She was just making conversation, and she was doing most of the heavy lifting, so I let her flex her stuff. One night in Sydney, I was a little taken by a 38-year-old woman in a gay bar. A mutual friend introduced us, and we proceeded to have a curious conversation about color — or as she would have said, colour. She was a chatty and congenial Aussie, with a distinctive no-bullshit edge. Most importantly on a Friday night, she was a straight woman in gay bar who wasn’t playing the I’m-such-a-fabulous-fag-hag card while taking up way more space than necessary. (There are too many of those in Sydney… and Cape Town… and New York City… and pretty much everywhere with thriving gay nightlife!) She was definitely my kind of girl.