Camille

I'm in love with a lady named Camille Collins.

Camille's alter ego and I met several years ago through a mutual friend. He's a heck of a nice guy. By that time, Camille had gone into retirement with just a very few public appearances.

Last night, she was part of a "retro" night at the night club where she performed. It's now a str8 bar, and I guess the new owner wanted a night for different clientele and is working to build up a Thursday night gay crowd. I got an email that Camille was performing at midnight, and just couldn't wait. I mean, I've waited near on 9 or more years. So yes, staying up til midnight on a weeknight was a bit of a stretch for me these days. I'm old, I admit it. I have the prescriptions to prove it.

But still, the lure of a drag queen is hard to resist for me. Always has been.

So there I am at quarter past midnight (gay time, you know they just can't start on time) and I'm loving every minute of it. Mind you, I'm working hard to just hang back. I'm almost 4 years with MyFella now and I'm not gonna screw that up. And honestly, much of the crowd was far too young and skinny for me. But still . . . there's nothing like a gay bar. The scent of all the men mingling in the air is a glorious thing. Oh, I had not realized how I miss it. Intoxicating. The furtive glances. The brazen open displays of arms and chests. The embraces man to man. The flirty stances. The not so flirty stances of those who make their showing as butch.

And then there's the performers. Camille was everything my heart and soul had hoped she would be. Extravagant. Brazen. Bold. Caustic. Flirty. From her first flowing dress, to the second appearance in the white body suit, to the Grace Jones solid black outfit in thigh high black patent leather Mistress boots. She was simply amazing, amazingly stunning, and all over the stage. Her lip syncing so perfect you'd swear she was singing live.

Oh, how I miss being gay! And oh how Camille was worth the wait!