The Former Traveling Spotlight

The tales of a "30" something gay former stand-up comic living in NYC who is searching for his soul mate or soul...which ever comes first.

Friday, December 29, 2006

Boldly Moving into the New Year!

I've been a bartender off and on now for 18 years, which means that I'm very able to strike up conversations with strangers. It's part of the job requirement, followed by pouring a good drink and making sure people don't drive home drunk. Add to it that I'm Irish, and have the "gift of the gab" and it's easy to talk to any random person. Unless I'm on the other side of the bar. I hate going to bars by myself and will avoid doing so most of the time. Especially if they are crowded.

Yet I do go every once in a while, and almost every time I enter the same way. Walk into the bar, looking at all the faces as if I am looking for a particular friend. Realize that they are not there, so I the check the cell phone (like I'm checking the time or for messages) before ordering a drink. Then the game begins. Every time I feel stupidly alone, check the phone for a message and look towards the door (like that imaginary person is going to show up). This can be repeated every 10 minutes or so, but after 30 minutes, it has to stop. Otherwise you look like a fool still waiting for the person who stood you up.

I end up looking like that fool, thus I rarely go to bars by myself. Except for the other day. I was planning on meeting friends at a club at 7pm, but found myself in the vicinity at 5. I could have gone home, waited 30 minutes and then got back onto a subway to return, or tough it out and go wait in a bar. I chose the unhealthy option of waiting in a bar.

Now some gay bars will be packed by 5:15, as the after work crowd goes for the famed "happy hour" (an untruth as the specials last until 8pm). This particular bar wasn't the case, and by 5:30, the vast bar had possibly 30 people in it. I surveyed the crowd and realized that the man next to me was staring. Caught, he introduced himself.

"Sean" is an architect, and works in the city. Good looking, he stood at 5'9", and from the way his clothes fit, it was obvious he attends a gym regularly. We started talking about our backgrounds, movies we both liked, art, travel (he's been to Africa) and a number of other things. Our bar stools were moving closer as we continued our conversation, and that familiar sexual tension was beginning to build. Of course we were drinking, but not heavily. Rather we were both still nursing our first drinks of the night, although his drink was almost empty. I debated ordering another round when he made his move.

Placing his hand on my inner thigh, he laid a condom and a lube packet on the bar in front of me, and said:

"I'm going to go into the bathroom and wait in the very last stall for the next five minutes. If you were to take those two items and follow me in there, it would be worth your while."

I stared at the package, my mouth a little slack jawed, as he got up and walked into the bathroom.

What would you have done?

Patrick - 11:58 AM -

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