Well that all kind of came to a crashing end last night. I was lured out to Honest? John's for the third anniversary gathering for HotFudgeDetroit, a snarky ill-tempered local web forum for people who no longer see living in Detroit through rose-tinted glasses but love it (mostly) anyway. And more significantly, HFD is the birthplace of Supergay Detroit and the Detroit Gay Bar Blight Tour.
[Note: If I've never explained the origins of the name Supergay it's because I was probably embarrassed. I created Supergay when HFD started up as an identity to parody the postings of a local blogger and forum participant. I don't know what's more appalling, the utter lack of maturity or the overwhelming geekiness of it all. Do I feel bad about it all now? Sure, if it makes me seem like a better person. Let's just thank God things evolved for Supergay. Well, a little bit.]
Anyway, the internet forum meetup was fun and it was great to see the gang in person, they are an excellent bunch. But I got caught up in the spirit of the evening and I didn't say no to shots of Kessler when I should have, and then there is kind of this blur of talking to people, and the next thing I know someone is shouting "OK we're going to Bouzouki!"
Regular readers may recall last year's visit to Bouzouki II ("the deuce") a dive of a strip joint in Capitol Park (now called Lolita's). Well this trip was to the original Bouzouki in Greektown. It's bigger and more popular, and I consented to tag along provided someone paid my cover and bought me a beer.
It turns out this Bouzouki is more "formatted" as a strip club, but it's still a shitty shithole! So much for downtown's premiere live female entertainment! The place is worn down in that "dump" kind of way. We were seated at a table by a hostess (apparently it's customary to tip them!?) and then I had to clear off a half-full beer bottle, a full ashtray and dirty tablecloths just so I could be seated. Ew. There were spots on the walls where drywall had been patched but not repainted. The bathroom had a plastic bag over one of the urinals and some guy there I guess was the attendant, although he kind of just looked like a homeless Mexican dude.
And then the viewing began. The "girls" were really not all that fantastic, although I will say to their credit most of them had not resorted to surgical breast augmentation, which typically makes me uncomfortable. But most of them had that really bad fried looking blonde hair and they all wore those ridiculous stripper platform heels with the clear base - like it was a uniform or something. And there were several dancers who were downright chubby! The whole vibe of the girls was super Macomb County, which upon reflection was also the vibe of the customers. And Greektown in general, really. So maybe the guys there just like to see girls who look like their girlfriends.
I fucking hate these cheap-ass shoes.
If I were straight I'd lose my bonaire right away.
The stage here had four dance poles and four girls dancing at all times. At Bouzouki II I was really fascinated with the extensive pole acrobatics, but here at the "nicer" club there were hardly any stunts at all! Really only one or two girls were working the pole in a way I found satisfying.
The most frustrating aspect, aside from the horrendous music, the constant solicitations for private dances and the guys I was with continually disappearing to who-knows-what DNA encrusted banquettes, was that I could not get out of my head the desire to see the four women dancing on the stage coordinate their moves somehow. It would have been so incredible if the were all dancing separately and then suddenly they were all in synch for a few moves, right? I mean, a little choreography goes a long way! I'd tip for that.
The problem when I go to titty bars is that I really want it to be Showgirls, but it's always more Law & Order Special Victims Unit. I suppose I should have thought about that before going into another titty bar in the first place.
God made me gay for a lot of reasons, and I believe one of them was so I could avoid disasters like Bouzouki. I am going to say a prayer of thanks right now. And re-embrace moderation!