QColumn: A Gay In The Life: Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go

Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go
By Steve Prince
“Are you coming?”
Cody looked at me.
“Huh?” I looked at him over my pasta.
“Are you coming on Saturday?” Cody asked shoving a forkful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. I don’t understand how someone with a body that ripped can eat so much crap and still look good.
“Cody is dancing at MJ’s on Saturday,” Alex said with his usual air of excitement. And in usual Alex fashion, he added an “Ooooohhh!” while gingerly poking Cody’s side.
“Sugar, I didn’t know you still danced,” I said. It was just months ago that Cody had told me that he was giving up dancing.
“I’m too old for it,” he told me with a soft wave of his palm. This was so not the reality. Cody is gorgeous, and he was only thirty-three. Anytime he raised his shirt, I felt that statues in Venice would be jealous of his sturdy, defined stomach. Cody looks like a man. He has a small waist, but in no way would I describe him as skinny. Although, he really isn’t beefy either. Honestly, his body just looks perfect—if there is such a thing. Still the weird part is, I don’t see Cody as that sexual. Don’t get me wrong, Cody is very erotic, but I’m just not attracted to him. He’s my friend.
It makes me wonder about the porn stars that I enjoy so much: Colby Keller, Leo Giamani, Blake Harper, Alan Gregory—I kind of forget these people are… well, people. I forget that they go to the grocery store, they have good days and bad, they have to pay their bills just like I do. Even now as I write this, my mind is wandering to a vision of Coby Keller lying on a bed while Leo Giamani rims his ass. Ha! That’s what they do in their spare time… isn’t it? No, of course not… right?
Sex sells, no one can deny that. And it seemed that Cody knew exactly which club offered the best sale. A week later, Alex, Omar, and I wound our way through the crowd at MJ’s, a trendy bar in Silverlake. The theme of the night was RIM JOB and it seemed that the dancers took this to heart; their asses were completely exposed. Through the haze of fog and lights, I looked at a dancer to my right, his arms entangled in leather straps and his groin covered in some type of chain-linked material which let his dick bounce like a marionette. I stopped and gawked transfixed on his cum gutters. A thought swam into my head before I could sensor it, What if I just licked his stomach?

Hypnotically, I moved to test my theory when I felt a tug on my left arm. I turned to see Omar smiling and shaking his head. We followed Alex leading the way to the back bar. For such a short distance, I felt we were on a quest to find Cody; like a gay—or well gayer—Lord of the Rings. MJ’s was packed. Slowly, we squeezed through the crowd like bubbles floating through molasses. Half-naked men were everywhere; I’d never seen so much oil in my life. There were dancers for all types: bears, twinks, muscle boys, leather, and in the back was Cody. As the music pumped, his fingers clutched the rim of his trucker hat. He reminded me of a modern-day dandy in a top hat. Cody’s body echoed his bumped up workout schedule of late. As he danced, his abdomen rippled under his skin like the muscles of a tiger. I, of course, immediately felt inadequate.
“Here,” Alex said handing me a vodka soda. The three of us clinked our glasses and toasted to the night. And then, like mimicking robots, we scanned the bar in earnest.
After we had perused the crowd, Omar leaned forward. “Let’s go talk to Cody.” And so we shuffled passed the two men making out beside us and worked our way across the dance floor to Cody’s, er, dance station… I guess that’s what it’s called. Alex began dancing as soon as we hit the dance floor. With precision, he gyrated to Cody’s station, while holding his drink up in the air and checking out the other men on the dance floor. The boy had talent. I bumped into others awkwardly, spilled half of my drink on some guy with eyeliner and a face tattoo, and almost tripped into Omar’s back.
“Heeeeey!” Cody squealed as we approached his platform. He bent down on his knees to greet us. “Thanks for coming, ladies!”
“You are totally the hottest guy here!” Omar yelled over the music.
“Definitely,” Alex said, while I nodded my head in agreement.
For a while, we chatted like hens in a hen house, only gleaning fragments of one another’s conversation over the loud music in the bar. Finally, Cody hopped down from his platform.
“I need a smoke,” he said with a wave of his hand for us to follow. “Let’s go out in the back.”
