I didnt mean to go out. I didnt plan on it, but thats what apparently happened. I guess there is a background story to last nights events:
Tonight is Sin City down at 23 West Cordova.
I used to run website here in town called Vancouverotica.com It was simply a listing of all the piercing shops, tattoo shops, clothing stores that carried the stuff like latex, PVC, leather etc My ex and I used to go down to the main fetish party once a month. It was originally called The Bettie Page Social Club but ol Bettie there caught wind of it and had her lawyers request a name change of the party. The promoters had to change the name, and in order to keep the acronym BPSC, they changed it to the Body Perve Social Club.. We used to go down and Id take pictures for the website. Nothing too risqu, just a monthly updated gallery. Thats where that one pic of my ex and I came from. Anyways, eventually another group of people created a spin off or alternative to it, Sin City is held the second Saturday of every month and weve never been. I recognize a lot of the faces I see in the gallery that is updated at The Smoke Pit
Anyways, we stopped going to anything like that back in 2000. I pulled the website, and my rubber clothing disintegrated over the years. I have very recently thrown it all out, and its been almost 5 years since needing to replace any of it.
I went out for coffee with the great dane woman who turned out to be fully 100% lesbian. (well, shes married and pregnant as well, if THAT doesnt complicate matters) that was a few days ago. As we were sitting there, some old friends of Robyn and I came up to the table, they used to live downstairs from us here in this apartment and we used to go to Body Perve together. They handed me a couple of passes for Sin City, which is tonight.
The conversation between the Great Dane woman and myself turned to fetish parties, and as it turns out, she loves them and goes all the time. She is going to be there tonight. I started to really consider going to this one, and I started to really feel quite excited about it.
So anyways, I suddenly realized that I have nothing to wear. Nothing at all. I dont particularly see myself going out and spending 400 dollars on new rubber right now, (although I would love to) but I need something.
So I went up to the PumpJack Pub last night. Its only a couple of blocks from my apartment here, so its extremely easy to get to. However, its also (as you can probably guess from the name) very very very gay. Not a gay club in the trendy dance bar sorta way where there are still quite a few hot women mixed into the crowd. No, this is a bear bar for the mans man. Nothing but men, a lot of them shirtless, many many leather arm bands and hairy stomachs. Its the cockpit. As a totally straight man, I cant say there is much of a calling for me to spend a lot of time hanging out there. Dont get me wrong, I dont have any issues with that, I recognize a lot of the guys there from when I used to work at the vitamin shop on Davie, and I dont have any homophobic hang-ups.
However, an old acquaintance of ours works there. A guy Ive known since the days of vancouverotica, hes pretty heavily involved in the BDSM scene here in town, (Im not at all, nor do I expect to find a day where I am, either) Anyways, Ive run into him a few times over the last couple of weeks, strange places and circumstances, and he kept making comments about how I have to get out of my shell and come down to some events again. I agreed, but mentioned the lack of an appropriate wardrobe. He mentioned that he could lend me a kilt, if I wanted.
Well, I thought about it for quite a while, and finally realized that yes indeed, the idea of me going down to Sin City in a kilt is somewhat exciting to my poor little undernourished sexual brain. So I went to the pumpjack last night at 9:30, knowing that he would just be getting off of work. We could hook up and figure out the kilt situation.
When I got to the bar, it was pouring, absolutely torrential. I was wearing my rubber coat, so I wasnt too wet. I walked into the club and up to the bar to get in line for a beer. I looked around to see if I could see my friend, but mostly I noticed the obvious stares of quite a few moustachiod men. (Is that a come hither look hes giving me? Or does he just want to beat me up?... holy shit, those two guys by the window there are both totally staring at me but that guys smiling so I dont think THEY want to beat me up.)
As I looked around, I realized that there were quite a few guys giving me the lookThe staring was kind of bothering me a little bit just making me somewhat selfconscious, but I think I was just new meat to them. I quickly got my beer and went into the back room to see if my friend was back there. I couldnt see him around yet.
