Author: Tanner Early

Greetings From the Dystopia: We Cannot Live in the Moment

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog PostsLeave a comment

Last weekend I went to a club for a Saturday night out. There is a very specific excitement when going out on Saturday. The preparation, picking something nice to wear, or styling your hair. Sitting in the Uber with anticipation for the numerous open possibilities you’re about to experience. Wondering who you will meet, what you will see. It’s patio season and warming up, more people will be venturing out. Nothing matters except where you are going. There is a palpable sense of adventure as you leave your ride and step through those doors. The night becomes yours.

Then there are Saturday nights like this one. When you walk in and realize it’s very empty. After getting a drink and doing a survey of the room, I went to the patio and it was quiet outside too. Those who were there were sitting at tables, talking. It was social, but not exactly lively. Not unusual for an early hour in the night. I went inside to sit with my drink and watch the music videos playing on screen, feeling a little lost.

Then three friends I know showed up. Finally, some familiar faces to get the night started. I joined them and caught up for a bit. They comment on the club being empty and then the phones come out. Suddenly I’m the only one in our circle looking at the people in front of me and not a screen. Conversation shifted from a dialogue exchange to parallel monologues. I tried asking questions to engage them, these were friends after all. But it felt like I was a distraction for whatever they were watching or sharing among each other. Conversation with me was their un-skippable ad.

One of them suggested we go to the patio to see if it was busier outside. Yes, I thought, the energy outside will draw them back to reality! We walked out and stood at the edge of the vacant dance floor. Within moments, one of them commented how it was still empty on the patio. The phones come out again. It’s the strangest irony, standing in a group but not interacting. I glanced around at other clusters of friends and noticed how engaged they were with each other.

A couple that my friends knew came over and joined us. Great, I thought, more people means they’ll snap out of it and socialize! Nope. Once they joined the group, the couple brought their phones out too. They’re multiplying. As the patio became more crowded, I was pushed outside of the circle by the rush of passing people. When the group would converse with one another, they had their phones gripped in their hands at their side, holding on for dear life. And here I was watching from the fringe with my phone in my pocket.

All I could think was, why did they even come out tonight? They chose to spend their night in a social setting only to be completely disengaged. Was I the only one noticing this contradiction? I realized I was simply the odd one out in this group. I looked around and allowed myself to take in the environment around me, to live in the moment.

The atmosphere at the club was near ethereal. The buzz of conversation, the laughing, the lights. There is something so singular about being there. This is an experience, a sensation, I can only get here. I come out for moments like this. I realized that for my friends I only existed in the periphery. I decided to break off from the group and socialize on my own the rest of the night.

This experience made me realize how difficult it now is for people to live in the moment. It goes beyond recording concerts with our phones. We will leave our houses, go to a social setting, stand in a group with friends, yet not interact with them. We’re too busy posting on social media about being at the club or scrolling through people and places we’d rather be. The very act of socializing, one meant to be personal, has become superficial. The goal isn’t to be social, but to be seen as social.

I know I’m not immune. I lose plenty of time scrolling too, and I know you’re reading this on a device. However, given the effort I put into having a night out, I want to spend it interacting with people. There is a sadness that strikes me when seeing how the very act of socializing has become superficial. It makes me worry that this loss of connection with others will never be recovered. If it ever returns, send me the link so I can watch it. Maybe this is just the dystopia we live in.

On The Scene: Evading Mardi Gropes

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, On The SceneLeave a comment

It seems fitting to write about this year’s Mardi Gras, considering the first ever entry of this series took place on Mardi Gras. This year, it was a Saturday night beginning with a Rum and Coke. I needed to kick myself into gear with caffeine if I was to again surround myself with day drinkers stumbling into night drinking. A friend and I attended Rehab’s drag show. It was even bigger and better than a normal Saturday show. There was a group performance from the queens, the patio was packed to almost Pride weekend level. The negative to such a crowd size is that returning inside for another drink becomes an Odyssean task. However, it was one I chose to take on. When you go to enough packed clubs, you learn you have to forego gentle courtesies to get through a tight crowd.

After returning with a new drink, I saw a teetering drunk guy seemingly flirting and playfully touching my friend. We’ll call the guy Gropes MaGee. My friend had the grace to kindly pat him on the shoulder to brush him off and Gropes MaGee turned around to resume watching the show. Later, when the patio became too smoky for my friend and too overwhelmingly crowded for me, we moved over to Just John. For those unfamiliar, there is a pattern on Saturday nights where the crowd flocks to Rehab for the drag show before anywhere else. Once that is over at ten o’clock, many of them will migrate over to Just John. I will often head over early once I feel too overwhelmed by the crowd. Ducking out early also helps avoid waiting in line for Just John.

