Monday, February 26, 2007

So we went to Bank on Saturday night. Don't Tell.

It was one of those nights where you run into half the people you went to college with, that 6'6" guy you used to date, and two closeted kids from your summer camp. Oh, and one or two people you smile and wave at because you think you are acquaintances, only to realize too late that you've just cruised them on Friendster.

It was our first night at a big gay club in a while, and we experienced a phenomenon that we had (thankfully) completely forgotten: Cruise Rage.

You know when you see a guy who is cute, but not too cute to be out of reach? Every gay has a general sense of the top and bottom range of boys that can be reasonably cruised with some hope of success. When you find one in the upper range of that scale, you focus. You keep your eye on him, waiting for the moment he looks back, and you can make eye contact for just enough seconds to make him realize you're interested and worth pursuing. But sometimes, he just won't look back. And you keep looking. You start having difficulty maintaining conversations because you want to make sure you're looking when he happens to turn in your direction. You make sure you are always dancing facing his direction. There may be other boys around looking at you, but you've spent so much time waiting for this one, that you are committed. But he just WON'T LOOK.

And then you realize, 'Wait, is he AVOIDING looking at me?' So you look even harder, to see whether he is purposefully directing his glances elsewhere. He's not that much cuter than you are. Who is he to so blatantly ignore you, when he knows perfectly well that you are standing just nearby in your cute shirt, with your carefully crafted floppy hair, waiting to be noticed?
Should you go up to him and confront him? Who does he think he is?? LOOK THIS WAY!

Ah. Cruise Rage.

Thankfully this never lasts that long. After all, we know we're much smarter and more fun than he is. We can just tell by his outfit. We're a much better catch, and it's his loss. Stupid idiot doesn't even know what he's missing. He's not worth it. We can tell just by looking at him.

Which we are still doing. For the rest of the night.

4 comments:

mymymichl said...

You are sooo sweet to let me know I'm not the only one who went through that.

wazza said...

Thanks guys for describing a standard Saturday night. Maybe there is something to being less picky?

Vincent said...

So it was YOU who couldn't stop looking at me!?

Nahhh I'm only kidding. I'm a nice boy, I don't do that, even though I'm from Paris, where it's the only thing gay males do in clubs. lol.

bigmouth said...

OOOH! We LOVE the French!