Well, last week I returned to Woody's for the first time in a few months. I've lost a little weight since the last time and I donned a new shirt that made me look even thinner, so I was feeling pretty good about the whole thing. I mean, I'm not hideous; surely someone would find me attractive enough to dance with me, and I was in the mood for some fun.
My friends and I decided to go at the last minute; the night actually started as a gay bowling night, but after an hour of some really bad bowling we decided that we should go somewhere that was more suited to our strengths. We packed my car with two of my girl friends (one a lesbian, one straight), a girl and guy from the gay union whom I didn't know very well before then, and me. After a good amount of time listening to various bad club songs and me singing along to Cher (whom I LOVE because she sings in my range), we finally started seeing the city in the distance. That was when I sort of freaked because I've never driven in the city before, but with the help of my friends and the fact that there were almost no cars on the roads because it was late on a Wednesday night, we finally maneuvered to a parking garage and got out. Then we did the usual "take only what you need: license, " discard thing, and we left the car to walk to the club in the bitter cold without jackets because we weren't sure if there was a coat check or not. The streets were very different from the way they were in October. There were no cute boy couples walking with their arms around each other or groups of guys laughing loudly and greeting the friends they ran into on thre street; the streets were very empty right up to the club. We finally got there, paid, and entered.
After rounding the corner, I was met with the familiar decadence: steel columns, a crowded floor, flashing lights, a heavy beat, and ambiguously gendered people EVERYWHERE. I followed my friends to one of the few slightly cleared areas on the floor, and we danced. I wasn't feeling it as much as I had before. Maybe it was the amount of people there and the lack of room, but I think that it was the realization that I still wasn't like the rest of the guys there.
As I kept dancing and avoiding this scary guy in a sweater (who was scary less because of his actual looks and the fact that he was older and more because of the face he was making that just SCREAMED serial killer) and an old guy who resembled Michael's uncle on Queer as Folk, I noticed some of the most gorgeous guys I had ever seen. And they were EVERYWHERE. And they were friends with each other! I felt like such an outsider, like I was at a party to which I was not invited. I tried keeping a good attitude and making fleeting, smiling eye contact with them, but it was pointless. They all had boys much better than me to dance with. All I could do was dance with the girls I came with, and they didn't really seem to want me intruding. At one point, the guy we came with pulled me to him by my shirt and we danced, but he was short and it was sort of awkward. Still, it was fun.
After an hour or so of that, my friends and I went to get some "Pure Pride" water (which I think is just the funniest thing ever) and I moped for a bit about everyone being so much more beautiful than me. I mean, at times like that you start thinking about how lonely the future will be if you don't have the looks to get people interested and blah blah blah. The thought that I wasn't actually trying to dance with them never even crossed my mind, and that was probably the main thing that kept me from meeting new people. I mean, it's probably not that I'm not worthy to dance with them but that I never make an effort to dance with them and that I surround myself with girls. However, I don't know how to make an effort, so I suppose my situation will not change.
Then, on our way back to the floor, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I looked, and it was a hot shirtless clubber boy. He pointed to me and did on of those beckoning things. I pointed at myself with this "Who, me?" look and he nodded. Then he took his wrapped up shirt and slung it around my neck to pull me close. I couldn't believe it was happening! I mean, things like that never happen to me! I was so surprised. It didn't last long, though. I wasn't sure if it was because I danced poorly or what, but I think he lost interest. Still, it was fun while it lasted. I danced for another hour and then it was time to go.
On the way out, some inner city tough gay burned my jeans with a cigarette and then blamed me. He was such an asshole but I didn't say anything back. I mean, gay or not gay, this guy looked like he could kill me. It's amazing how many different kinds of people you get in that place.
Now I'm unsure if I want to go back. Woody's boys have their own world filled with carelessness, beauty, and sex, and I really don't think I belong. I'll never get that kind of attitude and I'll never have a big group of gay friends, and I'm not sure if that thought really bothers me. I mean, it would be wonderful to make out with one of them, to pretend to be one of them for one night, but it probably won't happen. I'm a small town, simple guy. It doesn't seem like that's going to change, and that could be a good thing.
But Woody's boys, I admire you. You are the Moulin-Rouge-hightened-reality beautiful boys living the life we small town guys love to dream about and watch on TV but never actually pursue.