Why Gay bars have Kleenex

It's not easy to admit that I've cried in some strange places for a myriad of reasons. Though I am proud to admit that it hasn't been often as of late. With the exception of tonight.

Add yet another bar. A bar ill equipped to handle an emotional outpour with a best friend. A PBR Irish bar.

Fucking Cancer. Fucking absent Kleenex. God Damn dog.

I am not one to cry in front of people. I hate it. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable - two things I just don't put up with in myself. Yet I'm not naive to think that it hasn't happened, won't happen....I just can't stand it when it does.

My best friend starts Chemo next week.

Fucking Cancer. I'd like to go two rounds with you in a ring. Two rounds. First round I get surprised by how dirty you fight and the next round I KICK YOUR ASS.

But it's like boxing smoke. Elusive and coy...one minute right in your face and the next not even a shadow on the mat. So instead, I pour my weakness into something constructive. A benefit for her. Something that can provide comfort to her and her husband. Selfishly it makes me feel good for contributing.

But there are nights that we sit and laugh until we cry - and then cry until we laugh. Tonight we started laughing over PBR and Chardonnay and bar pizzas. Then we started to talk about the benefit and the crying started - the, "I can't believe the amount of support and love that is out there" kind of crying. So we paid the bill at the PRR bar and decided to call it a night.

Unfortunately (or is it fortunate) that our train stop is literally twenty paces from a gay bar called Scot's. How do two girls sharing laughs and tears in a straight bar pass up a drink at the gay bar?! Moments after arriving we were bought a martini and shots. Gay men just aren't scared off by the prospect of crying; they are drawn to it like moths to flame.

So for those of you that I sent texts to that seemed odd or out of left center, I don't apologize but I offer the explanation of PBR draft beers, gay men and a dog named Wilson. If you'd been there with me in person you'd have appreciated the fact that Gay bars have Kleenex readily available.

Here's to you Crescent Prah. I will bring the Kleenex, kick Cancer's ass, and cry anywhere, anytime as long as it's with you. Just promise that someday it can be my dog that we take pictures of in a bar.