Continuation of The Gay Lifestyle.

Turned out that the high-density crowd at the club that night was unusual for a regular Saturday night. There was an event for the night that the girls who’d brought me hadn’t expected: male strippers.

Thinking back on this whole evening, now, I see how it was really turning out to be like a script from an unimaginative sitcom. I mean, getting me to go along to a gay/lesbian night club is slightly funny, but to then throw in a male stripper review, well, that was really pushing into the ridiculous. Come on, who writes this kind of plot?

After midnight, the stripper show started. I basically knew what to expect of a male strip show just from cultural osmosis. The guys came out, in turn, dressed as cops, construction workers, etc. During their individual dance, they took off their clothes down to their g-strings, and humped the air.

It wasn’t anything unusual for what it was, I guess, but two things did surprise me. First, the dancers were not in the perfectly buff shape that I expected. I mean, they were far more muscular than I was, but they didn’t have the ripped definition I thought they were supposed to have. A couple actually looked like they hadn’t worked out in a while; some fat had layered over their muscles. A couple showed no six-pack abs at all. That’s kind of pathetic for strip dancers, no?

Second, some of the dancers had a thousand-mile stare. They didn’t even look down at the audience. They just did their moves as by practice, with no audience interaction at all.

The gay men had moved up to the stage, and the lesbian women had fallen back to the tables. I was standing between the back of the men and the front of the women, supposedly with at least one of my female companions.

They had promised that they wouldn’t leave me alone in the club. But, as would be written in a bad sitcom plot, of course, I had been momentarily abandoned, on my own. And that’s when a guy approached me.

Continued: The Gay Lifestyle part 5

Bullgrit

Continuation of The Gay Lifestyle.

My friend and the sister rejoined us with their drinks. The four of us stood in the crowd talking, looking around, and generally doing the nothing that is hanging out at a club. Eventually, we wanted to dance, so we went up on the dance floor as a foursome and danced gaily (again, pun intended).

After a while, the DJ put on a slow song. The sisters stepped off the dance floor, but I snagged my friend and we stayed. We were the only boy-girl couple on the dance floor. OK, now I have some idea of how a gay/lesbian couple feels at a normal night club. It really did feel kind of weird. I felt like everyone was staring at us, but really, they probably weren’t.

Most of the same-sex couples slow dancing were just dancing close and talking in each others’ ear, enjoying some slow time with each other. Nothing shocking — I had already gotten over the mild first-contact shock of seeing men arm-in-arm with men, and women arm-in-arm with women. But there were two slow-dancing women right next to me and my friend who were . . . getting “closer,” shall we say.

Everyone was fully dressed. But still. To all the men reading this and wondering all the questions I bet your wondering, let me just answer with, “Yes.”

My friend was a bit embarrassed by the girls next to us. I didn’t verbally question her embarrassment, but it did cross my mind, You’re bi, shouldn’t we both be having the same thoughts about that scene?

After the slow song, we rejoined the sisters. We all danced some more, talked some more, and they drank some more. The next slow song had me dancing with the straight sister. The “closer” girls were slow dancing again, but they were much more calm than before.

“They finished up in the ladies’ room,” my dance partner told me. She had seen them come out of one of the stalls together while she had been in the room.

“Just like that,” I commented.

“Yeah,” she said, “I guess that’s a benefit.”

Continued: The Gay Lifestyle part 4

Bullgrit

Continuation of The Gay Lifestyle.

So, we arrived at the club. From the outside it was pretty spartan, (pun intended). The entrance was a single door on the corner of a nondescript city block. Beside the glass door, a relatively small sign stated the club’s name. I’ve seen straight clubs with similar low-key outside appearances. And just like a straight club, I could hear the muffled beat of the music from well outside the door.

We went inside. Boom! The music was bouncing — the same music I liked to dance to elsewhere. But holy crap, the entrance price was twice what I had ever paid to get in anywhere else. Wow, the gay lifestyle must be pretty damn expensive. One more reason for me to stay straight.

On the inside, the club looked like most any other nice (not a dive) club I’d ever been to (maybe half a dozen by then), or have been to since (maybe two dozen). It looked well kept up, though worn. It was pretty crowded compared to other clubs I’d been to. The place wasn’t particularly small; it just seemed that all of the city’s gays and lesbians must have been in that one club that night. (Maybe this was the city’s one and only GL club.)

The people looked just like people in my normal hangouts. In fact, at first glance, nothing looked gay or lesbian about the clientele. Guys standing around talking with other guys. Ladies standing around talking with other ladies. Some mixed gender conversations. Just like in a normal night club.

On the raised dance floor, guys danced with guys, and girls danced with girls. Oh, there’s the difference. There was no mixed gender dancing.

Hmmm, I thought, I guess I won’t be dancing tonight. I ain’t gonna dance with a man.

My friend and one of the sisters went to the bar to get drinks. I stood in the crowd with the straight sister and looked around at all the people. What struck me the most about the crowd, (even more than seeing men dancing with men, and women dancing with women), was how completely non-gay/lesbian everyone looked. I didn’t see a single stereotype.

There were handsome men, beautiful women, dorks, tramps, winners, and losers all around me, but not a single “queer” or “dike.” I saw a couple of guys and girls that I had seen elsewhen in the world, and my first thought was, Wow, they’re gay?

Then I immediately thought, If they notice me, here, in a gay and lesbian bar, they’ll think I’m gay. That thought discombobulated me for a minute. I mean, I didn’t think any less of them for being gay/lesbian, and surely they wouldn’t think poorly of me for being gay — but I’m NOT gay!

Continued: The Gay Lifestyle part 3

Bullgrit

Way back when I was 21 years old. . .

I went to visit a girl friend one evening and found her hanging out with two other friends, (two sisters). They were getting ready to head out for a night of clubbing, and they invited me to go with. I, of course, said, “Sure.”

As we were walking out of my friend’s house, they warned me:

“It’s a gay and lesbian club,” my friend explained.

“Oh,” I said, taking a few moments for the concept to fully sink into my head.

My friend was bisexual, one of the sisters was lesbian, and the other sister was straight. I had known my friend’s orientation, but I had only just then met the sisters. (If it needs to be said: I am pure hetero.)

We stood on my friend’s front porch for a minute while I considered the night’s destination. “Hmm,” I said. “Will one of you always be with me while we’re there?” I asked. I found myself surprisingly not put off by the idea of going to a GL club, (I mean, there’d be men and women there, just like a normal night club, right), but I really wasn’t comfortable with the idea of having guys hit on me if I stood around alone.

I actually found my curiosity rising, (not about that); just what did a GL club look like? Was it any different than a normal club? My only image of a GL bar was from Hollywood comedies. Did the men actually wear black leather vests, and did the women actually wear flannel shirts?

The women standing beside me at that moment, inviting me to the club, were dressed like any other 20-something girls going out on a Saturday night. They didn’t look like a stereotype, (unless you’re thinking of the girls-going-out-on-a-Saturday-night stereotype).

They promised to not leave me by myself. So we loaded into two cars (in case I and/or the straight sister wanted to leave early), and headed out.

Continued: The Gay Lifestyle part 2

Bullgrit