Jules' Night Out, or...
Aug. 9th, 2003 04:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aruanI've officially come to the disheartening conclusion that they really do have all the fun.
Tonight would see a girl friend of mine and my first excursion to where the night life really is in Fort Lauderdale, with a longtime mutual friend of ours and two friends of his already well-acquainted with the scene. I tell you, I've never felt more lost in picking out an appropriate outfit - the only response our friend had had when we asked what people wore was that the guys had on jeans and T-shirts, which mostly came off after a few minutes anyway. How do you dress for a critical audience who otherwise couldn't care less? It took us a little while.
It was so good to see my friend again. I love him dearly, but this was our first meeting in forever, but specifically since he'd come out to me about a month ago. I've known him practically forever and though it wasn't a surprise, it was still a bit of a 'huh.' He looks fantastic, he says he's even better, and most of all his parents have been supportive after their initial shock wore off. "It feels so good to put my arms around you." Aaw! He's an absolute sweetheart. That, and he complimented my outfit. Darling boy.
His friends were two of the wittiest, savviest, sweetest kids I've ever met anywhere. And they were well-groomed and dressed. Gay or not, this pleased me beyond reproach to see - it went a long way to restore my very waning faith in the male population. I just wanted to put them all in my pocket and take them home.
After one of the guys gushed over Somnambulist when it came on the radio, I noted that JC did backup vocals, to which my guy friend had to say: "You really like them, don't you? I never in all the time I've known you would've guessed." Like I said, high school didn't allow for many things that are now a way of life for each of us.
Now, as cliched and predictable as my reaction was, I gasped when we got inside at just how much it was like Babylon. The boys were younger and a bit less naked, sure, but there were raised platforms to dance on and laser lighting effects (which was especially cool since they allowed smoking inside the club and the smoke trails played through the beams), the music was electronic disco/dance, and people were actually on the floor. It was exactly like a real club ought to be, which makes me wonder yet again if this removes me just another degree from the norms of the world's straight population. I grow more and more convinced that they just don't seem to know how to have fun properly.
One of the boys, the doll, copped to feeling "strangely hetero" as we started dancing. This ended up nothing but delightful for me, as they all took turns being convincingly raunchy in turn. We also gossiped about the boys around us, the ones who should have their shirts off and the ones who probably would be better off, the ones who didn't look a day over fifteen and the ones passing their cute little cellphones back and forth, exchanging numbers. Have I mentioned I had an absolutely fantastic time? They really went out of their way to make sure my girl friend and I were having fun, though I kept reassuring them to just do what they came to do.
A guy approached me not too long after we walked in. Name's Erik, and he had exactly three things going for him, which were his tattoos (which, apparently, I really like up close; his lovely, buff arms, and his goatee, a facial hair style I sorely miss on men. Turns out it was his birthday, too. Small world after all. JC definitely got his vicariously from me tonight. *g* Apparently though, I can't make out with someone and dance at the same time. Thing there though is that I really, really like making out, so it's more of a self-directed focus thing than a walk/chew gum scenario. It really is such a shame that Erik was so monumentally awful at kissing. For as long as it's been since I've done that, it was a shame to re-enter the scene with such a whimper. He was ditched not too long after, but not before he gave me his number and repeated at least three times that I can call him 24/7, anytime at all. Right.
During the second drag show, the boy doing the funky rave thing with glowsticks on one of the podiums invites himself to dance with me. We watched and ground to the action onstage, which featured no fewer than four boys in silver tuxedo jackets and hotpants alongside the diva, who was simply grand. It was by far one of the most fabulous things I've ever seen. After it was over though, I leaned in to excuse myself, as I'm a bit intimidated by boys who can shake their bums better than I can.
Sadly, all my action was of the mid-twenties Latino male variety. Whereas all my guy friend's action consisted of the voting age bracket. I told him we should go out together more often and switch up our tricks. *g*
Highlight of the night, however predictably, was the enduring disco classic It's Raining Men. Such ridiculous amounts of love for that song, even without the visuals of mostly-naked boys of all ages singing along and shaking it like there's no tomorrow.
As a general note, ladies, you haven't lived until you've been sandwiched between two enthusiastically ass-shaking gay boys. It's... oddly unarousing, but a whole heck of a lot of fun.
The only thing missing? Let's Hear It For the Boy. It's such a staple in my head now. But after four hours, three passes (I was offered more action than ever in a single night of my albeit short history of clubbing! Weird, man) mostly unaching feet thanks to my friend's sister's shoes, and a gradually thinning dance floor population, we decided to call it a night.
I have a very strong feeling my next course of action will be a phone call to Miranda...
Quote of the Night:
"What's with that penis thing, anyway?"
