Evening at The George, Dublin
Naomi and I decided to go out dancing at The George tonight (the local gay bar). This was a great bit of craic. It was a real gay bar; meaning over 90% of the clientele were male. -Really gay. Not the way Rumors metamorphosed on some nights. I danced with a succession of hot (gay) male dancers, each pretty amazing in their own way. I was surrounded, once more, the creature they watched; I won’t say adulated. I was treated to the best they offered. The preeners kept their distance. The ones who approached me were purely into dancing, though this was incorporate into their respective personas.
The first was one of those beautiful creatures, meaning he was not good-looking or gorgeous, he was beyond that. He approached so very tentatively; we spent the better part of three songs pretending we were ignoring each other, sidling at off set angles. Then one of those gay anthems that only a gay club could dare to express as such inside the irony camp came on, tempting me to nearly walk off the floor (not knowing it was an anthem), but against my normal judgment, I stayed. This in turn liberated my secret companion, made him flamboyant, gleefully feminine, but it was not affectation, nor was it parody; he wasn’t preening, which really struck me. For him it was purely liberating to behave how he felt, and it was the first time I saw the pure distillate of this anthem in action as he lip synched all the words with total expression as if singing it himself, fully free of any inhibition or hint of embarrassment, or even irony. Past those thresholds you can behave however you feel. The paradox being in participating in the song fully inside that liberation, he actually did mean it. So the light clicked on as I was his recipient; he was performing for me in the moment, whereas I satisfied myself in being its movement, a form of reciprocity, and in that there was a great mutual happiness. For me it felt like fully cracking a secret, and then it was over.
The next was a more gender neutral dance, but then he would start into the song too. He was young (estimate at least nine years younger), boyishly handsome with a pure clean look, and a T-shirt that said, “Fcuk Fear”. It was a similar dynamic and we flew on it too. At the end we stood and he kissed my cheek and said “Thank you”.
They don’t turn on until you turn them on, until they find someone they can be turned on with. Then they blow your head with what they can do. I had guys who I’d seen all night who appeared to be doing nothing out of the ordinary, but when they joined me turned into virtuosos with moves I could hardly imitate. The next was Gordon, and this one played sexual. He had a very complex contrasting chest/hip isolation that worked in reverse of the usual that I found very difficult to follow (not too apparent in the fact that I did it), though once or twice I stood and stared and shook my head. It was a little reminiscent of the Tango. He was the only one to make me feel at all self-conscious, or make me slide into a bog of imitation. This dance was body to body close. He got to play the coach a little. He would say things like “Go down”. “Bend backwards”, and agreeably I would. I could do all of it. Not necessarily with the same complexity in the hips. I’d have to have been in classes, though the moves impressed me as his own. We had small parts of conversation. When he found out I was from Canada, he said, “I really need to move to Ontario.” He was the only one (other than a lesbian) who found out I was straight. Naomi and I were playing too, dancing together. So Gordon asked why I was in a gay bar, and I explained about Matt et al and the Rumors phase. Then we got downright lewd. (-At least in my estimation which is not too much.)
The next was not too close and he danced purposely like a woman, a slow motion sexy chanteuse flamenco cat. I vamped him right back, more so. He was a drinker who floated around me vicariously the rest of the night. There was a lot of such vicariousness: I don’t feel touched by it, but there is the sense that everyone is drinking it in. Opposed to a straight place where all of the participants (in Ireland at least) would be all over you, it feels comparatively harmless. Fcuk Fear would kiss my cheek every time he passed. “Hello, crazy girl.”
Another was the best kept secret. He turned out to awesomely good. The dance was neutral, we drank on its proficiency; he was turned on by how good (he was being, not just witnessing me); he played to his own moves, inside he was a charismatic vamp. Naomi could feel this being generated from several feet away, the sexual charge. She said so later. Then he vanished. Fcuk Fear belatedly returned and we spent several songs together in the same vein. He lip synched “It’s only with you I can be free”. In the context it packed a wallop, because in the moment with me he was, (not to mention on this night it had worked for me vise versa because I was there).
All in all I have rarely had that much fun in a gay bar and given the environment, in terms of the vibe I felt coming in, this was a surprise, because there is an overlying veneer of sensation of preening, affectation, sexual perversion, and closed emotion, that on entry I’ve found nigh overwhelming to the point where it’s brought me close to fleeing the establishment within minutes. Rarely can you walk through another circumstance where you feel so utterly redundant to the people present. I encountered over and over the blankness inside their stares, but the rictus grin I’ve seen only them give is far worse.
But I suppose the irrelevance is related to the haven, for being relevant to men is a constant siege of misperception and of being reduced to their images. -Or usury. But this was no more than dancing and it was liberating to be in that context where you can be, and be yourself, and be as sexy as you can or want to be, without the worry of being sexually assaulted. That was the week’s tip money, but highly satisfying.
The evening closed with two bottles of wine supplied by Eoin and Eoin himself. We smoked a joint of green together and it was a lovely evening. -The Full Moon.
I forgot we smoked up together before too. I discovered a bad pain in my back, just casually rotating my shoulders. I knew I would have to exercise before going out dancing anyway, so as Naomi showered I went upstairs to deal with it. By doing totally concentrated isolations I managed to isolate the point source of the pain, and actually ricocheted it, slowly, through about seven point sources in my back, tracing through to the final one. It was an incredibly liberating experience. It took remarkable strength and some discipline. It was so intense it was audibly punctuated. Release the pain. (-Very Carefully.) I did that once on the speaker, eliminated chronic pain from an injury (the bicycle accident), not just the usual back pain. Thomas was there that night with Ivy.
I laughed aloud I was so pleased. I graduated these concentrated motions into dance, beauty. I delved into muscles I hardly use or feel, explored my entire body, and rejuvenated it. I have to get back to this. It is the wellspring of health. Given that was my start it is no small wonder the evening was a good one. I exulted in the pure joy of my own self-made activity, restoration. I was myself, purely myself, and hadn’t felt so in a long time. -Unaffected and happy.