The four of us snaked through the crowd towards the back of the bar; I, of course, spilled my drink again. Through a dingy hallway, Cody opened a side door. “I’m going to change and then I’ll meet you guys outside.”
The three of us veered right and headed to the patio. I breathed in cool dry air, a relief from the humid pounding of the bar. To the side of the patio was a small bar cornered by a crowd of patrons. Tall round bar tables rose from the concrete floor as conversations milled around them. However, the highlight of the patio bar at MJ’s was the shower.
In the far back of the patio, stood a plain fiberglass shower. Not a fancy tiled spa or a Venetian inspired bath, just a plain fiberglass shower that looked like Joe the Plumber had just brought it ’round back the day before. A green garden hose wormed its way through the grass, up the back of the tub, and poked it’s head through the hole where the shower head should be. It dribbled water unceremoniously.
In the shower, a tattooed Latino man swiveled his saturated crotch while pasting wet dollar bills to the side of the shower. Omar grabbed my arm and squeezed.
“Oh my Gawd!’ he said glaring at the man. “He is gorgeous. Yum.”
I wanted to be a bitchy queen and say “Whatever, he’s dancing to a garden hose,” but I couldn’t. The man was an Adonis. As trashy as that mother-fuckin’ shower was and as silly as he looked dancing in it trying to look sexy, I couldn’t deny that I would sit on his face and twirl like Cindy Brady on a merry-go-round.
“He is pretty fuckin’ hot,” I conceded.
“Oh, Marcus? He’s super sweet,” Cody came from behind us and exhaled, releasing a stream of smoke. “I can introduce you…”
Omar, shyly smiled and shook his head.
“We’ll see,” Cody said with a smirk. “Come on, let’s get a drink. The bartender’s a friend of mine.”
Apparently Cody was real good friends with this bartender—in thirty minutes, I was quite tipsy. Whereas Omar and Alex were flat out stinking drunk.
“Stevie Prince!” Alex said wrapping his arm around me and laying his forehead against mine. “I love you, Stevie.”
I was tipsy enough that his words touched me and I responded, “Awww, I love you too!”
We looked at Omar; he paid no attention to us. Omar stared blankly at Marcus, who had just returned to the shower from a break. Omar swayed on the spot. I told him that he and Alex should not have taken that last shot; they didn’t listen.
“Cody!” a voice called behind me, and the group turned. A man about my height with short brown hair walked up to us with a friendly grin.
“Kelly!” Cody called back and gave him a hug. Kelly, that was an interesting name. I had only known guys from the South that had names like Kelly, Ashley, Tracy, or Lindsey.
“Boys, this is Kelly.” One by one, Cody introduced us and we all shook hands. I listened for a Southern lilt in his speech, but he sounded as Californian as could be. It turned out that Cody knew Kelly because he was volunteer at a gay youth organization in Los Angeles. That is actually how Cody, Omar, Alex, Troy, and I had all met; we were all volunteers.
“I’m surprised we haven’t see you,” I told the stranger.
“Oh, I just started volunteering,” Kelly said. “Cody was my mentor for the first month. I think I did meet your friend Troy though.” And then it clicked.
Troy had mentioned meeting Kelly before and it was obvious why. Kelly looked really young—totally Troy’s type. Kelly looked like he couldn’t be older than twenty-four.
“He’s adorable,” Troy’d say with a huge grin. “I need to volunteer with him more.” I shook my head and laughed. Troy is such a cad.
“I should get back to my friends,” Kelly said. He turned to us. “It was nice to meet you.” He glanced at Cody and slapped his ass playfully. “Looking good out there.”
As he walked away, we discussed all the reasons why Troy was infatuated with Kelly, somewhat giving Kelly a stamp of approval to date our friend.
“Well, he is single,” Cody said, stomping out his cigarette. “Y’all wanna go inside?” We all nodded in agreement. Well, Alex and I did; Omar sat there, still staring at Marcus. We pulled him along and soon we were back in the club.
