Every city over a certain size has a bar like Divas in San Francisco. Dark, somewhat threadbare and self-consciously glitzy, it’s known far and wide as the place for men to meet transgender women. Men visiting from out of town swing by Divas in the hope of meeting a tranny girl, and some local men go there regularly. A significant proportion of the women who hang out there appear to be working girls.
I’ve been to Divas maybe half a dozen times in the eight years I’ve lived in San Francisco, but I had never been there alone. But one evening I decided to put on a cute dress and strappy shoes, and swing by there to see what it would be like to be on my own there. But whatever I was expecting, I didn’t expect to be meeting other health policy wonks there.
My essay in She’s Such A Geek is all about my experiences with becoming a policy wonk, obsessed with medical loss ratios and the in-office ancillary services exception.
At Diva’s, two different men sat down next to me and bought me drinks during the evening, and by some weird coincidence they both worked in the health policy field. One guy wrangled clinical outcomes for a big provider organization, the other guy was a (cute) doctor who actually treated transgender people sometimes.
Imagine my delight—instead of the boring small talk and inane flirtation I’d been expecting, these men will geek out with me about health policy. And they’ll be so impressed with my grasp of arcana that they’ll make out with me.
Well, no. They’re sort of pleased at first that I understand what they do for a living. Then, in both cases, it gives way to a bemused expression—as if they’ve met a dog that knows how to work the TV remote. They’re not here to talk shop, they’re here to buy drinks for pretty girls and have the girls giggle at their inane remarks. Both men eventually desert me, but not before one of them cries on my blouse sleeve about his tragic marriage, then runs off to look for a cute sex worker and the other guy smiles thinly and talks to me about controversies in medicine for a while, but keeps slipping money to other girls in exchange for their phone numbers.
It just goes to show: understanding the ins and outs of HIPAA and BIPA may make for an intellectually stimulating life, but it doesn’t always get you a date.
Yeah. been there.
Being a professional woman and being trans definitely reduces one’s pool of potential partners quite drastically.
I don’t think it was so much the health field thing that may have killed it for your potential dates. Anything having to do with insurance discussed outside the walls of such institutions is a conversation buzzkill. Most people’s experience with it involves negative images and conversations will only go downhill from there. People who work in the insurance field who really like to talk shop off hours isn’t natural and you should avoid them at all costs.
When I used to be an insurance agent, I found myself hesitant to even discuss what I did for a living. I either got an earful because of a claim gone wrong, or I became the proverbial doctor at a cocktail party who is asked to diagnose symptoms to get some free tips….Although being a network administrator isn’t as bad, I still get a small earful sometimes when people vent about their computers.
This was an interesting anecdote. Sex workers, health insurance policy, alcohol, and transgendered women always make for an interesting story.
-sj