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Every pretty girl needs a gay husband. Gay men always picked up the slack 4 thing's I missed in straight guys. There are only so many hours in a day you can have sex, then what good are they? (Kidding of course…you can have sex 4 a long time...) Too many heteros’ can’t / won’t dance. Sebastian was a great escort. |
Nice body, good dresser but most important - a turn out the lights and call the law dance until dawn freak.
I’d wear my favorite jeans/tennis shoes/some little nothing top and we would cut loose for hours. It was my favorite cardio.
We hit all the boy clubs. Fun walking into a sea of men with their shirts off / upstairs at the club on Highland / watching the dance floor so packed with men you saw nothing but six pack's, biceps and wall to wall skin. So yummy.
Some of my girlfriends would say,
‘…gay bars are no fun, they don’t want you…’
But that was the appeal for me. I was never much of a player, more of a serial monogamist.
Not having to think about the men I’d been petting and grinding on all night, not having to worry about some fucker following me to the bathroom or parking lot, not having to fight them off or hurt anyone’s feelings was perfect.
Mr Rightnow would go dancing once in awhile - not 3 days a week - & it's safer to go out with men. Dancing for the release, the flight up, that euphoria you get from dancing all night to a good DJ surrounded by throbbing masses - heaven.
Gay Pride '98
A bunch of us danced easy all day, a few margs at Cobalt, little schnizzle, this n that - 4 am found a pack of us sitting on a large carpet covered cube on the edge of the Axis dance floor, wiped out.
It was starting to clear out but still 3 - 4 hundred people in the club. We were having a quiet moment no one saying anything. I’m leaning on Sebastian’s chest.
‘…oh man…I feel so…Debbie…’
A minute goes by.
I finally said, ‘...baby, did you just call yourself Debbie?’
‘Yea I think I did,’ he laughed.
Anytime someone said something remotely stoned or stupid they were Debbie, inside 15 minutes we were all Debbie. When we met someone new it went something like this...
‘Hi…this is Sebastian, Alisa, Chuck, Trevor, Grace – you know what? Just call us Debbie - we’ll all respond to that.’ So Deb was in clubs having fun, she’s a party girl. The name started to catch on among the pack.
Gay Pride is in June and Burning Man is Labor Day. By the time we got to BM it was the easiest way to keep track of each other - everyone in our camp was Deb.
Example: Yelling into the
walkies, 'Debbie! You have to come see this huge glowing thing on the
corner of 5th & Jupiter!’
Lana wanted to have a Theme Camp and call it Debbie’s Petting Zoo.
It was up for BMan 99 – but 2000 was the year the Petting Zoo really went off.
Lana had decided to whip Debbie into shape and build a proper camp - and Dog bless her she did it – although Deb was a bit surly.
Deb doesn’t like work.
Debbie had taken on a life of her own – she was an extension of our most hedonistic / debauched / feral urges. She was becoming a Diva.
A temptress, a drunken, ecstasy chewing, nitrous sniffing, chain smoking n tokin' gorgeous, slutty, little monster - always doing something naughty. She had become the pink elephant in the Chinese bell tower. Chaos followed her like a whirlwind. Something had to be done.
2000 was my favorite (and last) year at BMan.I was the homeless cab for Debbie, lord knows she needed one. I rented a convertible mustang at the airport and covered it with boxes from U-haul and covered that with turquoise neon wire signs.
'Homeless please give generously’ 8 ft across on either side with a red ‘VET’ across the back and I happily ferried Deb around Black Rock City.
All Lana's bitching had paid off, bless her pointed head, she had A BIG circus tent set up with a mandatory shoe depository in a square tent attached to the entrance.
No matter how rainy, muddy, windy and God awful it was outside (2000 was a harsh year) inside The Petting Zoo it was nice and warm, furry carpet, no shoes dragging in mud and so deliciously smutty.
It was dark and made 4 luv. Killer line up of DJ’s playin’ smoky/sexy beats, Ryder truck full of speakers and our walls were lined with sofas and beds. Sin fuckin’ City.
The Petting Zoo was full to overflowing every night. It brought to mind old Roman orgies/Plato’s Retreat/ClubFuck in the 80's, if you wanted to hook up, go to the Petting Zoo.
One afternoon - the last weekend - a few of us stopped in a little tent on the playa to see about some schnizz.
‘So what’s been your favorite thing at Burning Man this year?’ Vic asked the couple sitting next to us.
‘Debbie’s
Petting Zoo! They responded enthusiastically, have you been in there?’
Vic and I beamed like proud parents. In the land of extra excess, Deb
still stood out like Pandora.
Doing a camp of that magnitude that takes a ton of work and a big cash flow - Lana couldn’t keep it together, besides she was tired of being Deb’s Big Bitch. The Petting Zoo kind of fell apart after that.
