All My Girls at the Party, Look at That Body
I was fretting about quite a lot yesterday afternoon when I should have been napping, with the result that I dozed off around 9pm and woke up to Katie pounding on my door saying "party time!" around 9:15.
.
Juliana and her roommates Lindsay and Doreen came over, we had a few shots and snapped a few shots, and the five of us headed out, listening to our kickass pre-party mix. I wore my shirt with the headless stick figure on a "Yield" sign that reads, "Will work for head," partly because it's tight and partly for obvious reasons.
.
.
.
I always have the hottest girls when I go to Tigerheat. Katie told me later she almost felt a bit bad since the four of them took so much attention away from other people. It was this kind of mess about half an hour in to the night:
.
.
There are a few things about Tigerheat I have realized lately. First of all, it's an 18-and-over club. A lot of younger guys may have come out but often don't quite feel comfortable yet dancing with another guy, especially approaching one they don't know; therefore you see a lot of them going after the hot girls. It's the same reason girls like Tigerheat: for the most part there are no expectations or people hitting on you that actually expect something back. Also, if there's an attractive guy dancing with a girl or two (or four) it's a lot easier to start dancing with the girls and then "Oops!" "Whoopsie!" accidentally start dancing with the guy you were drawn to in the first place. That way you can ease into the situation and if rejected you can pass it off that you were just dancing with the girl the whole time; and girls will dance with anyone there who isn't either a skeeze or a really poor dancer (both varieties were unfortunately present last night). Believe me, I've been there. I'm an expert!
.
Another thing I have been told more and more lately is that I myself (unwittingly, for the most part) give off somewhat of an intimidating vibe in a setting like that. This is not to say that one glance at me is enough to make all but the most confident of men simultaneously cream their shorts and cower back in fear and awe. But especially in the past year or so I have adopted a persona in these kinds of scenes that is a combination of a. not-too-shabby looks (I know how to dress and how to hide my flaws and accentuate or fake the good stuff, physically, for the most part, when I need to and have darkness and shadow to help); b. an attitude made up of a vicious combination of confidence, stand-offishness, and sensuality. Allow me to elucidate. When I used to go to Tigerheat I could swear boys could smell my fear, my tiny ego, and my low self-esteem and body image issues. But now, when I'm there with Katie and other hot girls, just having fun and dancing and not caring about what others are thinking (or seeming not to care), it's totally different, and noticeable. We share rolls of the eyes at uber-slutty go-go dancers, give bitchy looks to bad or over-emphatic dancers or people who should NOT be going shirtless, and generally, well, not show an interest in anyone else. Simultaneously we bust out our inner sexiness in our dance moves and body language: a little wicked glance, a lick of the lips, strategic placement and movement of the hands on and across one's own body. It helps that I never approach a guy because of my own paralyzing fear of rejection, which when combined with the aforementioned elements instead comes off as picky or somewhat superior, for better or worse.
.
And suddenly it works. The go-go dancer in question, dancing on a platform right next to us in a sinful thong-like slip of fabric and taking dollar bills from horny, frustrated fag hags, all of a sudden leaned over and grabbed me and pulled me against him, squatting down and pulling me on top of him. Since we had been making fun of him (he was cute, sure, but like 12) I exchanged some embarrassed/excited looks with the girls, who were beside themselves, thinking to myself "No way is he getting a tip, but thanks for noticing me!" After that was over I felt violated in all the best ways. Doreen and I snuck out a couple times for smokes and getting out of the heat, and talked about sex and virginity and being gay and how much fun we were having. Katie and Lindsay definitely got the brunt of some ultra-horny straight guys who apparently tried to feel under skirts and such (Juliana got a hand on the boob).
.
Out of the blue a boy came up to me in the middle of a good song and said "You're really cute, wanna dance?" He was as well and I said "sure," and so on and so forth. Shirts became unbuttoned (his, natch), ears and necks were kissed/nibbled/licked (ay caramba) and someone's groin was groped (hint: not his!). When Sophie Ellis Bextor's song "Murder on the Dance Floor" came on, he said excitedly over the noise of the packed dance floor, "This is my favorite new song!" I laughed (it was one of Brandon's and my favorite Tigerheat songs back in 2003) and I asked him how old he was, telling him that song had been around a long time. "Guess!" he said.
.
"20," I said, highballing it. Lower, was his signed indication. 19. Oy. I asked him how old he thought I was, and he said, "25!" Sheesh. "The name's David," he said. When I responded in kind he was highly amused, although it was hardly the first time I've made out with my namesake! OK so he didn't really know how to use tongue, but he responded perfectly to all my moves and seemed to enjoy himself, which of course made me enjoy myself as well. I got catcalls and laughs from the girls, when they weren't fighting off unfortunate attempted dance partners or engaging in homo-hetero dancefloor dry humping with the occasional questionably or unquestionably gay young stud. As happened last time, the best songs played during my little tryst: "Fergalicious," "Feedback," and so on. The girls, worn out from all the attention, decided it was time to take off around 1:30 and David the youngun got my number before we traipsed back to the car and home. The girls loved it (it was Katie's third venture but the others' maiden voyage) and I mused that it was probably the best time I had ever had at Tigerheat (although I did have some good times with Brandon way back when).
.
I got home to a text young David accidentally sent to me instead of, I imagine, its intended recipient: "OMG you'll never guess the name of the guy I just made out with!"
.
I responded, "Well, seeing as it was me...I believe..."
.
