Dancing in the Dark

I wasn't meant to go out Saturday night. I'd spent the whole day in doing domestics, facebooking and blogging; I was quite happy to stay at home. Judy was coming over for a late DVD (Big Business) and I was doing a roast chicken. Perfect cosy weather activities. I'd just finished writing the last entry on thoroughlymodern when the home-phone rang. It was 8.30pm.

"Hi…..I don't think I can drive," the voice slurred on the other end of the phone.

Me: Who is this?

I recognized the voice but I love hearing the ridiculous sound of a grown man's voice saying the words: "It's Judy."

"It's Judy". Of course it was. I'd only been talking to him an hour and a half ago. He was going to have a quick cheap eat at Surry Hills with friends and then was driving out to my place. He was putrid.

Me: Who spiked your drink?

Judy: Todd McKenney, lets go out.

Me: No. I want to stay in. You go out.

Judy: Boring

Me: Yeah I know, I'm trying to make it a habit.

Judy: Oh…Ivanka Trump is on Oprah…..bye.

He slammed the phone down. I tended to my chicken and realised I'd forgotten to put the timer on. I'd overcooked it by about half an hour; enough to turn it from tender to bender. It was so tough I would have had to put my foot on it to cut it. Throwing it in the bin, I opted for French cuisine instead; a bottle of wine and cigarettes.

I checked manhunt. No messages and nothing to look at. I checked gaydar; a message from Boris in Siberia who gave me his entire life story. He had been looking for that special man for so long and now he had appeared to have found him……me. What a relief I thought; my wait is over, I shall pack some cardi's and move to the artic circle and live in an igloo with Boris. I lit another cigarette and thought again; I'm not ready to commit; I hit the auto "no thanks" button and kept scrolling.

You could scroll your whole life away on manhunt and gaydar. Profile after profile of persons looking for everything from love, romance, good times, clean linen to do me over quickly and love me like you hate me. "No Asians; no offence but it's just not my thing" read one profile (as do many) as if Asian people are like a meal you buy at a local pub. Tolerance and acceptance is something the gay community promotes and champions; yet strangely on these sites, such virtues remain an option.


I continued to scroll through a list of potential one-night husbands when my mobile rang. The word Judy appeared on the screen. I hesitated for a moment. Answering it would only lead to trouble. I was weak. I'd just finished my entire 'french dinner" and without any electronic suitors oozing through my pc, I was on a one-way trip to a town called Boredom which if I answered Judy's call, would lead further to that city called Disaster; a place I'd been to with Judy many times. The trouble with Disaster is that it is always so much fun. I took the call.

Me: Hi doll

There was blearing music coming down the phone

Judy (screaming): Doll come to Manacle.

Me: No doll

Judy: Come on doll. I'm here with Trev

Me: Really? Are there many there?

I hadn't been to Manacle since its re-opening where they had three barmen on for about 400 people.

Judy: Yeah it's packed.

Me: Is it possible to get a drink before Tuesday?

Hi Doll it's Trev.

Trev had snatched the phone.

Trev: Doll you've got to come down and help me

Me: What do you mean?

Trev: It's Judy. I think he's been drinking petrol. He's got that look in his eyes.

We all know that look. Judy after about 12 vodkas, starts to appear as if some body has opened the top of his head and poured a jug of water in. His eyes bumble around like dead gold fish and he starts to sway as if he is on a boat.

Trev: He's had about 8 vodka and sodas in 45 mins. I can't keep up.

It seemed like an emergency, I had to go.

Me: I'll be there in five.

I didn't realise what I was wearing until I got to the leatherman on the door. A lightweight FCUK white knit with dusty blue genes and white joggers. I looked more like an aerobics instructor than a leatherman. Mr Leather didn't flinch though and let me straight into Manacle which is located in the back bar of The Clarence Hotel……and is completely without light. Apart from the bar, the rest of the area was like your local cemetery at midnight. Yes leather bars are supposed to be dark and dirty but this was more like solitary confinement. People were bumping into each other, striking up conversations with inanimate objects and were generally just lost due to the lack of visibility. I was the only person wearing white so it was easy for Trev to spot me. Otherwise, I would have had to go back to my car to get a torch.

Trev: hi doll

Judy: Colin!!!

Me: Hiya

Trev: Welcome to Mortischa's den.

Me: Yeah what's the story?

Trev: They're trying to save their Carbon footprint

Me: I think they've chopped their foot right off.

Judy: Colin I'm buying you a drink.

Judy careered off into the darkness.

Me: He'll never find us

Trev: Doll in that outfit, you're the local lighthouse. He can't miss you.


