Last night I went to Apex, a gay club in DC. People have warned me about the ghetto-ness of this club, but a bunch of friends were going so I decided to meet up with them.

Linda and I got there around 11:30, greeted by this very large woman at the door, got my wristband, and I was in. Man oh man, I've never seen so many different lesbians in one place before. Raver dykes. Goth dykes. Ghetto oversized Fubu t-shirt wearing dykes. The I'm-so-Mod dykes. Even old bandana wearing Mexican dykes. It was the strangest thing I've ever seen. Kim, Shamisa, Mimi and Salamia were already there, so I pretended to dance for a bit before running off to the bar to get a drink. Not like me, I know, but I thought I should do my best to enjoy myself. The place started to get crowded 12:30am--crowds of dykes jumping up and down to shitty techno music. By the way, does anybody listen to techno anymore? Anyone besides Moby?

For a "Liquid Ladies" night, I have to admit that there were a lot of fags with their hags. On the way to the club, I walked behind a hag and her fag. She was tripping over herself and saying stuff like, "I'm-I'm sorry I'm not walking as fast as usual. It's just, I'm so slow." When we passed them, she continued, "They're like walking so fast. SO FAST. They must be in a rush. HAHAHAHA!" Crackhead.

Let me digress for a moment, but I saw waaay too many fags making out with their hags on the dance floor last night. Clearly they were drunk and clearly these girls were just overly hopeful.

The club played gay man pop with a shitty techno beat. Occasionally they'd play a booty song, but by the chorus the dykes were so excited that most were humping and making plans for commitment ceremonies on the dancefloor.

1am is always the raunchiest part of the evening. There were lesbians bumping and grinding against the rails, humping against the mirror and their reflections, and wallflowers discussing the tragedy of the L word on the side. We had made our way to the middle of the dancefloor and I had completely lost interest in the shitty song that was playing. I was staring down at the wet floor when I felt someone gently caress my back with their fingers. Thinking it was Linda or one of our friends, I didn't think much of it. I even turned to Linda and smiled. She gave me a weird face and then I realized it wasn't her. I turned around to see this "larger" girl with short black hair, wearing a corset and probably her most expensive boots from Hot Topic. By the way, by "larger" I mean, four times my size. She made some sexual "come hither" hand gesture to me and I just smiled, said no thank you, and turned back around. At one point I glanced over in her direction and noticed that she was smiling at me. She was near the bar and above it there is a clock with San Francisco time. Every once in a while I'd look near there to check the clock and I felt bad that she might've thought that I was interested.

To make up for the hours of gay man music played that night, the DJ played some Joan Jett song to finish up his set for the evening. It was one of those songs you never want to hear in a club. The real dykes and even the dykes only when drunk are singing at the top of their lungs and falling on the ground beside you when the chorus hits. I, being the sensitive individual that I am, only laughed for a few moments before helping them up one by one.

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