It’s surprisingly hard to find parking, even before eleven in the morning. When I finally succeed, I mosey over to the bar scene. It’s dead of course, but at least it helps me get my bearings for later.

Then I catch a cab towards Underground Atlanta. There are a lot of food options and given the crowds, I should be concerned with getting my food more so than finding a spot for the parade. That ship has basically sailed. These people have been in place waiting for hours. I feel for their feet when the day is over with.

One of the first places I stumble upon looks promising. I settle onto a bar stool because the chances of scoring a table are slim.

Whereas it’s shoulder to shoulder outside, it’s less crowded inside the venue. I order a burger and some sweet potato fries. It’s my attempt at being healthy which is the extent of it apart from a salad once in a while that I grab from the supermarket.

The fries are dry but the burger is pretty good if not overly greasy. It goes down well with a beer, dyed green of course.

I wonder what’s in this dye. I’m sure it’s no worse than the beer itself though.

With a full belly, I take back to the street, not expecting to see much through the hordes of people.

You can’t escape being swallowed by the crowd. I somehow find myself swept away inside the middle of some street party group. Someone pinches my ass and I jolt around to see the culprit. It’s a tall man wearing bright green lipstick, fake boobies, a green dress, and enough green accessories that would guarantee them to be the winner of a strip poker contest even if they were the worst player at the table.

“Oh, honey! You don’t have a lick of green on that cute bod of yours.”

I would be flattered if not for the fact that feminine men aren’t my type, especially those that dress as women.

“The shirt is teal.”

“Mmm, baby. I hate to tell you this, but that’s not teal. Teal has a base color of green. What you have covering your lusciousness is cobalt, just like them baby blue eyes of yours. But don’t you worry, sweetheart. Mama Sasha has you covered.”

They remove the fluffy, green feathered boa from around their neck and wrap it loosely around mine. Leaning in, they kiss my cheek and at the same time reach back to pinch my ass once more.

I’m reassured once again when they stand back straight. “Now nobody has an excuse to get their hands on your juicy bod unless you’re asking for it, baby.”

The irony painting those words makes me chuckle.

“Thanks. My hero!”

“Oh, sugar pie! You’re gonna make me blush.” They look away at another unsuspecting victim that lacks an outward display of the mandatory green. “Oooh, it’s gonna be a long, long day for Mama Sasha. You stay outta trouble, you handsome handful you!”

They dash away before I can respond.

Only in Atlanta.

I shake off the comical interaction and push through the crowd in hopes of finding a quieter area to wait out the insanity.

In my head, I ask myself ‘does this boa make me look gay?’

Haha! When does a boa not make someone look gay? Maybe it’s socially acceptable when it’s holiday wear?

I wrap it around my neck and create a knot in the front as similar to a neck tie as a boa can pretend to be.

The crowd tightens up as what I imagine is the parade makes its way down the street. I can hear the music reverberating off the tall buildings surrounding the parade’s path, but I can’t see a thing.

I hover around and walk about a bit until a familiar voice calls out to me from above.

“Hey there, blue eyes! Up here!”

I glance up and spot my green makeup wearing hero/molester from earlier standing on a balcony overlooking the crowd.

“Hey, hero. How’d you get up there?”

They wave their hand and point to indicate an entrance to what looks like some creepy alley with a stairway.

“Fee Fee, let him up! He’s with me, muffin!”

There’s an exchange of nods and the even more feminine fella — if you thought that was possible — eyes me up and down before waving his very sparkly nails with fingers donning green rings allowing me through.

“Have fun, sugar britches.”

How many nicknames is that now? Am I even sure I want to join this group of people?

Fuck it. I chant today’s mantra in my mind and wander up the stairs until Sasha spots me in the topside crowd.

What appeared to be a sketchy staircase opens into a rooftop bar with a balcony. Damn. This is nice.

“Oh, doll face! Are you here alone today? Your momma Sasha can fix you right up with some friends. Come here, baby.”

Though their words indicate that I have a choice, their hand around my waist would say otherwise. I’m not protesting though. They tug me right to the front of the balcony and then release me to enjoy the view. From here, the parade is clear as day. I wouldn’t get a better shot if I were watching it on ABC.

Wow! This is amazing!

Sasha turns to a group of friends that arrive with a tray of green Jello shots. Her entire crowd is either crossdressers or feminine as hell by nature, makeup, accessorizing, and attire. It’s like I’ve walked into an adult version of a gay makeup party.

The first of the friends to speak has a high-pitched voice that’s flamboyant beyond any gay I’ve ever spent time with before.

“Everyone gets a shot for each hand. Sasha gets three because there’s basically a third arm down there.”

“Boy, you’re bad!”

“Nuh, uh. But for realz, everyone gets lots of shots. We all know everyone here likes to slurp and swallow.” He nudges against me. “I stand mistaken. I don’t know what your preferences are, but I bet I’ll like ’em.”

Sasha grabs two shots and gestures for me to do the same.

“Alright, baby. It’s after noon already and you’re not tanked, so let’s get to working on that. Down the hatches!”

I hesitate for a moment. I have no idea what’s in these shots or where they actually came from.

Fuck it!

