just a stay at home girl

again, sometimes it's just better to stay at home. forget every good thing i've ever said about oakland. i take it all back. one night out, that's all it takes to erase every dream and possibility you ever had about a place. now i know i'm just a skinny bitch white faggot. always, forever. and somehow it was all my idea. i asked sergio if he wanted to go to this hella gay party. i met him on adam4adam, of course. we had a burrito on tuesday and that was fun, so let's see where it goes. he asks if we can stop by his friends house first, they're going to the party, too. i don't want to, but i say okay. so there it is, the real problem right there. doing things i know are going to be horrible. but still let me blame it on oakland tonight. they're all educated i guess. but loving their drugs and bad tv. the nicest one says, "i like watching tv, you don't here many people say that today." sergio is loud and bitchy. i don't have much to say, big surprise. how do i get myself into this shit? their house is all middle class but i guess they're some kind of cutting edge lesbians. on to the party and sergio is now driving after drinking two beers and now i'm really just wanting to be at home. he's dancing as he drives. why me? the party's on san pablo in a neighborhood i've never been to. i like seeing the different neighborhoods, so that's a plus. it's an interesting space. funky, red and black. behind the bar, "hella gay" is blinking off and on. dirty oakland stank skank realness everywhere. sprawled on sofas, legs on coffee tables covered with bottles and butts. smoke everywhere. mean people everywhere. skinny nerd chic. tough butch style finesse, with highlights. what's up? the dance floor is moist. i think i see michelle tea in the corner, taking notes for her next novel but it's just my imagination running away with me again. if all the women left and were replaced by men, this is exactly the kind of place where i'd liked to get fucked in public. my vodka cranberries aren't doing a damn thing for me. and i still don't have a damn thing to say to these people. why doesn't ms. coleman have anything to say? that's what one of those high schoolers says. oh jesus, let me out here. then the butch one says, or maybe i just imagine it, he's a faggot, he doesn't say anything. definitely the word faggot was used more than once. am i offended? they liked to talk about white people a lot, probably to make me uncomfortable, which it did. i am working some castro clone look, i realize, but they probably don't realize that i realize it. they probably think that's castro realness. if they only knew. it's all horribly wrong. i don't like sergio, i don't like his friends, i like looking at the people dancing for like two minutes, but then i need to get out of there. they want to go to some other party. i go home and i love it so.