Trials of a Butch(-ish) Gay Man

So a little over a week ago, in NYC, I decided that instead of going to the normal sports bar to watch the ND/Army and Ohio State/UMich game, I decided to watch the first quarter at Gym, the gay sports bar in Chelsea. This decision was not made without some serious reservations. There was a big part of me that assumed that I would walk in to this "sports bar" and be treated to A&F-esque decor, Madonna playing on the sound system, and one tv in the corner with a game on that no one was watching.

And I am more than happy to report that I was totally wrong. Just dead wrong.

So I walk in, sit down, and the guy next to me is wearing a genuine maize and blue michigan t-shirt and starts talking to me about the matchup. I was stunned. I think I walked in there sortof smug, thinking I was going to be the only genuine fball fan in the room. God, I'm such a narcicist some times...

Anyway, it was a great afternoon. I sorta felt a bit at home. Here was a room of guys who could have been from any bar in Manhattan (better shoes, of course) screaming and cheering and giving each other shit across the bar. And fuck if i didn't have to jet before the game was over to catch my flight back to Miami. I tell ya, I almost didn't leave....