I take one in each hand, tink it against the ones Sasha is holding and throw them both back. One normally doesn’t swallow whole chunks of Jello like that, but the taste hits me afterwards and I’m thankful I didn’t slurp slowly. That’s vodka … a lot of vodka.

Sasha runs her thumb across my bottom lip, claiming to catch my dribble.

“Our little cobalt isn’t accustomed to swallowing large amounts of viscous fluids, now are you?”

Wow. That’s blunt. You couldn’t be clearer if you outright asked if I spit or swallow.

Is this one of those ambiguous moments where I’m not really required to answer? Everyone here seems really fun and nice, but they aren’t exactly my preference and I know they’re just being friendly. Making you think they’d take you to bed is their way of welcoming people and letting them know you’re accepted into the club.

The flamboyant one speaks up again. “Strong silent type? I can totally dig that. They’re like the librarians of the hetero world. When you unleash that. Mmmm. It’s like releasing a beast in bed, like they got somethin’ to prove and end up being the best lays I’ve ever had.”

Lays? Maybe this guy isn’t just being friendly.

I finally speak up, but just enough for the immediate vicinity to hear. “Uh, I’m more the shy quiet type. Sorry. And my type is more like …” I locate a guy walking in the parade that resembles a younger version of Chris Hemsworth, back when he wasn’t overly muscular so as to put the rest of the male population to shame. It’s the baby face and cleanly shaven look of this guy that catches my eye. I point without reservation. “There.”

Sasha smiles, “Oh my God, baby! You are gonna love this place I’m performing at later. The place is loaded with little lemmings just like that. Most of them are shallow as hell, but well worth it if you can handle the lack of brains that they make up for with muscle.”

Flamboyant chimes in, staring at the man I’ve pinpointed. “I would let him fuck me sideways. I can’t fault you for your taste cuz it’s damn good. I’d lick every inch of him until he came in or on any orifice he chose.” We both chuckle at the visual he’s entertained us with. “I’m Lex by the way.”

“Thad.”

Lex queries, “Thad with a ‘t-h’?”

“Yeah. Short for Thaddeus.”

“Oh my God. That is the sexiest name I’ve ever heard. I want to date you just so I can say I’ve dated a Thaddeus. Please, please date me for like an hour so I can say I’ve dated you? I’ll totally give you a blowjob out the deal.”

He isn’t joking … not one bit.

“Uh …”

“Please say yes. I give an awesome blowjob and you don’t want to go into tonight with a loaded gun anyway. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

That dumb phrase is sneaking up on me and I know it’s going to get me in trouble.

Fuck it.

“You get one hour. But I demand an amicable break up; one where we remain friends afterwards.”

“You are so damn cute! Like, I almost want to keep you, but alas all good things must come to an end, so I promise I’ll come up with a killer breakup story for us.” He reaches out and grabs my hand. “Oh my God, I’m dating Thaddeus! He is so scrumptious!”

I let him loop onto my arm and we watch the rest of the parade like some very odd, but cute couple. He points out all the dancing men and keeps telling me I’d be hot in a kilt.

It’s fake, but it’s kind of nice to imagine him as my boyfriend. It’s not that he’s my type, but he is certainly fun and unbelievably cheerful. I wouldn’t have the energy to keep up with him more than half a day if it came down to it. I let myself enjoy it.

I place my hand over his on my arm and he smiles at me, showing the cutest dimple at the corner of his mouth.

He’s not a bad looking guy. If you took away all the makeup and dropped the voice a few octaves then he might be someone I’d genuinely consider dating.

As it is, I couldn’t imagine hearing him scream in bed … Though I could picture it clear enough. I bet he’d be the type to look back at me as I pound him. He’d blush red in the cheeks and keep a glow of innocence even as he whimpered naughty things and sexual orders at me. With a coating of sweat, he’d practically glisten.

Shit. I’m getting myself turned on.

Looking away abruptly, I let the parade serve as my distraction.

How long has it been since I last had sex? I’ve had a few Grindr ‘dates’ since the breakup ages ago, but even that’s been a few months.

Gosh, I’m thinking like a depraved loon. I shake my head to break up the thoughts developing. Lex and I aren’t actually dating. This is a playful rouse for entertainment. Just take it for what it is and stop thinking about things that are not going to happen. He isn’t actually my type.

As soon as I shake the visuals I’ve worked up in my imagination, he leans into me. “Your pensive style is totally working for you. Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

What? Did I just say that? I completely bypassed the ‘fuck it’ logic and dove right in without a single thought. I don’t even know who this guy is. He’s some fuck boi probably that’s had half the dick in this city and I’m agreeing to kiss him?

Before I can deliberate further, his tongue is in my mouth and I’m returning his kiss with a vigor that I shouldn’t have for him. Am I just this desperate or do I actually like him? Does it matter either way?

The parade and the people we bump into kind of fade into the background as we stumble our way towards the bathrooms.

He’s undoing my pants when I pull back.

“You really don’t have to. It’s not like I took that bit seriously.”

“Shut up. I’m doing us both a favor here.” He presses my back against the door and drops down.

Jesus! He’s actually — Wow!

He wasn’t kidding about anything. He does give an awesome blowjob.