Friday night I came home from dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. I had lamb, persian rice, and a salad along with a bottle of Granville Island lager. This particular place serves this interesting "flat-bread" cut into squares for dipping into a sauce similar to tsatziki. After having had met Paul Bae, a comedian of note recently, we shared an interesting conversation about the trials of life and how comedy is the pain we all share. Sharing our stories, I was intrigued by the fact that I had been meeting many comedians lately, wondering what door life was opening to me.

Paul had been a teacher before he entered the world of comics. His own parents suggested he become a comic after his divorce and they were prepared to support him finanically to help him succeed. How's that for family support; after all, he was already in his early 30's. I know this support didn't exist in my family - quite the opposite in fact. Of course, he was recognized as a story-teller of note within his social circle, family, etc. and there was no doubt that he would succeed.

As we shared stories, and I pondered what new information was being presented to me, Paul spoke to me about writing my stories. Drawing upon his teaching experience, his English Literature studies, possibly philosophy too, and naturally his comedian perspective, he felt certain that there were sufficient stories within my life to develop an exceptional book. If not exceptional, cathartic. This makes me smile wistfully as I consider how ironic it feels to be in this situation. It's not an explainable feeling; it just is.

So while I waited for my dinner, taking Paul's suggestion, I began with a scene in my life; a particular incident that spanned a few days of hell. I was working with my journal and filled up 6 or 7 pages rather quickly. I was choking a lot of emotion as I wrote. I thought to myself, "maybe writing at a public restaurant isn't such a good idea. I have a feeling I could end up crying while I recall and tell some of these stories." The tension in my chest, the sobs choked down in my throat, the knot in my stomach, and the shivering bubbles of past clinging to my body left me feeling rather uncomfortable as I wrote.

I was surprised by how much I had written by the time my dinner had arrived. I completed a segment of the story and pulled my plate closer, beginning to eat. it was a less than enjoyable meal. The food was as good as it always was but my balance left me in that place of discomfort. I was reminded of when I was a child, eating supper, after a severe punishment or emotionally bad day, choking down my food and trying not to cry. Dammit it all, I realized. I'll have to choose my writing times better in the future.

After dinner I went back home. It must have been past 9:00pm already, I'd had a late dinner. I sat down at my computer and checked the activity at some of my favorite visiting spots: DiscoverVancouver.com, Mindsay, my email. Easter weekend, not much going on. Leaving Yahoo Messenger on, I selected Dance music from the LaunchCast menu and with the heavy rhythmic beat pounding around me, I busied myself with a game of Solitaire. Amazing how much time passes in the semi-conscious trance of mindless computer game requiring no thought. My body moved with the music and the energy and restlessness of the nights emotions were building up within me. I needed to move, I needed to dance!

I am not a night-club person. I'd like to be but I've just not had much luck with those places. I see the mindless attitudes of young people, violence, preening, arrogance - not all bad - and then those insane lineups in a city that needs more entertainment. So where am I going to go? I'd been to Celebreties once before; it's a gay-club very closeby in my neighborhood. I didn't enjoy my experience there either with all those "big buff boys" bumping and grinding all around, jostling me, and a sense of being hunted by predators. Oh shit! I've got to move! My body and mind insisted with the raging restlessness.

Finally, 11:00pm, I ventured outside and walked up to the main drag, Davie Street. I checked out Jupiter Lounge quickly only to be disappointed; no dancing. Crap! That just leaves Celebrities, I'd never get in without standing in line for an hour to some of the other places in town and then I'd be lucky to find any room to dance on the dance floor. I didn't need a partner, I just needed to move! I paid the $10.00 cover charge and went inside, checking my coat, wondering what the fuck the $10.00 was for. Now I had to stay awhile and get my money's worth.

Nervous, apprehensive, I ventured over to the bar and ordered a beer. I sensed that I would be needing a few bottles of liquid courage to get over my nerves and relax. With beer in hand, I turned and surveyed the scene. the dance floor was already somewhat busy but there was still plenty of room. The music was pumping out steady, solid dance music and guys and gals were everywhere. Celebrities, known for it's gay scene, also has its fair share of hetero-couples that come for the fun. I strolled around to get a better sense of the place, taking in the layout of the land. Somehow, this had a calming effect as I became familiar with the surroundings.

