Straight Men

About 90 percent of my good friends here in the Windy City (and across the country for that matter) are in some stage of a relationship. Some in the brand new, lovey-smiley phase, some in the first few years of marriage, and others in the long term-kids-house part. Because of this, and other random factors (such as I am not a huge drinker, I don't have a lot of extra spending money, and I am still working on going out alone at night in the city) I don't spend a lot of time in loud, smoky, Friday/Saturday night bars trying to pick up random objects of the opposite sex. Which is why last Saturday night's exploration into the late night city scene was hugely entertaining for me.


I celebrated my birthday this year by having a fantastic weekend full of events. To start it off there was a large tapas dinner that was loads of fun. Lots of food and even more sangria made the night highly entertaining. As dinner was winding down the group split into those that had to head home and those that felt up to a little more festivities. As I was knee deep in fuzzy sangria land I went along for the festivities ride with no idea where we were headed. A few of the more sober patriots of our entourage (mostly my designated driver and the other person who had lived here more than one year) packed us into the car and headed up to Delilahs. As we headed up to the door and I saw the row of young, posturing, single men I could barely contain my excitement.

Somehow we managed to snag a table near the back, we found a girl who had a whole table to herself and my more vocal party members asked if we could sit there. She happily obliged, and it turns out she was new to the city, out for the night and had no problem with us crashing her table. I stood with my back to the throngs of people pushing past to get to the bathrooms and the bar and proceeded to spend the rest of the evening jamming out and pseudo dancing (this is where one dances in a bar that is not specifically designed for dancing but plays decent enough music that anyone with any sort of rhythm can't help but at least bounce along). It was jukebox night, which meant we were up for anything, but it settled into a decent routine of 2-3 random punk type songs with a good jumpy beat and then some old school funk classics mixed in.

It was standing such as this, with my gin and sangria filled hips shaking along that I re-discovered what it was like to be in a bar on Saturday night. I was quickly able to tell who was behind me by the way they indicated their presence. Girls, when trying to squeeze behind other girls (this all presumes heterosexuality by the way) will lightly place their hand on your back. Kind of that "Hey, I'm back here, please don't step on me suddenly" gesture. Guys on the other hand, will slide their arm/hand around your waist to show you they are entering your personal space. At no point in time did I feel creeped out by this, in fact it was probably wise that they alerted me to their presence otherwise my gin filled dancing moves might have wrecked havoc on them. Instead I found highly entertaining. After months of spending my free time in either coffee shops or gay bars, it was fun to get back into the heterosexual Saturday night dating scene while safely ensconced in my group of friends who would make sure I didn't end up on top of the bar, making out with strangers (which has happened in various points in my life). While I would still rather meet a guy reading with a latte in my lap, I have to admit it was a great way to celebrate the next year of my life.