Friday night. Bowling.

The night draws to a close and the group I'm with is dispersing. It's down to just six people. With me is a really good friend, another person who I've known for awhile, and a bunch of people who I used to work with and while don't know all that well, always liked. I am the only guy. Now, how shall I put this….hmmmm….let's just say that two thirds of the group of six are more attracted to women than men (drunken experimental phases while playing women's softball doesn't count- just kidding Samela, you know I love ya!).

With the night dwindling, the idea is bandied about to continue on and go to a bar. The bar that gets decided upon is a lesbian bar.

Now, I am dead tired. Way tired. A result of too much running around at work, too much beer drinking, too many corn dogs, and some serious bowling. If I'd a have my druthers, I'd go home. The only problem is that the bowling alley is oh so far away (Daly City) and the only way home for me is to rely on the kindness of strangers (or, more like my friend, but the phrase is strangers so I'm gonna stick with that). That means my fate isn't necessarily in my hands and I have to do what the person driving wants to do. Don't want to be a killjoy, after all. She wants to continue on. Because I'm relying on her for a ride home- not to mention the fact I was having a good time despite the fact I was dead tired- when asked, I said I had no problem continuing on.

I could, however, go to the bar and then say I was tired and head home from there. We were going back into the city and the bar wasn't that far from my apartment. But there's a problem in doing that. We were gonna to go to a lesbian bar. This, of course, meant I had a dilemma.

If I excused myself and said I was too tired to continue on, I could come off as the kind of guy who couldn't deal with going into a lesbian bar. But if I stayed, I earn myself some street cred. Get some much-needed sleep or prove my non-uptightness? What to do...what to do.....

I went in for a drink.

Truth was, I had no problems going into the bar. It wasn't a hard-core lesbian bar full of 200-pound radical man-hating dykes. In fact, it was quite a nice bar- cozy with couches a fire, and an outdoor patio- the kind of place I like to hang out in. I also was enjoying the company, so much so I was kind of wishing I wasn't so gosh-darn tired that I could be more social.

None of this prevented everyone I was with from keep on asking me if I was okay with being there, which was kind of ironic because I went in just to prove to everyone that I had no problem being there. I did, however, find myself looking around for any non-lesbian types when I got in there, but that's more of a knee-jerk reaction type thing. Everyone, when going into a place a little out of their element, always first tries to find something similar. Again, not that I cared, but I just did it automatically.

After a drink and the realization I was about to pass-out, I got up and left, wishing I could stay but hearing my couch call like one of those shrieking plants in the new Harry Potter flick. Turns out too I had nothing to prove. Already proved my mettle years ago in going out with drinks with the very same crew. Not to mention hosting party for all of them, but that's a story for another time.