Lesbians and karaoke: a winning combination

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If there’s one thing all lesbians are drawn to other than XX-chromosomes, it’s karaoke. Now if you’re sitting there going, well actually, I’m not into that, have you considered that perhaps your desires are repressed and you’re just not ready to come out yet? All it takes is the right song.

Karaoke is a lesbian rite of passage. Whether you’re a baby dyke in baggy jeans performing boy band tunes without a hint of irony, or the off-stage heckler egging them on, many a girl has come of age in a karaoke bar.

Last weekend I went to the mother of all karaoke parties. It was a lesbian housewarming with all the right ingredients – awesome chicks, a cocktail bar, a box of costumes and a sweet-ass karaoke set up.

Itching to get into it, my gf and I put our names down early and selected a song that we knew would get the crowd warmed up, a sing-along favourite, You’re The One That I Want from Grease.

I just assumed I’d be Danny, so when my gf chucked over a blonde curly wig, my nerves really started to kick in.

While I struggled to grasp Sandy’s coyness, my lady totally nailed Danny Zuko’s knee-slides across the floor. A week later and she’s still wearing a badge of honour on each knee.

Then the night went off. Eye Of The Tiger, Livin’ On A Prayer, Islands In The Stream and all manner of karaoke classics. A personal highlight was seeing four sporty chicks frock up to perform 70s female-empowerment ballad, I Am Woman. No matter what they say, every tomboy loves to wear a dress now and then. Footy players aren’t the only ones looking for an excuse to drag up.

With each performance the bar was raised, so for our last song we teamed up with a couple who were keen to take on Sir Mix A Lot’s, Baby Got Back. What could lift a song about bums to karaoke greatness? Synchronised dance moves, that’s what.

Leaving the vocals to our pals, my girlfriend and I transformed into floor humping, booty dancing, body rolling, back up dancers. Everything was cool until I ran out of moves and had to improvise “sexy dancing” with a fellow tomboy. Awkward, awkward, awkward.

Then the cops arrived and we decided we’d had enough excitement for one night.

INFO: You can follow Monique Schafter on Twitter @MoniqueSchafter

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