XVI. The Guy Who Talked To Me In A Straight Bar

“I feel like you’re being sabotaged by your inner saboteur”

– RuPaul –

I know I said that I write my stories in chronological order, but this happened to me pretty recently and I feel the need to talk about it because I am still trying to comprehend what fucking happened. Plus, this is my blog so I am the one who makes the executive decision here. I know I talked big games about how I had fucked a bunch of guys before, but in real life, I’m still a quirky guy (well, unless you know me very well, then you will beg me to shut the fuck up) and I often overthink things that don’t matter. Also, a lot of you asked me if I’m gonna write about some of my experiences in Indonesia. Well, you’re in luck. What can I say, I’m a crowd pleaser.

Indonesia isn’t exactly known for being the most LGBT-welcoming country. Sure, we have a few gay bars in the big cities, but they’re definitely not on the same level of grandness as the gay bars in LA or SF. Most of the gay bars here are pretty compact-sized, so you can’t really have your moment to feel your oats and comfortably showcase your Beyoncé-esque moves on the dance floor when there are over 100 gays in the bar. And since there aren’t as many local gays here, people will recognize you instantly if you frequent these premises often. So yeah, as much as I want to hunt for dicks every weekend at these gay bars, I rarely go because this boy here needs his space sometimes. And what’s with the crappy dance music they play at gay bars here?

On one random Saturday night, my friends and I decided to have a cute time in one of our favorite bars. To quote my friend, “let’s not get too ratchet tonight and just have classy moments together!” And what did we end up doing? The exact opposite of the word “classy”. Needless to say, my friends and I had wayyy too many mind-altering substances and somehow we ended up driving to McDonald’s at 3 AM while blasting Celine Dion’s “All by Myself”. So yeah, you can’t really blame me for my questionable decisions that night. Blame it on the alcohol.

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I knew I wasn’t going to this supposedly “straight” bar trying to hook up with anyone, but I also wanted to make a statement and looked cute AF. So I decided to wear a floral patterned short-sleeved shirt with a pair of tight, dark green shorts (Tan France would be so proud of me that night). I was basically going for “I’m gay but I’m not that gay” kind of look. Why is any of this relevant, you might ask? I’ll let you know soon enough.

Knowing that the drinks at the bar we were going to were expensive, my friends and I decided to meet up at a nearby Italian restaurant to pre-game, because frankly, we’re all cheap asses. Needless to say, once we got to the bar, we were living. When we got to the dance floor, we didn’t just bop our heads to the music like frat boys who hold onto their masculinity so tight it hurts your eyes watching them dance. We danced like drag queens lipsyncing for their lives, except there wasn’t any death drop.

It took me longer than usual to spot this amazingly handsome guy standing next to my friends and I as we were dancing in a circle looking like we were performing a ritual to summon Nicki Minaj. Maybe it was because of the above-average amount of alcohol we consumed that night. Or maybe it was the fact that we were dancing like strippers whose rent is due in a couple hours. But when I turned my head, I laid my eyes on this gorgeous creature and thought, “holy shit, this guy is cute as fuuuckkk!” I can still vividly remember how he looked like: Tall, blonde hair, nice smile, toned body, blue and white striped tee, and navy blue shorts. He looked like a wannabe Abercrombie & Fitch model.

So why didn’t have the balls to talk to him, you might ask? Well, it’s kind of difficult to explain. If we were in a gay bar, I would probably be more confident to ask him out. But like I said, I am a self-proclaimed overthinker. To quote Mama Ru, I have an inner saboteur in my head whispering the following things to my ear:

  • “He’s obviously straight! Stop thinking that every cute guy around you is gay”
  • “What if he gets offended if you hit on him? What if he causes a scene in a bar and voila, suddenly everyone knows you’re gay?” (in retrospect, my outfit that night was already a dead giveaway. What was I thinking?)
  • “He’s obviously trying to get with your friends. The world doesn’t always revolve around you, you narcissistic whore!”.
  • “Honey, you are a sweaty mess. Why the fuck do you think he’s gonna like you?”

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Unfortunately, my inner saboteur won the battle against my thirstiness that night, and I decided to dance the night away, secretly hoping he would make the first move. To my surprise, this cute guy tapped my shoulder, came close to my ear, and asked me:

“Hey, where are you from?”

To say that I was taken aback was the biggest understatement of the year. I thought, “holy shit, what did he see in me?” I tried to pull myself together and answered his question, and we ended up conversing for a while. He told me that he came to the bar by himself because his friends got some serious bellyachesI could still remember his flirtatious smile when he told me he’s from Belgium and asked me to guess his age. “Goddamnit, he’s got a really nice smile“, I thought.  Out of nowhere, he asked me:

“So, do you have a girlfriend?”

My gay ass was too scared to tell him the truth. What I wanted to say to him that night was, “dude, I’m gay as hell and I wanna take you back to your hotel tonight and ride you all night long!” Instead, I just awkwardly giggled at his question and told him that I didn’t have a girlfriend (hey, technically it’s not a lie). When I asked him the same question, he coyly replied, “no, I’m just looking for the right one for now”. At this point, I was confused as fuck. He’s either an insanely flirty friendly handsome straight guy or he was trying to get into my pants this whole time. I really could not tell. I am a gay guy with the worst gaydar in the history of mankind.

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So my friends, this cute Belgian guy, and I were dancing together for a while and I tried playing it cool. Out of nowhere, he tapped my shoulder and walked away without saying anything. What. The. Fuck. I gave my friend a confused look, immediately tried to convince my friend that he’s trying to get with her, and she started yelling at me saying, “bitch, are you out of your fucking mind?! he’s clearly into you!

I’m basically stuck in a world of what-ifs now. What if I just had the balls to buy him a drink? What would have happened if I started becoming super slutty that night and rubbed my bum against his crotch on the dance floor? What if he actually thought I was straight? What if he’s actually the one waiting for me to make my move? Would the sex have been worth losing my dignity?

I should have taken my chance. I mean, what’s the worst thing that he can do to me? He probably would have politely rejected my advances and said, “sorry, I’m not into dudes”. But I was scared. I was scared of things that didn’t really matter. Or please tell me if I’m being completely delusional for thinking what I thought on the comments section below. Man… why are guys confusing as fuck? But one thing for sure is that the struggle of gay dating in Indonesia is real.

To my 22 years old Belgian lover, I know that our “relationship” merely lasted for a short period of time, and if you’re reading this (I really hope you don’t but oh well, #yolo), I would love to take you out on a drink someday and get to know you better. I think that would be nice.

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