Where’s The Party?

Once upon a time there was a teenager who didn’t know how to dance, he was never invited to parties because he was a nerd, he would watch over and over The Blond Ambition Tour on VHS and dream about being able to move like those back-up dancer did. He thought it was ironic that being Latino he moved like two left feet, but sports and physical exercise were never his good points.

One day, one of his best friends got «hired» as the official DJ for the parties, and since he knew this boy was the little ugly duckling, he tried to make his life in high school better. So he would invite him as his guest to whichever boom he was due to perform. He thought that would help his friend to get more social life. Besides there was always the slow tempo songs where boys and girls would be dancing together and that was a secure bet for the dance floor. Little did he know that girls were not interested in nerds back then, but the teen survived and managed to get some moves there. Being the best friend of popular girls has its pros. I think that is a huge spoiler alert about what this teenager is going to become.

Time passed by and he moved back to Spain to finish high school and go to university. Check Out Of Africa for more. He moved to a place where discotheques were opened till late night and gay people had their own places. So he looked for them and thought since no one knew him he could start from scratch. He could be like in those Madonna videos where they dance and have fun. So he tried. After all he knew all the choreographies from the BAT by heart.

The first time I went to a gay bar it took me two hours to get inside. I knew where it was because I had been sightseeing with my straight friends from the summer a couple of weeks before. I knew where to go, but not what to expect, and since I was 17 I thought it would be an issue. It wasn’t. After I found the courage to push open the door I went in and I was surprised. Vh1 videos were played and their music was in all the place. It was nice. I didn’t want to stay too long on the front step so went directly to the bar and asked for a soft drink. They never asked me my age. I thought I would take the drink and hide in the shadows to look what other people did.

I can remember the first time I went to a bar it surprised me it had a part of it dedicated to intimacy or to put it bluntly they had backrooms. Like in that Madonna video Deeper and Deeper but kind of more creepy. So the practical thing it implied was that you can consume there whatever you found on the dance floor or, to be honest, in the surroundings of that dark area. So why not try it? It could be fun. It was fun.

I learned quickly that meeting people at the bar or on the dance floor was OK, but it was more effective if I used my body to lure them. Although I was not as ina. Good shape as I would be in my twenties or thirties it seemed there was a market for a teenager like me. It was a win win situation where I would meet new people, maybe a boyfriend, and not be the awkward guy that tried to mimic some movies from the videoclips on the TV screen. I was kinda popular back then. There was always someone offering to bring me back home so I could keep the cash for the taxi for myself. I must say back then all those scary stories we see in Criminal Minds or CSI didn’t exist. So I was oblivious of the danger I could have been in. Nothing bad happened.

Going to university wouldn’t change much. Although there were the classic Thursdays to party, they called them Fiestas erasmus and were only for students. They would drink and go out most of the night and then sleep all Friday until time to go out again. I didn’t like them. No gay guys in my friends list so going to see straight guys get hammered was not fun. Plus they would never try those storylines you see in the porn movies. So I would skip that day. My idea would be to go out Friday and Saturday. One of which would be with my classmates and the other on my own. With them it was drinking and dancing, and alone it would be searching for fun.

I think it is then when I created a pattern of partying that I dragged until some years ago and that made me hate going out. Back then it was crystal clear for me that a weekend I didn’t go out was a wasted one. I had to go out and hunt for someone to take me out of my loneliness. My friends were not that close, they didn’t know half of what I was. I didn’t come out of my shell at all. I thought I did, but it was a lie. I felt alone all the time. My boyfriend, when I had one, was not my soul mate. My classmates were unaware of all the tragedy I had to deal with back then. Only a couple of friends knew part of it, and still they never got close enough for me to feel loved. So I looked for that comfort in strangers and basically one night stands.

Party time was just an excuse to try to meet people, and back them if you wanted to hook up with someone you had no choice but to go out. There were no apps or Internet websites to find the locals. Yes, chatrooms existed, and it was the beginning of what we know now, but it was different. I’ve always felt like I am more interesting behind a screen than in real life. So for me it was the place to be to meet people. I had to go out. Music changed, then played less and less the tunes I liked, and more and more the empty melodies we have now. Clubbing was not even for the dancing anymore.

One thing I learned very early is the concept of sales, when you go out. This is how it goes. In the first part of the night. Everyone is fancy dressed and looking sharp and wants to show off as much as possible, and if they are with their friends or group, they will look at you from above their shoulders but never ever dare you talk to them. Oh, and don’t stare too much either. Then there comes a time, when the night is passing and getting closer to its end, when they lower their expectations, mostly because they are drunk and horny and they feel they have to be with someone before the end of night so they can reassure their self image. They want to hook up with anyone that can make them forget how hollow and shallow they are. Been there, done that. Although I always felt that being the half priced reward didn’t make me happy. So I would leave the disco way before that. Some people I met to go out back then used to tell me to take advantage of that period of the night and play by the rules. I felt I deserved better.

Then came the era of the dating apps on the phones. Everyone would go out, as previously, but as soon as they got to the places they would open the app and hunt for guys in the vecinity. It was faster and easier to find the match for the night. Dealing with guys through the screen was never my thing. So it was pointless to go through all the getting dressed and sharp to go out for that. I could do the same from home and skip that part. Plus the music was not good.

Little by little I stopped going out. The bars and discos I used to go started closing down. The new places didn’t feel welcoming. I got to the point where I don’t even know where to go. The last time I went out with a friend, here in Alicante, we just stayed outside talking and having fun so we didn’t even got inside. I remember how bad it was going out when people could smoke in bars, I remember how it changed with the new laws and we thought it would be better. I remember that it was but it wasn’t really for me. The dancefloor was never my place.

Now, when we travel out, my fiancé and I, we go out to bars, but neither of us were very good clubbers so it feels more like a social obligation than anything else. We get there, have drinks and head back to the hotel. For me all the purpose of going out is gone, I have him. Finally.

I know people my age that have the moves like Jagger and get into the groove. That was never for me. I know that now. And just like that I came to terms with me never going to be the dancing queen.

December 2022