This Little Piggy Went to the Bar...
Dec. 7th, 2003 05:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eggwardsI have on my right hand a stamp. The stamp is in black ink, and isn't coming off too easily, but it is fading. The stamp is a little pig. The stamp means something to me, another little rite of passage.
I know that I'm blowing this entirely out of proportion, but if you knew the nervousness I had, the self-doubts and the gas mileage I wasted, you might understand.
I went to a leather bar. Without Chris (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
oakleycub). In my hometown.
Friday night I had seen Miami Chris again, taking him out to eat, and then back to my place were we watched movies. Look out folks, he does have an LJ account. Miami Chris is an artist, as well as a computer programmer, and his journal isdedos.
Miami Chris mentioned that he was thinking of going out to the bars Saturday Night, and was arranging a ride to go, since his business trip has left him without a car (in Houston? You've got to be kidding!). I said that I was going to go out to see my parents, and might go to a bachelorette party I was invited to (but felt awkward about going to-sorry Jeannie!). Also, I don't really do bars.
I didn't say that any gay bar I've ever been to, I've been there with Chris. (Damn, this two guys named Chris is going to get confusing.) I've never been brave enough to go into a gay bar without him. I have a social anxiety fear that makes it where I don't like big crowds (as Chris can attest to), and I'm not comfortable with gay bars...especially in Houston.
I was starting the drive back from Conroe and Miami Chris called my cell, asking if I wanted to come out to the bars. I said I wasn't sure, and I was a ways away, so I'd call him later to see where they were. I had kind of planned to go back home and stay quiet. I had been up late a lot this week, and was looking to relax.
The drive back got me into a reflective mood. Why was it that I didn't want to go to the bar? It was more than the bad parking situation. As I considered going to the Montrose, it started to become a challenge. Could I break my fears? Could I take another leap? What were those fears, anyway?
The bars still represent dark scary places to me. I got to feeling that I wished I had come out earlier, that I would be more comfortable with this if I had. Of course this is bullshit, since I would have gone through the same thing, just a few years earlier. The fear comes down to the fact that there are other gay people there.
Really. I think that there's still some lingering homophobia and shame that I'm holding on to that's still keeping me in this box. A few weeks ago I wrote about my friend Jim who came out to me, then turned into a man that I was afraid of, because I saw something in him that scared me. I guess that there's still something in me that's trying to say no, I'm not like them. I don't want to be a part of that world. Something that isn't sure about the olive branch of acceptance, something that still screams out "alien".
Of course the atmosphere of the few bars I've been to don't help at all. Dark, smokey places filled with men that have something on their mind. I really hate the looks you can get as people are judging you. I won't be hypocritical, it's not like I've never judged someone on their looks, but when a part of your staying in the closet was simply the fact that you didn't feel attractive enough to be a part of the gay bar fashion show, the glances are very unnerving. I always feel that there are little checks and marks being made as I go through.
It's funny, unless I'm looking for someone, I'm rarely looking at anyone for the first several minutes in a bar. It feels terribly impolite to me. My eyes are usually down, or at best, trying to figure out where Chris is going. Only after I find a comfortable resting place with i finally take in the place and see what's going on. Still, I don't feel as comfortable people watching as I do other places. I like to just fade into the woodwork, unless there's dancing involved.
I get to the Montrose and start looking for a space, but just as my bravery starts reaching an all time high, I start feeling sick to my stomach. I had to pull out of the area, go to my office and take care of business. The miracle is, I didn't just turn for home, I actually drove back into the area, called Miami Chris and looked for parking. I sat in the car for about ten minutes before actually having the courage to open the door. The time was a little after midnight.
I walked the three blocks to the Ripcord. I had heard there had been some recent gaybashings in the area, and the quietness of the street was troubling. I took out my keys and put them between my fingers for self defense. I past a light pole that had several stickers warning about the bashings, but also saying positive things, like "We are here, and we are not afraid" and "gaybashers are homophobes". Well, the last one's not so positive, but you get the idea.
I reached the door, opened it, and waited to have my ID checked. I went into the dark, and started to look for Miami Chris. The crowd was certainly smaller than the one I saw when Chris and I came in for Pride. Still there was the awkwardness of trying to get around the groups of people. Perhaps I'm the only person who says "excuse me" as I try to pass, but it never seems to work. I always end up brushing into people and pushing them out of my way with my stout body, and I hate to do it. Violating my, or other people's personal space always makes me a tad uncomfortable.
