Mid June 2006 – After the Mexican weekend, I realized the sexual pull of men on me was stronger than I’d allowed myself. Unable to return to Mexico so quickly, I needed a fix closer to home. But how?

Using the Internet, I did extensive searching for the various "gay" venues in the vibrant gay friendly Washington, DC area, most locales situated in the Dupont Circle area. What happens in these places? How do I respond if someone trys to talk to me? How do I approach someone? Is this dangerous? Was the place going to be filled with dirty old men? Rent boys looking for money? Flaming fruits? I didn’t know what to expect, but I was scared.

Looking for something a bit safe and friendly, I settled on JR’s. A plain bar, no live music, no strippers, just a bar, a pool table and a DJ playing. Sounded like a good introduction to my Gay 101 class.

Faking a business dinner, I drove into the city, parked and made my way along the street to JR’s. Do I look gay to the people in this predominately gay neighborhood? Approaching JR’s, it was hard to see inside, but a decent crowd was making noises. Showing my ID (what a laugh), I entered the bar.

I felt the stare of many guys, eyeing me as a made my way through the crowd to the bar. If I hadn’t of known better, this would have been like any bar I might have visited in college. Seemingly normal guys, beer or drink in hand standing with a group of their friends chatting. There was even a handful of women.

Ordering a drink, I stepped back and observed. No one approached me. I, for the most part, tried to blend into the crowd.

What am I doing here? What did I hope to accomplish? Why? This is stupid. Finishing the drink, I quickly left. Honey, the dinner didn’t last as long as I expected, glad to be home early.