If you could do that night over again, what would you do differently? An interesting pattern I have noticed throughout my time at the gay bars is: every night feels like a fresh start. No matter what romantic misadventure I engaged in or social blunder I committed, The next weekend was wiped clean of any evidence. In all reality, the bartenders remember me as well as any friends made along the way. But events themselves seem completely forgotten. What happens at Just John doesn’t even stay at Just John. It disappears, seemingly sanitized from collective memory and the building itself. Last Saturday one of the greatest examples of this happened to me.

After feeling overwhelmed by the crowd at Rehab’s drag show, I fled to Just John for a calmer environment. While there is still dance music playing, the crowd is sparse early in the evening. The bar doesn’t start filling up until 10, when the drag show ends and people migrate over. I was standing on the patio, watching the crowd filter in when a man was passing by, glanced at me, then stopped in his tracks. It was Janus.

He stared at me with this cartoonish quizzical expression. He recognized me, but couldn’t place how or where. I silently nodded. Yes, we have met before. He then said with relief, “We have met before!” I wanted to figure out what he remembered, or didn’t, about our previous interactions, so all I said was, “Mardi Gras.” He reaffirmed and pointed at me, “yes, Mardi Gras!” You’re so full of shit. He then excitedly asked for my snapchat. I hesitated to give it right away, as I wondered if I was totally blocked after the last incident. But no, my username appeared when he searched and he added me.

This moment was when I felt like I had entered some other reality where our first meeting was erased from his memory. Everything in the bar was the same, except for Janus. I decided the best course of action was to go along for the ride. We walked a circuit around the bar and looked at the crowd before joining a group at a table. The only person I recognized was his boyfriend, who was as silent as before. After several minutes, I was not really brought into the conversation. I began to feel bored and discreetly exited the room.

Later, after a half hour of wandering the bar and people watching, I got a snap from him. He was at Handlebar and wanted me to join his group for a photo. And followed up offering to buy me a drink. I figured there was nothing to lose, so I left and crossed the street to meet them. We took a nice group photo and he tagged me in it, saying, “see how many gay guys add you now!” It took colossal restraint for me not to roll my eyes. You sure think a lot of yourself. the group broke up and they all ran to the dance floor. And no, I wasn’t offered a drink. I should have known that was too good to be true. Again, I felt bored, and not really needed, so I decided to return to Just John. Luckily, I bumped into a friend there and we danced away the rest of the night.

Getting a sort of do over with Janus was an interesting experience, if a little surreal. It reminded me how random and brief bar interactions are, as well as let me employ wisdom I gained from last time. I wasn’t worried about building a friendship or connection. I just decided to go with the flow of things and not consider anything outside that night. While his memory was wiped clean, his problematic personality remained intact. It didn’t bother me. If anything, it made me feel more comfortable with entering and exiting social situations at will. Not feeling obligated to hang around. I learned what I’d do with a repeat first meeting. I’d play it smarter.

Photo courtesy of Just John

Saturdays always start with a vodka-soda and lime. My friend and I are at Just John’s, the night of Mardi Gras. I skipped out on the parade, not wanting to deal with a crowd of drunks milling around as if lobotomized. No, I wanted to rest up for the night time drunks. They are just as socially unaware, but at least the dance music and disco lighting keeps them moving.

My friend and I sit at a table in the far back of the room, watching the crowd gradually stumble in, ready to transition from all day partying to all night partying. No sooner than my friend had just left for the restroom did a trio of guys walk over to our table. The clear extrovert of the group, who will be known as Janus, asked if they could sit at the table. I took an uncomfortable pause, nervous of what could ensue from this. But curiosity and politeness won out and I said yes.

Janus introduced himself and his friends. Janus is short, thin, with dark hair. His boyfriend was a tall, slim blond. The other friend is stocky, middle aged, and seemingly the third wheel of the group. After a few minutes of them having their own side conversation, the couple started making out. I felt like a captive audience, as in Clockwork Orange captive. How does the third wheel friend deal with this?

Upon my friend’s return, I introduced him to the trio. Janus lit up with recognition and blurted, “is your last name…?!” It was. My friend later admitted they had chatted online but never met in person. Even so, it was a long time ago. In hindsight I should have noted that as a red flag. My friend, even intoxicated, knew this was bad news. He took it in stride really well though, keeping things light and friendly. Conversation flowed smoothly from there. The possibility of making new friends was refreshing. I dove into it with blind optimism, an attitude with which I’m not well acquainted.

I took a break for the restroom and when I returned my friend whispered something to me. All I could hear of it was “shots”. I was already buzzed and said no, but when I glanced across the table Janus was setting down a tray of shots. Taking this as a sign of burgeoning friendship, and with strict principles of not declining free alcohol, I took the shot.

When the conversation died out, Janus and his friends told us they were going to a nearby bar and invited us along. We politely declined. Before leaving, Janus offered to exchange snapchats. Riding the wave of optimism and vodka, I added him. He later sent a video of them at the next bar. It felt really nice being invited to a group. For someone who is often a wallflower at bars, it seemed so easy and natural.

But don’t forget, Janus has two faces.

A few days pass and I message Janus, intending to build on the foundation set from Mardi Gras. I asked how he was doing and told him we should hangout sometime. He invited me to a sporting event, but I declined. Because…it’s a sporting event. But we agreed to meet up sometime soon for drinks.

Not long later, I got a snap from another friend, but it was Janus using their profile. He asked how I know the mutual friend. I explained we had been chatting online but had not met in person yet. I asked him why he was messaging from his friend’s profile. He explained that he was in the car with the friend and had bought them a new car and multiple phones in the past. Shocked, all I could think to respond with was, “ah”. I didn’t want to reveal my concern. It appeared he was suggesting that because he bought the friend things, he had undeniable rights to their profiles. I could only speculate on what the friend’s role was in this. Did he consent to this? Was he aware of the intrusion? Did he feel he owed it to Janus for the gifts?

I never found answers. Shortly after my response I was blocked from both Janus and the mutual friend’s accounts. In a matter of minutes, two prospective friendships were erased. All things considered I had dodged a bullet, of course. But there is something deeply unsettling in the fact that he was talking to people through someone else’s profile. It makes me wonder how he treats that friend or how much invasive influence he has with them. I made a final effort to reach the mutual friend. I messaged them on Grindr, letting them know I had been blocked on his snapchat. Who knows if that was also screened by Janus. I never received a reply.

I suppose the lesson is not to fully buy into first impressions. Don’t be afraid to note red flags, even when you want to write it off as drunk behavior. If a guy knows your friend’s last name without ever having met in person, do not become their friend. Shots go down smoother without the bitter taste of leverage.