When I was still a little faggot, sheltered from the realness of the world of queerdom, I used to go to one of Colorado’s few gay bars semi-regularly.
The first time I went, I was smoking in the alley when this guy in a white shirt came up to me, and asked me if I had a light. I handed it over to him, instead of a lighting his roach for him, so as to avoid the implication of cruising.
I was very drunk that night, so when the guy leaned against the wall I was leaning on and tried to talk to me, I crushed my cigarette and returned to the dance floor to slut it up.
The next time I was there, I had to piss like a horse, so I went to the bathroom as soon as we got there. Someone was having sex in the stalls…
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