Steve Goes Gay Clubbing? Fabulous!

I have mixed feelings about clubbing. At first glance, one wouldn't think any problem could arise. Music, dancing, women. And alcohol. What could go wrong? Well, it's the fine print that kills you. The music? Horrendous top 40 hits. The dancing? Impossible when there's such little room. The women? Ugh. The alcohol? Actually, the alcohol's okay. The thing is, this is all forgivable. I mean, I'm going to be drunk right? The delightfully dehabilitating effects of the booze do an effective job of glossing over the lesser aspects of the experience. In the end, whenever friends invite me along, I go, I have fun, and I wake up regretting the entire experience. A pretty standard night for me, really.

Obviously, some clubs are better than others. I like to think of myself as a pretty open-minded guy. I'm always up for trying something new. So when some friends suggested I go with them to a place they'd been going to for awhile, I thought nothing of it. Some of these friends are homosexual. So was the club.

We started at a gay karaoke bar. No matter how good of karaoke you've seen, I can guarantee you that karaoke is better. Gay guys can sing damn good. I wouldn't have believed it personally. I mean, it''s the biggest stereotype imaginable, right? But it's true. The drinks were also amazing. My drinking career has been plagued with an embarassing love of fruity drinks. While my friends are slamming back the whisky, I'm slamming back a Long Island Iced tea. Here, my drinking habit were encouraged. I've been told the prices were really great too, but I wouldn't really know. I didn't have to buy a drink all night. Once it became clear I was straight, I became the centre of attention. I had an entourage by the end of the night. Memebrs of this entourage invite my group and I to join them at a club where a drag show was going on after the bar closed. All in all, a fun night. By the end, I got several proposals, lots of free drinks, a few fashion tips, and the owner said I would never have to wait in line or pay cover again.

Surviving the experience is easier than one may think. I'm comfortable with the lifestyle, so it wasn't to hard to adjust. For the trickier parts, a healthy dose of denial got me through okay. When I guy would hug me I'd think, "well this is just a bro-hug. He doesn't mean anything by it." When my ass would be grabbed constantly I'd think, "boy, it must be crowded in here." When that same hand would linger a decidedly uncomfortable length of time I'd laugh to myself nervously and think, "that poor guy must not realize what he's doing. How embarassing for him." Survival was made much easier by the extreme sense of flattery I felt. It was a huge ego boost. Guys were telling me how funny, kind, and good looking I am. Sure, they were just trying to get in my pants, but it was still nice to hear.

In summary: The music? Great! The dancing? Good, although pretty awkward. The alchol? Stupendopus? The women? All lesbians, and the few straight girls there thought I was gay. So obviously the whole thing wasn't perfect. Whatever. It's still better than Cowboys.