Realpolitik

People don’t tell you dancing is so political.

Being an American, I don’t get out to clubs that often; I don’t have a fake. Besides, I suck at dancing. I’m the whitest kid you know. So, when we decided to go to the International Bar, and I discovered there was also a dance club, I wasn’t sure how things would turn out.

Then again, who knows if this was a typical experience. Turns out we inadvertently showed up on Ladies Night. Which, in addition to drink specials, includes men dressed like girls and male strippers. One stripper took an Asian girl out of the audience, sat her on a chair, blindfolded her, and gave her a lapdance. Without actually asking for her permission or any advanced warning. . I’m sure some kind of law was broken here, but her look of shock blended with amusement was probably mirrored on my face.

We went rounds buying the group pitchers. I went with Toohey’s (please don’t hurt me). Chugging contests and Sambuka shots. I couldn’t do either. My dad loves sambuka straight-up, but it makes me feel vomit-ish. Considering we’d already pre-gamed with boxed wine (oh memories of freshman year…) we all felt healthy and ready to dance.

One of the girls had been eyeing this boy all evening, but suspected he was gay. I think it might’ve been his silver tie. Supposedly girls are good at noticing this, but apparently not. I suppose I threw the gauntlet first. When they went up to leave, I went up to him and started chatting. I would’ve very much enjoyed getting somewhere while she watched. It had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with how I appeared to her and those around us. Karma is a pain in the ass.

Straight of course, but I’d seen him with a girl beforehand anyway. I told you it was only to make her bristle. I sauntered back, leaned in, whispered “He’s straight. Go for it”, smirked, and walked off.

I went back for another drink, and ended up chatting with some Swedish guy. I guess he was waiting in line with me at the bar. He mentioned the stripper, and I suppose I nodded in agreement at something he said. Then he told me he visited The Beat the other night. The Beat is, as far as I know, the only gay club in Brisbane. In other words, the sketchiest place in Queensland. How Brisbane has fewer gay clubs than St. Louis is a mystery to me. Anyway, irrelevant. I figure maybe he’s prodding me for a reaction, but before I can respond in kind, he tells me he was sent there by accident, and its not really his place. I told him he should go back there and try to leverage some free drinks before ditching it for another bar in the Valley. Thanks Eric.

I’ve definitely noticed something strange about this place, but I’ll return to it some other day. I think before I can give you an answer, I’ll have to see The Beat firsthand.

Well, after dancing for a short bit solo at the fringe of the dance floor, it becomes time to pick. Dive in or crap out. I choose to take a breather. It’s too hot in here. I walk outside, and realized I’ve lost much of my ability to hear. I don’t care much. Instead, I walk next door, sit on the stairs, and fall asleep. 45 minutes later, the Swede wakes me up, apparently on his way out. Thanks, man. I return to the dance floor, in time to find half of our group going home. Against my better judgment, I stay.

Well, now I’m in the thick of things and dancing. But by dancing, I mean moving my hips and knees in a somewhat rhythmic fashion, while my arms are either down up, or one of each. Really, it’s a sad sight, but this is what alcohol is for. But at this point, I don’t want to be dancing by myself, so I just huddle into the group. Somehow I end up next to her, the one ogling earlier. She doesn’t notice me, as her back is to me. But the second she turns around, she moves across to the other side of the group. I’m confused, as I’m not even touching her. I guess she was angry. I think I guessed wrong.

Meanwhile, one of our other girls was getting harassed by a local. So one of our boys and I spent the next 20 minutes playing pass interference. Aren’t we there to enjoy ourselves? I looked at him with a smirk, essentially saying “We see what you’re doing, and you see we’re not letting you. Shoo.” Too bad he didn’t get the point.

More shifting around. I end up next to two girls. Again, they don’t notice me for a few seconds. Again, I’m not touching either. I’m simply swaying with my eyes closed. One sees me, motions to the other, and they walk away. Now I realize I was wrong.

My realization is broken by the return of the Swede. Didn’t he leave? Well, he comes up behind one of our girls, and puts his hand on her hips. But because he’s attractive, she’s ok. Yet, he spends his time looking at me. He could just be being friendly, as we chatted before and how he’s trying to mate with my friend. Or he’s interested in me, but is only with her to keep up appearances.

Is this what it comes down to? We spend our time watching other people, eyeing like predators. So its all about who you’re seen with. I thought the sketchy man was rejected because he was too pushy. I thought my friend walked away because I pissed her off. In reality, I think its just about appearance. She couldn’t be seen dancing with me. I’m not up to her dance standards. But he was ok because he was pretty and blond, even though I strongly suspect he’s only dancing with her to keep up appearances as well.

But I know I’m no worse. Isn’t that why I talked to Silver Tie before?

I take a step back, a step away from the harassed girl, the harassing boy, the protecting friend, the ditching friend, and the closet Swede. I close my eyes and sway. I’ve never wanted it before, but right now, I’d give my pinky toe for some Ecstasy.