Once there, the atmosphere was much calmer and less crowded. Once we got our drinks, I turned to scan the room and noticed another friend I had not seen in a while. We will call him Butch, for his having a buzz cut. It is even self-proclaimed by him. Judging his demeanor, Butch was obviously inebriated. Erasing all doubt was him directly saying to me he was drunk as we hugged. Then he turned and introduced me to who he was hanging out with. It was Gropes MaGee, still wasted and still flirty.

Butch was kind and introduced me with compliments and I returned the sentiments. But Gropes MaGee’s first response was to say I was cute. Butch, who I’m certain was well intentioned, agreed and only stoked the energy in Gropes MaGee. I became alarmingly conscious that surrounding me were two very intoxicated people and behind me, pressing into my back, was the cold, uncaring countertop of the bar. A moment later, Gropes MaGee tried putting his hand in my pants. I was able to grab it and push it away before any contact was made. It’s amazing to me someone can be drunk off balance yet so precise in their reach.

Not waiting for another lesson in drunken dexterity, I told Butch I was going to walk around and discreetly left to the patio with my friend. I really hated that I had to miss spending time with Butch, but that was not a tolerable situation. Outside we discussed how the same man had tried to grab us and my friend said he recognized Gropes Magee and had been ready to step in at any moment. As we were trying to decompress, I noticed a woman nearby ambling around and mumbling something over and over. We’ll call her Super Soaker. I wouldn’t have been concerned, but she kept very intently staring at me. I could see she was drunk, but wanted to be sure she wasn’t in distress or trying to tell me something. I stepped over and asked what she was saying. She yelled, “predators!” before throwing her water at me and a second throw at my friend. My shirt was wet. My friend, being much shorter than I, was less fortunate and was splashed in the face. I was grateful it was only water.

An acquaintance of Super Soaker ran over and apologized, got us napkins to dry with, and offered to buy us drinks. I declined, as I already had a drink and just wanted to move away from the incident. For my friend, that was the moment the night was over. He quickly secured a ride home and left. after his departure, I a walked around the bar in hopes of finding Butch again. Both he and Gropes MaGee were gone. Luckily, I saw group of friends that I usually meet up with here for dancing. I caught up with them and described the night’s events. One of them responded, “Welcome to Mardi Gras!” Once the dancefloor filled in, we joined it and danced the night away.

I had one final interaction that night, with the guy acquainted with Super Soaker. We passed each other and he profusely apologized again. I took the opportunity to ask questions. He said he hadn’t known her before her that night. Apparently, she had made a sexual advance and he turned her down. And that is when she began saying “predators” over and over. He then segued into a strange tangent. He told me he’s straight, but very open minded. He continued on about how he’s had sex with a man and enjoyed it, but tried kissing and decided he was not into men. I failed to see why he felt the need to share that with me. I had not asked him about his sexuality. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he was trying to disassociate himself from Super Soaker.

However, he spoke with a level of self importance. As if proving how “open minded” he is was an endorsement for his moral character to a stranger. I replied with the first comment I could think of, “it’s good to be open minded!” I should have asked if that was his bid for the Nobel Peace Prize for charitable endeavors improving relations between the straight and gay communities. How lucky we are to have such an ally.

In the end, I considered myself as leaving the night unscathed. Gropes MaGee was averted, a questionably straight guy got an ego boost, and water stains quickly dry out. The only stain remaining was the knowledge that everyone is truly at their worst when they reach the night clubs after drinking throughout an entire day. But I guess all that can be said is…welcome to Mardi Gras!

Photo courtesy of Just John

Self/Less

On By Tanner EarlyIn Poetry1 Comment

Staring into the mirror

As with any other morning

He does not recognize the face.

Circling his mind are her words. 

“That’s a lot of carbs!”

“That style is out. These are in.”

“I want you to be fashionable.”

Each comment chips at his mold

his carefully crafted identity.

“I’m trying to help!”

The clothe go first

Only the latest fashions now.

“I’ve done so much for you.”

Now go the muscles

Toned but not too big.

That wouldn’t be attractive either. 

“You should smile more!”

So go the teeth

Now pearly and perfectly straight.

“Don’t think like that.”

His brain reshapes

No longer his.

Not his body either. 

His nothing. 

