I, Radclyffe U. Hall, have committed a grievous error. In attempt to broaden my cultural horizons and dominate the fairer sex, I ventured out into the dangerous also referred to as straight clubbing. And I fear I will never forgive myself. This fear comes from the fact that I am a fool.

In the dry winter season I found myself replacing intimacy with an absurd amount of MTV and teen movies. I started showing frightening signs of addiction: dry, large pupils, cotton mouth and muscle spasms. But with these characteristics came a new and inexplicable desire to PARTY!!!! I wanted to drink blowjobs at the bar while wearing a halter top. I needed to do body shots off all sticky table surfaces. And most of all I wanted to dance. With my girl roommates. And then make out with them.

I never realized that straight girls enjoyed rubbing each other as much as I do. I cried at the fact that I had been missing out on so many opportunities! So I peeled myself off my couch and put on my sluttiest tube top/thin strip of towel and bedazzled my face with clown make-up. And I directed my cab driver with these words: “To the straight disco, kind sir!”

I was so excited! How could I have never suspected it! I mean, everyone is gay. Aren’t they? That girl at the Shoppers pharmacy with the lazy eye? Not so lazy. She’s just winking at me! GAY! The instructor at my self defense course who constantly singles me out and screams “Tighten! Attack!”? GAY! And my slutty doctor who always asks me to remove my pants? GAY! With all these lesbian women everywhere I somehow completely missed the most promising group of all: the drunk, loose straight girl goldmine.

At first I was annoyed that I had to pay 30 dollars to get in. And then another 5 dollars so some boy could toss my coat into a dirty closet. But it was truly a small price to pay for said goldmine. Right after I got in I saw three blondes going at it on the dance floor. And then I noticed a ring of ogling men around them. I thought I was in a porno. But then I realized, they were the boyfriends! Can you believe it? They didn’t even mind that their women were cheating right in front of them?! Glorious!

I adjusted my tube top and made my move. I pulled out ye ole’ plastered sloppy dance moves. I clapped and snapped and jived my way into the circle. The three blondes were still kissing when I inserted my face into the middle of them and grabbed the tallest ones waist. The kissing stopped for a brief moment and they all turned to me. In response I made what can only be described as the world’s sexiest face. They did not agree.

The shortest one said, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Joining the lesbian love party!” I answered, raising my beer.

The tall one pulled a pre-vomit expression and said, “Ew! Are you sick? They’re my best friends.”

I propelled forward. “Right on! I can be your friend too!”

The middle one stepped out of the shadows and spat out the final words: “You’re gross. We’re not actually dykes.” And then she paused. “And you have brown hair.”

I’ll admit it. I was blindsided. I assumed they would all welcome me into their slutty dance. And then into their beds. And then their boyfriends would cook me breakfast. But I was wrong. I was far too beastly in appearance to meet their requirements.

But don’t worry. I have been watching t.v. again. Mainly American Gladiators. The women are real women! They have bulging muscles and wear short shorts. Goldmine! I realize if I had spent more time working out and less time partying I could currently be wrestling a woman named Crush. She is definitely gay.