A year ago, I was in a place I never thought I would be.  Unemployed, on medical leave indefinitely, and with no man in my life to provide economic or spiritual support, the wolf was not only at my door, he was with a pack, and they were all howling in delighted chorus.  The lost soul of a man I had been dating had already been given his walking papers: I had been demoted to “friends with benefits”, and knowing what this really meant in a greedy man’s life, had  drawn a line in the sand to say:  “great, go find another FWB but the consequence is, you will never spend time with me again.” Undeterred, he kept looking, thinking I was bluffing him.   Halloween was his fifth date with this blonde woman named Sue; more of a girlfriend than a FWB type. 

So, Halloween a year ago found me alone.  Deliberately so.  I was no longer using my body as the easy “hook” it had been, to find a company of male cohorts.   My plans were to join a group of newish “vanilla”  friends at their downtown loft/condo, then go to a Jet City Singles dance at the Showbox Downtown.  This would be fun and easy…

My costume for a vanilla party at a downtown public venue?  A large, handmade feather mask, ornate, with rhinestone tears, peacock feathers, ribbons; and a fishnet body stocking.  I considered the public decency laws in Washington State, but in the end, decided to at least wear a sheer bra and thong under the fishnets.  I wanted to shock, to draw attention, but I did not want to get thrown out of the Showbox.

I threw a long black coat over my stocking and drove to my party, parked, and found the amazing workloft/condo.  I walked in, and found a party beginning.  Most of the players in this drama had known each other for much longer than I had.  I was the newest member of this spinoff group.  Most had no idea who I really was, the life I had been drawn to, outside of this group.

Half were dressing at the party.  There were three women in the bathroom.  I casually doffed my coat, under the anonymity of the ornate mask, and heard audible gasps.  Some of the women cheered, in delight.  I kept my mask on and joined the three in the bathroom enjoying the female repartee and enthusiasm.  After a gin and tonic helped settle us, we hopped into a taxi to head to a bar near the Showbox. Many people were already gathering, in funny and witty and silly costumes.  Mine was, bar none, the gutsiest.  Yes, men were being quite friendly to me, especially when approaching me from the backside, but I had already decided I would not be taking one home that evening.  I had already carefully  made a choice that the kind of man who would be attracted to the costume I was wearing would not be the kind of fella that would stick around and be a friend should the need arise.