Obama and Lesbians. Change I can Believe in.

The Obama victory was one of the craziest nights I've ever seen in New York City. The Obama fanatics were rowdy, shouting at the top of their lungs, slamming trash can lids together at 11 at night (which was ironic considering the old McCain voters were probably trying to sleep this off). I watched as those fortunate enough to sport Obama t-shirts or beanies got fist bumps and hugs, similar to the way I used my Eli Manning jersey to get laid just a months back, and hopefully once again this February. I celebrated the victory like any optimistic patriot: by trying to capitalize on the excitement of the night and translating it into a one-night-stand. My Israeli friend, Shak and I went bar hopping. We stopped at a bar on 13th street and he said, "dude, Tuesdays are lesbian night here!" I didn't know how he knew this or whether or not I should be excited, but followed his lead. I stopped at the door, "I don't know...."

"Sam, the ratio of girls to guys in here has got to be like 10 to 1." It sounded great on paper. 

He continued, "Sam, you don't understand. This is a LESBIAN bar. I hooked up with a LESBIAN here." Convincing, but I still wasn't sold....Not until I heard a chant from Union Square: "Yes we can! Yes we can! Yes we can!" I became a believer. This is America. No one expected Barack to beat Hillary in the primary, no one expected Barack to beat McCain in the election, and DAMN IT- no one expected this to be such a shallow exposé. Shak whispered to me, "This is the place to have a three-way, man." A three-way? Back the fuck up, mister. I live in a studio apartment with a chubby cat. One girl is a squeeze. Two girls? That's a fire hazard.

We walked into the bar and I gotta' tell you- not exactly what I expected. I was picturing lesbians that looked like Jessica Simpson having pillow fights. It was more along the lines of lesbians that looked like OJ Simpson getting along just fine...They weren't the glamorous lesbos I had fantasized about. They were more similar to regular women who just weren't attracted to me. Ew! I was getting looks like I was crashing a private party. "Who invited you?" Who invited me? America! I know my rights.

I felt like a Jehovah's witness, trying to persuade women to get on board with my cause. "Just give it a chance!" The first girl I ever had oral sex is now a lesbian. Why can't I convert women the other way? I should call her...

While I was gay profiling, I finally found some pretty hot girls who looked slightly less repulsed by me. I made some small talk, some super charming lines like: "I hear you lesbians wear strap-ons in those pornos I watch....Well I have a real penis. Interested?" They must have been legit lesbos or that line would've melted them like butter. I struck out. 

It didn't work out, and as I left the bar, I felt like I had failed my country. This wasn't the fault of the lesbians on 13th street. I and I alone had lost this erection. I pictured John McCain consoling his fans, tears dropping down their handle bar mustaches, heads sunk in their non-aborted babies. Shak consoled me: "Sam, you gave it your best shot." He was right. I did. Maybe in four years, if I'm not too old and still immature, I'll give a lesbian bar another shot. God bless America.

Love,

Sam