Reasons I love gay bars.

Oh, let me count the ways.

First, I'm not the hottest chick on the planet, but even fugly chicks get their asses grabbed in nightclubs. I'm a fan of gay bars, because if it for some reason does happen, I'm fairly certain it doesn't really mean anything. Whereas, if I'm in a straight nightclub, they're usually trying to get in my pants. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I'll be standing at the bar of whatever hip nightclub just opened and some dude comes up to me and grabs my ass. It's so flipping annoying and the quickest way to have me put you on my own personal do not call list. This is why I generally don't go to nightclubs in the first place.

Second, I rarely have to worry about getting roofied. Or, flooried as it were. Either way, I'm pretty sure no one in a gay bar is going to mistake me for a drag queen, and therefore, they're not going to try to sleep with me. As such, putting a roofie in my drink is completely wasting it, and usually guys put them in the drinks of people they want to get in bed with, AKA, not mine. At least that's been my experience with it. Different story for a different day though.

Third, rarely has a night a gay bar ever cost me more than $30. I like cheap drinking nights. There is little in life more irritating to me than finding a receipt for a $100 night. Or worse, the bartender calling me the next day and letting me know I walked out on said $100 bar tab. Yes, it's happened.

3a. The first reason these tend to be cheap drinking nights is because the drinks are stupid strong. Like a glass of vodka and a splash of cranberry strong. Which translates into only needing a couple of them to get the job done, therefore resulting in a cheap bar tab.

3b. The second reason is because it's rare that I'm buying my own drinks in said bar, but when I do, see 3a.. I usually roll in with friends, and they usually pay for everything. And sometimes when we go, it's two-for-ones, or even three-for-ones (see 3a). Other times we go, friends introduce me to their friends and they pay for everything. On a rare occasion, I'll meet the one straight guy in the place, and those are the best. They're so excited to see a semi-hot chick in the place I've got drinks coming my way all night long. This scenario however heightens my awareness of the whole roofie situation, though not a lot. Straight guys in gay bars rarely travel with roofies.

The fourth reason I totally dig on gay bars is because there are those nights I'm in the mood to just shake my ass. And when I'm in that mood, I don't need some sweaty ass dude with frosted tips and a popped collar fist-pumping his way all up in my space. Especially if he reeks like Drakkar Noir (side story - but DN stopped smelling good in high school, guys). I dance better alone, and sometimes I just like to stare at super hot guys that are ripped dancing without their shirts on to the same Madonna remix that I love. Or J-Lo. Or whatever super awesome music they're playing. Because music in gay bars NEVER sucks.

For the better part of the last week, I've been wracking my brain trying to come up with a fifth reason to like gay bars. And really? I can't. If the first four didn't sell you on it, then I'm done. I give up. If those four aren't good enough, than you probably should stay away from them. Hopefully it'll free up a barstool for me to plant myself on. Speaking of, if you can recommend any good ones in NOLA, I'm willing to listen to recommendations.

Worst. Date. Ever.

This story always entertains me. Several years ago, I loaded a profile onto Match.com. Overall the experience wasn't terrible, but nothing ever materialized for me. Most of the guys I met I went out on a couple of dates with, and all they ever seemed to want was sex. Which is fine, maybe throw that on your profile or something. (I have serious issues with people not saying what it is they want. It would make life so much easier if they'd just put it out there.)

Well, this guy. This guy. He was....something. Met through Match and e-mailed for a couple of weeks before deciding to meet at Azia for drinks. We sat and had a couple drinks, couple apps and a great conversation. He was somewhat shy, as am I, so the pace of the conversation was a bit slow to begin with. He suggested we head over to Pancho Villa across the street. We had a couple of margaritas and some guac (I'm a guacaholic). As the evening came to a close, he asked if I'd like to go out again. He seemed really average to me, but I agreed to another date, if only because I believe in trying almost everything twice. We shared a sweet kiss and parted ways.

We made plans for the next week; I agreed to meet him at his house and we'd go from there - dinner and perhaps a movie either in a theater or at his place. Now, keep in mind I rarely give up on anything, here begins the end. I arrived at 5, the agreed upon time. I rang the doorbell. Nothing. Again. Nothing. And once for good measure. I called, no answer. At this point, I'm annoyed, but will give him another 5 minutes. Literally as the clock ticked to 5:15, he called. He got home from work and fell asleep on the couch. Keep track kids, this was red flag #1.

He eventually comes out, apologizes profusely and we head to some Chinese joint who's name I can't recall. I had soup and we had a couple apps. The tab comes and he throws in enough money for his half. Wait, did you not ask ME out? I'm all about paying for myself, if it's agreed upon beforehand, or if I'm really not having a good time. But YOU. You asked me out. And were late. Red flag #2.

I'm definitely a three strikes girl. I'm also a graceful exit girl. So when we get back to his apartment for a movie (I had left my car there anyway), I find out he has a dog. Not a big deal (I'm allergic but can deal), but he obviously had not trained his dog. He cleaned it up and I thought he was just going to flush it. He did. But then he went to the restroom. WITH THE DOOR OPEN. ON THE SECOND DATE. Red flags #3 and #4 within a minute of each other.

Now my brain totally goes into exit strategy mode. Little did I know it was going to get worse. He put in a movie, and maybe 10 minutes in, he gets up to go to the bathroom again. AND AGAIN FAILS TO CLOSE THE DOOR. If he had closed the door, I likely would have put my coat on while he was in there and left when he came out. Door being open though, not an option.

As soon as he sits down on the couch he tried to kiss me. I got up quickly and headed for the bathroom. I needed something. Anything. Any reason to leave. I'm a TERRIBLE liar...so I was going to use the early meeting excuse. I was ready to rock. I washed my hands, pulled it together and opened the door.

HE WAS NAKED ON THE COUCH

Completely, butt ass naked. After throwing up a little in my mouth, I let him know I had an early meeting and would be heading out. Told him not to get up, I could let myself out.

I then went to my local bar, and told the story of my worst date ever to anyone that would listen. I got several free drinks and quite a few phone numbers out of the deal, so it wasn't a complete bust. A few days later I received an e-mail from him asking when I'd like to go out again. I politely said that I didn't think we were going to be a good match, and that I was about to get very busy with work.

I thought that would be the end of it, but apparently this town is ridiculously small. The first time I saw him after that was at a beer event in Uptown. I see him about every six months, and always chuckle about it to myself and anyone else around. The worst date ever. With Creepy Naked Guy.