Now looking in the mirror

The image vexes him

Escapes him

As he cannot name it.

A person’s essence remains

Though a Self is gone. 

Silence holds court.

He is finally what she wanted.

Out of the silence comes a faint echo

Sounding like, 

“You should…”

Laying a Trauma Bond To Rest: On Jennette McCurdy’s “I’m Glad My Mom Died”

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, ReviewLeave a comment

Harrowing. That’s the very first word that came to mind during and after reading Jennette McCurdy’s memoir. It’s also my first time trying an audiobook. I think it was a great choice. Hearing Jennette herself narrate her memoir added more power to an already poignant and powerful work.

I knew general details of the subject matter McCurdy writes about. Her dislike for, and toxic experiences with, acting. Her overbearing and abusive mother. While the subjects alone are compelling enough, the true strength of the memoir is how McCurdy writes about it. As a writer, she is bluntly honest and deadpan in voice, but it serves the memoir very well. Her willingness not to shy away from the unpleasant experiences in her life and earnestly reflect on them displays how far she has come in her healing. I have a lot of respect for her publishing a memoir, because she doesn’t owe anyone the details of her story. She could easily have kept her story to herself.

In my opinion, the biggest strength of this memoir is the way McCurdy shows how abuse by a parent can be interpreted by a child and later reinterpreted in hindsight when that child grows up. McCurdy was extremely devoted to her mother throughout her youth, despite her mother’s toxic behaviors. All through her story I kept thinking, “I know you perceive this as love, but it’s not! Your mom is abusing you!” It is not until years later, and with therapeutic help, that she is able to review her experiences and understand the toxicity that was actually underlying her mom’s “love” for her.
“I’m Glad My Mom Died” is a very important memoir, especially for understanding how cycles of abuse can play out without the victim understanding it as abuse. McCurdy had a trauma bond with her mother, but, as a child, she perceived it as simply a bond.

I appreciate the clarity with which McCurdy writes about her experiences. She strikes a fine balance in her prose. She does not shy away from ugly details, but nor does she revel in or sensationalize them. They are simply events in her life and the larger focus of her memoir is how she has worked through them to heal. The most important lesson I gleaned from “I’m Glad My Mom Died” is that cycles of abuse can be broken and there is always hope to heal.

On The Scene: Culture Shock

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, On The SceneLeave a comment

The Saturday of this story begins with a rum and Coke. I call this my “upper”. Some nights I’m a bit tired to begin with. Rum and Coke serves as my caffeine. For more drastic resuscitations, there is Vodka and Red Bull. Drink in hand, I make a round through the bar, meandering from room to room, observing who is around.

There are the usual suspects, such as The Perfects. These are the guys who have every hair in place, really loud but clearly fashionable clothes. They generally are slim twinks. Sometimes they bring their equally, but non-threateningly, attractive girl friends. The Perfects tend to roam in packs and don’t acknowledge those outside their circle. They are more commonly gathered at Rehab. But once the Saturday night drag show is over, they migrate to Just John.

Then there are the Jocks. They range from toned young guys to muscle daddies. They dress more casually in tank tops and shorts, occasionally they wear backwards hats. They often have the loudest laughs and serious alpha vibes. I always get the impression that they just walked in straight from the gym.

The most entertaining group by far are the Straights. Sometimes they go with their gay friends. Mostly they go in couples. You can always tell when they are new. The guy leads the girl through the crowd. Her eyes are usually darting around like a scared doe in the woods. They either link arms or tightly hold hands, as if the boyfriend will be torn apart by gay men at any moment. And while there is always ridiculous behavior at gay bars, Straights manage to stand out in their drunken revelry.

One night, a friend and I watched a guy awkwardly dancing with a girl. He looked really uncomfortable. Later, he was lounging with a group of guys, his legs splayed over a guy’s lap. He looked at home. He switched between dancing with the girl and sitting with the guys throughout the night. Eventually, very late into the night, we walked past him making out with the girl. My friend stopped, rushed up to him, and whispered something to him. The guy swatted him away, appearing offended. When I asked my friend what he said, he told me it was, “don’t lead her on.” I went into hysterics over that and how bold he was, bluntly tell the guy that!

On another occasion, I was on the patio when I witnessed a woman twerking on her boyfriend. When I looked over to his reaction, he wasn’t even paying attention. He was loosely holding onto her while texting on his phone. She was absolutely working it for him and he couldn’t even fake interest! The Straights really take attention for granted.

