Dance to The Beat (pt 2)

The whole Mystery Tongue thing has happened before. In fact, it has occurred a few times this year, and each time, I wonder how it can happen without my realizing. How do I consistently return to conscious thought with someone’s tongue in my mouth?

He’s sloppy and inexperienced, but enthusiastic, so I go along with it. I want to stop soon enough, but I have reason to believe he’s new at this. Call me a nice guy, but I don’t want to make the boy feel cheap or used. I’d rather it feel good and special. So I persist.

Eventually, alcohol interfering with time perception, I break it off, and decide to look for my original friend. We find him playing a bizarro-world version of pool with a pack of bull dykes. He’s getting his ass kicked. French boy is all over me, and he appears to have gotten pretty attached pretty fast. I fear the clingy types, they me nervous. Luckily, a strange boy I’d never met or even seen before walks right up to me and gropes me for a good 30 seconds before walking off, never saying a word. Did my non-reluctance send a message? When he goes for a piss, I ask our friendly neighborhood bulldyke for advice. She tells me to tell it to him like it is.

Instead, we return to The Wickham, and promptly lose the guy who invited me. For a short while, it’s just me and The French. The floor is far more crowded this time, but its all older bear-types, and they’re starting to disrobe. By luck, we come across a pair of guys we’d talked to on the way in. They tell me Amsterdam has decided to ban pot smoking, and we get into a heated debate in which we all actually agree. I believe that requires alcohol, which I bum plenty of for free. The French is basically left out of the conversation as I try and see if I can get pot, pills, or sex from these guys. Instead, I get a phone number and the hint of potential in the future.

Back to The Beat. I look up, and The Village People are playing on a TV screen. This is too obvious, so I move on. I get more to drink, and bum more freebies, and my total gets pretty high. Allow me to explain:

I started pregaming on 2 beers. Then had what I believe 3 vodka bitters, but it could’ve been 4. Then a vodka and red bull at Wickham. 2 more vodka bitters at The Beat. Back at Wickham, I poached the latter half of someone's Smirnoff Black, then got one of my own. Then another beer. Then poached the second half of someone's vodka and red bull. And back at The Beat again, the latter half of someone else's beer. And the latter half of yet another Smirnoff Black. I'm enjoying the free booze.

Anyway, I challenge The French to a contest. Who can dance with the most strangers. Again, I’m hoping this sends a clear message. I take an early lead, but he accuses me of cheating when I dance with a bisexual girl. She takes it upon herself to teach me to dance. It never works.

I rediscover our original friend breakdancing on the floor with his shirt off. Whatever.

Somehow our contest has ended, and we’re dancing together again. Somehow we’re making out again. Somehow, I like it. I suppose I’m enjoying that he’s so into me, but it could just be the excessive drinking this evening. The kiss goes on, and becomes pretty sensual. Kinda sexy to an outside observer. He seems to be copying my lead, trying to learn from me, but considering the vast majority of my hookups have been drunken, sloppy, and unexpected, I can’t imagine I’m a great tutor. But he’s learning. As the kiss continues, it actually becomes downright romantic.

We exit the dance floor, and make out near the bar for what’s gotta be like half an hour. Persistent boy has won me over. But as the clock approaches 5am, I decide its time for Cinderella to go home. He wants to continue, move forwards, but I stop him. If I’m right about him, he’s pretty innocent. If I were in his shoes, I’d rather take it nice and slow. It’s my good deed of the week.

Take the bus home, we go our separate ways. Despite being on public transportation, I sneak in a goodnight kiss before his stop. As I walk home from mine with a case of self-imposed blue balls, I laugh a little. I intended to go to The Beat to meet new people, and I end up with the one I knew already. But I have to wonder if anything can come of this. We don’t seem to have much in common, besides raging hormones. Hell, I have trouble even understanding what he says most of the time. But maybe I should try. Perhaps take a chance, or put in some effort. I might be pleasantly surprised.