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Beautiful Boys


The purpose of this entry is to poke fun at the highly superficial behaviour, and fleeting attractions, which often characterizes those who frequent gay dance clubs, while also serving the duel purpose of being a stylistic exercise in writing. The events depicted in this blog entry did indeed occur, but are likely exaggerated as a result of the tenuous position memory holds against fantasy.

 

They were playing yet another techno version of some forgettable pop-hit as I stepped onto the dancefloor, deliberately making my way toward the center. As my hips began swaying slowly in time with the music - and I lightly brushed past the scantily clad guys in my path - I continued to search the crowd for a boy worth pursuing.

 

It was packed tonight, and yet there were remarkably slim pickings. The majority of the revelers were too old, too fat, too trashy, or too taken. I smiled and avoided eye-contact as a middle-aged, Hispanic man stepped into my path and attempted to dance with me. As he pressed his chest into mine I turned my face and extricated myself from my would-be Latin suitor. It was then that a flash of light on the opposite end of the dancefloor suddenly caught my attention.

 

My breath hitched and I stopped moving completely as I saw him. It was an artist's moment. He stood there, just under six feet, obliviously sending a text message. Oblivious indeed. Oblivious to the way the phone's dim white light illuminated his angular features like an angel with a halo. Oblivious to the way his eyes lit up like those of a child's on Christmas morning. Oblivious to the way his luminous blonde hair fell perfectly across his forehead. Oblivious to the way the phone's glow gently reflected off the buttons of his shirt, giving his chest a sort of come hither sparkle. Oblivious to the way his brilliant pearl-white teeth could just barely be seen occasionally peeking out from beneath soft, full lips. Oblivious indeed to the way his entire countenance took on a seductive look of concentration as he lightly licked those immaculate lips and delicately tapped upon the keys of his mobile.

 

He was regrettably no more aware of the once in a lifetime moment which was even now occuring between us. Time stopped as everyone else gyrated ever more quickly to the latest Kelly Clarkson remix and it was only he and I who remained stationary, he shrouded by the aura of glowing light radiating from his palm, and I mesmerized by the sublime beauty of the form in front of me.

 

Mechanically my feet began to compel me forward, step by step moving me ever deeper into the surreal scene now playing out on the well used floor. As the song began to come to close everyone started to cheer excitedly and draw closer to whichever warm body he'd been dancing against. Only the object of my desire remained disinterested as his slender fingers rapped the source of the impromptu spotlight.

 

As I got within arm's reach of my very own Greek god I was struck with the realization that the true travesty of the night lay with the mere mortals who were sacrilegiously conducting their own affrairs instead of paying homage to Aphrodite's lovechild. Slowly I raised my trembling fingers, fingers which were aching to make even the slightest contact with the vision before me.

 

As my hand tentatively continued it's approach toward my fantasy boy's shoulder the talented miss Clarkson hit her final note. With that the dim strobe lights lit up the bodies on the dancefloor, and my dream man simultaneously snapped his phone shut. The spell was broken. The young man now faced the same harsh, unforgiving light which callously, and indiscriminately, disclosed the flaws of all the club's inhabitants.

 

Suddenly his angelic face took on a gaunt, tired look. As the shock wore off I began to retract my hand, eager to distance my digits from the weak-looking, slumped shoulder which was now only inches from my grasp, a shoulder clothed in an unflattering light blue fabric. The boy noticed this action and his dim, gray eyes snapped up as he peered at me from below stringy, vanila-coloured bangs. His haggard lips curled into a smile, a smile which revealed stained, dull teeth. I politely returned the smile...and avoided eye-contact as I turned away. Loosing interest my former fantasy began to slink through the crowd toward the bar.

 

As Rhianna began confessing her adulterous escapades and all my fellow homos saught out fresh flesh with which to make contact, I couldn't help but cast a disappointed gaze toward the bar. This bland, unremarkable man had just missed the most beautiful moment of his life, his attention had instead been foolishly focused unwaveringly upon a fickle, uncaring object.

 

I shook my head condescendingly, and laughed a small icy laugh. It was then than I spied a new boy a few feet away and, as I stepped in front of one of the track-lights to begin my approach, I was completely oblivious to the way the beam sent streaks of gold through my crimson hair...

 



Michael

By Franz Ferdinand

 

 

This is where I'll be

so heavenly

so come and dance with me Michael

 

So sexy, you're sexy

come and dance with me Michael

 

I'm all that you see, you want to see

come and dance with me Michael

 

so close now, so close now

come and dance with me

come and dance with me

so come and dance with me

 

Michael you're the boy with all the leather hips

Sticky hair, sticky hips, stubble on my sticky lips

Michael you're the only one I'd ever want

only one I'd ever want

only one I'd ever want

Beautiful boys on a beautiful dancefloor

Michael you're dancing like a beautiful dance-whore

Michael waiting on a silver platter now...

and nothing matters now

 

This is what I am, I am a man

come and dance with me Michael

 

so strong now, it's strong now

come and dance with me Michael

 

I'm all that you'll be, you'll ever see

so come and dance with me, MIchael

 

So close now, you're close now

Come and dance with me, Comeanddancewithme.

COME AND DANCE WITH ME

 

Michael you're the boy with l l l leather hips

Sticky hair. Sticky lips. Stubble on my sticky hips.

Michael you're the only one I'd ever want

only one I'd ever want

only one I'd ever want

Beautiful boys on a beautiful dancefloor

Michael you're dancing like a beautiful dance-whore

Michael waiting on a silver platter now...

and nothing matters now

6 Comments


Recommended Comments

Camy

Posted

Beautifully written, Kevin. :)

AFriendlyFace

Posted

Beautifully written, Kevin. :)

Thanks, Camy! :D

glomph

Posted

Beautifully written, Kevin. :)

 

Yep.

AFriendlyFace

Posted

Beautifully written, Kevin. :)

 

Yep.

:D

Razor

Posted

Do you really have "crimson" hair?!?! :D :D:D:D:D:D That sounds fun!

 

And I like it... I probably didn't get the same feeling from reading as you did from writing, but my entire world feels like the dance club after the lights paused and everything got dull again. :P Just waiting for the music to start back up!

AFriendlyFace

Posted

Hey Jamie,

 

Do you really have "crimson" hair?!?! :D :D:D:D:D:D That sounds fun!

I did at the time. It's black now.

 

And I like it... I probably didn't get the same feeling from reading as you did from writing, but my entire world feels like the dance club after the lights paused and everything got dull again. :P Just waiting for the music to start back up!

"Living" it, writing it, and reading it were all different feelings for me, and my purpose for writing it could almost be described as "flippantly cautionary", so as long as you liked it I'm happy :P

 

Have a great day!

Kevin

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