Life Within the Gilded Cage

Party at the Wishing Well

A couple of months ago I created a web page for two gay friends, Dan & Jason, who own a B&B in New Hope called the Wishing Well. Their manager/house boy, Antonio "Tony" Marini, is one of my dearest friends. Tony, is a cute 25 year old with bleached blonde hair, who knows how to have fun, and is no dummy. I call him "Angel" for rescuing me one night from some scarey brute.

Anyway... it was an invitation only party to open up the wooded lot behind the property, where Dan has added a gazebo, and wooden steps down to the Ingham Creek where they plan on doing weddings.

There must have been 75 people at the party, spread out from the front driveway, to the inside of the B&B (which like most New Hope B&B's is quite quaint and tastefully decorated), to the back yard, and down along the creek.

I wore my CK flares, an off-one-shoulder halter top made of silver sparkles, and flip-flops, with my hair up, and my finger/toenails polished chrome silver to match my top.

There is nothing like making a grand entrance, fashionably late, to a warm reception. As one of the few remaing fulltime queens in New Hope, I get a lot of attention - probably more than I deserve. I'm attractive, tall and slender, but not a beauty queen, even though I get treated like one. At times it's hard, because I know a LOT of people in town, and when you walk into a party of 50+ people all of them want to hug/kiss me at once, and if you miss someone in the crowd, feelings get easily hurt. And in a gay town like New Hope, hurt feelings can quickly translate into drama. So I am always careful to try to spread myself around.

My ex-lover Kevin, and his new boyfriend Jeff were there. No problem there, Kevin and I remain good friends, thank God. My gay gyno, Dr. Peter, and his young little boyfriend David were there, as was the documentary filmmaker Tim McMurty. Tony was tending bar, which had been set up in the back yard by the wishing well that gives the B&B it's name.

Kevin and Jason each gave me a hug, and complimented my outfit. Jason said, "Grrl, when was the last time you had a meal? 1974? Don't you ever eat?"

Suddenly a gorgeous 27 yr old black boy named Jeremy grabbed me. The last time I'd seen Jeremey, at the Raven two weeks previously, I had been out on a date with a guy named Ken whom I am trying to dump (see "Garlic Breath" journal entry). Although I didn't care for Ken, Jeremy had thought he was cute, and Tony and a few of my other friends had thought Jeremy tried flirting with "my man." Actually, at the time I had whispered to Jeremy to please take the guy off my hands. There was no problem between Jeremy and I -- and yet Tony and my friend Wayne had "read" Jeremy the next time they saw him - loudly - for trying to "steal Steffie's husband," embarrassing poor Jeremy in front of the whole Raven.

Jeremy seemed relieved that I was not mad at him, and frantically asked me to please forgive him if he had done anything wrong. I kissed him on the check, and said: "There is nothing to forgive. If you had taken that guy off my hands, you would have been doing me a favor."

Wayne and Tony are just a little too over-protective at times. Jermey is a hot man, the kind of person that does not need my approval, and yet he seemed scared to death that he might be on my bad side, simply because it would put him on the outs with the crowd that I run with -- whom like to style themselves as New Hope's unoffical royal family.

Anyway, I assured Jeremy that we were cool, and made a mental note to get Wayne and Tony off his back. I'd play peacemaker -- and make things right.

I got Jeremy to walk me down the steps on the back lot to the gazebo set up down by the Ingham Creek so that I could catch up with Jason, Kevin and Jeff whom I knew were about ready to fire up a joint. We joined the little circle, as did one of the bartenders from Jon & Peters, as well three extremely pretty young 20something straight girls.

The straight girls were good girls, and did not imbibe. The girls each thought I was a woman -- that was until I opened my mouth. If I have one flaw, it's my voice. No, it's not a baritone, not even close, it's just sounds gay. It's funny how a lot of men won't even pick up on my voice, but a lot of girls do. Not all, but a lot. I suppose they're more in tune with the pitch of other women's voices.

"My bottom hurts from that chair," said a cute brunette who had her hair snatched back tight in a bun. She wore a halter top, snug fitting denim capri's, and 3" wedge sandals.

"Sore bottoms are a common ailment around New Hope," I said. All three girls looked at me wide-eyed and laughed. Humor is the king when it comes to ice breakers.

I can always tell when I've been clocked by the upraised eyebrows and the sudden close scrutiny. We chatted, and I could feel each of the 3 young girls was checking me out, as I was them. Not sexually, but as women, face, figure, hair, clothes, jewelry, shoes, and by their receptive attitude I could tell I'd passed their little litmous test. Whereas years ago I may have gotten tarred and feathered, suddenly it seems trendy to have met a real live transsexual - one that didn't look like their hairy Uncle Hank in a moo moo.

After two hours of mingling it was about 11PM, and the crowd was beginning to shift from the B&B to the "bird," a bar called the Raven (I'll save the Raven for another entry). In those two hours I had exactly one Lite beer and three tokes. Not bad. Wayne could hardly stand up. Three young gay boys were all comparing hip bones. It was time to go home.