The Night I Slept With A Go Go Dancer
Episode Seven


It began with the best of intentions; I was trying to break some old patterns for myself and had decided to try and see if I could find a gay soccer league in the Valley. This was due to the fact that I was tired of trying to meet guys in the same bars and my personal ads weren't cutting it. So I decided that I would put a post up on the community pages of Craig's List to see if anyone out in the World Wide Web knew of such a thing. If not then maybe I could see if enough people were interested enough to try and get something started.

While I was perusing the various other community ads I stumbled across one about how a club event was looking for people who wanted to come and dance for their promotion. It seemed kind of interesting and different so I figured I try and see what I could get out the deal. I guessed it was probably an attempt to stack the club with people to make it look popular—no cover and all you have to do is show up and being there. I just had to show up and dance—something I liked to do.

So I emailed the contact listed and promptly forgot about it. Mostly because it was my last free week before BB went into full swing and there was a bunch of holiday events coming up that weekend so I was busy. The next day I received an email back from a guy named Joe who seemed interested in having me at the club but he wanted a bit more information about me.

Without giving it too much thought, I responded to his email with a photo and a quick bio of myself. It wasn't until I was talking about the story later that I realized that this might not be about stacking the club but maybe something more. I figured I would just wait and see what happened next plus the event was a few days off so I might be at BB and I might not even be able to follow through on the deal.

I spent the next day hanging at Johnny and Kelly's house for the Fourth of July where we drank and eat and soaked our feet in a wade pool. It was a lovely night but when I got home that evening I had a new email from Joe. He explained what type of dancer he was looking for, how the tips would work out and that it was the next night at a local bar. He also told me that I was very cute and exactly the type of person he was looking for. I was a bit startled that I had been offered a job. A go go dancing job.

So before I went to bed I made a couple of calls to various friends for advice because I didn't really know what to think. And the next day as I was out shopping with Kelly and Valeska I finally broken down and told them all about the go go offer even though I wasn't sure what the response would be. I mean I was in my 30's, at best stocky and at worst chubby, and I didn't really need to be a dancer for the cash. Of course they were both all about taking the chance and, between their words of encouragement and Edie's supportive phone call, I was on the fence but leaning towards possibly saying yes to the offer.

The only thing that concerned me was that it was also the birthday of a causal friend of mine and we had all planned to go to a local bar to celebrate. So if I didn't want to follow through on the dancing I could head out to the party but then Valeska and Kelly would know that I had chickened out. For some reason the idea that I could be judged for NOT being a go go dancer seemed to bother me just as much as the idea of dancing.

After Valeska dropped me off at the apartment I went in and reread the details of the gig. Joe basically said that it wasn't meant to be super intense—I could check out the scene for a bit before I decided, I could dance as much as I wanted and there would be someone else dancing as well so I wouldn't be alone. If there was a perfect scenario then this might be the best way to give go go dancing a shot. Instead of making a choice about the matter—I took a nap.

When I woke up I realized that I had little more than an hour to make my decision one way or the other—either off to the birthday party or off to the nightclub. I still didn't know what I wanted to do and spent a good amount of my time weigh the pros and cons while watching 'What Not To Wear' and pretending I had ample time to decide. I was racking my brain on what to do when it occurred to me to try and call Samuel. Out of all the people in my life, I believed that Samuel not only would get my dilemma but would also be the first to really get to the root of my insecurity issues with my body and other gay men. So I took a shot and gave him a call even though it was kind of late on the East Coast.

After a long talk—which involved a myriad of reasons that Samuel knew I would be great not only at the event but great in general—I decided I should just go and try. The worse thing that could happen was that I would either be fired by the promoter or would freak out and just leave. While neither was appealing I figured that I should give it a shot and it would be a great story for down the road.

Without any more internal debate, I quickly showered, shaved and pulled together a bag of things to bring with me. I wasn't quite sure what to wear so I packed a handful of choices along with some hair product and an extra pack of cigarettes. I figured the more options the better as I made my way out the door as quickly as possible. I would arrive at the club close to when the promoter need me there and would figure everything out once I was in the moment.

Now a quick side note—some people who know me might be surprised that anyone would want me to dance in next to nothing on a stage in a club. Not because I am unattractive but because I am a stocky chubby guy more suited to giving tips more than making them. But the event I was going to was a 'bear and cub' party which is the kind of party thrown for the opposite of the usual gay man. This was not a night for metrosexual boys who weigh 110 soaking wet but for the average gay men of all types. Some people would assume this meant fatties who tipped the scales (and it does include that) but this also included stocky guys, built and hairy guys, guys that would be the type that when someone hears they're gay they might pause and go 'really'? More my speed than the usual twinkie fest of gays boys.

Making my way to the club I couldn't believe what I was intending to do. I wasn't so much second guessing myself as much as I was weighing out the entire thing in my head. I was possibly too old. I was possibly not hot enough. I didn't need to do this. I could be on a stage and dancing in my underwear for a bunch of strangers. (Or possibly people I knew from the various club nights out.) I wasn't sure how I would feel about the whole deal afterwards—hell I couldn't figure out how I felt about it beforehand.

As I stood on the curb outside the club, I had one last cigarette and sent out one last text to my various supporters. That being done I finally made my way through the door into the very crowded event. I met with Joe, who was incredibly nice (as was the rest of his team), and made my way upstairs to the dressing room. He encouraged me to take my time, maybe scope out the club before I decided to get myself up on the stage where I would be dancing. I couldn't help but be nervous as I wandered the full club; I checked out who was there to get an idea of what type of men could possibly be watching me. I eventually came to the dance floor itself where my partner in dancing was performing. I don't know what I was expecting but I was definitely thrown off.

