This week’s Kooky’s Korner, Kooky Kyle lets everyone in on some of his recent nights at the Wild Cat Lounge here in Santa Barbara and the official bar of Lisanti Land. Enjoy.
For any regular reader of this blog, you are familiar with Chris’ favorite haunt and if you have visited Lisanti Land the Santa Barbara Chapter, you have probably been to the Wild Cat. The first time I came here I had the opportunity to have such experience. I barely remember walking in the door. Reliable sources have told me I walked up to two girls and told them I wanted to lose my virginity to both of them in a threesome. Some how that was not met with a slap instead it received laughter. Long story short I ran away that night and almost made it home but over shot it by about a half mile away from the Lisanti Palace(For more on Kooky’s first visit to SB read Kooky Kyle’s Chris Lisanti Adventure Tour and Kooky Kyle Speaks Out).
With the beginning of our relationship starting in such a manner you can only imagine the insanity that the place has about it. It is so much better than that stupid hipster bar we went to in San Fran, seriously only, “only obscure” late 50’s early 60’s R&B? Fucking hipsters. Wild Cat is the unofficial hook up bar and the unofficial gay bar of Santa Barbara. With that being the case, I have been approached a few times by some people I would never want any sort of sexual encounter with.
The Swingers
About a week ago Chris, his boy Ryan and I were out on a lurk at the Kitty. I went ahead of them to get a space at the bar to order more drinks. As I am standing waiting for a space to open up this older guy, whom I would guess was in his mid to late forties came up to me from one of the little tables by the bar. He was tall and a little overweight. I figured he was getting in line to get a drink too.
“She is a real looker isn’t she?” He said gesturing to a similarly aged fat woman with short blonde hair seated at his table. This woman was gross. She was clearly tipsy and was in jovial spirits. “She looks like a real keeper.” I said. I figured that it was either his wife or girlfriend and I didn’t want to insult her.
“She thinks you are pretty cute.” Well that was weird. I’ll take a compliment like that any time but this was starting to get a little bit on the strange side. “Thanks, I like to think so” I replied. “Do you want to come back to our place?” he asked. WHOA WHAT THE SHIT! Did that really just happen? I was shocked; I barely could put a reply together.
“Uh, baaaa, huuh no?” I answered and got the hell out of there as fast as I could.
Gay Night
Sunday is Chris’ Friday so what do you do at the start of your weekend? You go out of course. Sunday also just so happens to be Gay Night at the Wild Cat. You may question the logic of why two straight men would go to gay night. Well, if there are any girls there at all, they are either trying just to dance or they are looking for a one night stand. Also straight guys tend to stay away. Chris’ old boss, Steve, was in town and we all went out.
Chris has been a fixture at this bar for a while so the gay guys know he is straight and not to try with him. Me being a fresh face though, no such luck. I had been getting looks all night, but had yet to be approached. Chris was off somewhere leaving me on my way with Steve to grab a drink from the bar. As we were crossing the dance floor a gay guy with a bi-chromatic fohawk appeared in front of me blocking my way. I was instantly eye raped. Feeling a little awkward he then tried to slip a hand down my pants. WHAT THE HELL!! I thought.
As I sit here writing this I am trying to justify why it happened? Was I being a cock tease? My handsome self at gay night, that is like dressing like a slut and going to a Guido bar and not expecting to get groped. Whatever, I still didn’t welcome the advance. I quickly stepped back and pulled his hand away from my dick. “I’m not gay, man, sorry.” I steadily got away from him. But the ordeal was not over for the night.
Towards the end of the night we worked our way over to the dance floor and were tearing it up. There was this gnarly cougar dancing with three gay guys thinking she was the hottest thing out there. She was straight gnarly. Twenty-five years ago she was probably smoking hot, but the years of partying had clearly taken a toll on her. One of the gay guys saw something that was actually of his preferred gender (me), came over and unbuttoned one of my shirt buttons. “I’m sorry, I just had to do that.” He stood there expecting some sort of reciprocation from me. He only received a look of utter dismay and mild disgust.
Now about a month into my stay I am pretty much one of the regulars at The Kitty. Chris has the bartenders in his pocket and while we normally stagger away from there our tab is rarely over twenty bucks. Who knows what the future holds for me at the Wild Cat, hopefully I have dodged enough gnarly swingers and overly forward gay men and some gorgeous women will start falling into my lap.
Kooky Kyle
Post press: Last night Kooky and I hit the Wild Cat with a vengeance. What was suppose to be a fun night with a mellow buzz became a “lets get fucking shit faced” night. Bottom line by the end of the night we were fucking wasted. Kooky Blacked out most of the night. What ensued was him terribly hitting on girls, stealing the hat off the head of a Bacardi Promo Girl then proceeding to dance like Micheal Jackson wearing it. The night ended with us nearly going home with three gay guys that luckily my good sense at the last minute saved us. Good times.
What Kooky has yet to score at the Wild Cat, a cracked out wild chick.
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