Monday, May 18, 2015

The man who would be queen.









The other night at the salsa social, I danced with a drag queen.  I was the only guy who asked her to dance.  She must a stood 6'3" in her stockings, and weighed north of 280 lbs.  She wore very stylish, size 13 dance heels, and had her hair and nails did.  Her makeup looked perfect.  I must confess I found the juxtaposition of the little, v-necked, figure hugging dress and the curly black chest hair disconcerting.   I took her big hand, and led her onto the dance floor.

About half way through the dance, I thought to myself:  "Jeez, I hope she likes what I'm doing, because if she doesn't, she can punch my lights out."

After the dance, she gave me a smile and a BIG hug, so I guess I danced ok.

When I returned to my table, an incredulous Edwardo questioned me:  "Did you just dance with that fag?"  I nodded yes.

"Edwardo", I told him, "I used to give a fuck about what people think, but I don't anymore.  And besides, she's not a fag, she's a drag queen."






                                                                    

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