It wasn’t always so, but I really do like to go out clubbing. When first I ventured forth into Ottawa’s gay dance clubs (or was dragged….thanks, Steve C.) I would require serious amounts of tequila just to screw up the courage to shake my money maker. But with perseverance and time, my inhibitions have largely departed, letting me simply enjoy the thrum of the music without much need for the crutch of booze. Now the booze is just a nice diversion.
There are two decent gay dance clubs in Ottawa right now – The Edge plays club hits (remixes of popular top 40 radio songs) and caters to the young, and The Flamingo (or as we call it, The Flaming O) plays house music (which has fewer recognizable ditties) and attracts a broader range of ages. I like the music and the crowd at the Flaming O, but my companions on Saturday night wanted club hits…so off to the Edge we trotted.
Sadly, now that I’m on the verge of 40, I’m also on the verge of being too old for the Edge. I’m not there yet (I’ve still got a few good years left!) but it was kind of off-putting to be surrounded by so many self-involved young people at the bar for no other reason than to pick up. I’m grateful for the awesome group of friends I was with on Saturday who made it easy to forget everything else going on around me and just enjoy the music and the company.
But really, no one wants to dance near Grampa on the dance floor. Grampa is made fun of. I know it. I’ve cracked the jokes. So in a few years (the time comes quicker for us gays) I may soon be left with little choice but to rely on the venerable old Centretown Pub – an Ottawa institution that caters pretty much to older and larger men (and their admirers) – for my dance fix. Either that or venture further afield to the broader choices present in Montreal. Hmmm, that second option doesn’t sound so bad.
For now, I’ll stick with the Flaming O (and on occasion the Edge), and just ignore the self-important little f@cks as I groove with my friends and have a great time.