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My Night at the Drag Show (Part Two)

Read Part One here

You know that feeling you get when you’re so unfamiliar with a situation that you have no words?

Like, you honestly can not think of anything to say. So what do you do? You smile and graciously laugh like a duchess, put your hand over your mouth and slowly rock back and forth in your chair until the compliments stop rolling in.

OK, maybe that’s a very specific situation. But nonetheless, I feel as though nothing had prepared me for this night, and nothing about what was happening was actually expected. I kept telling myself, “Tonight would be the night I begin feeling like myself again.” I had no idea that I would feel better than just “myself.” This was uncharted territory.

And I loved it.

“What are you drinking?” the gentleman, Brad asked.

I looked at my glass of vodka Red Bull and realized how annoyingly young I am. Brad was drinking whiskey, as I could tell from the horrid scent that still haunts me from nights I’m glad I don’t remember. He was drinking a grown up drink. I was drinking an energy drink at a bar.

“I actually am in the mood for a vodka-cranberry,” I said. And then immediately thought to myself, “Damn it, Robert, you’re such a basic bitch.”

“Sure thing!” Brad said. “Hey ladies, what can I get you all to drink?”

There were 11 people in our group…well, minus one. Iyanla left her seat to go sit with Brad’s sweet friends at the front of the room, while Brad took her seat. She’s such a good wing-woman. Anyways, Brad offered every person in our group a drink. How presh, I thought. As he left, I looked over at the hot young gals in the group who were all giving me that “ooh girl” look. I responded with, “I know right!” and then starting fanning myself with a napkin to show Brad was just too hot to handle.

But of course, once Brad came back, I reverted to playing the coy debutante.

Upon arrival to our table, Brad realized he forgot one of my friends’ drink.

“Oh shit, vodka-tonic, right?” Brad said, clearly disappointed in himself. My friend said she was really OK, and that she didn’t need a drink. But Brad insisted, got back up from his seat and returned to the bar. How sweet omg. He treats me nicely AND my friends? Even if he was just trying to get in my pants, it was still quite lovely.

* * *

“You do this a lot don’t you?” I said, turning myself into the bold, in control bitch who “knows men like you,” smiling flirtatiously.

“I really don’t,” he said, laughing and taking another sip from his drink. “You’re just really attractive. Everyone in this bar thinks so, honey.”

At this point, the show was nearing curtain call, and I didn’t want it to end. The lights were turned to blue and the upbeat dance songs turned to ballads, and Brad turned to place his hand on my knee. I was on my second drink from Brad and wanted to return the favor.

“Hey, let me buy you a drink,” I said.

“No, no, honey,” he replied from over his shoulder. “I always buy the drinks.”

At that moment, I was dead.

* * *

Drunk Robert is a happy Robert. Mostly.

I knew I had a ride back to Iyanla’s so I was cleansing all the craziness my mind had eaten and consumed these past few weeks. I wasn’t too gone, I remember everything. I mean, a bitch needs to know their limits.

We were leaving the bar and I kept calling Loretta, Carrie Bradshaw.

“Oh my goodness…Loretta…get over here…you’re my Carrie Bradshaw,” I would say, hugging her like I was her summer intern at Carrie Bradshaw Enterprises.

While Brad was in the restroom, I spoke to his kind friends.

“Does he do this often, you guys?” I asked them, hoping for the answer I wanted to hear.

“He really doesn’t,” one them said. His name was Dante, and we was also the one who motioned for me to come over to their table earlier that night. “He’s a really sweet guy, we were surprised he actually had the courage to go up to you.”

I really couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that someone would need courage to talk to me. It didn’t make sense, but I wasn’t complaining. I enjoyed Brad’s company, and he certainly enjoyed mine.

As things began to get fuzzy, and we are standing around in the parking lot, I realize that Iyanla is getting into an SUV. When I had my meltdown in New York last year, I left my best friend Penny at a club, and I vowed to never do that to someone, no matter how messed up I was. So seeing her leave, was quite frightening and my anxiety had reached high levels.

“Where are you going? What’s happening?” I asked frantically.

“Brad got me an Uber to take me home,” she said.

“But why? I don’t want to leave you, I can’t do that,” I said nervously.

Brad came to the scene. “Hey, it’s alright, it’s on my account, I called it for her, I know this driver. He will take her wherever she needs to go.”

I could see what was happening. And I’m sure you, my dear readers, can see what was happening as well. I may have been drunk, but I had my wits about me, and there’s no way I was going home with someone and leaving my friend out to dry.

“No, I’m going with her,” I said. “I’m not going home with you.”

“OK, that’s fine, it’s OK, I understand,” he said.

But for some reason I was conflicted and felt bad for him, so I got out of the car, kissed Iyanla on the cheek and bid farewell.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know, I was just freaking out for a bit,” I said.

“Nah, it’s OK,” he said. “You were just kind of being a bitch.”

And that’s when it happened folks. I did what any other bitch would do in that situation.

I slapped Brad him.

I didn’t just slap him like soap opera slap, I slapped him like on some hood type shit. Not to mention, I was wearing rings.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he said. “That is NOT cool.”

Suddenly, my lovely friend Candice showed up out of nowhere and offered to take me to Iyanla’s. I took the offer and left Brad there, slapped and alone.

Oh well, I thought…oh well.

* * *

The next morning I woke up next to Iyanla, with my contacts dried out and my septum piercing a crooked mess. I scanned the room and adjusted my eyes to the light. Iyanla’s eyes were opened, staring at the ceiling.

“What the fuck did I do last night?” I asked.

“Oh well, good morning, Robert,” I could sense Iyanla was about to READ me like a skilled drag queen with that smirky wide smile. “Well let’s see, Robby Rob, this is what you did. A sweet, good looking, accomplished gentleman came along to give you the world, and you slapped him across the face. He was Jay Gatsby and you acted like Daisy, you bitch!”

If I wasn’t awake before I asked the question, I certainly was now.


* * *

The Lesson

This night followed just a week after making out with my friend. If you recall, I wrote about how that made me feel in, “A Kiss Can Change Everything.” Before my night at the drag show, I didn’t understand why I was so hooked on my friend who clearly didn’t want me. I was just a passing moment for him, a tipsy spontaneous kiss, nothing more. But after meeting Brad, I was able to connect the dots.

My friend doesn’t want me, and I kissed him. Brad definitely wanted me, and I slapped him.

And that’s when I realized what my problem was — a problem we all have sometimes — and it’s that we always want what we can’t have.


As soon as someone fights to have me, I want to push them away, and when someone pushes me away, I fight to have them. It’s this very strange psychological mess we as humans go through, and it fucks with our emotions. I didn’t feel comfortable going home with Brad that night, which is fine, but it really is funny to think that the first guy who ever showed such abrasive interest in me would be the first guy I slap across the face in the heat of the night.

Instead of waiting around for someone to want you back, take a look at the good people who have treated you like a queen.

Don’t go back to the ones who shit on you,

or the ones who don’t care,

or the ones who love you, just not in the way that you want them to.

And please please be wary of the third one mentioned. Sometimes when we like someone who doesn’t like us back, we resent them even if they did nothing wrong. Don’t fall into that, don’t lose a friend because of that. Get over it, move on, and go on a date with the cute awesome guy who actually shows interest.

And if you slap him, message him about how crazy you are, and he still shows interest, and is down to go on a proper date, then that’s when you should really check it out.

I’ll keep you posted on how that ends up.


xoxo Robby Rob

More Related Stories:

A Kiss Can Change Everything
My New York Summer Meltdown
My Summer Fling with Chandler Bing



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