We’ve gotten into a rut. Call a babysitter. Go to dinner at Tango. Come home. And, as nice as it is to have a favorite restaurant and time to actually go there, it was time for a change. So I trusted Justin’s judgment on date night selections, even though it was something I would never actually do. We went to The Donkey Show.
For those of you as uncultured as I, The Donkey Show is a gay-tacular, disco version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Can’t quite picture it? Neither could I.
After surviving the apocalypse and having dinner with friends to celebrate our pardon, Justin and I headed to the show. We lined up outside of the theatre-turned-night-club, complete with bouncers. The show started with an argument in the middle of Mass Ave., much to the dismay of all the motorists trying to make their way down the busy street into Harvard Square.
The first hour of the “show” was spent dancing in a night club with male dancers donning more glitter than I’ve ever seen in one place. Women flocked to the floating stages, being pulled up to dance. Now, if you know me, you probably know that I don’t dance. Ever. So this was not destined to be a fabulous date, especially because Justin opted for dance floor tickets instead of table tickets. There was no where to escape all the dancing people. However, after a few adult beverages, I started having a little more fun.
And then the real show started. Mis-matched lovers, potions, fairies (you know those dancers – they played the fairies), donkeys, sex. It was everything a Saturday night could need. And, despite my initial feelings of dread about our date, I can’t wait to go back again.