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About Just out. (Portland, OR) 1983-2013 | View Entire Issue (June 7, 1996)
4 0 ▼ jun« 7, 1 9 0 6 ▼ ju * t out NO MYSTERY NO ATTITUDE JUST BIKES FOR CYCLING FUN! Join Us. *7 The right to party A safe space to get together with I other gay and bi men to talk about sex and a whole lot more! Thursday, June 20, 6-9:30 PM, at ! CAP. For info: Brian at Ext. 131. B tk • • * * ' r U N i 91 S STATE 636-3521 925 SW 10TH 227-3535 STONEWALL BABY Speaking of Sex... Fx^ rf Advice - Simple Answers Neighborhood Men Talk LAKE O SW EGO PORTLAND Support, Education, and Outreach .* for Gay and Bisexual Men. O BLUESTONE HOCKLEY REALTY Find support & friendship with other gay and bisexual men. Ongoing monthly groups scheduled in SE, NE, NW, and SW Portland. Groups meet at 7 PM. For info: Doug at Ext. 145. Pride Day '96 > Join the Pride Day Parade with Speak to Your Brothers. Wear a T-shirt matching o I N C. C om m ercial sales & leasing one of the colors of the pride rainbow. Parade: Saturday, June 22, Meet 10 AM, NW 9th & Everett, North Park Blocks. 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HWY. 97, 388-0905 1 « è ARTHRITIS FOUNDATION • "Best B u y' "Exclusive spa of the I99S Street of Dre»ms. ' Young or old, everyone needs a place and a time to feel immortal and reckless ▼ T by Will O’Bryan here was a time when I marked the consumed, that after several hours I was com- 1 days of the week by which club or bar pletely unaware that Mr. X had reached the limit j I’d be spending the evening at. But of his consumption. Of all the things he learned in 1 that was a long time ago, relative to Boy Scouts, moderation was not one of them. It J my 26 years. Those were the hedonis would’ve made a nice badge, though. He wasn’t nearly ready to leave yet, so I ] tic college days spent in balmy Tampa and tradi tional, pent-up, a-queen-in-every-closet entertained Rich the idea of a dance. I don’t remember 1 what the song was, but if I’ve had anything to I mond, Va. Portland finds me in a new domestic dynamic. drink (I can’t dance while stone sober, I fall over) I My boyfriend— whom I’ll call Mr. X for the sake and I hear one of those driving, soul-pounding, of his very precious privacy— and I moved here slave-to-the-rhythm beats of, oh, say a rehashed slightly more than a year ago. We mark the days 12-inch Bananarama house mix, I’ve got to go be j of our week by whose turn it is to walk the dog or part of it. Only the best for me, you know. The dancing inevitably increased my circula do the dishes. The bulk of happy buzzes I’ve enjoyed in Portland have been spent in front of tion, and blood began flowing into my brain, raising my awareness. my fireplace drink I knew we would have ing Weinhard’s from to leave whether Mr. Safeway. The memo X was ready or not. I ries of strangers’ ceil managed to get us out ings, mind-blowing side to the sidewalk. inhalants and after- But we were still not hours clubs are hazy out of the woods. I and distant. was forced to get on Despite my at my knees (literally, tempts to fill Martha I’m not making this Stewart’s noble up) on the gritty, dirty house slippers, Mr. X pavement and beg and I ventured out to Mr. X— who was rap a gay bar recently. idly becoming Mr. Much of my ini C’ mon-just-15-min- tiation into the gay utes-more— to call it world I call home anight. Finally he ac took place in clubs. quiesced, but he was I’ll never forget the not happy about it. names and memories That’s how I re of these places, which member my return to acted as a sort of nurs the gay club scene fol ery during my “gay lowing my yearlong birth.” I have good memories of sewing my oats, developing gay hiatus. I don’t think I missed much. The end of the defensive social skills, learning the difference evening was quasi-traumatic— but it was worth it. The club I went to in Portland may not be first between sex and love, etc., in gay clubs. But I’ve learned the basics, and it’s time to move on. club I was picked up in, the bar where I turned 21, Nevertheless, it’s nice to return occasionally to or a place where I would recognize any old faces, visit the old alma mater. but there was still a sameness, a comforting con I wondered if Portland clubs would be much tinuity. People younger than me (though not by different from the ones I’d left behind. Or if much, I swear) were still dancing and feeling perhaps times had changed since the last time I’d immortal and reckless. People who could’ve been been out and I wouldn’t be hip to some new secret me three or four years ago were there casting their handshake or code word. Maybe that whole color- coy glances at each other, discovering that after coded hankie thing that died out once my genera years of loneliness, they were not alone. tion hit the scene had been resurrected. Straight people grow up, play house, date in The entrance looked just like a million other high school, enjoy the tradition of the prom in the club entrances: gay man at the door to stamp my same way that they’ 11 probably enjoy the tradition hand with fluorescent ink; large, bored, amiable of their wedding receptions some day. As gay security guy; a few steps further in and everything people, we have to learn our social skills on our takes on that eerie, clubland, black-light glow. own for much of our lives. My father, for ex Once inside, still nothing out of the ordinary. ample, often warned me about the dangers of The people weren’t stunning or troll-like. Some getting a girl pregnant. He never warned me that cute, some not so cute. The music was familiar; insertion may be a bit painful at first. no monumental strides in remastered club dance- It stands to reason that for lots of us, gay clubs mixes had passed me by. and bars compensate for where the Sadie Hawkins Long ago, though after the loss of my inno dance fell short. We may seem a bit hedonistic in cence, I would go to a club and often become our young adult lives, but we’ve earned it. Not to glued to the TV above the bar. All I would need advocate self-destruction, but the fact that we like to see is some hokey digital pattern, something to go out and have a good time once we’re away akin to a screen saver, and I would get completely from the trappings of our adolescent lives is not sucked in— like a deer caught in headlights. Con surprising. It’s a sort of victory party to celebrate centrating on the screen helped cushion the bore having made it out alive. dom, because even flirting gets boring after a Sooner or later, though, the party ends, and it’s while. time to get on with some little thing like a career. That’s exactly what I ended up doing on this But for me— someone who is in a place where the particular outing. The TV above the bar was party has ended but the adventure continues— it’s showing me snippets from Jeff Bridges’ Disney nice to see that people are still celebrating their classic Tron, and I was engrossed. I was so victories.