-one of the boys, though to be fair it was valid in context
Tonight would see a girl friend of mine and my first excursion to where the night life really is in Fort Lauderdale, with a longtime mutual friend of ours and two friends of his already well-acquainted with the scene. I tell you, I've never felt more lost in picking out an appropriate outfit - the only response our friend had had when we asked what people wore was that the guys had on jeans and T-shirts, which mostly came off after a few minutes anyway. How do you dress for a critical audience who otherwise couldn't care less? It took us a little while.
It was so good to see my friend again. I love him dearly, but this was our first meeting in forever, but specifically since he'd come out to me about a month ago. I've known him practically forever and though it wasn't a surprise, it was still a bit of a 'huh.' He looks fantastic, he says he's even better, and most of all his parents have been supportive after their initial shock wore off. "It feels so good to put my arms around you." Aaw! He's an absolute sweetheart. That, and he complimented my outfit. Darling boy.
His friends were two of the wittiest, savviest, sweetest kids I've ever met anywhere. And they were well-groomed and dressed. Gay or not, this pleased me beyond reproach to see - it went a long way to restore my very waning faith in the male population. I just wanted to put them all in my pocket and take them home.
After one of the guys gushed over Somnambulist when it came on the radio, I noted that JC did backup vocals, to which my guy friend had to say: "You really like them, don't you? I never in all the time I've known you would've guessed." Like I said, high school didn't allow for many things that are now a way of life for each of us.
Now, as cliched and predictable as my reaction was, I gasped when we got inside at just how much it was like Babylon. The boys were younger and a bit less naked, sure, but there were raised platforms to dance on and laser lighting effects (which was especially cool since they allowed smoking inside the club and the smoke trails played through the beams), the music was electronic disco/dance, and people were actually on the floor. It was exactly like a real club ought to be, which makes me wonder yet again if this removes me just another degree from the norms of the world's straight population. I grow more and more convinced that they just don't seem to know how to have fun properly.
One of the boys, the doll, copped to feeling "strangely hetero" as we started dancing. This ended up nothing but delightful for me, as they all took turns being convincingly raunchy in turn. We also gossiped about the boys around us, the ones who should have their shirts off and the ones who probably would be better off, the ones who didn't look a day over fifteen and the ones passing their cute little cellphones back and forth, exchanging numbers. Have I mentioned I had an absolutely fantastic time? They really went out of their way to make sure my girl friend and I were having fun, though I kept reassuring them to just do what they came to do.
A guy approached me not too long after we walked in. Name's Erik, and he had exactly three things going for him, which were his tattoos (which, apparently, I really like up close; his lovely, buff arms, and his goatee, a facial hair style I sorely miss on men. Turns out it was his birthday, too. Small world after all. JC definitely got his vicariously from me tonight. *g* Apparently though, I can't make out with someone and dance at the same time. Thing there though is that I really, really like making out, so it's more of a self-directed focus thing than a walk/chew gum scenario. It really is such a shame that Erik was so monumentally awful at kissing. For as long as it's been since I've done that, it was a shame to re-enter the scene with such a whimper. He was ditched not too long after, but not before he gave me his number and repeated at least three times that I can call him 24/7, anytime at all. Right.
During the second drag show, the boy doing the funky rave thing with glowsticks on one of the podiums invites himself to dance with me. We watched and ground to the action onstage, which featured no fewer than four boys in silver tuxedo jackets and hotpants alongside the diva, who was simply grand. It was by far one of the most fabulous things I've ever seen. After it was over though, I leaned in to excuse myself, as I'm a bit intimidated by boys who can shake their bums better than I can.
Sadly, all my action was of the mid-twenties Latino male variety. Whereas all my guy friend's action consisted of the voting age bracket. I told him we should go out together more often and switch up our tricks. *g*
Highlight of the night, however predictably, was the enduring disco classic It's Raining Men. Such ridiculous amounts of love for that song, even without the visuals of mostly-naked boys of all ages singing along and shaking it like there's no tomorrow.
As a general note, ladies, you haven't lived until you've been sandwiched between two enthusiastically ass-shaking gay boys. It's... oddly unarousing, but a whole heck of a lot of fun.
The only thing missing? Let's Hear It For the Boy. It's such a staple in my head now. But after four hours, three passes (I was offered more action than ever in a single night of my albeit short history of clubbing! Weird, man) mostly unaching feet thanks to my friend's sister's shoes, and a gradually thinning dance floor population, we decided to call it a night.
I have a very strong feeling my next course of action will be a phone call to Miranda...
Quote of the Night:
"What's with that penis thing, anyway?"
-one of the boys, though to be fair it was valid in context
