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My Night at the Drag Show (Part One)

I decided tonight would be the night to start feeling like myself again. 

People don’t understand just how psychologically damaging bed bugs can be. That’s right, bed bugs. Why the hell were they created and put on this earth? God, seriously though, why?

You’re forced from comfort, you must dispose of everything that could potentially be infested, you feel like things are crawling on you at all times, and suddenly, your safe haven, your bedroom, is no longer your safe haven. And with the things already going on inside my head, this was not a particularly swell combination. I was sickened by the grotesque nature of these critters that sought to feed off my blood. How degrading and invasive. My body was guarded, and my mind had gone mad.

Every time I looked at myself I was disgusted. This may or not have been due to bed bugs, but I’m quite sure it was because…it’s just how I’ve always been. I’m quite honest about my insecurities. I don’t seek attention for it or fish for compliments. I already know what other people see. They see what I long to see, but even as I continue to work on that struggle, it’s easy to fall into a slump.

We’ve all been there though, right? Don’t you have days when you feel on top of the world, and like the hottest bitch in the room, and then other days feel like you literally were born out of a swamp with a purpose to roam the earth with your horrid appearance? Well I was in the swamp child phase for a few weeks. Then, toss in the bed bugs, and the fact that I made out with one of my closest friends, who I realized I may or may not have feelings for and you got yourself a ticking time bomb. I was no longer inspired…I had no creativity in me. I couldn’t even write a good sentence, let alone a good book. I wasn’t myself.

And thus,

I decided tonight would be the night to start feeling like myself again.

* * *

I was ready, hunty.

I was ready to let it all hang the fuck out. I put on my Kanye and Gaga playlist and hopped in the shower feeling like a bold bitch. I was dancing in the shower like a damn stripper, something I don’t recommend because I almost slipped and fell. OK, I did slip and fall but that’s beside the point. I was feelin oh so fresh out the showa. I danced my way to the guest room (my new room since…ya know…bed bugs) and examined my outfit options in the mirror. I actually felt like I looked good naked, which almost never happens (the lighting in the guest room is superb) so I shot the ole’ hand gun gesture at myself and threw in a wink or too.

“You sexy beast,” I said to my face staring back at me.

I got to Iyanla’s house to pick her up and might I say, we looked hot.

Tonight would be the night to feel like myself again.

* * *

“Hi there cutie,” an older unkempt gentleman said to me from across the room. Flattered. But not interested.

The purple lights reflected off the shimmering stage and the queens took control of the audience. The music, the booze, the makeup, the dancing, the HAIR…such big hair there was, oh, darling yes, I was having a marvelous time.

My dear friend Loretta, who reserved a whole table for her friends, invited me to the drag show. She and Iyanla are both Gemini’s so it’s no wonder I was feeling more like a fire sign Sagittarius than ever before (well plus again, there was booze involved). Loretta is accomplished, wise and so undeniably charismatic; you begin to feel like you’re in classic film, set in modern day when you talk to her. She’s a writer, and the first person I looked up to who got me and understood who I was and do the things I do. She is obsessed with Lady Gaga and all things fabulous. Her tall slim stature, the frequent stiletto heel, the long curly brown hair and the occasional big floppy hat, all represented the Loretta Aura. The final touch is her black rim glasses that remind you, not only is she extraordinary, she knows what she’s talking about.

As the music blared and the queens continued to lip sync, I looked over at her as she lip synced along, her curls now flat in the damp dive bar, with her hair pulled around to the left side of her neck. At that moment, Loretta became Carrie Bradshaw, a better version, and I knew then, that I am incredibly blessed, and that there is order in the universe and in fact, I am surrounded by fantastic people because they are here to help me become who I’m supposed to be.

Tonight was the night I began feeling like myself again…

* * *

I looked toward the front of the audience and a man suddenly pointed his finger at me. He motioned for me to come over to him.

“This can’t actually be happening,” I thought. “Why would he want me to come over?”

I looked behind me to see if he was perhaps pointing at someone else, I saw no one responding, so I turned back around and then pointed at myself, mouthing the word, “Me?”

“Yes,” he mouthed from across the room. But before I could get up, another man stood up from behind the man pointing at me and began to make his way over, swiftly.

And let me tell you something just between us…come here closer to the screen, dear reader, I’m whispering to you because we are having real talk right now.

This MAN…who began making his way over to me, was…oh my god…there’s no other way to say this other than, he was hot as hell. I wasn’t sure what was happening, other than, maybe he knows me from somewhere? Maybe he knows someone in our group? I wasn’t sure…all I know is this couldn’t have been real…he couldn’t have been coming to talk to me was he? But before I could analyze all the options, he was there, standing in front of me, wearing a button down shirt as he scratched his scruff, extended his hand and said,

“Hi, I’m Brad. You’re really attractive. Can I buy you a drink?”

For the first time ever,


Robby Rob,

the gay spinster,

the hot mess,

was getting hit on by a very handsome older gentleman who wanted to buy me a drink.

Everything I had gone through these past couple weeks led up to this moment. It was almost as if the universe was saying, “Gotcha! You really are a catch after all.”

But of course…in true Robby Rob fashion, I would find a way to fuck it up.

Let’s just say, I’m not proud of my actions later that night…

to be continued…

Read Part Two here.



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