The Make-out Room

November 7, 2010 § 2 Comments

I was in San Francisco last weekend to visit my old roommate, Lily. Upon arrival at 7pm PST she asked me what I wanted to do that evening. I threw out the first thing that came to mind, “Dunno, kinda want to go dancing.” One phone call and ten minutes later we were headed downtown to dance on a rooftop. No arguments here.

It turned out to be an AIDS benefit and they were pouring the drinks STRONG for a good cause at the cash only bar. Santa Claus was there as well as several other drag queens in addition to the regular ravers, all rocking out to house beats. Lily had just wrapped up a film festival so we sifted through the crowd for her coworker and a director from Brazil who tipped us off for the skyline party. The 38 year-old Brazilian missed his flight earlier that day and decided to make the most of the failure by dancing on rooftops. This particular Brazilian was a little on the short side, but very handsome (I usually have a 6ft minimum for potential suitors) and didn’t really come on too strong… at first.

After several tequila sunrises mostly without any sun, we ran out of cash. The four of us decided to hit up an ATM and then to a reggae club called The Make-out Room for more dancing. This was about the time the Brazilian started hitting on me and exclusively calling me Blue-Eyes. Now earlier in the night it had been mentioned that this man had a wife and kids back in South America. And like I said, he was short, so I was trying to keep my distance.

When we walked in to The Make-out Room, I promptly ordered two double shots of Patron for Lily and myself. Why ruin a good thing, right? Then we head to the dance floor, sultry reggae, just my kind of tequila induced dancing. Next thing I know I am dancing with the Brazilian. Then I am making-out with the Brazilian on the dance floor, and Lily is nowhere to be found. I had to bite my tongue (pun intended) to keep from asking him about his wife and kids. Eh, why not? Even though his five o’clock shadow was probably going to chafe my face, I hadn’t made-out with anyone in a while and where better to lock lips then on the dance floor at the Make-out Room?

Anyway, we left and I gave him my number because I felt kinda bad. I really need a go-to fake number ‘cause I get into this mess on occasion (see September 21st post). The next day we met Lily’s coworker for drinks and she told us that the Brazilian claimed I was the love of his life. The rest of the weekend I received voicemails addressed to “Blue-Eyes.” I guess I made his trip? Hey, I do what I can. And we are still skeptical of his marital status. Kids, yes, but possibly divorced.

So yes, I did make-out at The Make-out Room. Also I highly recommend top shelf tequila for binge drinking. Silver or Blanco tequila is the only alcohol that is not a depressant, so you can dance on rooftops for hours and not feel hung over in the morning. I’d like to thank the cute bartender down the street for that piece of advice. I’d say it was a good investment.

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