The sound that was calling me, the day that I came out of my daze of heartbreak, was the far off thump, thump, thump, the low vibration of The Abbey, a famous gay bar in West Hollywood. Don’t ask me why or how my body wanted this, but it was the only thing that could shake off the past. Yes, that’s right. Really, hot gay men dancing in their underwear to really loud house music. That’s all I wanted.
So I gathered a group and we planned an Abbey night. We drank, and drank, and drank some more. We drank until all our problems went away. But it wasn’t the alcohol that kept my problems away that night. It was the dance floor. I could have cared less whether I drank or not that night. My body wanted the dance floor, and as soon as everyone in my group was drunk enough to become puppets, I dragged them all onto the floor, and let my body go.
With every twist and turn of my body, the anger and hurt and sadness melted away. Nothing else mattered in this moment except for my body and the music. I was engulfed in the sound of the music, and my body translated it into movement. Movement that turned all my emotion into a story for everyone around me to experience.
When I went to the club that night, the last time I had sex was with…him, the great heartbreak. My body had shut down in the last couple of months because it knew that experience may never be able to be recreated. The idea of trying to have lame sex, or even ‘good’ sex again was debilitating. I didn’t know what to do. But in that moment on the dance floor, my body recreated it, and released all of its sexual frustration. I made raw, uncensored love to the dance floor that night.
Everyone around me knew it. I got by far the most attention of anyone on that packed dance floor. No less than 5 guys tried to intervene the energy from my body to the dance floor. I humored them for a minute, and then got back to my first love. I was drenched in sweat at the end of the night when I looked up and saw him. He was to be the next one in my love saga. I caught his eye through the crowd of people. I didn’t stop dancing, but every time I took a step, I came a little closer to him until I was grinding right next to him. We didn’t miss a beat, and I finally let someone intercept my sexual energy. I was now making love to him instead of the dance floor.
It was, of course, the end of the night shortly after I found him and we spoke for the first time. He was tall, dark, and Italian…as in from Italy..with an accent. I was drunk, but he was polite and sweet and took my number and then let me go home with my friends. He was the Italian, and he was the one that restored my faith in men and love.