[title] the holy grail
[byline] by Sean Robert
So I had two options when I got home last Saturday night: stay home and sulk over relationships-gone-wrong past à la Bridget Jones or go out to celebrate a friend’s birthday at one of the city’s hottest new clubs.
As a fabulously functioning alcoholic, both choices provided me with an excellent excuse to have a drink; the only real difference between the two was the price. And what a price! After making the decision to go out and reflecting on my bank account balance the next day, there was no doubt hosting my own pity party would have been much financially smarter. But as I always say: the best times are priceless, and those that aren’t can be taken care of by my boyfriend VISA.
Back to the club – after spreading them and getting padded down by the bouncer (a security precaution I can’t help but delight in) I made my way up a luminescent staircase that was spray painted with all the neon colours of an 80’s rainbow. For a moment I thought I was Vanilla Ice, but then when I saw the bling on the guy behind me I quickly got over that thought.
As I made my way to the bar I thought: why do I always make relationships the holy grail of my existence? With the amount of bending over backwards (no pun intended) I do to find one, you’d think that I was less like Bridget and more like Indiana Jones in the Gay Crusade. Part of me feels like if I don’t drink from, or rather pick the right one my being will melt or even worse spontaneously combust. But the other part of me feels like if I don’t stop looking soon, I am going to miss everything else that is precious right in front of me.
Making my way on to the dance floor, in the utmost poetic sense, a totally unassuming girl knocked the sight right out from me. (Carried away by the electro-beats she literally hit me in the face and knocked my glasses off.) And when I managed to put them back on, for the first time in what felt like ages, I could finally see what was right there all along. Not sadness or pain but just bunch of guys; a bunch of guys dancing atrociously with their girlfriends. And one very pretentious gay in me scrutinizing their every step and move.
They always say that as soon as you stop looking you will find what you were searching for. Well had I been a rugged heterosexual man that night, it turned out that would have most definitely been the case. Hit on by three girls throughout the course of the evening, it was a three-hundred percent increase from the number of guys I have been hit on at the gay bar in the last year. Maybe it was my testosterone-ish facial hair that led them astray, or perhaps it was something more.
Perhaps on some unconscious level they had sensed I had found the Holy Grail they were looking for. I can’t tell you exactly what that is – but I can give you the faith that like Indiana, you will know it once you see it.