Crushing on the Drag Queen

My life will never be the same!

WARNING - ADULT CONTENT AND MORE THAN LIKELY TOO MUCH INFORMATION - IF YOU'RE A PRUDE - DO NOT KEEP READING.

SERIOUSLY.

I AIN'T KIDDING HERE.

ALRIGHT, IT'S YOUR FUNERAL.

You know it's a good bachelorette party when you come back with a broken baby toe and you fancy yourself in love. Last night was Amber's birthday/bachelorette party.  It was  an existential, gender-bending, re-evaluating my sexual psyche, kind of evening.  It proved to be one of the most mind-expanding nights in my life.  Why Heather, please elaborate.  Did you discover transcendental meditation, or hot yoga?  No, I discovered the true art of drag queens and I shall never be the same.

We went to the drag clubs on Church Street and I saw some amazing performers.  Nikki Chin at Crews and Tangos - stunning, funny, wry, crass, self-deprecating and a great dancer.  And then Vitality Black at Zipperz  who is  a teeny tiny Tina Turner with more spit and fire and fun than you would think could fit into such a little body.
 

The Fabulous Vitality Black

But then everything changed.  Heaven Lee Hytes took the stage.

Heaven Lee Hytes

I found myself transported to an alternate-reality version of Victor/Victoria, with me in the James Garner role, but instead of me lusting after a woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman, I found myself lusting, not for the spectacularly stunning drag queen Heaven Lee is, but rather the man underneath the drag queen.  I have NEVER IN MY LIFE experienced anything as psychotropic as what I experienced last night.
I was smitten.  L.U.S.T.  In bold capital letters.  That's right.  LUST.  My mind is still blown, and this is why...   Heaven Lee Hytes  is one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen.  A Lucy Lawless-esque statuesque brunette with piercing blue eyes who does NOT remotely resemble a dude.   She is a goddess in her own right.  A performer who has perfected her craft for a decade and is a paragon in the realization of her stage persona. GORGEOUS.  WITTY.  TALENTED.

But all I could see?  The man.  The man underneath the sequins and pancake and falsies.  The man beneath the scarlet lipstick, eyeshadow and stilletto stripper boots.  I found myself crushing on this guy in the least platonic way of my life.  I looked at him, who I should be calling 'her' out of respect for how brilliant he is at being 'her,' but honestly?  All I saw was the man.  There was something about the breadth of his shoulders that let me visualize him not as a perfect female impersonator but rather as a cross-dressing man.  And for the first time in my life, I could understand cross-dressing and I thought it was HOT.

To quote my friend Big Gay Jay... So there I was, wanting to hump the leg of a drag queen... I was lusting for the tall, dark, handsome, GAY man who stole the breath from my incredulous lungs.  My mind IMPLODED.  Looking at 'her' but seeing only him.  This man had me imagining things.  Dirty, decadent, ridiculously-cliched, romance novel things.  Him, dressed as a highway man in Regency England, his long hair tied back in a black velvet ribbon, sporting jodpurs and riding boots and some sort of great cloak. Riding a frickin' horse.  Preparing to... board my carriage and perhaps steal my... jewels... if you know what I mean.

And what did you do on YOUR Thursday night?