Finding friends in the Men's Room

i've been at safeway for a while trying to remember the ingredients of a recipe i saw prepared on tv at 6am in hilo, hawaii, on 2 hours of sleep. i call guy, i ask him where he is, tell him i wish he could come pick me up because, along with the cat food, i've got quite a grocery load. unfortunately he's stuck at the car wash on south van ness with his car keys locked inside. that's a problem i don't want to touch, so i let it be and accept my heavy load.

i walk to muni, get on muni, and start to feel the frustration build inside me. the frustation doesn't have a name or a source, it's just Bitchy and it's coming on strong. i decide as i walk down castro street, that i'm going to stop in at The Men's Room and get a drink, that it will be better for my relationship if i do so. this is very very true. if i have one martini, i won't be a jerk. simple, but true. i have not always been this way, and i won't always be, but i will be for three more months. if you don't know what that means, that's ok, but it has to do with injections and female trouble.

there is only one place i can go in the castro, comfortably, as a woman. "comfortable" means i won't be stared at or worse, ignored. it's a place called the Men's Room and is situated right at the bottom of the hill that i live on, at 18th and Noe, directly on the very outskirts of what can truly be called the Castro. this is before the landscape becomes lesbian land, which is the outer, upper mission. i always feel comfortable in the Men's Room. it is the only bar that is always welcoming to a woman, or a straight couple. the bartenders are nice, without a hint of disappointment at what isn't between my legs, a welcome respite from the rest of the neighborhood. i have never gone alone, however. this visit will truly test what i already feel about the place.

i walk in, and am acutely aware that i'm a woman, and not only that, but a woman with shopping bags. plastic shopping bags. one of them even has a visible cat toy in it. but there i am. i put down my bags in the front corner, as i see that every seat except one is taken. i expect to sit in the front area, and feel truly ostrasized, although only in a literal sense.

i step up to the server area, the only empty space, and ask for an extra-dry stoli martini with two olives. the bartender is friendly as always and goes to make my drink. i step back to my bags, when the man on the end, a bespeckeled 50ish guy says, Hey, i'll move over one seat if you'd like to sit here. this clears a safe path for me, where i won't have to sit at a small bar smack dab in between two guys who are having a conversation. Sure, thank you, that's nice, i tell him. and he moves.

grabbing my bags and dragging them closer to the bar, i think about how unprecedented the notion is. never do people offer up seats in bars. i smile inside and internally love the Men's Room all over again. as i sit down, i look up at the TVs that always have closed captioning on. i see the guys are watching The Royal Tennenbaums, and commenting about the Wilson brothers, who are in a scene together at that very moment. i do like the Wilson brothers, mostly for their unique vocal inflections, but also because they're cute. the bespeckeled man is being told by a young, handsome man that "those two are brothers in real life." Really? he says, I didn't know that. Wow. this is when i speak up. i tell him and whoever can hear me, that there's a third Wilson brother, and he's the hottest of them all. this gets attention. maybe four men say with extra-curiosity, REALLY? yes, i tell them, his name is Andrew. he was in a movie that Luke and Owen made a while back called, Bottlerocket. REALLY? they say. YEP, i tell them.

and we watch the movie. i don't say much else, but they are open and nice to me. someone comments on how the Wilson brothers are from texas - TexASS, one says - and so are you! the bespeckled man is told. REALLY? he says. and we watch.

after i finish my fairly small, but absolutely perfectly made extra-dry martini, i say to the men, Well, my attitude adjustment is complete, Nice talking to you all. they bid me goodnight, with smiles, and as i leave i hear one guy say, "Andrew Wilson. when i get home i'm gonna google him..."

i leave with a smile. my frown has effectively been turned upside down, and it's not just the vodka. it's so nice to know there is a neighborhood bar for me too, and one where my vast and seemingly useless pop culture knowledge is greatly appreciated.