Red Dress Party

It was called a Red Dress Party.  Everyone was to wear a red dress.  And, for the most part, people did.  I wasn't originally in the mood to go to a party.  I had spent the day twisting people into pretzels and working in the yard.  I was t-i-r-e-d.  But I was told that it was a party being put on by a bunch of Austin burners, a group of people that I was intrigued about, but had yet to be introduced to.

For the most part, people were... nice.  I was introduced and friendly, party-style conversation ensued.   Where are you from?  Oh, you've been to Burning Man?  Who do you camp with?  Oh really?!?

But behind some of the conversation, I could sense something.  There was some discomfort.  My friend Sarah and I were in a room, chatting with a straight couple.  After my introduction, they never once looked at me.  I made several contributions to the conversation, but eye contact to me was never made again.  They soon leave.  

Another guy walks in and starts chatting with us.  We're all sitting on the bed, facing one another, but he seems so much more interested in talking to Sarah.  This, actually, is not surprising.  She's a very pretty, very flirtatious woman.  To let her have her fun, I'm only making intermittent contributions to what is being said.  I'm just sitting on the bed, listening, swinging my legs slightly.  I accidentally hit this guy's leg with one of my swings.  Just a tap.   While she's still talking about something, he quickly looks at me like I slid my hand up his leg into his crotch.  He stands up, turns his back to me, sits back down, and commences to talk only to Sarah.  I take the hint and excuse myself to the bathroom.

I enter another room, and am called over by a friendly man who I later find out went to my high school alma mater.  He's sitting in a group watching two bare-breasted women engage in activity fitting a poem by Sappho.  As I sit down next to my fellow alumnus, the circle closes behind me, leaving the two Jesuit boys outside.

Near the end of the evening, I'm outside with Sarah and her husband, chatting with a group.  One man is regaling the group with drunken and debaucherous stories.  At this point, I'm rather over the people at this party, but I continue to be civil and social.  My friends apparently like these people so I'm not going to make a scene.  I leave for a second to refill my drink, and as I return, one of the group pulls the circle in tighter so that I have to stand behind them, as an outsider looking in.

As we're leaving, my friends tell me that I should really consider going to Flipside, the regional Burning Man event outside of Austin.  They tell me how I'd love all the fun times that are had with the people there.  The people that I just spent the evening with.  I smile, nod, and tell them that I'm much more focused on my chosen family with which I attend the main Burning Man festival.  My family that is inclusive, loving, open-minded, and accepting of all that come through our beaded curtains.