Shirley arrived in her pick up truck. I was relieved when I got in and saw she wasn't wearing her overalls. Instead she wore a nice blue and green floral long skirt with a white tee shirt, quite charming actually. I had on jeans and a blue Gap tee shirt.

"So whose party is this?" Asked Shirley.

"Just some chick from this shoot I worked on."

"A breeder?"

"Yeah, it's a straight party, that all right?"

"Oh yeah, I just like meeting people."

I smiled and nodded in agreement, but wondered inside if that was true. I don't mean to say I didn't think Shirley was friendly, because I've never met anyone friendlier, but maybe just everybody liked to meet people for some ulterior motive, you know, to get to somebody else for sex or a job. I mean, let's face it, Mayberry R.F.D. doesn't really exist.

I looked over and watched her smile as she drove. I thought, "pretty," and told her the directions to the party.

We drove up to a Santa Monica condo on Third Street, just above the promenade.

*******

Led Zeppelin was playing which I hadn't heard since high school. Joints were being passed which I didn't smoke, but I enjoyed seeing them around. I had lost Shirley pretty earlier on. She said she needed to use the john and I told her to meet me on the back porch, but she never showed.

I spoke to an Assistant Director most of the night thinking he would be a great connection for future employment. He was quite boring actually, but we got on all right. A couple hours passed and still no Shirley.

I excused myself and without the energy to start another conversation, I went to find her with the idea of going home. I had a feeling she was probably sitting alone in some corner, waiting for me to rescue her. This was not her crowd--- a little too sophisticated.

I heard her before I saw her with the cutest looking blonde I've seen in a long time. They were laughing and sitting close. As I was landing upon them, Shirley looked up and introduced me to Betsy. Damn, she was cute. "Hi," I said.

"You know Betsy here models sweat suits. Nike, right?"

"That's right." Betsy said sitting up.

"Fran does wardrobe."

Betsy the blonde turned to me. "Oh I love clothes, you must have so much fun."

"Yeah, it's fun. Listen..." (my mind was thinking things it shouldn't) "...you all want to go to the Palms for a drink?"

Still smiling Betsy said, "Oh, I can't, I came with friends and I don't want to just dump them, and well, they're not the Palms type, if you know what I mean."

Bingo, she was my type, a cute blonde queer. But before I could get another word in, Shirley turned to Betsy and said, "So I'll call you?"

Without thinking a moment I stuttered, "Call who?"

They both looked at me like, like, well, like I was a man. Finally, I said my good-byes and told Shirley I'd meet her at the truck. They watched me leave.

*******

We drove in silence for awhile until finally Shirley uttered, "Good party, thanks for taking me."

"Yeah, sure. Funny, a totally straight party and you find the only dyke."

Proudly Shirley said, "Yeah, I can smell them a mile and a half away." She looked straight ahead of her and we drove into the dark hot night.

I could feel the jealousy rising inside of me like a green one-eyed monster.