Finally talked to one of the bartenders, (my next door neighbor here, actually) he tells me that my friend just left to go home and get his date, but he would be coming back, so I just parked myself in the back and started to drink my beer too quickly. A couple of different guys came up and started conversations with me, and it was kinda awkward trying to get it out there that I am straight. In a way, I felt like perhaps I shouldnt be there. Of course they were going to assume I was gay. What else would I be doing there? A single man standing by himself under a big photo of a very well endowed man in leather chaps. I mentioned it in passing that I had moved to Vancouver with my girlfriend or blah blah blah ex-girlfriend One guy actually said to me: well if you are so straight, then what are you doing here? I can understand their perspective, hitting on me and then possibly being embarrassed about the straightforward nature of their approach after finding out that I am all about the vulva, and none about the penis. (except my own, of course I love you, penis)
One particularly drunk guy came up and gave me a big hug, youre so Cute! he says, leaning in and reaching up to kiss my cheek (he was only about 52, long stretch)
I bet you have SO MANY boyfriends! Smoooooch I pulled back, but not before he planted one on my cheek and the sensation of his whiskers scratching my face as he did so was very unpleasant.
no, I have no boyfriends, but I wish I had so many girlfriends I said.
He looked quite shocked, and he just sorta stumbled off back from whence he came.
Ok dude, where ARE you? I buckle and buy smokes. I dont want to talk about that part though.
10:15, I am on my 3rd pint in 45 minutes, and still no friend. I call him on his cell phone and he tells me he is on is way over and him and Teagan should be arriving in 5 minutes.
Save me!
Finally, I see him walk into the back room with a stunningly beautiful woman. I think she needs to be a suicide girl. Black dreadlocks, slim limbed white skinned and blue eyed. She is his current play thing I think. Shes sub. Very sub. Bottom.
Well, we hang in the back there, I have yet another beer and he tells me that he hasnt been able to get the kilt yet. Its at his friends place.
Well, at around 11:15, I decide its time I made my departure. Him and her were just about to jump in a cab and head down to shebean, an old irish whiskey house down in gastown. I love that place, but Im going home.
where do you think youre going? he asks, as I start to walk down Davie in the direction of my apartment.
home I say.
shut up and get in the cab. He says. Teagan is smiling at me.
Ok fuck it, why not? Sure. Fine. Lets go then.
I jump in the back of the cab with the two of them, and we head on down to gastown. Im feeling pretty drunk. He is sitting between Teagan and I, his arm around both of us and he makes some comment about hand fulls of nipple. He finds my nipple ring through my shirt and he is pulling it. I look over and realize he is doing the same thing to her.
dude, ow. I say. He just smiles.
I guess that could have been really weird, but I know him, and thats just the way he is. He knows it aint going anywhere with me. Whatever.
We get out of the cab just up the street from the Irish Heather, and Teagan pulls out a big fat joint. Asks me for a light.
Now, I have had enough experience with weed to know that smoking weed first, and then drinking is fine. But drinking first, and then smoking weed is never a good idea. Unfortunately, once Ive been drinking, I seem to consistently forget that little tidbit of wisdom.
weed before wine, and youll be just fine. Weed after beer, and youll be in fear or something like that ah fuckit. I take a big hit off the joint, and blow out a shockingly large plume of thick bluewhite smoke. Uh oh.
Just then, a large man in a wheelchair rolls up. He only has one arm, the other one was shot off in nam. He must be that one Canadian Vietnam vet I kept hearing about. He starts reciting poetry in his gravelly downtown east side voice and the entire scene becomes totally surreal. The pot is kicking in already and I am totally enveloped in the words coming from him. I have no idea what he said at this point, but I remember wishing I could record his voice, because it was really quite amazing. Musical almost, in a Tom Waits sorta way.
We give him a couple smokes, and leave him to his poetry and wheelchair. The three of us walk through the irish heather, and climb the back stairs of shebean. Some birthday party of his friends is happening here. Thats what we came for.
Get to the top of the stairs, and there are about 12 people sitting around the only big table upstairs. My mouth is starting to get extremely dry. Im standing in front of the table, they are all looking up at me and there are names of each face coming my way. Fuckin drymouth is suddenly my only concern. Mouth is so dry. Dry to the point where during the introductions, I smiled at one point in time and my lips got stuck on my gums. My tongue rough and scraping against the roof of my mouth as I try to form words. I cant make them sound right though, my lips arent coming back down from the stuck grimace they found themselves in, and my tongue cant seem to make an s happen without it sounding like th I actually had to use my hand to pull my upper lip down from my gums. My brain is definitely going into some strange cloud of nonawareness from that dope. Having trouble forming the sentences in my brain to begin with, but now I cant even get my mouth parts to make them sound right.
