“Freak show. Freak. Freak show. We Can Give ‘Em A-”
The Thursday before Pride at Tracks, is always quite the sideshow. Every man that owns a Britney, Christina, or Mariah album is there, struttin’ their shit, to “Material Girl”, hoping to attract a mate from the wide-eyed crowd circled around them. I’m sure you can imagine the assortment of routines and shows that are put on. The bartenders with their big muscles and spandex shorts, the management with their ghoulish faces in the back room with very minimal light, counting mountains of cash, the lesbians with their oversized shirts and full beards, the boys in the R&B room bending and contorting every which way around each other, and who could miss the twink clones who look identical, and may as well be joined at the hip… literally.
I’ve spend a lot of time trying to figure out what exactly I am and where I belong, within the gay culture. Walking through the club glancing at each different act, I wonder exactly where I fit. Ultimately, I don’t really belong to any particular group or brand of gays. On the upside, it gives me the prerogative to dress and appear as I like. I prefer to go to Tracks alone because it gives me the freedom to make those appearances and flit around from group to group, without having to entertain somebody else the entire time, or feel obligated to act a certain way.
I have had a lot of friends in the past that find it to be a huge annoyance and complete imposition, when people come up and talk to me. One of my favorite things to do is meet new people, so it’s only natural for me to introduce myself to everyone I come in contact with. However it’s not fun for me either, to take someone to the club who has never been before, and then having to introduce them to everyone that I run into… which is usually a significant portion of the people there, especially if they aren’t looking to meet anybody new. Plus, I enjoy my solitude while walking around and surveying the scene. I like to know who’s there, who to visit, who to avoid, and who to meet. I always lay out a game plan, to ensure a productive evening of networking.
I decided last Thursday, to meet my very fabulous and very cute new friend, Michael, at Tracks. He goes to CU, and we have a few mutual friends, but we hadn’t spent any time together until we agreed that enough was enough! We decided to have lunch one day at the beginning of the summer, and one thing led to another! Now we’re fabulous friends, and I must say, he is hilarious, and full of life. He has something these Aberzombies lack: a personality.
After my first survey of the club I met him and his adorable friend Rachel, outside for a cigarette. It was about 11:30pm, and the club was sufficiently full. As I stood talking and smoking outside with my new friends, I noticed some old friends, not 30 feet away from me. Nic, Eric, and Steven were all standing together in a little clot, doing the very thing I was just doing not five minutes before. Eric and Steven made eye contact with me, while Nic chatted away on his Blackberry. I quickly turned back to my friends, writing them off as being in a drunken daze. I sure as hell would have been if I was 21, and at kiddy night (18+) at Tracks, and I preferred to tell myself that they didn’t see me… even though I saw them pointing, and talking my direction.
Not just one year ago, all four of us were affectionately known as the BFF’s. We had spent the past years hanging out, going out, and being quite the fabulous quartet. We were notorious for our annual “Pre-Pride Party”, held the Saturday night before Pride. Everyone would be there. The house would be packed full of fabulous people, drinking Flirtini’s and Champagne. It was a very gay affair, to say the least. Two years ago, Eric and I got so drunk, that we folded the seats down in the back of his Expedition, whipped out some blankets, and fell asleep, only to wake up mere hours later with hangovers, to go cheer at the parade. We were always together, enjoying the festivities.
Well, not anymore. When I was 17 (two winters ago), I started casually dating this guy named David. I was living in a studio apartment in Uptown Denver, and would frequently take the bus from Downtown, to Boulder. I was new to the city, and often got home sick, and spent a lot of my off days in Boulder, with friends. I had yet to meet the people I know today, and spent all of my time alone. I knew of course, that it would take time to get to know new people. But I didn’t have many opportunities considering I was underage, lived in a small studio apartment, and spent my days locked inside because of the extreme winter weather. So the days I actually could manage to get out, I did… and went straight to Boulder.
I met Kurtis while he was dating Steven. They had had a rocky past few years, and it was clear that things were ending… and fast. Between Steven moving out of their apartment, and to downtown Denver, and Kurtis’ intense school schedule at CU Boulder, they didn’t have the convenience of living together to work out their issues. Months after they broke up, he was always been very kind to me, especially during my (rough) move to “the big city”, so it was only natural that I kept in contact with him. I personally try not to take sides when it comes to people ending relationships. I’ve done it in the past, and I’ve made the wrong decision… a couple of times.
