I get into Ivan’s car a couple of blocks away from home. Ivan’s face lights up when he sees me. No one knows where I am. I need to stop keeping all these secrets from people. I worry that if our date falls apart the way it did with Randall, my friends and family will think I’m punching too high.
I’m not sure what to do when I get in the car. Should I give Ivan a kiss on the cheek? Ivan seems just as confused as I do. He punches me on the shoulder like I just scored a goal at a hockey game.
“How’s it going, bro?” he says.
“Did you just call me ‘bro’?”
“Sorry. I play a lot of pick-up hockey with
straight guys.”
“It’s cool, bro,” I joke. “What do you want to
do, bro?”
“Want to go to a gay bar?” he suggests.
“We’re not old enough to drink,” I remind him.
“It’s early. Maybe they’re not checking ID yet.”
“My mother warned me about boys like you,” I joke. “Sure. Let’s go to a gay bar.”
Ivan points the car in the direction of the highway. We’re starting to see signs for Canada Way when the car starts to bump and thump like it’s broken a heel.
“Hey, bro,” I say. “I think you have a flat.”
“For real?” Ivan says. He pulls over to the side of the road. We both get out to look at the tire. It’s flatter than a supermodel from the nineties.
“Do you know how to change a tire?” he asks.
“Yes. Don’t you?”
“In theory, yes. But I’ve never actually done
it before.”
I’m wearing my favourite jeans and shirt. But now is not the time to be a princess. “I’ll change the tire,” I say. “But I get to pick the bar.”
“It’s so cool you can change a tire,” Ivan says.
“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” I tell him as I assemble the jack.
The lights of Vancouver get brighter as we cross the Georgia Viaduct into the city. I love driving into Vancouver. It makes my heart race every time. I plan to live here one day. Or anywhere that has a large gay population where I can make a living doing drag.
“So where are we going?” Ivan asks.
“Have you ever heard of a place called Poodles?” I ask him.
“Sounds like a dog groomer,” he says.
“It’s a drag bar,” I say, wincing a little.
“I don’t know how I feel about going to a drag bar,” he says.
“You don’t like drag?”
“I don’t get it,” he says. “Where is the talent in dressing up as a woman and pretending to sing a song?”
Looks like I won’t be telling him I do drag on our first date.
“I doubt there’s a drag show on now,” I say. “It’s not even seven.”
“We made a deal,” Ivan says, smiling. “And I always honour my agreements.”
Ivan finds a parking spot a few feet away
from Poodles.
“OMG! Doris Day parking,” I squeal. Did that sound as gay I think it did? I lower my voice, undo my seatbelt and say, “Well, here goes nothing.”
We walk up to the bar entrance. Ivan was right. The doorman isn’t working yet. Ivan holds the door open for me and we walk right in. I’ve only ever been to Poodles during the day for Drag Brunch with Kara and Chris. After sundown, the dance floor is open and the place turns into a full-on bar. Tonight is Drag Bingo.
“Why does that drag queen have a beard and moustache?” Ivan asks.
“That’s tough drag,” I tell him. “It pokes fun
at drag.”
I notice that all eyes are on our table. At first, I think they’ve clocked us as underage teens. Then I realize they’re all staring at Ivan. He is by far the most attractive guy in the room. A waiter appears out of nowhere, carrying a tray. He looks into Ivan’s eyes and asks in a sexy voice, “Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll have a Coke, please,” Ivan says.
“Are you sure you just want a Coke?” the waiter purrs. “There’s so much more I can offer you.”
“A Coke will do,” Ivan says, a little uncomfortably.
The waiter snarls like a tiger. He’s about to walk off without taking my order.
“I’d like a drink too!” I say, reminding him that I exist. “Can I have a cranberry . . . vodka.”
Ivan looks at me like I’ve blown our cover. The waiter gives me the once over. If I wasn’t here with Ivan, he would totally ID me. But I am with Ivan, and if I leave, so does he. The waiter walks off and returns with our drinks. I’m almost positive there’s no vodka in mine, but I’m not going to tell Ivan that.
The Bingo portion of the evening ends and the DJ takes over the festivities from the drag host. The first song is “Dance to This” by Troye Sivan and Ariana Grande.
“Want to dance?” I ask Ivan.
“You’ve seen me dance,” he says. “I’m awful.”
“All you have to do is hold me in your arms and sway your hips,” I tell him.
Ivan thinks about it and says, “I think I can
manage that.”
We walk out onto the dance floor. I wrap my arms around Ivan’s neck and look into his eyes as we sway to the music. Everyone is watching us, eating their hearts out. I am loving this.
“You looked really sexy when you were changing that tire earlier,” Ivan says.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Cool,” I say, imitating him.
No one has ever told me I’m sexy. And just when I think the night can’t get any better, Ivan leans his face into mine and kisses me softly on the lips. I think I can chalk up this date as a success.