I laughed at his response: "That's not embarrassing at all!" and finally fell asleep briefly before my daily bombardment by my alarm clock began a few short hours later.
.
Juliana and her roommates Lindsay and Doreen came over, we had a few shots and snapped a few shots, and the five of us headed out, listening to our kickass pre-party mix. I wore my shirt with the headless stick figure on a "Yield" sign that reads, "Will work for head," partly because it's tight and partly for obvious reasons.
.
.
.
I always have the hottest girls when I go to Tigerheat. Katie told me later she almost felt a bit bad since the four of them took so much attention away from other people. It was this kind of mess about half an hour in to the night:
.
.
There are a few things about Tigerheat I have realized lately. First of all, it's an 18-and-over club. A lot of younger guys may have come out but often don't quite feel comfortable yet dancing with another guy, especially approaching one they don't know; therefore you see a lot of them going after the hot girls. It's the same reason girls like Tigerheat: for the most part there are no expectations or people hitting on you that actually expect something back. Also, if there's an attractive guy dancing with a girl or two (or four) it's a lot easier to start dancing with the girls and then "Oops!" "Whoopsie!" accidentally start dancing with the guy you were drawn to in the first place. That way you can ease into the situation and if rejected you can pass it off that you were just dancing with the girl the whole time; and girls will dance with anyone there who isn't either a skeeze or a really poor dancer (both varieties were unfortunately present last night). Believe me, I've been there. I'm an expert!
.
Another thing I have been told more and more lately is that I myself (unwittingly, for the most part) give off somewhat of an intimidating vibe in a setting like that. This is not to say that one glance at me is enough to make all but the most confident of men simultaneously cream their shorts and cower back in fear and awe. But especially in the past year or so I have adopted a persona in these kinds of scenes that is a combination of a. not-too-shabby looks (I know how to dress and how to hide my flaws and accentuate or fake the good stuff, physically, for the most part, when I need to and have darkness and shadow to help); b. an attitude made up of a vicious combination of confidence, stand-offishness, and sensuality. Allow me to elucidate. When I used to go to Tigerheat I could swear boys could smell my fear, my tiny ego, and my low self-esteem and body image issues. But now, when I'm there with Katie and other hot girls, just having fun and dancing and not caring about what others are thinking (or seeming not to care), it's totally different, and noticeable. We share rolls of the eyes at uber-slutty go-go dancers, give bitchy looks to bad or over-emphatic dancers or people who should NOT be going shirtless, and generally, well, not show an interest in anyone else. Simultaneously we bust out our inner sexiness in our dance moves and body language: a little wicked glance, a lick of the lips, strategic placement and movement of the hands on and across one's own body. It helps that I never approach a guy because of my own paralyzing fear of rejection, which when combined with the aforementioned elements instead comes off as picky or somewhat superior, for better or worse.
.
And suddenly it works. The go-go dancer in question, dancing on a platform right next to us in a sinful thong-like slip of fabric and taking dollar bills from horny, frustrated fag hags, all of a sudden leaned over and grabbed me and pulled me against him, squatting down and pulling me on top of him. Since we had been making fun of him (he was cute, sure, but like 12) I exchanged some embarrassed/excited looks with the girls, who were beside themselves, thinking to myself "No way is he getting a tip, but thanks for noticing me!" After that was over I felt violated in all the best ways. Doreen and I snuck out a couple times for smokes and getting out of the heat, and talked about sex and virginity and being gay and how much fun we were having. Katie and Lindsay definitely got the brunt of some ultra-horny straight guys who apparently tried to feel under skirts and such (Juliana got a hand on the boob).
.
Out of the blue a boy came up to me in the middle of a good song and said "You're really cute, wanna dance?" He was as well and I said "sure," and so on and so forth. Shirts became unbuttoned (his, natch), ears and necks were kissed/nibbled/licked (ay caramba) and someone's groin was groped (hint: not his!). When Sophie Ellis Bextor's song "Murder on the Dance Floor" came on, he said excitedly over the noise of the packed dance floor, "This is my favorite new song!" I laughed (it was one of Brandon's and my favorite Tigerheat songs back in 2003) and I asked him how old he was, telling him that song had been around a long time. "Guess!" he said.
.
"20," I said, highballing it. Lower, was his signed indication. 19. Oy. I asked him how old he thought I was, and he said, "25!" Sheesh. "The name's David," he said. When I responded in kind he was highly amused, although it was hardly the first time I've made out with my namesake! OK so he didn't really know how to use tongue, but he responded perfectly to all my moves and seemed to enjoy himself, which of course made me enjoy myself as well. I got catcalls and laughs from the girls, when they weren't fighting off unfortunate attempted dance partners or engaging in homo-hetero dancefloor dry humping with the occasional questionably or unquestionably gay young stud. As happened last time, the best songs played during my little tryst: "Fergalicious," "Feedback," and so on. The girls, worn out from all the attention, decided it was time to take off around 1:30 and David the youngun got my number before we traipsed back to the car and home. The girls loved it (it was Katie's third venture but the others' maiden voyage) and I mused that it was probably the best time I had ever had at Tigerheat (although I did have some good times with Brandon way back when).
.
I got home to a text young David accidentally sent to me instead of, I imagine, its intended recipient: "OMG you'll never guess the name of the guy I just made out with!"
.
I responded, "Well, seeing as it was me...I believe..."
.
I laughed at his response: "That's not embarrassing at all!" and finally fell asleep briefly before my daily bombardment by my alarm clock began a few short hours later.