hooked, part 2

Some officemates and I decided to go to a comedy bar a couple of weeks ago. Insider joke has it that it'd be some sort of a "girls' night out" *evil grin*, so we invited (mostly) the "members of the family" -- whether they know it or not. HAHAHAHA! Unfortunately, since it was a last-minute thing, only a handful of us were able to go and endure the torture.

I say "torture" because, even though it was my first time going to such a place (my trip to Padi's Point during my sophomore year in college for a Sociology project doesn't count -- it's too... lame), it is common knowledge that most comedy bars ask customers to sing on stage. First though, they are interviewed and made fun of by the hosts. So suffice it say that as a first-timer I got to sing Heart's "Alone"... and being my usual hammy, nelly self, I probably lost all my ganda points in the process. But hey I had a good time. It reinforced the idea I had about going showbiz. LOL!

Anyhoo... the whole point of this anecdote (and why the part 2 of a previous post years ago)? Essentially the fact that I still have low local marketability factor. *sniff* And to think this time there were actual live people involved (apparently comedy bars are very popular for the "straight-acting" -- I still hate that word -- crowd). I limited it to "local" for now, as I would still like to believe that I have a market somewhere else (and hopefully in the same dimensional plane). As the night ended, a couple of my co-workers were practically having sex with their newfound textmates. I exaggerate, but that's where it's going anyway.

Then there were discussions on the way home regarding which place to go next... that apparently there are places where only butch gay men are allowed to enter. Ugh. On the one hand, I can easily say "whatev"... then again, that makes me more curious. What, are they having double-dildo-sex with each other? From some of the revelations I heard with the more "sex-perienced" of the lot, it's very likely.

Unfortunately for me, I can't act more masculine than what I could muster (which is not much, sources say). Even if my life depended on it.

Is it karma? After all, I also have my own standards for an ideal... buddy. Maybe the powers-that-be are punishing me for being choosy. *shrugs* But hey, those standards haven't been tested much in real-life situations (given my virtually-zero of social life), so how can I "adjust" them if no one gives me a chance?

Obviously my ranting is this close into closing it with that Karen Carpenter song. Hehe. You know, the one that asks to love me for what I am? So I'll just close this with another comedy bar anecdote: the following week we went back to watch the bikini contest weekly finals (again my first time to see such). We didn't get the chance to see finish it, but what we saw was... sarap! LOL!

How can one lower his standards with that?