Mr. Leather

Heh. You can already tell that this post is gonna be a doozey.

A friend of mine moved back to the area yesterday, and wanted to hang out today to distract her from all the anxiety of the unknown. She feels stressed being unsure how her life will turn out while she is in this fair city. Everything in her life is in flux – her job situation, her financial stability, her relationship, her social networks, all of it.

I took her out to dinner so we could hash out all of her concerns and fears, and hopefully make her feel better. Egh. Not so much. It was fine, but some of the anxiety still hung around.

Since she was already feeling like shit, she asked if we could go see the new film "Precious." Fuck. Kick us when we're down, why don't you! I curtailed that kind of self-induced depressive slump, and sought out other suggestions. I remembered seeing an intriguing ad in the Metro Weekly queer magazine that could be the perfect fit.

A "Mr. DC Eagle Leather Competition" at the local gay leather bar downtown. Uh-mazing! Despite her starting to fade, and want to sit around watching depressing movies all night, we motivated and drove down just in time for the second half of the competition.

For those of you who don't know, I've always had a weird carnal attraction for big muscle bound dudes. When I was a toddler, my family would go to the beach, and if a massive body builder gay with a hairy chest and tiny Speedo walked by, I was most likely trailing after him. (Yes – my life could have been SOOOO different. I guess none of us assumed I'd end up here with that kind of foreshadowing.)

I must admit that I had never been inside a leather bar before. I had been invited, but had often been too shy, and nervous to step foot inside, feeling like too much of a pansy or dandy to make past the bouncer checking IDs. But it was super fun! Even though my friend isn't particularly squeamish, I felt an odd sense of wanting to protect her from any sights that she might not be used to... It was kind of hilarious.

It was good to have a wingman, as I still would have been too shy to go on my own. She claimed that I was getting checked out left and right, but I was sort of oblivious. We stayed a little past the crowning of the new Mr. DC Eagle, and scanned the crowd. A pretty inviting group. She swears she'll go back with me another time when she's not so tired... Nice. It ended up being the perfect night. Way better than had we sat around watching mopey chick flicks. Fuck that shit!

It's good to have a wingman. Any other takers?