Tag Archives: small talk

How to Give a Good Nose Job

My favourite gay club night was Spice, when it was held in SPY night club, South William Street. The plush interior of SPY, three rooms of amazing music and the crème de la crème of the gay scene made these nights memorable. The hay day of Spice coincided with the time I broke up with my boyfriend of three years. I spent many a night at Spice, dancing energetically to nostalgic tunes, attempting to convince myself I was happy as a singleton. Denial aside, I did have fun. Spice will forever be my Studio 54.

Later the same year, Boyfriend and I reconciled. We made another go of it on the basis we attempt remedy the issues that caused us to break up. Both of us felt we needed to socialise more as a couple. We injected a healthy dose of “coupley” outings into our relationship. One such outing was a visit to my favourite club night. On this particular evening, we encountered some of Boyfriend’s friends he made during our six months apart. One friend, Mike, was what you might term a ‘celebrity’ gay; a Eurovision song writer with an on-off-even-more-celebrity-gay boyfriend. He was – and always is – groomed and well dressed. He sported an air of self-importance and a tight t-shirt, showing his fine arms and pecs. I should chat with him and make an effort, I thought. He and I stood side by side in the nightclub. Dance music pounded from the massive speakers under the DJ’s decks. Strobes flashed in time with the music. I leaned in to deliver some small talk. I spoke loudly over the music.

“I love Spice. I’ve had more fun here than I have in any other night club.”

“The music makes it. I love it,” he agreed, nodding energetically.

I withdrew from his ear. What could we talk about next? Still thinking, I turned to survey the room, checking out the eye candy. I can only say I intended to talk to him again; I turned my head right, while looking to my left, absorbing the visuals on offer. As my head pivoted, my peripheral vision detected my companion’s head was much closer to me than expected. He was clearly doing the same as I, turning his head towards me, with no knowledge of where I was. It’s hard to describe the exact dynamics, but our heads collided at such a warped angle, just as I was about to speak, that Mike’s nose entered my mouth. It did not just graze or slightly poke my mouth; it went right in, withdrawing a coating of saliva as it exited. I was mortified.

“Eh, I am so sorry.”

He wiped his nose dry. “Don’t worry about it.”

The small talk continued, Meanwhile, I awkwardly remained next to him, praying we would leave his company. My face was red with embarrassment. I just sucked this guy’s nose, was all I could think. I just sucked this guy’s nose!

Weeks later, Boyfriend invited me to attend dinner with his friends one Saturday night. He noted my hesitance to respond.

“You really don’t like them, do you?” His tone was accusatory.

“No, they’re OK,” I said. I looked down at the floor. “I am a little embarrassed about seeing Mike.”

“Why on Earth would you be embarrassed about seeing him? Mike specifically asked me to bring you.”

I told Boyfriend the story of sucking off Mike’s nose. I can’t recall him ever laughing so hard as he did.

I never made the dinner in the end but I did provide a topic for conversation; Boyfriend repeated the Nose Story to the ten or so people in attendance. Apparently, the gathering, including Mike who had no memory of the incident, burst into convulsions at the tale.

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Small World and Even Smaller Gay Scene

I arrived at Panti Bar last night. I was a little spaced after seeing Inception – was or was this not reality?

Gay bars make me edgy. I wonder if Labrador Man will be here, I thought as I entered the premises. Low and behold there he was, two feet in front of me as I stood in the door way. I felt a little nervous. I managed to shimmy under his line of vision and crawl under one or two tables, thereby avoiding detection.

I met Best-Friend near the entrance and convinced him to join another group of friends further down the bar. Evictor was among this posse. I chatted to him a little despite my awkwardness. He is cute and very fanciable; when I talk at him it sounds a little like “blah blah blah blah … blee blah … blah blah blah”. 

While looking down the bar – to avoid staring at Evictor – I noticed Longford Man ordering a few pints. Things with him are amicable, but I didn’t necessarily want a conversation. I mouthed hello and resigned myself to talking with him later at the bar, while waiting an inordinate time to be served.

I made small talk about Inception with Evictor. I kept note of Labrador Man’s location so I could keep my back turned to him. Within seconds Labrador Man was behind me, trying to get my attention. I stood firm and did not turn around. I even turned when he an approach from alternate angles. He quickly moved on.

Suddenly, Housemate appeared. He looked at me. “Hi,” he said warmly. I returned his greeting. I did not know where to look.

So there I was in a bar surrounded by all these guys with whom I have had various awkward moments.

From reading this you might assume I am very active on the dating and sleeping around scene. This could not be further from the truth. In the last four or five months I have been on dates with three guys and I’ve only kissed one guy (twice).

The Dublin gay scene is so small that on busy nights out you are bound to bump into your entire love life in one evening. If you regularly go on dates it seems awkward moments are just something you have to put up with regularly.

The above extract starred the following:

Longford Man

I got talking to Longford man on George’s Street one morning at around 04.30. He was good looking, funny and chatty. We exchanged numbers. I met him for a date a few weeks later. I declined a second date as politely as I could. I have chatted to him out and about a few times since.

Labrador Man

 This guy was a knob; incredibly pretentious and full of his own worth. He said he was from an island off the coast of Cork; “the island of Cobh”. He said “naturally, I speak two languages; French and German”. I kissed him once.

Best Friend met him out during a drunken, consecutive night. He liked him and convinced me to give Labrador Man another chance. I chatted to him again. The event can be summed up in “kiss me badly once, shame on you. Kiss me badly twice, shame on me”.

The following night, when he invited me out, I texted him to say I was home alone enjoying a can of coke. He got the message.

I’ve called him Labrador man since I figure my black lab, Shelly, may she rest in peace, could probably give a better snog.

Evictor

This guy is friends with some of my friends. I think he is gorgeous. He has beautiful brown eyes and a radiant smile. Any time I talk to him, I just babble.

I met him for the first time one Sunday night. I was taking it easy; everyone else was drunk. We went back to Evictor’s apartment where we had more drinks. Evictor’s housemate was there with some other people. The crowd dwindled until Evictor and I remained alone. He gave signals. I made a move.

We entered the boudoire where he went a little weird. He told me, “This doesn’t feel right? I think you should leave”. He said more, but little made sense.

He walked me to the hall door and waited impatiently while I got my coat. I turned to thank him for making my birthday so special. I did not get the chance. He slammed the door on my face.

Housemate

One night while on a very well known dating site for gay men, I got talking to a guy. He seemed nice. For some reason he seemed vaguely familiar.

We messaged back and forth over a few days. I struggled to recall his face. One day, while out for a jog, it dawned on me. This guy – whose name eludes me – was the housemate of Evictor. He had gone to bed while I and the group remained in his and Evictor’s living room.

I eventually revealed myself to him, explaining I had met him before in his apartment. He did not recall. I pursued nothing with him. The whole thing was just too weird.