We continued to chat although it was difficult to hear over the loud music. We were feeling more and more like blind deaf mutes. Hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil. Mind you Trev and I were used to it……we'd spent half our lives in such an environment. We both hate the quiet.

Me: Where's Bernice?

Trev: On his way.

Me: Where is he?

Trev: On a date….someone he met at Ken's

Me: A sauna date?

Trev: Ya

Me: How 80s

The music was fantastic. Manacle always gets the best DJs; some great 80s mix house was being spun. It was the best way to get ya toes tapping….or crashing. The sound of schooners hitting the cement floor was quite frequent as people kept misplacing volumes of darkness for bar tables. And then there was Diabetic Dancer.

Some people just shouldn't be allowed to dance regardless of whether a dance hall is lit or not. Diabetic Dancer was a perfect case in point. A rather large man, Diabetic Dancer was blessed with the ambition of Madonna but sadly cursed with the movement skills of a hippopotamus. There were hands up in the air waving and legs kicking together with random widespread catatonic movements across unmapped and unlit floor space. It was Bollywood on crack. As a result not one person was spared the hulk and the sweat glands of Diabetic Dancer's 130 kilo frame. He'd collide with you like a wave; the first part of him smashing against you, as you braced yourself for the rest of him to arrive. It was very similar to being a rock on the beach …except without the sun or the antiperspirance.

Me: Do you think he's taken something?
Trev: Too much insulin?

Judy still wasn't back. Either he was lost, picked up or had forgotten. He was probably giving all three options a go. As soon as Diabetic Dancer took a rest to drink ten litres of beer, Trev decided to launch a search party for Judy.

Me: Don't leave me

Trev: What?

Me: Diabetic Dancer may mistake me for a Cornetto and eat me

Trev: In that top, more like a tub of ice cream

Me: Thanks

Trev: Wish me luck doll.

I hate not being able to smoke inside anymore. There is nothing to do when one is at a loose end. In the yee old worldy smoking days, at least when one was waiting for a friend or something to happen, one could simply light a chuffer and one could appear as if one was happily content to be on one's own. Now the only "I'm cool on my own" device is the mobile phone, which doesn't have the same cool factor attached. Continually looking at one's mobile phone is really akin to continually checking the time waiting for your pretend friend to arrive. It doesn't come across cool; it comes across desperate. Still, I was standing in the dark in a light weight white knit…..it was a little difficult to avoid desperation.

"Colin is that you?" A voice came out of the darkness.

Me: Trev?

"It's Bernice."

Bernice being black, all I could see were teeth

Bernice: Where are the lights? It's like being down a coal mine.

Me: I know

Bernice: Thank god you are wearing white.

Me: Judy went to the bar to get us drinks about three days ago. So Trev has gone to find him.

I flipped up my phone to see if it really was Bernice and not a pole. It was definitely him. We discussed décor and the importance of backlighting in such a venue…..even the pool table was in darkness. There were people playing pool in the dark. ?

Bernice seemed a little traumatised from his sauna date. The guy was a healer and was quite keen to heal Bernice again. I think Bernice was starting to regret that he was ever healed in the first place.

Bernice: I just couldn't do it.

Me: What was wrong with him.

Bernice: He was just too nerdy.

Me: He obviously worked for you at Ken's.

Bernice: Yeah I know it was hot.

Me: But now you have post-sauna-sex-regret-syndrome.

Bernice: What?

Me: Post-sauna-sex-regret-syndrome: the reason you should never date someone from a sauna.

Bernice: What do you mean?

Me: The sauna hook up never lives up to the real world. It's an isolated moment of sexual intensity that can never be replicated on the outside.

Bernice: How much have u had to drink?

Me: They are either not pretty enough, dull or missing a part of their face.

Bernice: I met G in a sauna

Me: And look how well that worked out.

Bernice: And you met D in a sauna.

Me: The most disastrous relationship of my life. Need I say more.

Judy: Colin!

Me: Here we go….back from the wild.

Judy swayed his way back through the crowd wearing half the beers he’d bought us. Trevor was bringing up the rear wearing the other half.

Judy: Who would have guessed?

When Judy gets beyond drunk, he resorts to 6 phrases:

1.Who would have guessed?
2. Apparently
3. Are you mad?
4. Hilarious
5. Woo!
6. Wee!

And he intersperses them into any conversation regardless of what is actually being said or asked. It's like a set recording. This can prove interesting, when people who haven’t experienced Judy drunk, try to participate in conversation with him.

