The Flies & The Solitary Shit Down The Disco

Monday morning again and Saturday’s solo visit to the disco becomes nothing more than a pleasant, receding memory. It was my first night out in Helsinki since last October and only the second time in a gay bar since last Autumn. And it was fantastic! Gay bars are funny places – if you are a regular, you can easily become 'part of the furniture'. Return after a few months away and, suddenly, you are like shit surrounded by loads of flies. Guys were swarming around me, but I was there for the music. Just me and the music.

At least, that was the plan. Within minutes of arriving, I bumped in my long-time friend, the Swedish-Finn. Still sober at this point, we caught up on the usual subjects: our partners, our jobs, plans for the summer. I was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that it was now March. Where did Janaury and February go? Parting, I made my way to the back bar, obtaining a drink before making my way back towards the dance floor.

Standing very close to the dancefloor, my drinking rest on one of the shelves, I danced idly as Madonna’s Hung Up blared from the speakers; it was surprising, compared to just six months earlier, that this song didn’t attract as many people, an indication that people were moving on. To my left, the flies hovered, eyeing me up as I gyrated my hips to the music. I’m such a tease, I thought to myself. If Bree were here right now, he would probably reprimand me for 'inappropriate movement in a public place'!

From behind, somebody grabbed my ass, but no harm was done. It was one of Bree’s friends, who was accompanied by his sidekick, the Jap, a guy who is half Venezuelan, half-Japanese and lost in Finland. The three of us chatted and laughed. I told the Jap about my stalker, the one who, for the last three summers, has watched me sleep when I am at the outdoor pool in the summer. He is a bloody handsome guy, but isn’t watching people sleeping just bordering on weirdness?

Kylie Minogue’s latest hit, Wow, played and hordes of gays were rushing towards the dancefloor, seeking lyrical fulfillment from the Princess of Pop. Unable to get onto the dancefloor, I settled for my miming which, as a native English speaker, always gets the guys curious. I can imagine the questions running through their mind: How does he know all the words? How can he move so well to the music? Is he foreign? The minute this last question starts processing, the flies move in, but fortunately I am saved by Madonna’s Vogue and it’s now my time to join the dancefloor.

By this time, several drinks later, I’m 'in the zone'. I am dancing on my own in a room full of guys. Some are in a worse state than I am, others are totally sober, scanning the dancefloor ernestly in search of the night’s conquest. But I am there to enjoy myself. I’m losing control, letting the music sweep me away. As the last lyrics of Vogue fade out, the unmistakable digitised intro of Kylie Minogue’s Better The Devil You Know abruptly moves in, stealing the show, generating whoops among the gays. My eyes are closed, I’m singing, I’m dancing, I’m on fire! Guys move close, I move away, indicating that I’m here for me and not them. It was only the next morning, when the confidence had worn off that I would wonder what people must have thought of that bald, sport-looking dude doing his drag act on the dancefloor! Hilarious!

When the song drew to a close, the music took a disappointing turn and the majority of dancers left the area. At the bar, I met these two girls who, both sporting jet black hair, seemed confused when I asked them if they were together. They looked at eachother blankly before admitting that might be the case. It seemed like they were on the first days to what might be the start of a new relationship. They were attractive, but I was rather surprised when one of the girls asked me if I would sleep with her, reminding me of that time in Bergen, Norway, when a bisexual couple propositioned me to have sex with them. The offer certainly massaged my ego, but I told her I was 100% gay and I wouldn’t want to be a disappointment. She suddenly kissed me passionately and I was like oh my god! What a night this was turning out to be.

I needed another drink so, at the bar, the next surprise of the night was about to make an appearance in the form of Harri. Harri and I had been nothing more than mere acquaintances when I lived in Tampere five years earlier and, having lost contact, he was standing right next to me as I ordered my drink. It was only when I looked to my left that he was gazing into my eyes, the way drunk people do. It was then that I realized that he hadn’t changed at all – still drinking heavily, visibly fatter, still sporting the unshaven look on his greasy skin, our encounter would be brief. I made my excuses, heading towards the edge of the dancefloor.

There, I bumped into Mika, another of Bree’s life-long friends. It was clear that I had been away for too long because everyone seemed to have missed me. This visual display of non-stop socializing got the flies stirring even more - they were thinking, perhaps, that this shit is fun to be around! Mike and I cooed like old ladies in that way that only Bree and Mika can do. Having initially disliked Mika for his non-stop psychoanalysis, he had somewhat mellowed over the years making him much nicer to be around.

Mika was leaving, which would enable one particular fly to make his move on me. But he wasn’t going to make a move on me because it was Petteri, one guy I had met about two years ago. As a general rule (and I don’t know nor understand why), if a gay guy can’t sleep with you, he can’t be your friend either and this is what happened with Petteri. I hadn’t heard from him in more than a year, and I asked him why. He said he had developed feelings for me and found it difficult to be around me for that reason. I told him that he needs to learn how to separate feelings and friendship because if he finds most guys attractive - which he does since he isn’t that fussy - and cuts off all those guys that don’t reciprocate, he is potentially denying himself some great friendships. Rather bluntly, I told him 'he had lost me', and I walked away.

As I stumbled home, I noticed that I couldn’t even walk in a straight line. The blaring music receded and I was now alone with my thoughts. I remember thinking that this was the best time in my life: to be thirty is a great age. You are in top form in terms of health, you know what you want or at least you should and it helps if you’re desirable which, judging my the number of flies hovering around was definitely the case. I got into bed that night, very much content, and slept soundly in the knowledge that things were not all that bad in Finland at the moment. I have spent so much time thinking about the upcoming trip to Australia that, unintentionally, I had somehow forgotten to live in the present.