I finally wind my way around the bar and see Miami Chris talking to a couple of the other Houston Bears. Richard, the aspiring comedian, greets me and starts talking. He's fun, but he can go on. Miami Chris' other friend, Andrew, I think, is very quiet. He goes by MacBitch on line, so yes, I did coax a few Apple Computer comments out of him. As I was talking to them, my back was turned to the bar. I wasn't ready to look at the crowd, or see if anyone was looking at me.
One other guy I recognized was there. He is a member of the Bears and was at Bearwatch. I can't remember his name, and I eventually managed to go say hello to him. He recognized me, but asked me for my name. I didn't have the guts to go back and do the same. He had his shirt off, and his jeans and leather chaps on. I wanted to tell him I thought they really looked good on him, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. I sort of made a bit of small talk and ran off, scared.
Miami Chris asked if I wanted to get a beer, and I said yes. We went to the bar and ordered. Miami Chris then said my leather coat looked appropriate here, and I had to say that yes, it does make me feel like I fit in a little more. I asked if he could tell that I was nervous. He politely said no, and wondered if I was going to be alright. I said that I was already here, so the major hurdle was leaped. It would be alright, but the beer couldn't hurt right now.
We went out to the patio, but the 40 degree weather had cleared most people off of it. Going back in, I finally looked more around, wondering about some of the people there. Some were good-looking, others weren't. Some milled about, others stayed in place. I wondered about one of the big leather guy who just stood there. He didn't look half-bad, but no one approached him, and he didn't talk to anyone. Was it that most people knew him and just steered clear of him? Strange. There there was the older guy who kept staring at everyone - creepy.
The oddest thing was to here a deep house mix of a Brittany Spears song. I really never expected to hear Ms. Spears in a leather bar. So much for expectations.
The smoky air was getting to Andrew, Miami Chris and me, so we took our leave of the bar and went to Ihop. The experience was over, and I had come out of it unscathed. Go me. Still, I can tell it's not quite the place for me, and no, I don't think I've conquered my fear, but it's getting better. I at least know what's bothering me. As I meet more and more people, it gets less and less scary. Everything's easier on a one-to-one basis. Crowds still make me squirm, but if someone asks me out to the bars for an evening, I might not try to slip out of it so much. I can live in this space, out of my little box.
I'd like bars to have more lighting, though. The dark cave thing just makes me cringe, but I know the reasons why.
Right now I just need to let this little piggy on my hand go home.
I know that I'm blowing this entirely out of proportion, but if you knew the nervousness I had, the self-doubts and the gas mileage I wasted, you might understand.
I went to a leather bar. Without Chris (
oakleycub). In my hometown.Friday night I had seen Miami Chris again, taking him out to eat, and then back to my place were we watched movies. Look out folks, he does have an LJ account. Miami Chris is an artist, as well as a computer programmer, and his journal is
dedos.Miami Chris mentioned that he was thinking of going out to the bars Saturday Night, and was arranging a ride to go, since his business trip has left him without a car (in Houston? You've got to be kidding!). I said that I was going to go out to see my parents, and might go to a bachelorette party I was invited to (but felt awkward about going to-sorry Jeannie!). Also, I don't really do bars.
I didn't say that any gay bar I've ever been to, I've been there with Chris. (Damn, this two guys named Chris is going to get confusing.) I've never been brave enough to go into a gay bar without him. I have a social anxiety fear that makes it where I don't like big crowds (as Chris can attest to), and I'm not comfortable with gay bars...especially in Houston.
I was starting the drive back from Conroe and Miami Chris called my cell, asking if I wanted to come out to the bars. I said I wasn't sure, and I was a ways away, so I'd call him later to see where they were. I had kind of planned to go back home and stay quiet. I had been up late a lot this week, and was looking to relax.
The drive back got me into a reflective mood. Why was it that I didn't want to go to the bar? It was more than the bad parking situation. As I considered going to the Montrose, it started to become a challenge. Could I break my fears? Could I take another leap? What were those fears, anyway?
The bars still represent dark scary places to me. I got to feeling that I wished I had come out earlier, that I would be more comfortable with this if I had. Of course this is bullshit, since I would have gone through the same thing, just a few years earlier. The fear comes down to the fact that there are other gay people there.
Really. I think that there's still some lingering homophobia and shame that I'm holding on to that's still keeping me in this box. A few weeks ago I wrote about my friend Jim who came out to me, then turned into a man that I was afraid of, because I saw something in him that scared me. I guess that there's still something in me that's trying to say no, I'm not like them. I don't want to be a part of that world. Something that isn't sure about the olive branch of acceptance, something that still screams out "alien".
