Tag: life

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: 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: 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