When I was a young'n, I would attend the ritual every weekend, whether I had the money or not. Foolishly I would drink myself to the edge of sloppy and pretend I was attractive and desirable. Looking at myself from the outside, I'm sure I would be disgusted now by the ridiculousness of the behavior.
Nearly twenty years hence, I decided to venture once again into the typical scene for meeting friends and lovers. I chose from only two real choices here in Tundraland and decided upon the bar frequented by older folks. I am one such now and I imagine attempting to mingle at the other choice would place me squarely in the Troll category.
A modernized version of "Black Betty" was playing on an amazingly neon, digital juke box and the place was dark. Yeah, go ahead and laugh, but I've not been in such a space in nearly two decades as doing so apparently put the entirety of this noble state in jeopardy.
The ladies were at the south end of the bar while the boyz were at the other. A few too old or androgynous for instant classification occupied the middle. Every group of no more than four were evenly spaced with exactly one bar stool between them. Everyone had the ability to touch the bar's surface so it was not crowded by my standards. I remember the happening club being so crowded one inevitably had to press one's body against another to be close enough to the bar tender to garner attention. Every Friday night was another excuse to commit frottage.
I'll spare you the unimpressive song list over the next hour and instead describe the smell emanating from the man to my immediate left. Perhaps I shouldn't, such an aroma needn't be described; we all know what ass smells like on old men.
The various televisions displayed episodes of "Golden Girls" from Logo TV and two other programs I couldn't identify. I noticed breeder-slanted commercials during the program. I felt the urge to contact Logo and explain to them that they have no breeder audience who would be offended by gay themed advertising. Then I realized the advertisers were the ones who needed chastisement. Antiperspirant vendors know damned well who's watching Logo and either are too scared or lazy to shoot a gay-themed commercial. So, par for the course, I sat in a gay bar watching a man kiss his wife before leaving for work. Welcome to America!
Obviously I was disappointed with my choice to attend this bar, alone, without the courage to aggressively engage the other patrons. Next time I will have to make sure I go with a friend who knows everyone there or has the spine to drag me across the room to introduce ourselves. I currently know of only two such men and they are currently at another bar in Wausau for an event.
Next weekend I'll be back to the bar for a birthday party for one of those men and be in the company of many extroverts. The weekend after I plan to drive to Minnesota and get naked with other men over a game of poker or chess. And I believe the weekend after that it's back to the bar for a charity event.
Maybe I'll make a few new friends and never have to go to the bar alone again.
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