NYE 2010: Part II (Non-Hetero Venue)

NYE 2010 had started off interestingly. The bars were shutting down and TM2000 had headed home.

2011 was about two hours old, and I wasn't in the mood to sleep. I was in the mood to dance.

Or at least not to go home and look at porn.

Why a Gay Dance Club?
Bars in Seattle may not serve alcohol past 2:00 AM. Meaning they get busted if there is anyone drinking past that time (not that they "may or may not... take your chances), so most places give last call around 1:30 and start pushing people out the door shortly thereafter.

I'm no expert regarding the clubs that remain open past 2:00, but they seem to be (a) urban, (b) Russian, or (c) gay.

Given the fact that my dancing skills only tower over my fighting skills, I prefer to avoid aggro dudes (especially when I have my capacity to sidestep them inhibited by alcohol) and so I usually choose (c).

And when I choose (c), I choose Neighbour's. It's a short cab ride or a long walk from Belltown, and it has pretty good music. While I've had extremely limited luck in meeting women there, I have had occasion to dance with a woman or two during my forays into the establishment. Oddly enough, I think the reason I've had almost no luck meeting women there is more to do with my personality than with the fact that it's a gay dance club.

Because while it's a gay dance club, it's not normally a GAY dance club (all caps for emphasis). There are straight chicks dancing and avoiding the standard pack of really short straight guys that seem to think that women go there to be ground upon.

While it's not normally a GAY dance club, on the morning of January 1, 2011, it definitely was.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

The First Guy
I was dancing on my own for about 20 minutes when I was approached by a guy.

Now, in spite of me being drop-dead sexy and often by myself in a gay dance club, I'm rarely approached by guys. Which--trust me--is just fine.

But in this case? An older-looking fellow came up to me and actually used an opening line:

"You're a great dancer!"

Bad move on his part. Not that he had a chance in any case, but someone calling me a "great dancer" to my face as I paroxysmally take up space on the dance floor is like someone telling the dude from Powder that they like his tan. It's pretty objectively incorrect and in THIS case a lie.

So I shook my head and said, "Thanks, but no." Which had two meanings, the second of which he did not pick up on.

He talked to me a moment or two longer and then asked if I wanted to "go upstairs" with him.

I knew there was an upstairs, but I didn't see any reason to go with him. I also had a strong suspicion that it was code for something or even a euphemism.

So I declined and continued to subtly thrash about in my personal space.

Woman Interlude
A bit later, two women walked up to me. They appeared to be a couple, and not the kind that would be particularly interested in me, so I was a bit intrigued by what they wanted.

One of the two of them asked me a question that went something along the lines of, "Have you got any [unintelligible]?"

The way she was standing, the way she sort of mumbled at the end... I didn't hear what she said, but I knew it had something to do with drugs.

She, much like the man before her, was barking up the wrong tree. I know less about drugs than any man alive in Seattle. I saw the remnants of cocaine once... and it seemed like such a crazy thing.

In spite of that--or perhaps because of it--we had this conversation:

Me: What? I'm sorry I don't understand.
Her: Oh, nothing. We haven't looked to score any for years...
Me: I really don't know what you even said.
Her: You're just too young. You don't even know what I'm talking about, huh?
Me: Young? I bet I'm five years older than you are.
Her: I doubt it. Let's see your ID.
Me: Uh, ok... [showed her my ID]
Her: Wow! You are old! Are you, like, American Psycho or something?
Me: What? I'm sorry I don't understand.
Her: You know. In American Psycho he does the skin peel treatment to look young?
Me: Oh, yeah, and the pushup routine and stuff?
Her: Exactly. I'm surprised you're old enough to remember that movie...

I think it could easily be argued that she did not need the drugs she was seeking.

The Second Guy

And so she left and I continued to dance. But not unmolestedly.

A bit later, another dude approached me. This guy was short and skinny with shaggy brown hair and geeky glasses and an army surplus jacket. Also? Not so cute.

But he evidently thought I was worth spinning game at. (Spinning game with? Toward? I dunno...)

Him: You look just like a Jonas brother!
Me: Uh... do I?
Him: Don't worry. It's a good thing. A very good thing.
Me: Uh... OK. I guess.
Him: So... *** You wanna go upstairs?
Me: Uh... no thanks.

A few notes:

1. I can't decide if his opening line was a sincere compliment or a neg. 
2. The *** indicates a physical action: he took his hand and ran it along my stomach vertically from my belly button up to my chest. It was super-creepy.
3. "Go upstairs" was, as I had strongly suspected, some sort of code for something that I really don't want to participate in.

I kinda turned away from him a bit and he left.

The End of the Night as I Knew It
Time passed. Music played. Each of the two guys walked past me, right before closing, arching their eyebrows inquiringly.

The end of the night was nearing. The sun was about to shine for the first time in 2011. I hopped in the cab and reflected on all of the ill-fitting and awkward moments I'd already participated in after midnight, and I can't wait to see what else 2011 has got up its sleeve.