This past Saturday I tested a hypothesis informed by experiences from 10 or 12 years ago — that I do not turn heads in a gay bar.
Back when I thought I actually enjoyed going to gay bars — ca. 1997-1998 — I never got the impression I made an impression. Looking back on it now, I didn't have a semblance of fashion sense, my haircut wasn't much of a cut, and I probably gave off a vibe of desperation, of an introvert who desperately wants to be noticed.
I still don't have much fashion sense, but I do have a far better haircut and that vibe of desperation has been replaced with an absolute lack of caring. I've also been working out, and while I don't have the stereotypical physique so prevalent in gay magazines, I'm probably not as dumpy as I was in 1998. Given those revisions, I still thought I could walk into a gay bar, chat with Double-A and down a few drinks without attracting attention.
I was mistaken.
Our first destination was Rain, a place that didn't exist when I first moved to Austin. Within a few minutes of our acquiring drinks and setting up at a table in a corner of the back patio, the hypothesis was in trouble. I caught a guy standing by the bar looking at me. He was … all right but a bit too well-coiffed. I pointed out to Double-A a guy who I would remotely consider talking to, and she reached the conclusion the kind of guy I like doesn't look like he's trying too hard. That would be litmus test for the rest of the night. Rain soon got packed enough that our vantage point was not very useful. So we moved on to Oilcan Harry's.
We set up on a bench in the back patio, the only places in Austin bars where smoking is allowed. I spotted a guy in a maroon polo shirt who didn't look like he was trying too hard. When I pointed him out to Double-A, she caught him looking at me. One result was not conclusive, but two definitely points to a failed hypothesis.
Double-A ran out of cigarettes, so I went to a vending machine and bought the wrong brand. On the way there, I saw the guy in the maroon polo shirt and made eye contact. Yeah, he was interested. I'll admit I was interested myself, but that was not the purpose of the evening.
As Double-A and I lit up our cigarettes, a guy came over to bum a smoke off of us. He introduced himself to me and said he would be spinning later. I made the usual noises of approval and interest. Three results? He was pretty much three sheets to the proverbial wind by then, and he put on a little show, prancing around to the music with his friends. Yeah, three results. But he was trying a bit too hard. He was the only one with the gumption to introduce himself to me, though.
After the DJ guy wandered off, Double-A pointed out a guy standing close by who was looking over his shoulder every so often. She said he wasn't looking at her. I caught one of the guy's furtive glances and confirmed a fourth result. I told Double-A, "That's exactly the kind of guy who would have ignored me 10 years ago." He had on a white shirt, and his hair was beautifully styled, an earring on one of his lobes. In other words, really, really trying too hard.
Then there was an incident of my spilling some guy's drink. I bought him a new one. I could have used that opportunity, but I didn't consider it part of the experiment. Double-A and I left shortly afterward.
That was probably the most attention I received during a night out, and I probably should not have squandered it. But I've been running on assumptions from a decade ago, and I wanted to see if they needed revising. I guess they do.
Of course, an experiment is no good if the results aren't repeatable. That most likely means a follow-up study in the future.