Finally, there are the Free Agents. I consider myself one of this group. At our best, we can function within a group or go confidently on our own. Although, even when with a group, we keep an eye out. At worst, we will go alone but be extremely self conscious and skittish to interact. Some nights I’ve spent the whole time alone out of nerves or lack of confidence to approach someone. I’ve honestly experienced both ends of this dynamic.

We go alone to search for new connections, yet aren’t always willing to initiate these interactions. Some people think it is useless to go alone, being that most of the crowd at gay bars are friend groups who don’t socialize outside their own. Others have told me I am brave for going out alone. I don’t always like that attribution, either. I consider it more simple than that. It’s not a heroic quest, it’s simply that I believe I am not going to have experiences unless I put myself out there.

My approach as a Free Agent is to first make a circuit of the bar. This accomplishes two objectives. I’ll see if anyone I know is in attendance and signal to the crowd that I am alone, a Free Agent for the night. If I spot a potential Free Agent. I mentally tag them, but don’t immediately approach them. Sometimes they are waiting for friends to arrive. I’ll bide time by doing another lap around the bar. Sometimes they are easy to spot. I’ve noticed others roaming around the bar like forgotten Roombas.

On this night, I noticed a cute Latino guy enter the bar alone. He is short, shaved head, simply dressed in a sleeveless shirt and shorts. After all, it’s the middle of an August heat wave in Saint Louis. I noticed him in passing and kept on my path through the rooms, intending to investigate later on.

When later arrived, I was standing in the doorway to the main bar, observing the crowd. He happened to be nearby and dancing alone. He was at least smart about it. Dancing alone often signals “attention whore” to me. But he wasn’t on the dance floor. He was more discreetly dancing next to the wall. The good thing about people dancing alone is that it creates an easy ice breaker.

I walked up to him and told him he is a good dancer. While not totally certain of the validity of my compliment, it’s all I know to say to someone dancing alone. What else is there, ask if they need medical attention? He thanked me and then grabbed my hand to lead me in his rhythm. He said I was good too. He asked me where my boyfriend is. I told him I’m single and asked him in return. He said, “In Miami.” I was perplexed. He was dancing with me and making some flirty movements and looks, yet he just told me he has a boyfriend. Maybe it’s an open relationship? He’s visiting town from Miami? I tried my best to not seem unfazed and continued the conversation. I asked his name. Here we’ll call him Havana, as he is originally from Cuba.

Soon, the remix of Taylor Swift’s Fortnight played and I sang along with it. He asked if I like her music. I said yes, anticipating a judgmental comment to follow. He surprised me with, “you’re a romantic!” I replied, “Yes, I would say so.”

When the song ended, he asked if I wanted to go to La Calle. The minimal Spanish I retained from college made me think he was asking to go out to the street. I was confused, but agreed because I wanted to see where this would go. Once on the street, I looked ahead and realized that La Calle is the Mexican bar/restaurant across the street. I had always been curious about it, but hadn’t been inside. He then took my hand and we hustled over to it.

Once inside it was all strobe lighting and Latin pop music, which sounded like club music, only in another language. The other interesting detail was that almost no one was sitting in chairs or standing still. Most everyone was on the dance floor. Including us. We immediately went to the dance floor and Havana led me in the steps again. The atmosphere was vibrant and welcoming. It was exhilarating to be a part of it! After a while I was solely focused on him and I dancing, as if no one else was in the room. It felt like I was on an adventure. The flirtatious moves continued, eventually leading to kissing. Intuition told me the aforementioned boyfriend didn’t exist. After dancing for a while, I got tired and told him I wanted to go back outside. I was tired, but also just needed to take time to process the night’s escalation.

Back outside, we sat to finally have a conversation and learn more about each other. He doesn’t have a boyfriend, but recently broke up with one in Miami before moving to Saint Louis. He originally grew up in Cuba, but loves America and its culture. He told me he really appreciated me going to La Calle. He could tell I wasn’t familiar with any of the music, but it meant a lot to him that I danced with him there. I assured him I had a lot of fun dancing with him too, regardless of knowing the language. We exchanged numbers. More kissing ensued. The whole night seemed serendipitous, almost cinematic in its development. Until his next gesture.

He mimed giving oral and asked if I would suck him. I was stunned, only saying. “what?” I then stated I was not ready for that right now and tried to politely laugh it off. He said, “let’s go.” and grabbed my hand and led me down the street. I hoped we were going back to Just John. We turned into a vacant grassy lot between buildings. There was a bench with someone sleeping on it. Suddenly, the Rom Com movie had shifted into Horror territory. I planted my feet where I was and said I wasn’t comfortable with the situation. His lame attempt at persuasion was to tell me, “it’s just a difference in cultures.” As if declining sex is exclusively American of me? I told him it was getting late and I needed to get an Uber home. I returned to the street and did just that.