Fuck am I ever way too high. I need a BEVERAGE!
I dont really have anything to say to these new people. I mostly just sit there with my red eyeballs and listen and watch. My friend is trying to convince Teagan to try some single malt. She doesnt look at all like she wants to. The waitress comes up to take our order, and Teagan says to her:
I want something with alcohol in it, but I dont want to taste the alcohol. A long island ice tea is suggested, which she agrees to. My friend orders her a scotch anyways, and I grab a pint of smithwicks. Great another beer. Just what I need. Actually I just needed some liquid in my mouth to consistently wash away the dust that keeps forming.
Teagan cant drink her scotch. He convinces her to at least try a sip, and I think for a second she is going to throw up. Not a good I love scotch face.
She gives it to me.
Then he orders me one.
I drink more beer, finish my scotch and eventually we leave the pub. I cant remember the conversations that went on with all the other people that were there, but I know that that same crowd is going to be going down to Sin City tonight. Teagan said she is really looking forward to seeing me down there with no shirt on.
I remember walking back into my apartment here at around 2:00am, I stumbled around and got undressed, layed down on the couch and immediately launched myself up and towards the bathroom.
Ahhh the cool porcelain of the toilet.. Hello old friend, lemme just hug you for a while. You are so cold and reassuring. Is Ralph home?
Needless to say, Im feeling a little bit hungover today. I just went up to the barber shop by my place here to get one of the old Italian men to give a cleanup, and the barber I normally see wasnt there. Instead, there was a woman working. She saw me and said OH MY GOD! I went to highschool with her like 20 years ago. She says I look exactly the same. She used to have a crush on me back then, and she had my picture hanging on the inside of her locker door. I found that to be quite annoying. Now shes cutting my hair. Whoda thunk it.
Well, I am totally excited for tonight. I have been hammering my brain to come up with something to wear with the kilt, but these people from last night are trying desperately to convince me to just wear the kilt. Well see.
Tonight is Sin City down at 23 West Cordova.
I used to run website here in town called Vancouverotica.com It was simply a listing of all the piercing shops, tattoo shops, clothing stores that carried the stuff like latex, PVC, leather etc My ex and I used to go down to the main fetish party once a month. It was originally called The Bettie Page Social Club but ol Bettie there caught wind of it and had her lawyers request a name change of the party. The promoters had to change the name, and in order to keep the acronym BPSC, they changed it to the Body Perve Social Club.. We used to go down and Id take pictures for the website. Nothing too risqu, just a monthly updated gallery. Thats where that one pic of my ex and I came from. Anyways, eventually another group of people created a spin off or alternative to it, Sin City is held the second Saturday of every month and weve never been. I recognize a lot of the faces I see in the gallery that is updated at The Smoke Pit
Anyways, we stopped going to anything like that back in 2000. I pulled the website, and my rubber clothing disintegrated over the years. I have very recently thrown it all out, and its been almost 5 years since needing to replace any of it.
I went out for coffee with the great dane woman who turned out to be fully 100% lesbian. (well, shes married and pregnant as well, if THAT doesnt complicate matters) that was a few days ago. As we were sitting there, some old friends of Robyn and I came up to the table, they used to live downstairs from us here in this apartment and we used to go to Body Perve together. They handed me a couple of passes for Sin City, which is tonight.
The conversation between the Great Dane woman and myself turned to fetish parties, and as it turns out, she loves them and goes all the time. She is going to be there tonight. I started to really consider going to this one, and I started to really feel quite excited about it.
So anyways, I suddenly realized that I have nothing to wear. Nothing at all. I dont particularly see myself going out and spending 400 dollars on new rubber right now, (although I would love to) but I need something.
So I went up to the PumpJack Pub last night. Its only a couple of blocks from my apartment here, so its extremely easy to get to. However, its also (as you can probably guess from the name) very very very gay. Not a gay club in the trendy dance bar sorta way where there are still quite a few hot women mixed into the crowd. No, this is a bear bar for the mans man. Nothing but men, a lot of them shirtless, many many leather arm bands and hairy stomachs. Its the cockpit. As a totally straight man, I cant say there is much of a calling for me to spend a lot of time hanging out there. Dont get me wrong, I dont have any issues with that, I recognize a lot of the guys there from when I used to work at the vitamin shop on Davie, and I dont have any homophobic hang-ups.
