An ode to gay night-lifers (for life)

But then the club became a home, and the faces at the bar became familiar, became known. It would take months, but over time: a glance, a nod, then a smile...

An ode to gay night-lifers (for life)

I don’t think we ever thought we’d still be dancing in the dark

Working through feelings, exorcising demons on the dance floor

Remember how arrogant we were,

Thinking we were someone (our brains not even fully formed yet)

We’d snicker at those old gays who hung around the bar, chatting with each other

Barely moving to the beat

That will never be me, I used to say to myself

I’d say to myself:

When I’m their age I won’t be going to clubs and bars anymore. How sad is that? No, not me. These faces hanging around the clubs so late at night, trying to relive, recapture, retain, some kind of youth. Always lurking in some corner. No, this will not be me. I will be somewhere else, on a yacht in Thailand, a Michelin star restaurant hidden in the Alps, tanning on a private island in Greece, rolling in money…

But then the club became a home,

and the faces at the bar became familiar, became known.

It would take months, but over time: a glance, a nod, then a smile

Names finally exchanged, then eventually an offer of a round of shots

These men became fixtures, like wood paneling the smell of musk and cigarettes

I learned to savour their stories, their hugs, the way they carried their drunken joy

Never too close but close enough

To learn about their divorces, their open relationships, their adult children

Close enough

To talk about surviving AIDS and being undetectable

Close enough

To water their plants when they went on vacation

And feed their cats

Oh youth: the rush to get somewhere, anywhere but here

And these old men at the bar with their knowing, a hand on my shoulder

Grounding me to earth, their easy laughter and patience with my buzzing anxiety

Quietly whispering to me without words, but with their eyes:

Don’t worry so much about the future. The future will come before you know it.

Just be here now

And here I am (here we are). The future has come: no yachts. No Michelin star restaurants

The torch has been passed, to me, to my generation:

Don’t be shy

Come find me if you want to talk

I’ve had my fair share of adventures. Let me share my stories with you

And when I talk with my friends about the parties we’re still going to, the aches and pains of our bodies, the grief and sorrow that are now so ever-present in our lives, we keep saying to each other:

Did we ever imagine we’d still be dancing in the dark?