Emerson Collins
EMERSON COLLINS | Contributing Writer
A gay guy walks into a gay bar. Alone.
That’s it. That’s the ironic punchline — because why on earth would he? For many gay men, the idea of going into a bar solo is a laughably ludicrous non-starter. We all know why. It’s because other gay men at bars can be absolutely terrible.
For the brave sole adventurer, the task of attempting to start a conversation with a stranger often takes internally repeating the mantra “you can do it”… or at least several Jager shots to get started. The main obstacle is the hostile air of unapproachability so many gay men project at bars. “Do Not Approach Me” practically glares in neon in the air above so many men. For anything. Certainly not for a proposition, but too often, not even for a drink or a friendly conversation.
For a straight man at a bar, women are the prospects and men are the competition. In a gay bar, every man is both prospect and competition until interaction is achieved.
There is no way to know without speaking to each other. This adds a strange murkiness to any attempt at conversation that doesn’t exist in straight bar culture.
It seems the narcissism that often grows as a result of our image-based first attraction leads many men to assume that any guy who smiles at them, walks up and says hello or offers to buy them a drink in a bar is basically asking for sex. Sure, they often are hoping that will happen eventually, but the overreaction is many times an unnecessarily harsh dismissal disproportionate to the overture. As if to say, “how dare he think he could have me?!” while sending the one who approached scurrying back to lick his wounds in the safe haven of a dark corner.
I’m not suggesting that engaging with every person who approaches you at a bar should be a requirement. There are many reasons people go to bars beyond the over-arching “looking for someone” theme. However, it should be possible to politely engage with those who approach you without arrogantly presuming their entire motivation is to sleep with you. Taking that attitude frees us of the need to let them know their dream of having us is never going to happen while making clear that no further interaction is needed or wanted. This posturing creates an environment of hostility that belies the welcoming atmosphere all specifically gay spaces should be to all gay people.
It’s worth remembering that for many gay men when they first come out, and often long before they come out to their friends and family, a gay bar is their first stop in dipping their toe into the waters of the gay community. They are the guys who walk the block several times before managing to actually go into the bar. When they finally do, they bolt for a drink they can nurse while standing to the side where they can observe this strange new world. The one we create for them when we project that air of cliquey supremacy can make them feel like they still have not found a place where they belong.
I know because, once upon a time, I was one of those guys. The first time I went to a gay bar on my journey to coming out was to Village Station (now S4). It was a Thursday night, because I was 20, and after I made it through the doors, I felt like I had entered Club Babylon from Queer As Folk. I was overwhelmed and terrified, so I hid up against the back wall for three hours and then went home, having spoken to no one. I repeated this behavior for weeks, never working up the courage to approach anyone. I secretly hoped someone would say something, but I was also petrified at what I could possibly say if he did. It took an amateur drag queen pulling me over to meet her friends for me to finally have a conversation with another gay guy in a public gay place.
Of course, that’s on me. I chose not to engage. But I also watched, and have continued to see through the years, the aggressively harsh way in which we often reject each other. It doesn’t have to be that way. Certainly, some guys are aggressive to the point of needing to be read aloud for the entire bar to hear, but many are just looking and hoping for a connection. Or a friend. Even if it isn’t going to be you, there is way to let a man down with the kindness and the respect you would hope to receive from someone else.
Too often, it seems we are content to stand huddled with those we came with, giggling and pointing at other groups or individuals as they pass. Those guys standing off by themselves, staring into the safety blanket of their smartphones and dating apps to give the appearance of being busy, don’t stand a chance.
Not every trip to a gay bar needs to turn into an LGBT welcome center meeting. We’re fortunate the larger cities have so many options other than bars where gay men can have their first encounters with the community. It’s even more amazing that so many young gay men are out long before they can legally enter a bar.
That said, it would behoove those of us who have been out and proud for a long time, or live in a city like Dallas with a thriving gayborhood, not to forget what it was like to be looking for friends. It would also help if we didn’t assume that every person who tries to start a conversation at a bar is trying to sleep with us, because — shocking, I know — not everyone is. When you assume it’s always the case and respond bitchily in advance to head off the pitch, it just makes you look like an ass. And, you might just be missing out on the opportunity to meet someone who is awesome. After all, if you really didn’t want to talk to anyone but the friends you already have, you could have just stayed home.
This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition May 2, 2014.
