The Realm

I am pretty sure we all like doing things that are out of the ordinary. A gift from God that gives more spice to our life, giving us a challenge that may not help us in our career, but improves our emotional outlook in life. Valeting is a good example of this, you get to drive really expensive cars and occasionally see celebrities. Being a bartender could be someone's dream. Mine was thrown at me this past weekend and I never realized how much I really wanted this, yet at the same time was never so intimidated of this realm of the gay community until now. The realm I am talking about lies not in the gym, nor is it in the gay pride parade, but in the clubs...in the go-go dancer realm.

If you are picked to be a go-go dancer, not only does it mean that you are way hot, and have some really hot dance moves, but it also shows you are what people want. You are what people pay 4.15 a gallon at the gas pumps from various parts of San Diego County to see.

On Thursday, I was asked to audition to be a go-go dancer. He left me his phone number and told me to call him back. I called him on Friday and he didn't pick up his phone. So I figured: It was at least worth a shot.
That night, one of my best friends went to that club that night and was picked to be a dancer. He had a private audition and within minutes he was up on the podium. He was the club's new go-go dancer. He told me this as soon as he found out.

This made me want to do it even more. Because it would show that I would have some support. So I called the guy one more time, and he arranged for me to audition last night. When I confirmed this audition, I started blasting DJ Nikno's mix and was dancing around the house with it. As I was driving up there, I don't think I have ever been that nervous in my life. I mean this nervous feeling I was having was worse than my anxiety I had at graduation. When I get to the club, I begin looking for my contact. When I finally found him, he shook hands with me and took me to the back room. On the way there, I see my best friend dancing. He looked really good dancing up as the different hues of colors were outlining every muscle on his body.

We entered the back room. And entered one of the rooms. He told me to take off my pants and show him the underwear I was wearing. Now mind you, I don't wear briefs and hate the feeling of having some part of my body feel like its being plastered to the rest of my body.
Well he had me change into something else more pleasing. And nothing says pleasing like a jock strap and a super tight ass speedo. He gave me a necklace with skull and cross bones and began walking me back to the floor. He has me stand up on the podium and leaves me with an assignment: "you have two songs. Get to work." I begin dancing. My body starts cramping up, I was so nervous. DJ Nikno is mixing Eurythmics. I try to psych myself up. Looking down at the people below me. Suddenly I realize something that still haunts me now.

A go-go dancer is in competition with the others. Trying to do that special dance that will give him more tips. Hoping that the people in the club are feeling hormonal enough to touch my legs having it slide up to my abs as they push that dollar bill into my speedo. A dancer also knows that if you aren't showing the energy, no one else will. So I would have to be dancing to my full potential for four hours. Maybe it was the overabundance of adrenalin flowing, or the nervous feeling I was having, but I was getting overwhelmed and exhausted.

But as a person that has a hard time struggling with who I am still, I would have to be fighting to keep my body up to pleasure material with the other guys. When I walked backstage, I really didn't feel comfortable nor welcomed there. Because in their eyes, they see me as yet another threat to not get enough tips. So they have to outwit me into getting more tips than I. If I fought for four years trying to prove something to Biola, do I really want to work overtime with my wit to get 20 bucks in tips?

The go-go boy grabbed me and took me back to dressing rooms. I was done, didn't recieve any tips. My best friend was back there getting dressed into something else. Seeing him I felt welcomed to even be there. When they kicked me out of the dressing room and back onto the dance floor, a bunch of people were coming up to me telling me how hot I was up there but they didn't want to tip me because they were nervous. Well their dollar bills could have given me a job.

I watched my best friend dancing up on the stage. Maybe it was the lights flashing and the fog diffusing the laser lights, or maybe it was because he just has the hottest body in the world, but he looked so hot dancing. I admit it, I have a major crush on this guy. Watching every muscle in his body contract with every motion of his body. It's in times like these that make me want a camera so I can film what I see.

As much as I want to be a dancer for this club, I know that it is not the right thing to be in. When I was up on the dance podium. I felt so self-conscious. Like every piece of fat that I had on me was jiggling to my disadvantage. The adrenalin made me up and excited, but it left me with no dance moves to seduce the crowd. This realm is dangerous because it could lead to me doing whatever it takes to get that body that will have people wanting more. There is alot of pressure and vanity to being a gay man.

I am proud of one thing though. I am proud that I had the guts to call this guy, actually drive over to San Diego in my parent's beat up Volvo and get my ass on the podium wearing only shoes and a speedo and have 7 minutes of fame. It felt good, and the feelings/emotions/endorphins rushing through my body was intensely addicting.