Thursday, June 30, 2011
My First Gay Bar
Andrew Sullivan has started a fascinating series on first visits to gay bars. He was inspired by this Slate article on the decline of the gay bar. It got me thinking about my first gay bar and what a night that was. It was, of all places, The Heretic in Atlanta. I was active duty military, stationed in rural Alabama and incredibly naive and inexperienced. I was also incredibly paranoid of getting caught in a gay bar, especially the Heretic, which had such a reputation that even I had heard of it. I went with my very first boyfriend who I had just met, and a couple of his friends. As we were walking in, I was too preocupied with scanning the parking lot for undercover Military Police (I told you I was paranoid) to notice the guy checking IDs until I was up. I fumbled with my wallet and out flopped my military ID. I scrambled to hide it and find my drivers license and the guy said "Don't worry honey, that's not the first one of those I've seen tonight." His joke eased my paranoia. That night was the first time I ever danced with a man. It was overwhelming to see a room full of men dancing with men. If there's anything more liberating than that, I haven't experienced it yet.
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5 comments:
My first bar was "Diamond Lil's" in Phoenix. I had the same feeling about seeing all the men dancing together. Especially slow dancing. The other bars were "Casa De Roma", and the "Sportsman". I had so much fun at these bars and made many new friends. But it was not enough, after a few months I moved to Los Angeles. Forty years later I am still here. LOVE IT.
My first gay bar was Talbott Street in Indianapolis. It was, I believe, Summer 1982, which would have made me 22. I went with Roger, my childhood best buddy who never bothered to tell me he was gay. He simply told me that, after he got off his job at the mall, we were going to go to a bar he really liked.
What happened? We arrived at this bar and it was...gasp!...a homosexual bar! I was both thrilled and scared. I simply stood, idiotically, not knowing what the hell to do. I chain-smoked and nursed a vodka/OJ.
And what did Roger do? He abandonned me. Immediately. He got drunk, danced with a cute boy, and tricked out. Yup. And Rog didn't even bother to tell me; rather, a friend of his handed me Rog's car keys. How sweet. I had little clue how to get back to his fraternity house.
Actually, one other memorable thing happened that night: As I stood smoking, sipping daintily on my drink, and jealously watching Roger dance with a Cutie Patootie, a black man came up to me and whispered in my ear, "Do you do spade?"
Huh? What did you say?
He again whispered in my ear, "Do you do spade?"
Spade...? What's that? I simply assumed it was some Evil Homosexual Disco-Bar Drug, so I clutched at my pearls and indignantly gasped, "NO!!!"
Took me a while...perhaps even years...to figure out he was asking if I indulged in les hommes noirs. How ironic that I said "NO!" a la Scarlett O'Hara in light of my years of...ahhhh...well, indulding, if you will.
I see he picked up your story and published it on the Beast.
Well done, sir!
Thanks Will!
Sam,
Your first experience in a gay bar is almost parallel to mine! I was very paranoid but when I saw first saw "regular" guys dancing with other guys, as you said "What a liberating experience that was." And it was! I felt like I had "arrived." Thanks for sharing.
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