Tuesday, September 26, 2006
DIARY 11 - PRANCING NARCISSISTS
David and I went out to a Gay Pub last Saturday with a couple of friends. In a corner of the pub was a dance floor not much more than ten foot square. On one side was the music and on two of the other sides a sequence of large mirrors. Now, I always thought some gay men could be narcissistic and self involved, but you really should have seen some of them dancing.
First there was a slightly unnerving little man in army fatigues with a chiseled face, doing martial arts / Ninja moves to the music. I say 'to the music' but actually it was 'approximately with the music'. When he danced he took over the majority of the floor. Folks were afraid of getting their ass kicked, literally. Over in the corner behind him, watching himself on both sides was a man gesticulating to the mirrors. Looking for all the world as if he was having a fierce argument with himself. Or was it a form of aggressive flirting as sexual harrassement?
Finally, their was the Prima Dona. A slim guy with short greying hair and Jarvis Cocker's bone structure. He performed to his audience. Ascending to the dance floor he took one sip of his drink, gave the disc jockey a cursory look as if to say 'I'm ready, are you'. Then he'd turn to face his audience, focused his eyes, dropped his forehead and with a melodramatic flourish danced. He didn't do footwork. It was after all a little risky with Ninja Man around. For what he lacked in fleetness of foot he made up for with ample amounts of flirtatious hand and arm semaphore. Lovingly caressing his torso or rolling out his arms a la Jackson the Perfidious. Occasionally he'd jump off the stage and head for a man at the bar and dance at him like a matador. I didn't detect an iota of parody. He seemed deadly serious to me. You could feel his ego blowing you kisses from twenty paces. People avoided eye contact in case they might be next. This was not an in joke. Fortunately he stopped dancing before the Drag act, after which everyone was getting it on on the dance floor,including me.
The cabaret/drag act called herself 'Rose Garden' as in 'I never promised you a....' Great legs, shaved smooth and sprayed a healthy tan colour. Some women would die for a pair of pins that good, and some probably have. His main claim to fame was an ability to sing 'Yes Sir I can Boogie' whilst whanging a hula hoop around his waist like a gyroscope. Impressive !