At the time of writing, I am in limbo. I promised myself faithfully that tonight I would get my disco shoes on. Whining about my love life is all very well, but having acknowledged the fact that an eligible bachelor will not simply materialise in my living room, I have to be a little more proactive in the search. But oh, the resistance!
Three times I have hopped out of the sofa to perform the ‘top-off disco move’ in the mirror (just to see how I will look when I do make it on to the dance floor), and have perused relevant gay reading matter to define my club of choice. I am bemused by the vast choice of similar sounding events. They all have ‘DJ someone-or-other, spinnin’ the sounds,’ and appear to be named with just the one syllable (often followed with an exclamation mark). Woof! Fudge! Sleaze! Crash! Sleaze @ Crash, Cruise @ Sleaze, Orange @ Fire... Oh God, I’ll just stay in...
Yes, I have become a recluse. I feel that the gay scene offers little of what I want at the moment. The majority of clubs in London cater toward those chemically-enhanced experiences, and I don’t feel like snorting everything but the kitchen sink, just so I can interact with my fellow clubbers. My internet encounters involve regular chats with some lovely people on everything from hep C to Ikea, but have not been instrumental in affairs of the heart. Even casual sex has lost its appeal lately. To quote a marvellous line from Harvey Fierstein, “I want more out of life than seeing a pretty face... and sitting down on it!” Is this just a period of low activity? Or am I becoming a... shudder... grown-up?
For a young gay man who doesn’t want to throw himself into the club scene, I think it’s quite difficult to meet potential partners. I am well aware that success in this department is connected far more with energies that we give off, than with simply the physical side of how we look. Its also interesting to observe, that the more we want to meet someone and become preoccupied with that thought, the fewer the callers come banging on your door, so to speak.
Think about it. You know those times in your life when you venture out to
a bar with a partner. Truly content with the man of the moment, not looking
to meet anyone else (and not just faking it), you find potential lovers throwing
themselves at you at every opportunity. Equally powerful are those nights when,
no matter how much you try to fake the hell out of it, deep down you secretly
desire to meet someone. And what happens? No one will come near you. I have
experienced this ‘sink or swim’ reaction to such extremes in the
past, that it must be down to some sort of energy we exude.
Electricity is an energy that always flowed through the air, but only until a few hundred years ago did people start to understand it was there. Why can’t there be lots of other ‘energies’?
Since beginning this column, I did venture out somewhere new. By chance, a friend took me to a little piano bar, tucked away in a dark street in Soho. It’s been there for a while, but I had no idea about it. A handsome man was playing the piano and kept us entertained, we could talk without shouting, and I didn’t have to keep running to the bathroom to ‘powder my nose’ every five minutes, just so I could “get in the mood”. All the men looked happy and relaxed...and so did I.
Sometimes we forget that there is an alternative to the underground world of heavily publicised dance clubs and cruise bars. You just have to look a little harder. Perhaps I have been in a ‘rut’ lately - a little negative about life and the things around me. Writing this made me realise that at least I am young and healthy, and have the choice to go out and do all the things I want to. Not everyone has that luxury.