For some reason, this cosmic feeling washed over me, one that still lingers, that it wasn’t the last time I would encounter him. Despite my definitively ending the night, maybe the movie isn’t over. Roll credits, please.

Photo courtesy of Just John

On The Scene: Ice Breakers

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, On The SceneLeave a comment

A question I frequently get from readers is: How do you find these people? I imagine this comes from hearing the crazy experiences I write about or because they know me personally and are aware I’m an introvert. Sometimes it is as easy as these people finding me. As we all know, alcohol is a great social lubricant. But many times, it comes down to me initiating conversations with others. Bars such as Just John or Rehab can be very intimidating. There is a lot going on and people are often entering as self determined groups. This entry serves as a guide of sorts for anyone wanting ideas for how to meet new people at bars (and examples of failures, from personal experience).

Take initiative

This sounds very obvious and easy, but that is not always the case. I understand walking up and saying hello and asking someone’s name is the standard idea. But to some people that may come off as very bland and unoriginal. Interactions move quickly at clubs and you have to assume anyone there has already spoken to a million other people with the same opening line. You have to stand out.

One thing I do is hover near the dance floor and watch the people dancing, but, more importantly, watch the ones not dancing. There is usually someone watching the dance floor who looks tempted to dance but is too nervous to go themselves. I’ll usually approach that person and start a conversation by commenting on how it must take courage to be able to go on the dance floor. Using this, you can find easy common ground and the conversation can organically move to talking about music, or how often you come to the bar, etc. If you hit it off well, you can ask the person if they want to dance. Most likely they do, they just don’t want to be alone.

Caution: Immediately telling someone they are cute

While direct and honest communication is valuable, it also needs to be tactful. One night, very late into the night and after consuming a copious amount of alcohol, I wanted to start talking to a cute guy. I had seen him there before and figured I had a shot. I did the generic conversation starters and then decided to bluntly tell him he is cute. He said it back, which my naive and spirit-soaked brain translated as “go in for a kiss”. I leaned in for a kiss and he dodged it like I had the plague. I pivoted it to a hug to save face. He gave an excuse that he had to find his friends and fled the room, leaving me mortified with myself.

While mildly embarrassing, it was a learning experience. As much as you think flattery will help attract someone. Doing it so early and bluntly risks serious social embarrassment. Or the person may think you’re only after sex. But if that’s the case and the other person is in agreement, then maybe roll the dice. Just don’t assume being called cute means anything besides a compliment.

Ask a bartender

Bartenders interact with a lot of people. At gay bars specifically I noticed how they are on friendly terms with so many people. While I have a personal rule of not chasing bartenders, they are usually happy to introduce you to new people if you ask them.

One night, I went to Just John when I felt at a loss about making new connections. I asked the bartender if he had tips for making new connections. He said he would help and walked over to a group sitting further down the bar and introduced me and asked if I could join them. They welcomed me and I hung out with them most of the night. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable at all. Every so often, other friends of theirs would stop by and mingle. I remember it being one of the first times I felt I “belonged” there. If you feel you don’t know what to do when it comes to breaking the ice and meeting new people, you can easily ask a bartender.

Network

One of the biggest obstacles for me when out (going solo, at least) is seeing all the groups. They always seem exclusive and impenetrable from the outside looking in. There are honestly a lot of nights I’ve spent people watching and not able to join in. The one successful method I’ve had is finding just one person I already know. They most likely are an extrovert (the bars are populated by them) that I’m friends with. Similar to the bartender, I feel comfortable enough to talk to them and they usually will introduce me to their group and make me feel invited. This has happened with Janus every time I have met him at the bars. He is very extroverted and social and openly introduces me to people.

Other times an extrovert friend will pick me out of the crowd, run up to me, and insist I join their group. While extroverts can be overwhelming at times, we do live in their world and following their lead can have benefits, if you play your cards right.

Bring a Friend

This probably seems like a contradictory tip, but it is not. Just like when I watch groups of people, hoping to be invited into the circle, others tend to see you with companions and it makes you all the more noticeable and appealing. This is not to say you should ditch the friend you came with, only that you may seem more approachable when you’re not alone. It depends on the type of friendship you have, only you will know what works best for you.

