After years dragging my best friend—we’ll call him Doc—to Seven47, he insisted it was time for me to check out the OKC gay bar scene. Gay men have always liked me—I think it has to do with my affinity for films like Cabaret. A place where I can wear crushed velvet, platform shoes, or leather shorts—and fit in?  He had me at “$5 unlimited beers.”

We began out night at Copa in the Habana Inn. The night went something like this.

10:27: I nurse my first beverage and take in my surroundings. I notice the glow-in-the-dark carpet and it reminds me of a roller skating rink from yesteryear.

10:30: I point out a Justin Bieber look-alike to Doc. He tells me the subject I’ve selected is a lesbian.

10:31: I crack open beer #2 and drink it voraciously.

10:38: I’m finally in party mode and Doc points out some guy who is on Discovery’s Storm Chasers. I adjust my assets and approach him.

10:42: I don’t understand why my usual tactics aren’t working, so I resort to the hallowed bend-and-snap.

10:45: I remember that I’m at the Copa and feel foolish. I order libation #5.

10:48: The Cupid Shuffle comes on. Everyone rushes to the dance floor. Doc and I join.

11:02: A spritely fellow in a tank top and capris approaches us. Doc rolls his eyes after a few minutes of small talk and excuses himself to the bar—he’s not into the flamboyant type.

11:10: Doc spots a guy in Wrangler’s and boots. He asks me to wingman for him. Our method of picking up guys runs like a well oiled machine. HotCowboy wanders across the hall to the Brokeback Mountain bar. Doc and I inconspicuously follow.

11:15: Doc stalls in the bathroom and I purchase two shots of Rumple then saunter over to HotCowboy. He is playing pool, thanks me for the shot, and the small talk commences. He thinks I’m cheeky and hilarious. Eventually he asks me who I’m here with (code for “is your man friend you’re laying the groundwork for hot?”)

11:20: Doc “finds” me and introduced himself to HotCowboy. They lock eyes and the sexual tension emanating from their gaze nearly knocks me off my 6-inch lace up booties.  I’m way better at picking up guys for him than he is for me. Doc is one of those ‘mos that’s too straight to fit the part. His manliness salts my game.

11:24: HotCowboy’s emo date named Kane or Kip or something ridiculous like that appears out of the woodwork and shoos us away. So much for that lead. We go back across the hall to Copa just in time for the hot body contest. A parade of gay men clad only in undergarments cross the stage.

11:37: The host, a butchy lesbian in a bumblebee costume, instructs them all to hump the floor suggestively. My mind is blown. They twist and swivel like nothing I’ve ever seen before.

12:02: The semi-nudity ends and I grow bored. We walk across the street to a place called Boom.

12:09: I run into a friend from high school. Awk-ward.

12:12: The silence finally ends. We make small talk and he points out his boyfriend—who is passing out test tube shots—in his underwear.

12:17: Apparently we missed a drag show of sorts. There are trannies everywhere. One dressed as Wonder Woman tells me I’m beautiful. I blush and ask where he/she purchased his/her cape.

12:31: I see a group posing for a picture. Of course I hop in:

I wasn't kidding about the crushed velvet or 6-inch platforms.

12:53: Doc spots a frat guy he has known…in biblically terminology. We sprint out the door to avoid an awkward confrontation.

12:55: We decide to go home. After all, it is just a Tuesday night. Doc and I recap the night’s adventure:

• Twenty-one consumed beverages
• Four trannies greeted
• Three ousted homos
• Two midnight Whoppers
• One $40 cab ride back to Norman
• Zero dignity left