St. Patrick's Day at a Club

Well, even though I'm two books behind, I figure you all might want to hear about something other than my reading habits. These past two weeks have been insane, but last night was fun and interesting. Rachel and I went to Pure, which is a club we first found when we went to see Shut Up and Dance last year. I really liked it, because it reminded me a bit of Trexx, the gay club I cut my teeth on back home with Bekah and Morgan. I think it mostly reminded me of Trexx in that it was ostensibly gay but had a good mix of people (though this time the gay/maleness was more pronounced, I think), played good dance music, and... that's about it, I guess.

But anyway, I finally got to wear the exciting black corset top that I'd gotten with Liz... in October, I think, and a black and gold skirt, and just so I didn't look too much like every other girl showing off her breasts and her legs, I wore my gold sneakers and (to celebrate St. Patrick's Day) a little green turtle pin and a tiny sparkly St. Patrick's Day hat that my mom had sent me, which Rachel helped me attach to my sleeve with a safety pin. Oh, and green eyeshadow for St. Pat's Day, too, though I probably would have worn it anyway, since I'm feeling rather enamored of that eyeshadow lately. And Rachel wore this sort of pinstriped tube top she has... which probably gives a slightly wrong picture of it, but I'm not sure how to describe it... and this great skirt which is blue with gold and silver sequins all over it. Which I just realized is funny, because at some point she didn't like sequiny things, I thought. Anyway, though, it's neat. And she also wore her new silver high-top sneakers.

When we finally completed our outfits and got to Pure, it was almost totally deserted. Apparently things don't pick up there until 1:30 or 2, even though it closes at 3. There's also a bizarre membership system which we did not understand, but only members can buy drinks. That's ok, though, because neither of us wanted to buy drinks anyway. Though, retrospectively, I bet we could have if we wanted to. Unless there was some card showing or different identifying marks that the members had, I don't know. But anyway, we didn't really know what to do and so we hung around, and talked about maybe leaving and coming back, but didn't, and we went upstairs and checked out al the different rooms and areas of the club, which actually has a pretty cool layout. I think I like the place, though this time I did feel the maleness of it more, as I said before. Not that there weren't a good number of women there... I don't quite know how to describe it. Oh, and I ran into Randi upstairs. Which was perfectly surreal, because I'd had this feeling right before I saw her that I was going to run into Randi. And there she was. So we exchanged friendly-yet-slightly-awkward pleasantries, and then I saw her later on the dance floor and we waved at each other. I mean, I guess it wasn't a big surprise, given that I know Randi likes to go out and live it up, and this was a hotspot for... shall we say LGBTQ activity, so I could put two and two together and figure I might see the most partying T I know at the party. Well, the only T I know. Well, anyway, it was weird. I mean, who likes to run into people from work while enjoying the nightlife? Though there are definitely worse people to run into. After we sat around upstairs near Randi for a little bit, we went back down... to a still mostly dead room. Before the dancing started, I thought I was going to go nuts just standing there. A few people would start dancing, and then it would all fall apart again, and there would just be this one weird guy wandering around the dance floor... not dancing, just sort of walking. Oh, and while we were hanging around to the side of the dance floor, this friendly but odd Latino (I think) guy named Neville (I think!) came up to us and danced with us and welcomed us effusively to Pure, saying that we should dance and do whatever our hearts feel and that if "they" didn't like it, "fuck the faggots" and to remember his face and that he loved females and had great respect for females and his mother was a female and she had him, so he and females were like this, and he made some gesture of solidarity, and enjoined us again to dance and do whatever we wanted, and welcomed us again, and said if anyone gave us any trouble we should find him. And he asked our names and kissed our hands, individually and then together, and went back to whatever he had been doing prior to this. Oh, and one seemingly straight man on the street, one muscular man acting as proxy for his boyfriend in speaking to us, one transvestite (also on the street), and one very old dancing man at the club, all complimented Rachel's skirt. Ladies, remember, the lesson is: blue with sequins = man magnet. Maybe mostly gay man magnet, but still.

Oh, so finally I got Rachel onto the little upper dance floor with me, even though the music wasn't that great. But the advantage was that a) people were dancing there, b) it was smaller so that it took less to fill the space in a satisfactory way, and c) one of the two most fascinating people at the club was dancing in there. She was this girl in a green man's shirt with short but stylish hair and a tie, and she was unbelievably hot. Like, took my attention away from every single man in the place hot. Maddie, she reminded me a lot of that one in If These Walls Could Talk II, and was definitely that hot. So I sort of danced hopefully near her for awhile, but she took no notice of me, so we went down to the other dance floor with the good music and started dancing there, and I feel, personally, that we were responsible for getting the party started, because from the time we started dancing, the number and mix of people dancing just steadily increased until we left.

