Singin’ at Rubyfruit

I just got back from Rubyfruit. The bar attracts quite an interesting mix of women of all ages and hairstyles. When you first get there, you have to just look around in awe. There was one particular woman who seemed to make it a point to talk to everyone in the place. A Brooklyn native wearing a black t-shirt advertising a New Jersey auto shop, she had a forceful voice and had no problem fondling the bare chests of women standing before her. One of the unfortunate women was Erin's girlfriend, Megan. The poor girl was wearing a rather tight tanktop, which revealed her cleavage and Brooklyn couldn't bare to leave her chest unattended. I could only raise my eyebrows in response to her audacity. And then she got a little too close to me. Sitting on a stool, sipping my fifth of six beers of the evening, I was comfortable, legs spread comfortably, but not necessarily inviting. And the next thing I know, while Brooklyn was commenting on Erin's and Megan's affection for one another, she was planted firmly in front of me, between my legs. Yo, step off there, sister. It was more funny than anything, and having already exchanged commentary on some of the women in the joint, I felt it was more like a 'we're cool' kind of a thing than anything else. And she managed to confirm something I already knew. Megan and I were talking and because of the noise level, she had to lean in. Brooklyn, outta nowhere, comes up and says, "Butch and femme." All right. Whatever. To pass the time, I decided to sing, at the behest of Erin and Megan. Twice. "Jack and Dianne" and "Tainted Love" were the songs of choice. I really wanted to do "Try a Little Tenderness" but feared the range was too high. I wouldn't have wanted to embarrass myself. So I made it through both songs ok, according to Erin. And that was that. Rubyfruit redeemed itself in my eyes, and we left just before a crowd of straight folks slammed the place. I don't get that, but what are you gonna do? I guess they wanted to get a gander of the dykes.