However, an old acquaintance of ours works there. A guy Ive known since the days of vancouverotica, hes pretty heavily involved in the BDSM scene here in town, (Im not at all, nor do I expect to find a day where I am, either) Anyways, Ive run into him a few times over the last couple of weeks, strange places and circumstances, and he kept making comments about how I have to get out of my shell and come down to some events again. I agreed, but mentioned the lack of an appropriate wardrobe. He mentioned that he could lend me a kilt, if I wanted.
Well, I thought about it for quite a while, and finally realized that yes indeed, the idea of me going down to Sin City in a kilt is somewhat exciting to my poor little undernourished sexual brain. So I went to the pumpjack last night at 9:30, knowing that he would just be getting off of work. We could hook up and figure out the kilt situation.
When I got to the bar, it was pouring, absolutely torrential. I was wearing my rubber coat, so I wasnt too wet. I walked into the club and up to the bar to get in line for a beer. I looked around to see if I could see my friend, but mostly I noticed the obvious stares of quite a few moustachiod men. (Is that a come hither look hes giving me? Or does he just want to beat me up?... holy shit, those two guys by the window there are both totally staring at me but that guys smiling so I dont think THEY want to beat me up.)
As I looked around, I realized that there were quite a few guys giving me the lookThe staring was kind of bothering me a little bit just making me somewhat selfconscious, but I think I was just new meat to them. I quickly got my beer and went into the back room to see if my friend was back there. I couldnt see him around yet.
Finally talked to one of the bartenders, (my next door neighbor here, actually) he tells me that my friend just left to go home and get his date, but he would be coming back, so I just parked myself in the back and started to drink my beer too quickly. A couple of different guys came up and started conversations with me, and it was kinda awkward trying to get it out there that I am straight. In a way, I felt like perhaps I shouldnt be there. Of course they were going to assume I was gay. What else would I be doing there? A single man standing by himself under a big photo of a very well endowed man in leather chaps. I mentioned it in passing that I had moved to Vancouver with my girlfriend or blah blah blah ex-girlfriend One guy actually said to me: well if you are so straight, then what are you doing here? I can understand their perspective, hitting on me and then possibly being embarrassed about the straightforward nature of their approach after finding out that I am all about the vulva, and none about the penis. (except my own, of course I love you, penis)
One particularly drunk guy came up and gave me a big hug, youre so Cute! he says, leaning in and reaching up to kiss my cheek (he was only about 52, long stretch)
I bet you have SO MANY boyfriends! Smoooooch I pulled back, but not before he planted one on my cheek and the sensation of his whiskers scratching my face as he did so was very unpleasant.
no, I have no boyfriends, but I wish I had so many girlfriends I said.
He looked quite shocked, and he just sorta stumbled off back from whence he came.
Ok dude, where ARE you? I buckle and buy smokes. I dont want to talk about that part though.
10:15, I am on my 3rd pint in 45 minutes, and still no friend. I call him on his cell phone and he tells me he is on is way over and him and Teagan should be arriving in 5 minutes.
Save me!
Finally, I see him walk into the back room with a stunningly beautiful woman. I think she needs to be a suicide girl. Black dreadlocks, slim limbed white skinned and blue eyed. She is his current play thing I think. Shes sub. Very sub. Bottom.
Well, we hang in the back there, I have yet another beer and he tells me that he hasnt been able to get the kilt yet. Its at his friends place.
Well, at around 11:15, I decide its time I made my departure. Him and her were just about to jump in a cab and head down to shebean, an old irish whiskey house down in gastown. I love that place, but Im going home.
where do you think youre going? he asks, as I start to walk down Davie in the direction of my apartment.
home I say.
shut up and get in the cab. He says. Teagan is smiling at me.
Ok fuck it, why not? Sure. Fine. Lets go then.
