Whenever I go to gay bars, it's not really the macho dancers that I am excited of. Seriously, that has never been the case in all my twenty-six years of gay existence. I swear, I don't notice those to-die-for biceps, those bulges at the right places, those glutathione-maintained skin, and those anime'-inspired hairstyles of the dancers. I without fear of any violent reaction would declare to all of you now, that I notice more the music these dancers gyrate to. I pay more attention to the disco balls (gulp*) than the skimpy clothing these buff-bodied men wear. I don't really mind all these testosterone going on. I would rather hold debates on whether the french fries they serve taste better than when I last visited the place.
Kidding! I'm sure you guys did not believe all the crap I just dished out. If you guys did, then you sure did.
Anyway, I went to one last night and this is the whole point of this blog, that I went to one after almost a year of hiatus.
Nothing much has changed really except for the new faces I got to see. The routines? I got to see them all before. The routines were just like some gay porn movie that fizzled since it did not offer anything new.
Some of the dancers? Oh you would have wanted to shove Red Bulls or Enervon tablets up their arses. They do not have the energy. Period.
I do not have any idea as to how I'm supposed to end this blog so let's just end it here.
disappointed much?
ReplyDeletehi rigor! debbie ni.