A lesbian walks into a bar…

(and immediately regrets sitting down)

 - by Adèle Marie-Alix
   Lesbian Columnist

A playful column that pretends to be lighthearted, even when it is not, because sometimes humor is the only thing standing between you and staring into the void for an hour.

You go to a gig in your spare time in an attempt to make connections with other musicians, because this is what you have been told to do.

Network. Be present. Be seen.

Hum knowingly when someone mentions a pedal you have never heard of.

Pretend you are not calculating how much this one drink is costing you.

You are a lesbian woman, dressed in vintage attire, sitting alone at a bar, working up the courage to introduce yourself to others because you plan to perform once the open mic begins.

You notice the “others” are overwhelmingly male as you open your notebook to write down some lyrics.

You listen to the conversations around you, mostly because they are loud and there is nowhere else to direct your attention.

A group of men to your left is discussing everything wrong with the band performing, specifically the female bassist’s technique. She needs to be “less delicate” with her instrument.

She would blend in “much better” if she embraced “the grit”. One is explaining that digital recording has no soul and that any music other than acoustic is the root of all evil. Another is passionately describing how he is currently “between projects”, but has a concept album in the works that will challenge the very structure of the industry itself.

He is repeating the word “authentic” a lot.

A man sits down next to you. He is about two decades your senior. He does not ask if the seat to your left is taken. He immediately comments on your vintage clothes, pearls, and what you are writing. He positions you as being not like other girls your age because you happened to be dressed this particular way on this particular night.

He asks you if you make music.

You nod, because you do, although admittedly, you are just getting started with sharing it.

He boasts that he dabbles in music and poetry too, and begins asking more questions.

Do you write your own songs?

Oh, you do? Like the lyrics and the music?

Who showed you how to start writing?

Have you played any real shows yet?

What kind of music is it? Like softer, emotional stuff?

He continues to make passes at you the whole time, and for now, you laugh in that tight, polite way that is meant to keep things calm rather than encourage anything. You ask how old the younger sister he mentioned earlier is, hoping the question might gently shift the tone, maybe remind him of the age gap, or steer the conversation to a safer topic.

“Twenty-five,” he says.

“I’m twenty-one,” you reply.

It changes absolutely nothing.

It is a precarious situation when you are a lesbian and a man makes advances on you.

Your options are as follows:

A. Directly reject him, making no mention of your lesbianism. This move could make him feel embarrassed, which could make him feel angry, which could lead to violence. Or at the very least, a loud and uncomfortable scene.

B. Attempt to redirect him and make it clear that you do not swing his way. This might be the honest route. This might also be the moment where you watch his eyes light up, not with understanding, but with a sick excitement. This could also result in violence.

C. Play nice. Laugh at the jokes. Order a car home. Leave the event you wanted to attend early. There are no other seats except for the one you are occupying at the bar, so leaving feels like forfeiting your place, your time, and your attempt to belong in this space. Note: this option may still result in violence.

Tonight, you pick C.

The Gayly online. 3/21/26 @ 1 p.m. CST.