The tension inside the bar had changed. As I glanced around, I felt as if I was being eye-raped by several men around me. The energy in the room seemed to have been amped up into a hyper-sexual frenzy. Around us men were making out like crazy. We entered the dance floor and began to dance, while Cody took his go-go spot. The felt as if it could bounce us off the floor. The blood in my head pounded and my chest felt as if it was being shook with every thrash of the bass. Alex seemed to dance and sway in front of me. I turned to look at Omar. He wasn’t behind me. Where did he go? Lazily, I turned to ask Alex but I stopped myself. Another man was dancing up on him, or should I say grinding on him like the brakes on a Mac truck. He was cute, but I don’t know if Alex even cared that much. He was just there.
I looked up at Cody dancing, on his knees as some guy had his face in Cody’s crotch. A twenty dollar bill jutted out of Cody’s underwear. I decided to spend my energy finding Omar. I oozed through the bar and couldn’t find him anywhere. I came back to the spot where I left Alex and he was gone too. In the spot I had left him, two men were making out, one had his shirt ripped open—a shirt that looked familiar. I did a double-take. It was Alex. Oh Jeeezus. Omar usually provided all the public displays of affection we needed, but apparently something had gotten into Alex. I looked at them voyeuristically. They both seemed oblivious to the bar, completely engulfing each other’s mouths. It wasn’t a hot making out; they were totally just going right at it in front of Jesus and everybody. Finally, I broke away. I needed to find Omar.
I walked outside. The patio held less people than before, which explained why the bar was so crowded. I scanned the crowd. Hmm, something in the shower caught my eye. Oh Christ! Omar was in it with Marcus the shower boy. Omar had kicked off his shoes and socks and jumped into the shower fully clothed. He and Marcus were bonded together by one another’s mouths. I didn’t want to look anymore.
It was almost too sexual. I didn’t feel uncomfortable with my friends, but the whole atmosphere was just too much. I needed a break.
I took a seat at an empty table and sipped on a water.
“Steve, right?” It was Kelly.
“Yeah, have a seat.” I said, glad for the company.
Kelly was in the same boat I was; his friends were lost in the throng of sexual freedom, but he just wasn’t feeling it that night. Being the good friend that I am, I decided to do some digging for Troy. He wasn’t Southern, he was Irish. Kelly was a family name. Also, he was actually thirty-one, which shocked me. Even as he smiled, the small gap in his front teeth seemed to give Kelly a boyish charm. I have to say as we progressed along in our conversation, Kelly passed every mark. He was intelligent, funny, and sarcastic—qualities I view as necessities for a relationship. Overall, it was a pleasant conversation but we were quickly interrupted. Ten minutes later, I glanced around to see Alex wandering outside. He looked shell shocked.
“There you are!” he exclaimed with his hands in the air. He paused and cocked his head to the side like a puppy. “Have you seen my shirt?”
I took this as a cue. Five minutes later, I rounded up the troops to leave the bar. Cody had to stay until closing so we slid five bucks in his pants and said adieu. With all the commotion, I realized I forgot to tell Kelly goodbye. I shrugged. Next time, I thought.
The night ended as it began… cautiously. Sobered up by now, I drove Omar and Alex home—one friend sopping wet and the other without his shirt. Finally, I drove by myself towards my house, replaying the night’s events in my head. A feeling lingered in my stomach and I swallowed hard trying to ignore it. Kelly was a nice guy… for Troy. Troy likes Kelly. Troy does. Not wanting to think anymore, I turned on the radio. As George Michael blared through my speakers, I rolled my windows down and let the cool breeze of the California night rush through my ears and empty my thoughts, hoping to feel carefree once more.
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Years after moving from Oklahoma, Steve Prince is still acclimating to the gay scene in Los Angeles—he’s a slow learner. By trial and error and a lot of sex, his mission is to make the uncomfortable, comfortable. Also it should be known that he is gayer than butt sex.
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Previously, on A Gay In The Life:
The Birds and The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!
Going Public
Christmas in July
Luck Be A Lady Tonight
I Left My Heart In Oklahoma
As Luck Would Have It
Shock & Awe
Blame It On Britney
The Unending Journey
Makin’ Copies
Bullets and Bracelets… and Lube
To Tell The Truth…
Stars Aren’t Blind
The Dark Knight
Come As You Are
A Date?
A Happy Ending
Better Than Nothing
A Man With A Slow Hand
Taking The Long Way
Everybody Knows