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Revelations of a Reluctant Bar Fly
While it is always nice to see familiar faces, I realized that being out just for the sake of dreading being in the house alone (i.e., when my 5-year old daughter is at her mother’s house on the weekends), I was doing myself a disservice. Not only was I neglecting doing things around the house (only tidying up when I could be doing major overhauls), I was spending my time and energy on the "hunt" (which I do online anyway). Two things happened to me last weekend that really clinched it. I was waiting in my favorite "bar" (which just having one is ridiculous enough since I neither drink nor smoke) for a dear friend of mine. All of a sudden, the door man, who I always say "hello" to since he knows my friends and me by sight, came up and shocked me by saying, "If you want to stay in here, you’ll have to order a drink, otherwise you’ll have to leave….. the bartender told me to tell you that you come in here all the time and you never order anything to drink." My first reaction was "WHAT!?" and I looked at a guy I know with whom I had engaged in conversation and caught my breath. Because I was mortified and humiliated and was still waiting for my dear friend, I went to order a seltzer. The eager bartender tried not to have an expression on his face. Pity I didn’t have a tip (and I am not a cheapskate when I do tip). I nursed the drink for almost an hour while I waited and pondered at what happened. I don’t know what shocked me the most. I had never considered myself to be a freeloader. Indeed, I end up spending a fortune it seems every time I go out between meals, taxis, cappuccinos, strawberry-banana smoothies, etc. However, I am not care for the taste of most alcohol and I wasn’t even thirsty! I think what hurt me more than anything was that I was being watched. Even more so, I regretted that that I was so recognizable as "that guy who comes in here all the time." Honestly, I don’t even care so much about the "….and never orders a drink" part. I guess I became a little paranoid since later I went to the restaurant to have dinner with my friend and I hoped that I had ordered enough food so the customary tip would be big enough! The next morning I did not even have the courage to tell my new roommate why I was so preoccupied. However, I told him that being out at the bars was becoming burdensome (as if I had an obligation to go). I told him how I was going out often to which – to my amazement – he quickly retorted, "It’s beneath you!" Wow. It hit me. I was spiraling because of this insecure behavior. So, what am I going to do about it? I’m going to spend more time reading, watching movies with friends (like I did a couple nights later snuggling with my two best friends – all of us miserably single), cooking, watching RuPaul and Oprah and Carol Burnett re-runs. It didn’t occur to me until much later how similar I now feel to what I experienced when I visited Boston the weekend before I went to Italy. I had met a really nice man at Pride here in New York in June with whom I had kept in contact and with whom I had exchanged mutual invitations to visit. I took him up on the offer and he showed me Boston in a memorable whirlwind weekend. I remember how bothered he was at one point when I asked if we could go into a bar to "check out the merchandise". Unfortunately, as we all know, bars are a substantial part of the "gay life" in the cities that I travel to so I like to visit them. For him, though, it must have been mundane, as I realize now the bars I go to here in New York – no matter how many interesting stories and people I meet in the long run – are mundane to me. Bars, as important a staple they are, are not the kind of place to meet a lot of men who are interested in conversing (not that for one second you should believe that’s what I was looking for every night). I mean I thought I was intellectually starved with my ex-boyfriend, but I am absolutely malnourished many times when I go seeking the man of my dreams (or even a new friend) and I end up without more than a couple of nods to my brethren. I am not saying that wonderful, intelligent men don’t go out to the bars, but going there expecting to find good conversation was really naïve of me. I also consulted other gay men I know (one in particular) who had expressed to me at some point their disenfranchisement with the bar "scene" – a term I used to dread hearing since I took it personally. He suggested that I seek gay people out (if I bother to seek them at all) when I am at more stimulating for a (i.e., the theatre or movies). When I return to heavy socializing that is exactly what I intend to do (and these things will be far more conducive to bringing my daughter as well).* It’s bittersweet that, being out of the closet less than four years, I am already learning some of the lessons I thought I would learn from others' experiences; instead, I've been making the mistakes myself. You will see me in bars in the coming months and years, but hopefully not without an agenda for the evening. Bars are still a great place to meet people for a rendezvous in the city, meet new people if chance will have it, and they are great places to convene when there is something exciting occurring in the city (like Pride, Halloween Parade, Wigstock, etc.). For myself, however, I need a break and I wrote this posting because I wanted to share this insight with others. I’m still the same adventurous romantic slut I always was and I’d love to have you over for dinner some time. I make a killer pasta with tuna fish. _______ |
30-Sep-97: After returning from Italy
in August I put myself into husband hunting overdrive, perhaps subconsciously. While my
cynicism is still building, I went out to the bars the weekends following looking for love
in all the wrong places.