I’ve lived in the Washington, D.C., metro area for 19 years. In that time, I’ve watched as the landscape has changed. When I arrived, just out of college, I was a wide-eyed, horny young thing, ready to take on the world. But I wasn’t yet a regular in the bar scene. Instead, I played primarily with my straight friends. I was always out and proud, but I was afraid to mix and mingle with my own kind. I guess I felt more secure in my sheltered world (of mostly Republicans!) where I wouldn’t be pressured to do things I didn’t want to do. After a handful of very bad sexual experiences in college, it was understandable that I’d be a little apprehensive.
And then I met Kim. We became fast friends during the summer of 1993 when we both worked as concierges for a large downtown corporation. She was confident and bossy, but had a sweet side. She liked hanging out with me and I was thrilled to have someone a bit less conservative to play with. We gossiped, and joked around, and consistently found ways to do anything but our actual jobs. After some time, and during one of our frequent liquid lunches, she finally confessed that she was a lesbian. (I kind of figured as much, just as she pegged me as a homo from day one). We both had a laugh and then instantly had a lot more to talk about.
One fateful evening, she took me out on the town. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that the Hung Jury on H Street (long closed, as you know) was primarily a lesbian dance spot. Hell, it was strictly a lesbian joint and when we walked in and sidled up to the bar, it seemed that every pair of eyes was boring a hole through me. The bartender spoke to Kim, asked what she wanted, and completely ignored me. Luckily, she was gracious enough to defer to me. To say I was uncomfortable was an understatement. And when I had to use the restroom? Look out, brother! There were girls in there and they aggressively ushered me out and told me I could relieve myself in the alley if I had to go bad enough.
We left after the first drink and Kim apologized for the way I was treated. She explained that she may have crossed a line taking me there, but she thought that it was going to be okay because she had always found everyone to be so friendly in the past. When there was no dick riding sidesaddle, I surmised.
I never went back to the Hung Jury. And after I got a slew of nasty looks at a lesbian bar in Key West years later, I decided I was done with the lady places forever.
Except that forever is a really, really long time. Especially when I found myself covering the D.C. gay nightlife scene a few years ago as part of a talk show I host. Sure, I had become a frequent patron of the likes of JR.’s, Cobalt, Nellie’s and Town, but I never stepped foot in Phase One or Lace because of my past experiences and because I’d heard so much about those places not being accepting of dudes, even though JR.’s, Cobalt, Nellie’s and Town have no problem with the girls coming to play in their spaces. I mean, when’s the last time a chick was asked to go pee in the alley behind Town?
Sure, before you bite off my head, I realize that the girls only have a few places to call their own around here. And I know, too, that not everyone is the same. But, would it be so horrible to change up the rules a bit and actually reach out to the guys from time to time? The new Phase One Dupont does that to some degree—they open their doors to everyone on Thursday, then cater to the ladies on the weekend.
I was surprised when I recently interviewed Kim Dazy, a nationally known deejay who has a weekly residence at New York City’s Henrietta Hudson, a lesbian bar that actively courts the guys. “We are so gay boy friendly, we welcome everybody. We have to unite as one community to survive,” she explained. Hmm. Refreshing.
So, if they can do it, can’t we? Believe me, if the lady bars rolled out the red carpet for the boys, we wouldn’t be filling up the place and taking over. But it’d be nice to know that we are welcome and would be treated the same way that we treat the ladies in the other, more guy-centric establishments in town.
Maybe not everyone is happy with the small percentage of boys that turn up to the Ladies of Lure’s monthly BARE party at Cobalt, but it’s nice that the organizers invite and welcome guys. And after all my negative experiences over the years, I have to say, it’s one of my favorite regularly scheduled parties in D.C., and I always have a really great time. And never once have I been asked to pee in the alley.
Life’s short and we’re a small community. We should all learn to play— and drink—together.
