Monday, June 27, 2005
It’s been an interesting weekend. Friday night I went out to the suburbs to visit diggerblue. A beer turned into a couple beers, and a few beers turned into a night a drunken debauchery. The next day I was dropped off back in the city to enjoy (or, more like it, be irritated by) Pride weekend in Chicago.
Saturday night friends in New York and Atlanta called me and encouraged me to go out for a few drinks to celebrate the gay holiday. I wanted to, but didn’t want to. I’d bought a bunch of new CDs and was perfectly happy having a glass of wine and listening to them. And you see there’s really nobody left in Chicago to go out to the gay bars with. All are generally into their own lives or just plain over the novelty of anything gay. (This is what I get for leaving for 7 years.) But for people like me who actually are gay, I’m still left with the desire to go out with my people, however annoying it can occasionally be. God, if I want to have a social life or meet any like people, I must force myself out of my apartment.
But it takes a little preparation. I went to Jewel and got a bottle of wine, went home and drank half of it. At this point I was relaxed enough to be comfortable being a wall flower. Pathetic, yes, but if I never leave my apartment, I risk sinking further and further into my own weirdness and being a hermit.
So I go to my old watering hole and order a vodka and tonic. Then I stand. . . .
And stand.. . .
And stand. . .
I move to the other side of the bar and stand. . .
And stand. . .
And stand. . .
I stand like a sea anemone whose tentacles are reached out into the current desperately waiting to pull something in that happens to float by.
Someone seems me who’s with a group of people and says: “hey there, where are your friends?”
Okay, like I wasn’t self-conscious enough about this already. “I’m here alone.” I explain, “Most of my friends here are straight or really don’t like to hang out in places like this anymore. And I’ve just moved back after being gone for a while and haven’t developed a new network of people.”
Okay, so it was a long, pathetic, explanation. But it was true.
“Well, you’re going to hang out with us then.”
Just what I wanted to hear. His name was Anthony and was really cool. We had a great time that night and were able to all spend Pride together the next day, too.
Sometimes you just have to stick you neck out and be friendly. Sometimes (1 time out of 20, perhaps) you get lucky and meet people of substance.
Saturday night friends in New York and Atlanta called me and encouraged me to go out for a few drinks to celebrate the gay holiday. I wanted to, but didn’t want to. I’d bought a bunch of new CDs and was perfectly happy having a glass of wine and listening to them. And you see there’s really nobody left in Chicago to go out to the gay bars with. All are generally into their own lives or just plain over the novelty of anything gay. (This is what I get for leaving for 7 years.) But for people like me who actually are gay, I’m still left with the desire to go out with my people, however annoying it can occasionally be. God, if I want to have a social life or meet any like people, I must force myself out of my apartment.
But it takes a little preparation. I went to Jewel and got a bottle of wine, went home and drank half of it. At this point I was relaxed enough to be comfortable being a wall flower. Pathetic, yes, but if I never leave my apartment, I risk sinking further and further into my own weirdness and being a hermit.
So I go to my old watering hole and order a vodka and tonic. Then I stand. . . .
And stand.. . .
And stand. . .
I move to the other side of the bar and stand. . .
And stand. . .
And stand. . .
I stand like a sea anemone whose tentacles are reached out into the current desperately waiting to pull something in that happens to float by.
Someone seems me who’s with a group of people and says: “hey there, where are your friends?”
Okay, like I wasn’t self-conscious enough about this already. “I’m here alone.” I explain, “Most of my friends here are straight or really don’t like to hang out in places like this anymore. And I’ve just moved back after being gone for a while and haven’t developed a new network of people.”
Okay, so it was a long, pathetic, explanation. But it was true.
“Well, you’re going to hang out with us then.”
Just what I wanted to hear. His name was Anthony and was really cool. We had a great time that night and were able to all spend Pride together the next day, too.
Sometimes you just have to stick you neck out and be friendly. Sometimes (1 time out of 20, perhaps) you get lucky and meet people of substance.
# posted by otas : 9:04 AM
