There's a tavern a few blocks from my office that has a live band every Wednesday night. The girl singer is really, REALLY good. On those rare occasions when I have a few extra bucks in my pocket, I like to go listen to her. A couple of weeks ago I was in the mood for some good, live blues, so I went.

I was walking from the parking lot to the bar. There was an older couple in front of me, the woman apparently quite lame, limping badly, steadying herself with a cane. Her husband (I assumed it was her husband) was helping her along. As I got a little closer to them, «husband» turns around and says to me, «Go around us, young man, we're holding you up!»

«Oh, no you're not. That's ok.» I said. I looked directly at the «husband». It wasn't a man after all, but a woman dressed in a sport coat and slacks, and a drastically short haircut. I did a double-take, then held the door open for them to enter the bar. Wow. It's not often you see open lesbians in this area. Cool!

The little suburb where this bar is located has a reputation for being kind of redneck. Very redneck, actually. And the reputation is well deserved. A gay person in this town is – necessarily – in the closet, if they're smart. Things have changed a bit in the past several years, but this place is still stuck in 1958, or so it seems sometimes.

I may be wrong, but I think the straight community is more ready to accept lesbians than gay men. Why? Damned if I know. Anyway, I was thinking about this as I helped the two women into the tavern. They were showing a certain amount of courage coming to this redneck bar. Even though they were older, and not getting around too well, would they have to suffer through bigoted remarks from other bar patrons? Smirks and giggles from the wait staff? The regulars in this bar were 20 and 30-somethings, and possibly more open minded than the rest of the community, but if I were to wear the female equivalent (whatever it may be) of a sport coat and slacks, I'd no doubt get the shit beat out of me. I'd at the very least get some rude comments.

«This ain't your kinda bar, buddy. You need to head on downtown!»

«Goddam queers just have to shove it in everybody's face!»

«Hey guys, don't let him know you're going to the men's room!»

«You gonna order a Pink Lady, sweetie?! How about a pair of knee pads?!!!!»

I helped the two women to a table near the door. «Thank you!» said the woman in the sport coat. She brushed both hands against the sides of her head, smoothing down her shiny, Bobby Rydell-style hair «Could we buy you a drink?»

«Oh, no, but thank you! I appreciate the offer.»

Having seated the women, I excused myself and got a beer. Before the music started, I played a game of pool with some guy with really nice arms. Remembering where I was, I resisted the urge to tell him how nice his arms were.

I didn't shout, «Oh GOOD shot, girl!» when he sank the eight ball.

I didn't tell him he should check out the cute guy ordering a drink at the bar.

In the men's room, I kept my eyes appropriately straight ahead, admiring the restroom's tile work as opposed to admiring the guy standing next to me.

Yeah. It was tough. For a straight bar, this place had some pretty good eye candy. But I didn't allow myself the pleasure of staring at tattoo-covered biceps, or gazing dreamily at hairy chests in wife beaters. This is Redneck Town, not The Castro. Besides, I came to hear the music, not start bar brawls that I'm not near butch enough to finish.

I had a few beers, listened to a couple of sets of blues. Nice evening, but it was getting late and this was a school night. I made my way through the now crowded bar to the exit. There were the two women, sitting near the door where I had left them. They both nodded and smiled, so I sat down across the table from them.

«You folks come here often?» I asked, intrigued by their «outness» in this backward town.

«Oh, every now and then. We like the singer.»

«Yeah, that little gal does a fine job.» I said.

The more feminine appearing woman leaned over and said, «And she's just as CUTE as she can be!»

«Yeah, she is!» I said. I figured her comment was an appropriate opening. «How long have you two been together?» I asked, thinking their situation was obvious.

They looked at each other for a brief second, then both smiled.

«Um, we're not.» said sport coat. «We're not a couple.»

«No.» said the other. «We're not. We just like to get away from our husbands sometimes.»

«Oh shit.» I was glad the bar was fairly dark. I could feel my face getting bright red. «I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed……»

«That's ok. A lot of people do. It's not a problem.»

«I'm sorry.»

«Oh, don't be! It's no big deal.» said the feminine woman. «We know several gay couples. It's almost a compliment when people mistake us for lesbians!»

I wasn't sure if she was being honest, or just trying to make this gay man, with both feet in his mouth, feel a bit less embarrassed and self conscious.

«Well, it's been nice talking to you ladies!» I said. «It's time for me to get out of here. You be careful now.»

«You too.» They said in unison.

I left, thinking maybe this little town isn't as backward as I believed. But I won't be wearing a skirt here any time soon. Unisex dressing is more for strong women, who don't give a damn about what people think, than fey little boys like me.

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