Of course the atmosphere of the few bars I've been to don't help at all. Dark, smokey places filled with men that have something on their mind. I really hate the looks you can get as people are judging you. I won't be hypocritical, it's not like I've never judged someone on their looks, but when a part of your staying in the closet was simply the fact that you didn't feel attractive enough to be a part of the gay bar fashion show, the glances are very unnerving. I always feel that there are little checks and marks being made as I go through.
It's funny, unless I'm looking for someone, I'm rarely looking at anyone for the first several minutes in a bar. It feels terribly impolite to me. My eyes are usually down, or at best, trying to figure out where Chris is going. Only after I find a comfortable resting place with i finally take in the place and see what's going on. Still, I don't feel as comfortable people watching as I do other places. I like to just fade into the woodwork, unless there's dancing involved.
I get to the Montrose and start looking for a space, but just as my bravery starts reaching an all time high, I start feeling sick to my stomach. I had to pull out of the area, go to my office and take care of business. The miracle is, I didn't just turn for home, I actually drove back into the area, called Miami Chris and looked for parking. I sat in the car for about ten minutes before actually having the courage to open the door. The time was a little after midnight.
I walked the three blocks to the Ripcord. I had heard there had been some recent gaybashings in the area, and the quietness of the street was troubling. I took out my keys and put them between my fingers for self defense. I past a light pole that had several stickers warning about the bashings, but also saying positive things, like "We are here, and we are not afraid" and "gaybashers are homophobes". Well, the last one's not so positive, but you get the idea.
I reached the door, opened it, and waited to have my ID checked. I went into the dark, and started to look for Miami Chris. The crowd was certainly smaller than the one I saw when Chris and I came in for Pride. Still there was the awkwardness of trying to get around the groups of people. Perhaps I'm the only person who says "excuse me" as I try to pass, but it never seems to work. I always end up brushing into people and pushing them out of my way with my stout body, and I hate to do it. Violating my, or other people's personal space always makes me a tad uncomfortable.
I finally wind my way around the bar and see Miami Chris talking to a couple of the other Houston Bears. Richard, the aspiring comedian, greets me and starts talking. He's fun, but he can go on. Miami Chris' other friend, Andrew, I think, is very quiet. He goes by MacBitch on line, so yes, I did coax a few Apple Computer comments out of him. As I was talking to them, my back was turned to the bar. I wasn't ready to look at the crowd, or see if anyone was looking at me.
One other guy I recognized was there. He is a member of the Bears and was at Bearwatch. I can't remember his name, and I eventually managed to go say hello to him. He recognized me, but asked me for my name. I didn't have the guts to go back and do the same. He had his shirt off, and his jeans and leather chaps on. I wanted to tell him I thought they really looked good on him, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. I sort of made a bit of small talk and ran off, scared.
Miami Chris asked if I wanted to get a beer, and I said yes. We went to the bar and ordered. Miami Chris then said my leather coat looked appropriate here, and I had to say that yes, it does make me feel like I fit in a little more. I asked if he could tell that I was nervous. He politely said no, and wondered if I was going to be alright. I said that I was already here, so the major hurdle was leaped. It would be alright, but the beer couldn't hurt right now.
We went out to the patio, but the 40 degree weather had cleared most people off of it. Going back in, I finally looked more around, wondering about some of the people there. Some were good-looking, others weren't. Some milled about, others stayed in place. I wondered about one of the big leather guy who just stood there. He didn't look half-bad, but no one approached him, and he didn't talk to anyone. Was it that most people knew him and just steered clear of him? Strange. There there was the older guy who kept staring at everyone - creepy.
The oddest thing was to here a deep house mix of a Brittany Spears song. I really never expected to hear Ms. Spears in a leather bar. So much for expectations.
The smoky air was getting to Andrew, Miami Chris and me, so we took our leave of the bar and went to Ihop. The experience was over, and I had come out of it unscathed. Go me. Still, I can tell it's not quite the place for me, and no, I don't think I've conquered my fear, but it's getting better. I at least know what's bothering me. As I meet more and more people, it gets less and less scary. Everything's easier on a one-to-one basis. Crowds still make me squirm, but if someone asks me out to the bars for an evening, I might not try to slip out of it so much. I can live in this space, out of my little box.
I'd like bars to have more lighting, though. The dark cave thing just makes me cringe, but I know the reasons why.
Right now I just need to let this little piggy on my hand go home.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-12-07 11:05 pm (UTC)I think this is like anything new, and the aspects that make it different from others will, of course, be the ones that can easily get to someone, just because one's not accustomed to it.
I can understand some of what you say, as it really is a different world in a dark smoky bar, but so long as you're with people you're comfortable with, you'll be fine.