Confessions of an (Ex-)Go-Go Dancer
Confessions of an (Ex-)Go-Go Dancer:
I realize that this is not the problem that most people face.
I feel a little smaller than when I was go-go dancing; ending this blog makes me feel a little smaller, too. It's suffocating, living in New York, where the crush of people in a tiny space has a way of squeezing at the psyche. Living in America, land of SUVs and stretch limos and Hummers, land of Big Macs and their kin, I tend toward feeling invisible. There's so much pressure in this world, the natural tendency is to implode. I have to fight to take up space.
But I'm glad to be finishing the blog. It's nice to finish something, to say, "This is complete," and to move on to bigger things.
I started go-go dancing at an underwear party, hosted by the inimitable Daniel Nardicio. I didn't know that "underwear party" meant that people might take off their underwear. When I figured it out, I took off mine. I'm ending this blog after a bathhouse party, not hosted by Daniel, though he was present. I knew that it would involve more than just bathing. I was surprised that the vibe was so relaxed, that sex was not the reason everyone was there. I was certain that if you put a bunch of gay men in a room, their natural inclination would be to have sex. It's the law of gravity: bodies are naturally pulled toward each other. But I was wrong.
Sometimes invisibility has its advantages. It can be nice to go to a party and not be touched by strangers. Last night at Bana (too lazy to insert the tilda) was my first full night out since go-go dancing, and it was nice to be present without being at the center of everything. I was just the right size.
I think I might've lost everyone by now, but that's OK, because this is the end of my blog.
How to disappear completely
My brother commented yesterday that I look smaller than I used to. I think living in New York can do that to a person; as soon as I moved here, I lost ten pounds, completely by accident. If it weren't for H&M and the shrinking effect of the dryer, none of my clothes would fit.I realize that this is not the problem that most people face.
I feel a little smaller than when I was go-go dancing; ending this blog makes me feel a little smaller, too. It's suffocating, living in New York, where the crush of people in a tiny space has a way of squeezing at the psyche. Living in America, land of SUVs and stretch limos and Hummers, land of Big Macs and their kin, I tend toward feeling invisible. There's so much pressure in this world, the natural tendency is to implode. I have to fight to take up space.
But I'm glad to be finishing the blog. It's nice to finish something, to say, "This is complete," and to move on to bigger things.
I started go-go dancing at an underwear party, hosted by the inimitable Daniel Nardicio. I didn't know that "underwear party" meant that people might take off their underwear. When I figured it out, I took off mine. I'm ending this blog after a bathhouse party, not hosted by Daniel, though he was present. I knew that it would involve more than just bathing. I was surprised that the vibe was so relaxed, that sex was not the reason everyone was there. I was certain that if you put a bunch of gay men in a room, their natural inclination would be to have sex. It's the law of gravity: bodies are naturally pulled toward each other. But I was wrong.
Sometimes invisibility has its advantages. It can be nice to go to a party and not be touched by strangers. Last night at Bana (too lazy to insert the tilda) was my first full night out since go-go dancing, and it was nice to be present without being at the center of everything. I was just the right size.
I think I might've lost everyone by now, but that's OK, because this is the end of my blog.
posted by cockoholick at 5:27 PM
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