sistawendy | to boldly club where no nun has clubbed before

I finally made it to Cherry, the lesbian night at Re-bar. Let me get one thing out of the way: gay men, on the whole, have better musical taste than lesbians. Much better. At Cherry I kept hearing top-40ish music that I'm used to hearing on my zappy lady's table. And don't get me started about the train wrecks; techno has turned me into a DJ snob.

I'm a little embarrased to admit that I wimped out and took it easy on the makeup because, hey, lesbians. Hah. There were plenty of women with butch hair, flannel shirts, or both with nearly goth-worthy eye makeup. I love Seattle.

Crowd? Huge. Enthusiastic. Also much more interested in drinking, relatively, than the Sunday night gay boys. (Given the music, I don't blame them.) Also relatively more likely to put their hands on each other. Hippies bouncing unpredictably around a dance floor? Annoying. Lesbians bouncing up and down on a dance floor with their hands on each other? Adorable.

Did I get any bad vibes from anyone else? Nah. This is Re-bar. It's a tough night to go to alone, though. At least it was for me.