The dancing was great! It was so good to dance, and I love that music for dancing. I love that giddy rising feeling of delight that comes into me when I am just dancing and not thinking about anything and letting my body go, and I love watching other people dance, especially the unexpected ones. I was particularly pleased by this old man who danced all around by himself. His dancing was kind of odd, but he gave me joy and courage because of his joy and courage in his own body. I also liked this eminently ordinary looking woman... like, ordinary face, ordinary hair, ordinary body, middle aged (I think, maybe a little younger), wearing just a plain shirt and jeans and sneakers, who was really into dancing. Then... I saw the other most fascinating person in the club. He was a tall black man and he had two small white scarves, although actually I might better call them little flags, because they were sort of stiff and attached to something that helped him get a hold of them, I think. Anyway, he danced with these scarves and it was incredible. I was just utterly captivated. It was so, so incredibly beautiful and amazing and fascinating. I was dancing a good distance away to give him room, but I felt like I was dancing with him, because all my movements were just naturally in reaction to his. I feel like maybe everyone felt that way, too. I felt so much more free and poetic in my movements and let my body just sort of flow in a much more creative way, because somehow I couldn't feel self-conscious while such a beautiful thing was going on. He just whirled the scarves all around... I don't know how to describe it. Enthralling, just enthralling. I think if I'd actually gotten a chance to dance with him and those scarves I'd either have danced better than I ever have in my life or just fainted or something. ;) Anyway, it was great.

So, after quite some time we got tired and took a break, and this man leaning on the wall next to me struck up a conversation. Turns out he's Hispanic, in fact from Chile, and so we started talking in Spanish. That was really exciting; it felt great to speak Spanish. And he was repeatedly complimentary of my Spanish and my accent... he said I had pretty pronunciation, and really, since I'm actually quite self-conscious about my accent, that was all he needed to say to have my attention for at least a little while. He invited me to dance and I said yes. The thing was, he was pretty old. I mean, not old. But old for me. I don't know how old, but I would say between 35-40. I mean he was handsome, quite handsome actually... but. So, I was having a really good time and all, but I started to hope that he understood that this was definitely a platonic relationship, something that's hard to get across when you're grinding on a dance floor. But I tried to keep moving and keep intimate moments brief. Rachel was dancing with us too, and there was this weird guy on drugs who was grabbing everyone, including me once and her twice, and she slapped him across the face and he went away. The moment of the slap was kind of fascinating. It was just a huge crack, like in the movies, and then he stumbled around confused and left. Anyway, so after a bit more dancing I was exhausted, and we went upstairs and sat there chatting for awhile. Which was ok, but began to be sort of stretched thin like conversation gets with someone you don't really know. At least it does if you're me and tired. ;) We engaged in chit-chat, switching fluidly between Spanish and English, and he asked for my number so that we could continue to talk in Spanish. I gave it to him, hoping he meant what he said and deciding to sort it out later. Then he asked me to go dance in the other little room, so we did, but that got weird. It was super crowded, and these guys were, in my opinion, basically having clothed sex on the wall next to us. Like, pressed right flush against each other and writhing, with these strained expressions of exertion and pleasure on their faces... well, it was a bit much for me. Especially I was struggling to keep everything not too sexy with my senor (insert tilda over the n, I don't know where to get it.) And he seemed to be getting more sexy, sliding down my body (in a non-touching way) and then touching my hair and my head. That was kind of the last straw for me. I don't know why, but touching my hair just seems very intimate for a stranger. It's interesting, the whole thing is interesting, because the style of dancing is just so very sexualized, that I for some reason am pretty comfortable wedging my legs together with some stranger and bobbing up and down, or pressing ass-to-groin and grinding, but pulling my head close and stroking my hair? That was too much. It was curious. So I excused myself, and we said our goodbyes, with perfunctory cheek kisses that I carefully kept perfunctory, and left.

Which brings me to another set of observations. One: I am a foreign man magnet. In the past year five men have made some kind of advance toward me, even if it was only sustained for an evening. Two Americans, yes, but also one Italian, one Indian, and one Chilean man. Interesting. I don't know why this is. Two: In clubs, I often get in these moods where I really want to pick someone up, and I have this sort of aimless sexual energy. I attract a man and pick him up, and we start talking/dancing/flirting. I get bored. I start to feel like it's weird. I want to disengage myself from his company. He just wants it to go on and on. Finally, I have to deliberately remove myself from the situation. Hopefully, this is because I am not super interested in these particular men... not some strange sexual hang up or something like that. I think it's really the former, but it struck me this time as a pattern.

Anyway... I had fun. It was a good St. Patrick's Day celebration. And I still managed to get up today and get to Wayne with Rachel, where I bought a giant stuffed turtle, rose petal soap, and earrings.

:)