Going out that night convinced me of a few things.
I really hate bars, of any variety. I hate cigarette smoke. I hate the way my eyes itch in it, I hate the way my clothes smell when I've been surrounded by it. I wish there was a gay coffee-house or a gay bookstore or a gay anything-else-but-a-bar in my town, because I truly hate bars.
I hate when people I'm with get drunk to the point of throwing up. Sam didn't, but her brother was with her, and he did. I was so embarrassed I wanted to sink into the floor, and I don't think I'm ever going to a bar again with Steele - although I might with Sam.
Kissing a woman is beautiful. Sam offered a little no-strings makeout, since she knows I haven't found the nerve to approach another woman yet. Kissing her was beautiful, and felt right in a way kissing a guy never felt.
After kissing Sam I was able to start day-dreaming about what kind of woman I want to meet. Before it was just some kind of amorphous "woman" - now I've been thinking of what kind of hair I think is cute, and what things I would like her to be into, how she might dress, which books she might read.
But cigarette smoke and vomit remain disgusting.
Why do people want to do things that lead to such substances?