A Night to Remember

Last night was bizarrely humorous. It was a night in which I had my ass grabbed not once, not twice, but three times...by a guy; a night which I secured the number of the only single, attractive, and heterosexual woman in the club...in five minutes; a night in which I met some random Americans on the street who asked me to go clubbing with them...and I declined; a night in which I somehow managed to lock myself out of my room at 3 am...and then had to wake someone up to get the master key. Yes, definitely a night to remember.

Easter Sunday is not exactly my pick of a club night or the perfect night to throw a big party. It wasn't my choice, however, so I made the best of it. One of the partners at the law firm is leaving to open an office in Moscow and he threw this giant gala (200+ people) at this gay nightclub. They rented out the whole club, so it wasn't like it was a free for all or anything. No, instead, it was 200 of he and his partner's closest friends. (I don't even think I know 200 people!) At any rate, as you would imagine, the crowd was about 75-80% gay. My mate the Roving Alcoholic and I played it fairly low key to start the evening, although things got rowdier later.

There's this thing about single gay men that are trying to pick up guys that I've observed previously and it seems to be universal over here. Whenever you're in a mixed crowd, you must first find out if the person you are interested in is gay or straight. So, there are various clues, but for those that simply aren't good at reading body language, the next step is to stand or sit near them. If they're interested, then I suppose it's game on. Anyway, as a straight man, I've experienced this sit near you strategy previously and there's really only one solution: talk loudly about girls. Case in point, last night, an obviously gay man came over unasked and sat at our table. My mate and I had been talking about girls anyway, so we just kept up our conversation. Moments later, he sensibly bolted.

Alternatively, however, there are some (usually pissed drunk) that can't seem to take a f*cking hint and need to have the stuffing knocked out of them. Later, when I was at the bar (there were free drinks for like 3 hours), another very obviously inebriated gay man introduced himself with a handshake. Now, I'm the gentlemanly type, so I said, "Hi, I'm Stephen, nice to meet you," as I quickly reclaimed my hand. Keep it cordial, don't shake too long, don't make too much eye contact - send signals that I'm happy to chat, but I'm not the droid you seek. Apparently, a knee to the groin would have been most appropriate. His response: "Oh, I'm [some name I forgot] and it's VERY nice to meet you..." Scoop drinks, turn, retreat to table.

Later, while standing near the bar (we got tired of sitting and wanted to mingle with some folks), I feel a hand grab my ass. I turn and it's that same guy. Now, I'm a handsome man, but I've already had a crossdressing burlesque singing wanna-be showgirl say, and I quote, "There's nothing gay about you." So I have it on fairly high authority that I don't give off a "gay vibe" or anything like that. But, Captain Ass Grabber couldn't see the picture. The first time, I gave a look of shock. The second time (a little while later), I gave a look of anger. Much later, he came back again. And this is when it dawned on me. I was responding like a girl. Not only should I have caused him some form of physical pain, I should have humiliated him for being a drunk f*ckbag trying to pick up a straight guy in a club FULL of single gay men, many of whom were more attractive than I am. And no, I wasn't flattered (well maybe a little bit but that was before this ass clown started playing a one-sided game of ass tag). Anyway, I saw him coming over so I moved to the other side of the group and avoided him. But he was a persistent little bugger and before I knew it I felt him grabbing my ass again. At this point, I had two options: Kick his ass or tell him to "F*ck Off". But because I'm not much of a jerk, no matter how much I wanted to be, I chose a third option. I turned, got right in his face and said, "That is so inappropriate. I'm not interested. Go away." Once again, I responded like a girl. But it worked and that's all that matters.

Just before we were leaving, I seized an opportunity to sit next to a pretty lady. Well, seized is probably the wrong term. In fact, that whole description makes it sound like I had this bold plan. To be truthful, I had been standing and talking for quite a bit of time and I was a little bit drunk. I saw this seat, I put my ass in it. Seconds later I realized there was this very pretty woman sitting directly in front of me, no more than 1 foot away (and probably less). I've always claimed to be an opportunist, so within moments we were chatting away. She's in her 30's, is a lawyer, has lived here for years, from Canada. Now, I'm not that interested (that isn't exactly a winning formula for me really), but she seemed nice and I might call her. Either way, I got the number within five minutes and that made me feel pretty good because I usually don't have that kind of game (unless their from the Far East or a former Soviet republic - don't ask).

When I left the club, my mate was just falling down drunk. That was so unusual because I've never seen him like that. I know he got home safe, but I don't know how. I turned around at one point and he was just gone. He probably got a taxi or something, but it was pretty damn funny to be in mid-conversation, turn, and see that you've been talking to yourself for at least a minute or two. No worries, Soho is a pretty safe (in a dodgy sort of way) neighborhood and I know my way around fairly well...when sober, that is. Really, I just turned the wrong way and ended up at Oxford Street which is where I met some Americans. I wanted to go home but one of them was really cute - in that American shortie kind of way (there is something quite pleasing about cute American girls - they make me hum without realizing it). But, she was very much interested in some other guy they had met at a previous club they were at and that was that. I wasn't going clubbing if she wasn't interested.

My memories of getting home are a bit foggy in that "I know how I did it, but don't remember the details" kind of way. I basically just put it into autopilot, found my bus, got as close as it would take me (I didn't want to wait for the 97), and walked the rest of the way home. When I got home, I immediately emptied my pockets as I was preparing to pass out. But then I decided I needed to pee, so I left my room, did business, and, there it is - no keys. Fortunately, there's a guy in the house who has a master key and doesn't mind much if you wake him at 3 am.

So, what did I learn from last night? Gay men like me. I don't like Ass Tag with gay men. If you just don't give a damn, pulling a girl is easy as hell, and never, ever leave your room without your keys. And finally, gay or straight, some guys just need the stuffing beat out of them on a regular basis.