One thing my friends and I do is invite people the other one hasn’t met before and create a group from that. Or if we see someone we know we will bring them in. I always ask my friend if they are comfortable with the idea first before including anyone else. It is a fast, slippery slope to becoming a third wheel. I know that all too well. Generally it will bring some new exciting energy to the group and lead to adventure. Usually I am more open to going out of my comfort zone when in a group that makes me feel comfortable.

The most memorable example of this for me was my first time going to The Grove. It was on a Wednesday before Thanksgiving. My friend and I were bar hopping. We started at Handle Bar where we had drinks and nachos. While walking between bars, he said he had a friend who was also bar hopping and was going to invite him to join us. I was a little hesitant, but didn’t want to seem like the party pooper. I told him that would be great. Well I recognized his friend from chatting online, nothing substantial. But they came with a couple people they were with too. So we quickly became a group.

Everyone was nice and we all got along great as we migrated from bar to bar. One of them would buy a round of shots for the group. It felt like the ultimate gesture of acceptance in a group. After a few rounds of this I decided I wanted to be the guy that can keep up with everyone else, whether true or not. I was not pressured by anyone, I guess I wanted to show that I could be just like them. My friend was the best, every time he would tell me, “you don’t have to drink that if you don’t want it.” I would always brush him off and say I could handle it and tossed another shot back with the group. It came from a mix of wanting to fit in and wanting to be a “polite guest” of sorts, seeing as I was getting lots of free drinks.

At the end of the night we all Ubered home together and were dropped off one by one. My vehicle was at my friend’s house, so I had my dad drop me off in the morning to retrieve it. It was like a passenger version of a walk of shame. He left to see family for the holiday and I stayed at the apartment for Thanksgiving. That was definitely for the best, as I spent the holiday hugging the toilet. It was my first hangover and it was a rough one. Note to self: Nachos never taste as good the second time around.

Dance like nobody’s watching

Because they probably aren’t, you narcissist. When you’re out alone it may feel like you have a neon sign above you, or a target on your back, but there is way too much activity going on for people to focus on you. Sometimes, the only way to have a good time is to ignore all the reasons you’re scared to do something and just dive into it head first.

I chose this philosophy on New Year’s Eve. After years of being a self imposed shut in on New Year’s Eve, I decided to see what Just John would be like on the holiday. I intended to meet up with a friend, but I was stood up shortly after arrival. I walked around for a while, not sure what to do. Later on, an extrovert acquaintance, whom I’ll call Drama King, spotted me and brought me into his group for a while. We broke off alone to hangout for a bit until he said he’d be right back….then forgot about me. He saw me on the way to the restroom, apologized, said he would return after the restroom…..then forgot me again. I waited around like a fool. He eventually found me again. When I wasn’t in a cheery mood, he gaslighted me, saying he would not accept any “negativity” from me. But he gave a half-assed apology. To me, ever the peacemaker, that was enough to bury the hatchet.

After he departed, I felt disheartened by the whole night. It was supposed to be a night of celebration, the last hurrah of the year. I was spending it standing around seeing everyone else enjoy it. While I was watching the dance floor I came to a decision. I was not going to let the earlier disappointments define this night. The floor was crowded enough to give anonymity, so I went up to dance with total strangers.

A dance floor is a world all its own. It is a self contained space with invisible walls. You talk with your whole body and the conversations move fast. Where the conversation leads, whether a one time interaction or a new friendship, is up to you. When you’re in it, nothing outside the floor matters. You see a side of people that is not shown anywhere else. In its own way it’s a private area in a public space. On a dance floor I can reach a feeling of complete freedom and euphoria. It’s the scene for a sort of communal high.

Not long after I was on the dance floor, trying to resuscitate my New Year’s Eve, a woman stepped up and joined me. She’ll be called Red, for her lovely long red hair. She told me her and her boyfriend were outside walking by, happened to see me through the window, and were inspired to come in and dance. It stunned me to see the ripple effect that me deciding to dance alone had caused. Red and I danced away an hour, her boyfriend intermittently joined us. It was one of the most memorable nights I’ve had there and it taught me not to wait for someone to rescue me. I could turn a night from miserable to memorable through my own efforts. Nights like this one are my motivation for continuing to visit the bar scene. Whenever I feel disillusioned with the scene I try to remind myself it can all change in an instant.

