Gay Bar: Material
I entered a gay bar full of bears with two trans friends. The barman welcomed us. I spent the rest of the evening trying to understand how bodies move.
The three of us clicked quickly. We started talking about hormones: testosterone, estrogen, menopause for transmasculine people. And the idea of going to a gay sauna together came up. I got excited about it: moving relaxed naked in these spaces. Fuck, chill, sweat.
To enter one has to look masculine. What are the evaluation criteria?
We walked through a group of people to get to a table outside. One guy gave me a negative vibe. It was subtle because he seemed relaxed with other people, but when our eyes met once or twice, I felt he was expressing something close to disgust. Most of the other fags were fine. I sensed curiosity, people wondering who I was.
Inside there were screens showing porn, huge dicks above you while you're ordering a beer. I tried to act like it was totally normal. I did enjoy it, but it wasn't easy to get used to. I come from dyke spaces. My friend passes completely. Sometimes I pass... Until I speak. My voice is soft.
I wore a white T-shirt on purpose so my flat chest would be visible. I wanted it to be clear that I'm one of them. I hoped they might notice my grafted nipples through the fabric.
My friend suggested we go see the dark room. I smiled.
It was pretty small. As you entered, there was a little bit of light, two booths, and a glory hole between them. I drifted my hand through to imagine the experience. Right next to that was another space that was completely dark.
I said "Oh, it's really dark."
After that, I leaned against him and we started making out. I wonder if things would be more straightforward if one of us were cis. Not because anything is wrong with either of us, but just materially, in terms of bodies and desires. I felt turned on, being close to him, touching him, his beard, heavy body, hairy skin, and kind vibe. Then he touched my chest over my T-shirt. I didn't really feel it at first because I still have reduced sensation after surgery. He hesitated. But I lifted my shirt, took his hands, and guided it onto my scars. He was so gentle, caressing me. There was something moving about one trans guy touching another one's scars. His hands slipped. I told him "Right now, it doesn't really feel sexual. It's almost medical. But I love it so much."
This bar is one of the places where trans people are welcomed, but at the same time, I realized this is going to be hard. There are so many social codes I still have to learn. If I catch someone's gaze, what then? Do I walk over?
I saw myself in a mirror. My face slipped. I heard this voice saying, "You don't look like a gay guy…" I saw this strange face, young and old at once. Like an androgynous baby face with signs of age. Maybe that's what we call the trans masc glow. My throat tightened, my eyes filled with tears, and it became a little harder to breathe. Of course, I hid those feelings as much as I could, trying to toughen up.
The bar was incredibly loud, almost to the point of giving me a headache. That's one of the reasons I used to drink and smoke. The cloud of smoke created a blurred screen around me. It softened everything, reduced the intensity of all the information coming at me.
My friend said he needed to pee and asked if I wanted to come with him. I appreciated his protective behavior. There was a urinal and two locked doors. You had to ask the barman for a key if you wanted to sit. I have a stand-to-pee realistic packer at home. The first time I watched my urine flow through a prosthetic dick from above felt ecstatic.
When I saw two guys standing there peeing, I thought I should learn that. It feels like learning how to dance. A protocol of precise movements. The pressure is high, like classical ballet, you can't make mistakes.
I let my friend go into the toilet first, and I waited next to the guys using the urinals. I was trying to stand proudly, well anchored on my feet, while also giving them privacy. I caught glimpses of my face again in the mirror. This time it was clear, no way am I going to listen to that mean voice.
Later, when we were sitting in the bar, observing the body language and the fags around me, I felt my friend moving closer to me, touching me lightly. It created an empty space between him and the other guy he was chatting with. Then I saw the guy directly adjusting, filling the empty space. I enjoy watching this kind of interaction. I love seeing people move toward each other. The way the distance between people changes, the variations in proximity, says so much about their intentions. I found myself wondering how my friend felt. I couldn't read him. His body stayed ambiguous.
Finally we left. When we were walking out, I said, "It was cool with that guy..." My friend said, "Yeah, the vibe was good, but he wasn't that sexy." Then he added, "He was giving me compliments, so I directly told him I was trans… But then, the questions came.” We both laughed.
There is this very thin line between curiosity and scrutiny. It's a precise bodily sensation. When cis people interact with us, you can feel this oscillation between both. As long as it stays on the side of curiosity, why not. But when it shifts toward scrutiny, it simply turns you off.