One night, I took the bus to Boulder, where I was hoping to meet David for a nice evening in. Of course the gods were against me, and I ended up spending 8 hours stuck on a bus. Two of which, I spent digging snow out of the way with 30 other people, so that we wouldn’t get stuck in a sea of white. I had a wheel of brie, and a bottle of chardonnay, that I was very excited to share with David that evening. So excited, that I spent hours digging a bus out of five feet of snow, in the middle of highway 36. Instead, he decided to blow me off to spend the evening canoodling with his ex-boyfriend, with whom he was still very in love with. That however, is a man I’ve written about too much in the past, and I’m not even going to begin to open THAT Pandora’s Box of mess.
I finally arrived in Boulder, drenched, freezing, and no where to go. The bus I was on got stuck at the South Boulder Park and Ride, blocks from my dear friend Kurtis. I called him up, and like a saint he invited me over. When I finally arrived at his door, he just laughed, and told me to go shower. I was incredibly grateful, and appreciated his hospitality. A bottle of wine and some hilarious stories about our dance pasts later, we were lying in his bed. It had been a long time since someone had been so kind to me, and it gave me hope that there were still good people out there. I was stranded there for four days, waiting for the blizzard to stop. We spent our days watching movies, and going to his apartment complex gym to work out, and spent our evenings drinking, and laughing. It was the most fun I had had in a great while. I really liked this guy, and really saw myself with him.
Steven told me that I shouldn’t get upset that my friends have slept with the people that I liked. In the near past, I would go on dates with guys that I really liked (and that I thought liked me for more than my barely legal butt), only to hear that they had already fucked Steven, or fooled around with Eric. Since it wasn’t a big deal to them, I figured I would be okay. So unprompted (disregarding the booze), I told Steven that Kurtis and I had seen each other that past winter. At first he was fine with it, but month after I told him, Steven went into this fit of anger, and disowned me… without telling me how he felt. Only through the grape vine did I hear that he was mad.
Looking back, the level of his immaturity is disappointing. I always considered him a friend, and was very active in developing our friendship. Unfortunately, it’s hard to be great friends with someone who’s significantly older than you, especially when one of their favorite activities is drinking at the bars, and you’re only 17. What adds insult to injury was that it was HIM that told me not to fret over my friends sleeping with men I was interested in. “It’s going to happen, and you can’t get upset over it”, was the exact words he said to me. Moreover, they had been broken up for months, and had no communication. In my book, that’s fair game.
But now, we’re strangers, standing 30 feet away from each other, because he can’t take his own bit of advice. I’ve found that people will look for any reason to hate you. Especially when they see that you have a happiness that they don’t. I try to be as inclusive as possible with all my friends, but when someone decides that they want to stop the love, then it’s out of your hands, and you just have to move on.
And that’s what I did. As Michael, Rachel, and I went inside to dance to my favorite song “Let Me Think About It” by Fedde La Grande, I made eye contact with Nic. I smiled and waved at him. He returned the smile, waved, and shrugged at me, with an expression that I interpreted as “I’m sorry it’s not what it used to be.” My pocket buzzed, and I slip open my Helio to see that he sent me a text. It’s good to see you. Keep your head up. Just keep walking your own path. (I paraphrased a little, because I deleted it the other day).
I smiled to myself, because Nic is someone that I really respect, and look up to. I’m not one to speak his opinion about this whole situation, but we do make it a point to get together and have coffee, when both of our busy schedules permit us to do so.
I spent the rest of the night dancing my ass off to DJ Markie, spinning in the main room. It was an action packed night with some amazing friends, and without one drop of booze, I managed to have an amazing evening. As I left the club, I couldn’t help but to smile to myself.
Even though Eric clearly sided with Steven (disregarding that Steven had slept with Eric’s ex-boyfriend not a week or two after they had a very nasty break up, and then LIED about it.), moved in with him, and not only ignored my presence at Tracks, as well as fail to wish me a happy Pride, I managed to walk out feeling better than when I arrived. Eric and I have been friends for almost six years, and it broke my heart when we stopped talking the first time. And the second. And the third. Not anymore, though. I used to think that my best and most loyal friends were going to be the one’s that I’ve had the longest. I’ve realized that that isn’t true. While I have a few very good loyal friends that I’ve known a long time, I’ve noticed my new friends are friends with me because of who I am today, and not friends with me for who I was yesterday, or last week, or last year.
As I drove home, I received a text from Michael. I Love you Matty B.! I always have so much fun with you! “Dreamgirls” from the Dreamgirls motion picture soundtrack started to play. I set down my Helio, lit up a cigarette, and clicked it over to “Scattered” by The Trucks. Belting out the lyrics, I flew back to Boulder, where I knew I would always be home.
