Queer Love

(Or how I learned to stop worrying and enjoy myself in a gay bar)

Last night, I went to Bed, a premiere gay bar in the heart of Malate. After Simbang Gabi at Gesu, I, along with a motley crew composed of Nikko, Zsa Zsa, J and Milan trooped to Malate to party the night away at one of the city's most popular nightspots for gay men, Bed Bar. Diyosmio, I swear these things I get myself into! Milan was able to score us free entrance tickets courtesy of Great (yes that's his real name), owner extraordinaire of Bed Bar.

As soon as the velvet curtains parted, OH MY LORD, I was immediately enmeshed in the throbbing, sweltering world of Manila's gay culture. There were men without shirts on gyrating with full force onstage, under the twinkling lights of the chandeliers. And they weren't just any men, no sir. They were HOT, perfectly-chiseled men dancing onstage, much to the delight of both gay men and straight women, such as myself. "Ang macho nila!" I blurted out. "Are they gay?"

"Yes they're gay!" Milan replied. "Ang hot noh?"

I nodded my head. I was mesmerized, truly. It was strange at first, not because this was a completely alien world to me, although it was, but I felt strange because I felt something that I never usually feel when I'm in a bar, at night. I felt... safe. Wala naman magkakainteres sakin don, so as far as I was concerned, I can dance and drink the night away without worrying about such things as personal space and feminine delicadeza. It was a delicious prospect, really, to be in a place that was completely neutral, non-threatening. To be surrounded by men of all shapes and sizes but still be anonymous. I was ignored and I didn't mind at all, because I'm ignored for reasons that I really can't take personally anyway.

I felt like a spectator, though. I was an intruder in this private, personal world and my inner censor was telling me it's not right to make a social experiment of such a place. Gay men weren't exhbits after all. Again, my budding sociologist side kicked in. Issues of body body-reflexive practices, multiple masculinities and gender orders resurface. Thankfully, the music swells up to a fever pitch again so forget Judith Butler, R.W. Connell and company for now. It's time to party!

There were about 8 women, including myself and Zsa Zsa, present and accounted for. I looked around and the whole bar was full of beautiful men, really, beautiful, slick-haired and (I imagine) immaculately-manicured men. Oh the tragedy of it all! Why, Lord, whyyyyy must they be gay?

There were free drinks galore, courtesy of Great, and yes I saw men kissing men, and no, gays don't dance to just Cher or Gloria Gaynor. I saw some of the who's who in the gay culture, including some well-known designers and event organizers. I even bumped into Eric, my cousin's wedding gown designer and we toasted to my cousin's upcoming wedding. And finally, yes, I drank and I danced and I laughed and that was how I spent my Saturday night.