By Natalya Jones
By County Grind
By Liz Tracy
By Chris Joseph
By Liz Tracy
By Matt Preira
By Jesse Scheckner
By Michael E. Miller
"Sorry about that," I say.
"Oh, it's OK, she's just drunk," he says. Alcohol is supposed to make you happy, not turn you into a complete bitch. A few minutes later, I run into Wes on the other side of the bar.
"Sorry about my friend," Wes says, referring to the drunken blond. "It's just that she's my fruit fly, and she's really intimidated by other fruit flies."
I wouldn't have minded swatting her, I guess. But what the heck is a fruit fly?
"OK, so you know what a fag hag is?" he asks. "It's an 800-pound, pizza-faced girl who hangs out with gay guys. A fruit fly is a hot girl who hangs out with gay guys. And when my friend sees another fruit fly who's got it goin' on, she gets jealous."
The only kind of fly I've ever been is a barfly.
"Anyway," Wes says. "This bar is really fun, draws a lot of different people.
"The manager of the bar is pretty cute too," he continues, pointing at a tall, dark-haired dude behind the bar. "But I don't like the peanuts. You can quote me on that. 'Wes hates the peanuts.' "
"Done," I say. "But what about the sports? Is there a difference between gay sports fans and straight sports fans?"
Wes laughs at my naiveté. "Gay guys don't like sports."
"That seems like a blanket stereotype," I observe.
"Well — unless it's figure skating," he smirks.
Eventually, "Billie Jean" comes on over the speakers and gets everyone shaking his ass and lip-synching. Sports, unnecessary drama, and peanuts all be damned. Maybe gay guys only like figure skating, but the Sidelines clientele knows a damned thing or two about shot-swigging and ass-shaking. And those are some skills I can respect.