I ordered a second beer, still not courageous enough to venture onto the dance floor and noticing the smoking room decided to have a cigarette. Damn things! But what the hell... I'm working on quiting the habit but with a beer, why bother tonight? I walked in, lit up, surveyed the crowd in the smoking room and minded my own affairs. A scrawny younger man said hello, motioning me to come over out of the doorway. Not wanting to be rude I came over and said hello.

His name is Elvis. I smiled, replying, "Elvis is in the building." He introduced me around to the small group, me wondering who might or might not be gay, men and women alike. He asked me if I was alone and I said yes, mentioning that I had been separated recently. "Oh honey, try not to let that bring you down. It'll be alright. Have some fun tonight." He had the sing-song voice and typical mannerisms of the gay queen's I've seen in the neighborhood, it made everything he said seem humorous. "Damn, he might still think I'm gay." I thought to myself as I realized I'd not said anything about my ex-wife.

Playing it cool, I finished my cigarette and went for my third beer. Damn, is this stuff watered down? Buying bottles I knew this wasn't true but it wasn't grabbing hold and my senses were on major alert. A third into the bottle, I saw a secluded part of the dance floor and squeezed my way over, set my beer down on the floor nearby, and with eyes closed, began to dance. Weird that I can't dance well with my eyes open. That damn self-concsious part of my mind kicks in and starts to analyze everything around me.

Some strange creature, I'm pretty sure it was a guy, looking like a throw-back to another era of the 80s or something, hair tied in little buns on each side of his head, the rest dangling down, a silver star on his forehead, glitter all over, torn t-shirt with flapping strips, and bandana stuff tied-off on various parts of his body, came over and started his own dance thing. It felt invasive, he'd get a wee bit to close and be turned towards me like he's putting the show on for me. It could've been my imagination but he did disappear from the dance-floor quite quickly after I left. Thank-God I can use beer and a need for a smoke as an excuse to distract myself.

Having not danced in ages, I had become winded rather quickly, feeling the age of my body around me. Elvis was still hanging out in the smoking room.

"How was the dancing?" he piped up.

"Not bad, it's been a long time." I answered.

Then he started to talk more about my recent separation. I don't know where he was going to go with the conversation but at the mere mention of my "last boyfriend," I quickly corrected him that it was an ex-wife, not ex-boyfriend. Phew! The reality comes to light for him and I don't have to worry about seeming rude. Stunned, his mouth agape, he just looked at me, blinked a few times, shook his head, and then, "You're straight!?"

"Yeah."

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard it was a good place to go for some dancing. I've heard a lot of straight people come here too."

"True."

Grabbing my arm, he leads me over to his friends, yelling, "Hey you guys! Lee's straight!!" Looks of astonishment, wonder, a few knowing winks, and among a couple of the women, a couple of appreciative smiles. I'm relieved now, relaxing a little more, as I learn that navigating this sexual mayhem can be done without any collateral damage. Elvis, still sizing me up, then proceeds to talk to me more, still checking me out up and down. He had already asked me if I worked out while squeezing my arm on my earlier visit. Now he wanted to know if I'd ever thought of trying a gay sexual encounter.

"Oh, I've had plenty of opportunity since I moved to the neighborhood." I said. "I've been hit on and propositioned more than a few times the past six months."

"Duh. Well, no kidding!" in sing-song voice. "Just look at you!" Standing back, one hand on one hip, the other hand putting me on full-display up and down.

"Thank-you." is all I could think of saying.

Well, I think I'm going to go dancing again. I grabbed another beer, number four, and stepped over closer to the dance floor trying to decide where I'd best find my spot. I stayed there awhile assessing the situation. Still a little queasy with everything but feeling more confident that I should be able to stay out of trouble. There was one corner of the dance floor that seemed to relatively free from interference. I waited and watched. Satisfied, I went over, placed my beer on the nearby siderail counter, closed my eyes and began to move.

For the next two hours I didn't venture from that spot. I moved, I moved, and  I moved. Eyes closed for the most part, in my own groove, feeling the music and the body, pumping out the beat. A few times, eyes opened briefly to take in the bodies around me. I found it amazing that I had a three foot circumference around me that was left undisturbed almost the entire time. At 2:45 a.m. I left for home, energized, enthused, unscathed, and pleased that I'd gotten my money's worth.