Turns out my fellow go go dancer was exactly what you would imagine him to be—he was black and sexy with a great body. I decided to watch him dance for a bit to see how the crowd was reacting to him and was amazed by his performance because it sucked. And when I say sucked I mean he was pretty just doing the shuffling of the feet and not really dancing. I knew I could better than that and my competitive side kicked in. My only concern was that he was dressed in cut off sweatpants and not really wearing anything that revealing. I had only brought revealing clothes.

As Joe came to talk with me, I quickly asked him if there was a dress code I was unaware of and he assured me I could wear whatever I wanted as long as I was not giving it all away. I could feel myself blush as he then told me that he and the other dancer had worked a schedule for the both us—we would be dancing in 30 blocks and mine would be starting in 15 minutes. I made my way through the crowds and headed outside for one last gasp of fresh air before it was time for me to return upstairs to change.

Sitting in the ready room, I took a moment's pause before I changed clothes. My entire life I have struggled with body issues and realized that this moment could be a make or break. I was about to put a huge part of myself out there for show and needed to steady my nerves. What if this was the wrong thing to do? There was a million reasons why I didn't need to do this… A quick breath later and I found myself changing rather quickly into my boxer briefs and tank top—it was just about time for me to relieve the other dancer.

I won't lie and say it was easy to walk through a crowded nightclub wearing next to nothing. Clad in boxer briefs, comfortable (if stylish) sneakers and a black tank top, I had to maneuver my way through throngs of people. I tried to be all smiles and saunter as I heard a chorus of wows and cat calls; these guys would be the ones to give me money and so I had to be playful and friendly, confident and engaging. I found myself almost zoning out as I pushed my way past club goers and headed up to the main stage.

Taking my first steps on the stage, I was unsure of how to start but after a bated moment I felt the music as the songs switched to a Rhianah dance mix. The part of me that loves music and lives to dance began to take over and I almost forgot that I was on stage as my feet, hips, arms and legs all began to match up with the rhythm. It wasn't until an awkward moment involving my boxer briefs that I was fully aware that I was officially a go go boy with the crowd of admirers to prove it.

As the songs drifted in and out of each other I could feel the soreness building in my thighs as the dancing continued. There was a slight burn that crept up my limbs as I kept to the rhythm and I came to realize that I needed to work on my transitions between songs with small shuffling steps to keep myself going. It takes a lot of energy to be a go go dancer but it was kind of amazing to stare across the crowded room as various guys danced with and smiled at me. It made me feel like I was a bit of a star—even if I felt a bit exposed at points.

The first block (half hour) seemed to fly by and soon it was my turn to take a break. I was caked with sweat as I made my way through club and up to the backroom dressing area. I may be dancing in my underwear but I wasn't playing on hanging out in the bar in my boxer briefs between dances. I grabbed a water and my shorts before heading back to the club to try and watch and learn more from my go go partner. I had found my zone and was in it.

Standing on the edge of the dance floor I watched as he worked the crowd much better than I had with the flirtation aspect of the dance. He would smile and play along—lean in and out of the guys reach—play with the line between dancing and seduction. I could feel myself taking notes as I came back on to the stage. I found myself pulling a slight stripper move—I did a quick twist that resulted in my shorts coming down and off me in a flash. One of the guys in the audience rewarded me with a few bucks for my effort and I felt myself slip back into the steps and spins but with more of an awareness of the guys watching me. I used my moves and my smile to get in close and away as I towered over the club goers—just a bit close to the edge of both stage and clothing as I continue my turn on the block.

The night seemed to end too soon as the lights went up to more blocks later. I was tired and sweaty but also happy and giddy as I stepped of the stage, pulling out singles from various parts of my body. One of my bigger tippers came up to me—which was a bit weird—to talk. As I stood by the fan he asked me about how hard it must be to be a go go boy and without any thought I said the following:

'It's easy once you let your hangs up go.'

And it did feel easy as I stood drinking my water and adjusting my clothes. I couldn't even remember how scared I was to come up on the stage or how hard it was to even make my way through the crowd in next to nothing. There was a point somewhere in the dance where I just let all my preconceived notions of myself just drift away. I became the type of guy confident enough to dance the night away for the entertainment of others. It was really more about myself in that moment than anything though and hard to explain. I smiled and patted the admirer on the arm as I made my way back upstairs to pack up.

Finally making my way home in the chill of night, flushed and sweaty, I couldn't help but pleased with myself. I had taken all these words that I often heard in my head and proved them wrong. I had gone from feeling fat and unattractive to being the type of man confident enough to just put himself out there and damn the world in the process. It made me think less about body issues and more about the type of person I was in general.

So many times in life we use words to give us meaning; not just the negative words but the more dangerous and less obvious ones. We use words to articulate not only description but also definition—not just how we are but who we are. Doctor, lawyer, Indian chief—married, single, loved—sibling, friend. Somehow we become attached to these simple little inventions that we use them as a way to box ourselves in just as much as to give us dimension. We decide not only things we are to be but use those same things to decide who we can't be as well. A college educated guy with a solid career who can support himself isn't the type to become a go go dancer. He doesn't need to dance in his underwear; he shouldn't want to have to do that for money, he should know better and do better.

But as I thought about it I wondered why we chain ourselves into certain ways of being. If I wanted to dance, why shouldn't I dance? A very smart person told me once that 'the universe always says yes—we are the ones who say no' and I continually find that to be true the more I try and do. I can be a millions things—we can all be a million things—as long as we choose them ourselves.

And as I climbed into bed that night I had another first. I was spending the night with a sexy little go go dancer from the local night club. And that hot little number was me.