The L word

GarGar took us to a friend's apartment for a little pre-party last night. It was a lovely New York studio - immaculately furnished and "spacious" for Big Apple standards. The owner, a very fashionable lesbian artiste, was welcoming and promptly fixed us some libations before it was time to head over to her friend's party a few blocks away.

As we walked to the other party, GarGar's drunk friend stopped suddenly, wheeled around and described the host for our next destination. She said that the host was "really not pretty or stylish, but very rich." She went on to say that she had decorated her condo abysmally and that it was a hideously kitchy affair.

It turns out that this was not entirely true. She was certainly not as stylish as the other half-dozen lesbians who assembled at the party, but she was a wonderfully spirited host and had her own lovely flair.

GarGar, BrightEyes and I were the only boys at the party and it was really interesting being among so many pretty lesbians. They commented on how ugly San Francisco lesbians are generally and how New York lesbians are just as fashionable as their Los Angeles counterparts. The only straight creature seemed to be the host's female doggy who insisted on humping GarGar's arm whenever she got the chance.