Photo courtesy of Just John

On The Scene: Early Bird Special

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, On The SceneLeave a comment

The night of this story started early. Too early. I walked into Just John to find…mostly older men. I arrived early assuming a Ru Paul Drag Race viewing party would attract more people. As it turns out, if you arrive before 9PM you will find senior hour in full swing. I’m shocked there was no Bingo. Are gay bars secretly sponsored by the AARP?

To cement the concept, a man we’ll call Drunk Grandpa ambles over to the bar. For a moment I hoped he was just ordering a drink. But once there, he teeters over to me. His stellar ice breaker is this: “I’ve had a lot to drink already. I need to chill out for a bit before going back out.” What a prize. Luckily, he was just a friendly drunk. He asked typical things: where I live, have I been here before, what I do for work. He marveled at the fact that I go to bars alone. He asked me why I do it, as if I would have papers to prove my right to be there.

I never understand people finding it so unfathomable that a person could go to bars alone. As if I’m some Victorian citizen with a dirty novel. Even when people call it “brave” there is a tinge of pity to their words and awe in their eyes. Now that being gay is acceptable, being independent is the new social oddity.

Anyway, I gave him vague explanations such as I am a people watcher. That’s always an acceptable answer. The least charming part was having to say my answers three times, as he was hard of hearing. I quickly learned to keep my replies short and direct. Eventually, he left of his own accord, saying he was ready to go back out and drink. Please let this not be my only interaction with a man tonight.

Shortly after Drunk Grandpa’s exit, a group of 20-somethings in lobster themed clothing, pincers and all, arrived. I’m familiar with Pups and Furries, but lobsters are a new one. I asked the bartender if I missed a memo, and he asked them about it. They’re a bachelor party of coworkers whose favorite animal is the lobster. After a round of shots, one of them went onto the dance floor and did a lobster dance. Arms up, pincers open and closing, body scuttling from side to side. Shortly others joined him. You never know what you will see at Just John.

When I got tired of watching drunk lobsters, I went to sit on the patio for air. Only a few minutes later a woman walked over near me, muttering, “This is not what I ordered…This is not what I ordered.” Oh god, she is heading right for me. Please don’t engage. But she did. She was tall, read headed, maybe mid 30s, and intoxicated, constantly hiccupping. She introduced herself and pulled me up to dance to a country song I didn’t know. Afterwards, she called me a “baby gay” because I didn’t recognize the song. The dance was fun, but the conversation afterwards was pretty routine, just like the one with Drunk Grandpa. Once she meandered over to another person, I fled back inside to get another drink and sit at the bar again. Tonight, I must be a magnet for drunk people.

I sat at the bar with a Moscow Mule, watching people filter into the bar. One thing I’ve noticed about crowds at gay bars is they are filled with the guys who won’t talk to you online. Then a guy comes in that I wasn’t expecting. He is a bartender at another gay bar. He is tall, toned, and has a great smile. I’ve known him for a while and have always had a crush on him, but have only ranked as casual acquaintances. Even breaking into the friendzone is a challenge. We’ll call him Mr. Unattainable. When he walked in, the rest of the room fell away. It’s amazing how one person shatters your world. I forced myself to stay in my seat while he stood across the room talking to a bartender, then he walked out to the patio.

After a few more minutes, and a little more alcohol consumed, I got the nerve up to walk back to the patio and talk to him. When he saw me, his face lit up and he said, “Oh my god!” and he hugged me. That night was his first day off in two weeks. I told him I had no idea how he had the energy to be at the bar. He then stepped away to get a drink and talk to the DJ. After several minutes of standing by to see if he would return to our conversation, I sat down on the bench and accepted defeat. Mr. Unattainable continues to live up to his name.

While I sat and took stock of the night’s events, mule clutched in my hands, the door to the patio opened again. I first noticed his gleeful eyes pinning me immediately, then his cartoonish smile. It was Janus. With his boyfriend and third wheeling friend in tow. He made a bee line for me. He definitely recognized me, he even knew we were snapchat friends! But he forgot my name again. Before I could tell him, he asked for a hint. I gave an easy one and he guessed right. Like everyone else, he latched onto the fact that I came alone. He assumed I was looking for a man. I told him, “maybe, but I’m not desperate.” We caught up for a bit and when they went to wander the bar I opted to stay outside. I didn’t want to get sucked into another unpredictable journey.

