OK so the bf is a few years younger than I. Just a tad. OK. So, he's 17 years younger. Oh my god! I'm like, a gay male cougar. I'm a manther! Anyway. I digress. A bunch of his same aged buddies wanted to meet at Kobalt. Rickie and I arrived first and discovered a bright, well kept, no dartboards kinda bar. No smell of stale beer. No problem finding a parking spot. It was actually. Civilized. And it's a gay bar in Phoenix? Wow! After having a few rounds of drinks and perhaps forgetting that I was the elder of the group, one of them exclaims...."Yea. This place is pretty cool. Too bad there's so many guys over 40 here."
Wow. I was one of those guys. But, hey! What? just because some of the hair on my head has made its way into my ear canal and lower back. And just because I know Harvey Milk was a slain gay rights activist and not a type of dairy beverage. I can't have a place with a piano, a granite bar and a barstaff that truly knows how to make a Gibson. Thanks Kobalt. I'm blue no longer.