After the total failure with The Stylist, I went to a nearby table to sulk for a bit. I was stunned by how quickly the situation fell apart. My mood was crashing; it was falling faster than Apollo 13. While I sat there, mentally conducting an autopsy of the evening’s events, I realized I had the most strategic table in the bar. It was next to the dance floor, with a direct view of the entry room and the next room over, both leading to the main bar. No matter which direction the next cute guy came from, I was bound to see him.

As it turned out, I didn’t need to be on the lookout. He came over to me. He was dressed in a suit and button down shirt, his hair was shoulder length. He had come with family from a bachelorette party. I’ll call him Dapper. He came directly over to me and asked to join me at the table. I was definitely not going to decline a handsome, well dressed, polite man. After a few minutes of talking, his family members came over and told us we looked cute together. I thanked them politely, also feeling a little overwhelmed. Didn’t we skip a few steps by meeting family? Thankfully it was brief and they went on their way.

Shortly after that, he reached out and held my hand. It was warm and comforting, a port in the emotional storm this night had become. I really admired the confidence and ease in his pursuit. A few minutes later, he leaned in to kiss me and I met him partway. The night seemed to be turning around. From there we walked through the bar and around the patio. I remember it being a mixture of conversation and make out sessions, as if we were marking our territory by kissing in as many parts of the bar as possible. It was certainly the most fiery and passionate experience I have had there. We even talked about possibly dating.

When the patio closed for the night we returned inside near the dance floor. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by a panic attack. The congested room made me feel as if all air had left my body. I was struck by everything that had happened over the course of the night, the ups and downs with The Stylist, the sudden, unexpected passion with Dapper. It was all hitting at once and I was scared. Dapper noticed my demeanor changed and asked me what was wrong. I told him I didn’t know, but I was feeling anxious and needed air. We went out to the street. While I was glad for the calm of a deserted street at 2 AM, I still felt overwhelmed. I started crying. I was crying in front of a guy the first night of meeting him. I felt so embarrassed.

He handled it well, comforted me, kissed me again. I told him I was upset because I wasn’t ready for any of it. I wasn’t ready for how fast things developed with him and wasn’t ready to settle on someone right now. I had come to the bars to get over someone I had feelings for, make connections, maybe even flirt. I told him he wasn’t even the first guy I had talked to that night.

“Well, you’re the only person I talked to!” He said, appearing offended. “I could open Grindr and find someone to hook up with in there. But no, I’m out here with you.” Cue the record scratch. I was supposed to be grateful he deigned to spend time with me? He tried to walk it back and asked if I would go back to his place with him, but not for “that”. I turned him down. Going home with someone I met once at a bar was not in my plan. He got in an Uber and left for home.

I stood on the street for a while, reflecting on all that had happened throughout the night. The hopeful beginning, only to be crushed by The Stylist. Being reignited by Dapper, only to put the fire out with tears. A night at the gay bars can be a rollercoaster, beginning with ascending anticipation before plunging you down and through loops that make your stomach drop. So much that you’ll wonder why you chose to get on. But never forget, when it becomes too much, you can always choose to get off the ride.

Photo courtesy of Just John