Later, I wandered back inside myself and while I stood people watching, Janus ran to me again and asked if I would join his friends for a round of shots and a group photo. He assured me again that I would get tons of new snapchat friends from it. “That sure didn’t happen the first time,” I slyly informed him. This time I relented, “have liquor will travel” being a personal conviction. Vegas bombs were the shots of choice. I have to admit, I am starting to warm up to Janus a bit. He is definitely a “good time guy” friend to go out with. Before the group dispersed and went to another bar, Janus invited me to their plans for Saturday and Sunday. I did not end up joining, but there was a really special feeling to being asked to go along. I was in a group, but was not being forgotten. I was considered individually.

That night served as a perfect microcosm of the various experiences one may have at gay bars. Awkward encounters, yearning for the guy you can’t have, finding unexpected friends, and at the very best, a sense of belonging. They are a stage for the most human of experiences to play out. Heartbreak, hope, love, disappointment, first meetings, final partings. Some of you may read these experiences and wonder why I would continue visiting the bars. Gay bars are the land of eternal second chances. No two nights are exactly alike. Even after a disappointing night, I always think: Maybe next time will be better.

Photo courtesy of Just John

On The Scene: Do Overs

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, On The SceneLeave a comment

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

On The Scene: First Kisses, Total Misses #2

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, On The SceneLeave a comment

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

On The Scene: First Kisses, Total Misses #1

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, On The SceneLeave a comment

The Saturday of this story began with a look. Really, a double take. In the bathroom at Rehab. This bar is known for its many drag events, particularly the Saturday night drag show. The show is held on the patio. In recent years the staff devised a tent to cover the patio, allowing for winter performances. Rehab serves primarily vodka drinks. If only clear liquor equated to clear thinking.

The bathroom at Rehab has screens directly above the urinals, I suppose to distract people from their own and others’ genitals. I happened to be using one of them when someone walked past as if leaving. But then a second later their head peeked back out from behind the corner. It was a blink and you miss it moment. But I hadn’t blinked and I was the only one at the urinals.

I was shocked. Was I getting cruised? Was this how guys flirted at bars? I hadn’t experienced attention in this manner. I awkwardly finished and went to the sink, not sure what to do. Then I got an actual look at him. He was young, cute, with short hair and nice eyes. I decided to make a joking ice breaker of the situation and asked him, “did you like what you saw?”

“I was just taking a peek.” He said in a very meek tone, wearing a faux innocent smile. His friend ran up and introduced him to me. I’ll call him The Stylist, after his profession. I asked if they came together and they said no and clarified they were friends. They then went on their way and I wondered if it was just another one off encounter at a bar. Later, when I was about to leave for Just John, I saw The Stylist at the bar with a group. I paused. It was a “choose your own adventure” moment. I could: 1. Leave straight out of the bar and accept the encounter as a fluke. Or 2. Put myself out there and invite him to join me.

Mustering all available courage, I walked up to him and told him, as casually as I could, that I was heading over to Just John and he was welcome to join me if he wanted. He said him and friends were closing out and would be going there as well, and he would see me there. I left the bar smiling and buoyed with new confidence from putting myself out there and taking a chance.

Once at Just John I ordered a Kentucky Mule and waited at the bar, watching the room, posing casually, even though I felt electrified by nerves and hope. About five minutes later, Stylist entered, spotted me, and approached. He asked, “What are you drinking? Moscow Mule?” I said, “Kentucky.” He then exclaimed, “Ooh, you’re a whiskey girl!”

From there, we discussed typical introductory topics: Work, how often we go to bars. The innocent, flirty look returned to his face, and he said, “I would like to get your number.” I wanted to play hard to get, so I asked, “If you had it, what would you do with it?” He answered, “text you, of course.” I didn’t want to seem withholding, but I’ve had countless cases of exchanging numbers and nothing happening afterwards. Simply asking for a number doesn’t hold the charm it once did.

However, given that I had made it this far and I was the one being pursued, which is rarely the case, I decided to give him a chance. We exchanged numbers. Then, I decided to make the next move. Drunk on the chase, and the whiskey, I stepped closer and kissed him. He made no movement; it was like kissing a statue. I immediately pulled back and apologized, I had read the situation wrong. Thankfully, he was calm and understanding. He told me, “Nothing is going to happen tonight. Maybe another time. But I am going to work the room. I suggest you do the same.” With that, he left for another room in the bar.

I stood there, watching him go, embarrassed and confused. How did it start so promisingly, only to end up with me alone at the bar? If he had no intention of moving forward, why even ask for my number? What was the point of it all? So, I decided not to let the night be ruined and scope out the bar for other prospects. The Stylist was right, if he was working the room, I should as well.

While that was the first kiss of the night, it was not the last.

Photo courtesy of Just John