Out of the darkness came an old nightclub colleague of mine, A. I knew A from my Brisbane days and he's always coming out of the darkness. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in daylight. He works part-time these days. He did pretty well out of property in the 90s and spends most of his time having a good time; half his luck. He’s in his mid-forties and for some reason, it is only this year that I've started to realize that he's definitely got it 'going on'. We had a moment on that dance floor at Arq a couple of months ago and I wasn't cocky enough to act on it. This time I was up for some cockiness.

Me: Hey A

A: Hey how are you? Has someone forgotten to pay the electricity bill?

Me: We're dancing in the dark just the way Bruce Springsteen taught us

Trev: Well the 80s are back in after-all

Me : A this is Trev….

I continued to introduce Bernice and Judy to A.

Judy: Hilarious!

A: Nice to meet you

Judy: Who would have guessed

Bernice: Hey mate how are you. I think we've met before….last week at phoenix?

A: Did we? Was I at Phoenix last week?

Judy: Woo!

Bernice: Yes at the dayclub

Judy: Wee!

A: That's why I can't remember

Judy: Who would have guessed

A: Everyone right for drinks?

Judy: Are you mad?

Me: Don't mind him. I'll come help you with the drinks.

Judy: Hilarious.

A: Is he alright?

Me: He's just having an alcoholic stroke….he has one every three weeks.

We left Trev and Bernice to Judy with his wooing and weeing and made our way through the valley of darkness to the light at the end of tunnel; the bar. I began to realize why perhaps the rest of the club was in darkness when I saw the state of the clientele at the bar. They weren't pretty to say the least although I shouldn't be mean, fluorescence can be such an unforgiving light. It certainly was Saturday night.

Like the Manacle opening in May, there seemed to be two bar staff on for what sounded like (obviously I couldn't see) about 300 people. I was hanging for a decent drink considering Judy was wearing most of my last one. A and I were being nicely touchy feely talking about hot air when I heard my manhunt profile screamed out over the bar. I decided I was hearing things and continued talking to A until I felt this paw on my shoulder.

"Hello neighbour!"

I looked around. It was Diabetic Dancer.

Diabetic Dancer: Sorry we didn't hook up the other night but I was really tired.

Alan looked at me with a smirk. I swallowed my tongue. What?

Me: Sorry?

Diabetic Dancer: Yeah on Wednesday night…on manhunt…we've chatted for a few weeks. I'm tiptopmate.

Me: Oh

A released all his touchiness and went to the bar leaving me to it. At first I didn't believe it. Not even the profile name rang a bell. He must have confused me with someone else. Or had I hit the turps so badly one night that I'd forgotten I'd placed an order for his cocktails?

Me : I'm sorry…I don't recall…

Diabetic Dancer: Yeah I live down near the park near your street. I'm the drug and alcohol counseller.

The drug and alcohol counseller? The one with pics of his muscle furry chest and nice stocky body? The one in his footy shorts? The one who runs 6 ks daily?

Me: Oh …Travis?

As already mentioned; Travis was huge. It was like he'd been sunk into a giant sponge cake since his manhunt pics were taken.

Diabetic Dancer: Yeah that's me. I broke my ankle earlier this year and put on a bit of weight.

I repeat, an entire sponge cake.

Me: It seems to be better now.

Diabetic Dancer: Oh…do u think I've lost weight?

Me: No I mean your ankle….you're obviously dancing ok.

Diabetic Dancer: So you don't think I've lost weight?

He was sweating for Africa and was wearing what appeared to be a seersucker tablecloth.

Me: Well this is the first time I've met you. How could I tell if you have lost weight?

A arrived back with the drinks and I wanted to drink all of them.

Diabetic Dancer: Ooo I love this song. I'm gonna dance. If you're up for a booty call later on, you've got my number.

He smacked a big slimy kiss on my lips. I winced.I felt like Doris Day Professional Virgin when she discovered that Cary Grant had booked the honeymoon suite in That Touch of Mink.


A: Looks promising

ME: Shut up. Where's my drink?

I watched Diabetic Dancer gesticulate his way back into the centre of darkness. A guy who can dance like a speed-obsessed munchkin and wear seersucker is someone worth knowing me thinks….if not purely for entertainment of the non-booty call kind. He was soon joined by the equally flamboyant moves of three other equally flamboyant figures waving their hands and legs around in the dark. Judy and Bernice dragged Diabetic Dancer into their routine and Trev placed an abandoned cowboy hat on his head. Who needs manhunt when you have friends like these. I felt A's strong forearm brush up against mine. He gave me another smirk. I smirked back. Game on. I downed my drink, took his hand and dragged him onto the dance floor.

…….you cant start a fire,

you cant start a fire without a spark

This guns for hire......

even if we're just­ ­ dancing in the dark....

...aha...

C