I jump in the back of the cab with the two of them, and we head on down to gastown. Im feeling pretty drunk. He is sitting between Teagan and I, his arm around both of us and he makes some comment about hand fulls of nipple. He finds my nipple ring through my shirt and he is pulling it. I look over and realize he is doing the same thing to her.
dude, ow. I say. He just smiles.
I guess that could have been really weird, but I know him, and thats just the way he is. He knows it aint going anywhere with me. Whatever.
We get out of the cab just up the street from the Irish Heather, and Teagan pulls out a big fat joint. Asks me for a light.
Now, I have had enough experience with weed to know that smoking weed first, and then drinking is fine. But drinking first, and then smoking weed is never a good idea. Unfortunately, once Ive been drinking, I seem to consistently forget that little tidbit of wisdom.
weed before wine, and youll be just fine. Weed after beer, and youll be in fear or something like that ah fuckit. I take a big hit off the joint, and blow out a shockingly large plume of thick bluewhite smoke. Uh oh.
Just then, a large man in a wheelchair rolls up. He only has one arm, the other one was shot off in nam. He must be that one Canadian Vietnam vet I kept hearing about. He starts reciting poetry in his gravelly downtown east side voice and the entire scene becomes totally surreal. The pot is kicking in already and I am totally enveloped in the words coming from him. I have no idea what he said at this point, but I remember wishing I could record his voice, because it was really quite amazing. Musical almost, in a Tom Waits sorta way.
We give him a couple smokes, and leave him to his poetry and wheelchair. The three of us walk through the irish heather, and climb the back stairs of shebean. Some birthday party of his friends is happening here. Thats what we came for.
Get to the top of the stairs, and there are about 12 people sitting around the only big table upstairs. My mouth is starting to get extremely dry. Im standing in front of the table, they are all looking up at me and there are names of each face coming my way. Fuckin drymouth is suddenly my only concern. Mouth is so dry. Dry to the point where during the introductions, I smiled at one point in time and my lips got stuck on my gums. My tongue rough and scraping against the roof of my mouth as I try to form words. I cant make them sound right though, my lips arent coming back down from the stuck grimace they found themselves in, and my tongue cant seem to make an s happen without it sounding like th I actually had to use my hand to pull my upper lip down from my gums. My brain is definitely going into some strange cloud of nonawareness from that dope. Having trouble forming the sentences in my brain to begin with, but now I cant even get my mouth parts to make them sound right.
Fuck am I ever way too high. I need a BEVERAGE!
I dont really have anything to say to these new people. I mostly just sit there with my red eyeballs and listen and watch. My friend is trying to convince Teagan to try some single malt. She doesnt look at all like she wants to. The waitress comes up to take our order, and Teagan says to her:
I want something with alcohol in it, but I dont want to taste the alcohol. A long island ice tea is suggested, which she agrees to. My friend orders her a scotch anyways, and I grab a pint of smithwicks. Great another beer. Just what I need. Actually I just needed some liquid in my mouth to consistently wash away the dust that keeps forming.
Teagan cant drink her scotch. He convinces her to at least try a sip, and I think for a second she is going to throw up. Not a good I love scotch face.
She gives it to me.
Then he orders me one.
I drink more beer, finish my scotch and eventually we leave the pub. I cant remember the conversations that went on with all the other people that were there, but I know that that same crowd is going to be going down to Sin City tonight. Teagan said she is really looking forward to seeing me down there with no shirt on.
I remember walking back into my apartment here at around 2:00am, I stumbled around and got undressed, layed down on the couch and immediately launched myself up and towards the bathroom.
Ahhh the cool porcelain of the toilet.. Hello old friend, lemme just hug you for a while. You are so cold and reassuring. Is Ralph home?
Needless to say, Im feeling a little bit hungover today. I just went up to the barber shop by my place here to get one of the old Italian men to give a cleanup, and the barber I normally see wasnt there. Instead, there was a woman working. She saw me and said OH MY GOD! I went to highschool with her like 20 years ago. She says I look exactly the same. She used to have a crush on me back then, and she had my picture hanging on the inside of her locker door. I found that to be quite annoying. Now shes cutting my hair. Whoda thunk it.
Well, I am totally excited for tonight. I have been hammering my brain to come up with something to wear with the kilt, but these people from last night are trying desperately to convince me to just wear the kilt. Well see.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
I'm looking forward to hearing more about last night, kilt boy.