue to be. I am ashamed. I must repent.

If this were my first encounter with the homosexual variety it would be understandable, even admirable, to bravely venture maladroit and unadvised into their midst, as a crusader of open-mindedness, to bravely face whatever strange and unusual lesbian forces await – a selfless gesture, reaching out to an unknown world in order to emerge more educated and enlightened and a little more cosmopolitan. But it wasn’t like that at all! Gay people aren’t new to me. I’m hip. I’m down with the whole gay thing. I’ve had/have lots of gay friends. I’ve hung out in gay bars on several occasions and didn’t even feel compelled to tell everyone who talked to me that I was straight. I’ve pet-sat for lesbians while they were on vacation and didn’t even look in their nightstand. (Even though I kinda wanted to. Wouldn’t you? Don’t judge me.) I’ve had two gay doctors. For fuck sakes, I’ve been to the LILITH FAIR!

So, why did I behave this way? That’s a toughie, and I’ve been thinking about that night for a while. Those who know me personally know that I have a weakness for Margaritas. Perhaps it was just the alcohol talking. Right? I hope. But is that enough of an excuse? Those who know me or read my blog regularly know that the art of subtlety escapes me. Maybe I just don’t get out enough. Maybe I spend too much time writing and don’t get enough human interaction. Maybe I read and write about politics so much that I leap at the opportunity to be liberal in real life.

In thinking about this experience, I can’t help trying to find a lesson. There MUST be some profound tidbit in this story somewhere. My embarassmental suffering must not be in vain! In my overt attempts to assert my liberalism, was I better or worse behaved than those at the party who had avoided contact with the couple entirely? Did my over-reaching betray a deep-seated fear of lesbians? Can overwhelming enthusiasm and sincerity successfully coexist? Am I SO hungry for left-leaning companionship that I threw myself upon a pair of unsuspecting lesbians? Is it impolite to assume all lesbians are liberal? Shouldn’t there be a secret handshake?

As I pondered these questions and more over the past few days I’ve come to several conclusions: I believe I am not, in fact, a bad person. I do have good intentions. I fear not the lesbian. I can be too eager to talk about politics. I can be too eager to meet other liberals. I need to get out more. I should avoid hard liquor. These are the things I hope to take away from an experience which I think was mostly harmless, albeit horrifying, to everyone involved. For the benefit of my readers, I’m proud to say that my search for profundity was not without fruit, so without further ado, I shall finish this blog entry with a lesson.

The moral of the story is this: Those who cannot be subtle should not drink around lesbians.

There. Now I feel better.