It was over a hundred guys that all looked exactly alike. It was a gang of straight women who felt comfortable enough to be surrounded by the clone of manufactured boys. The pushing. The shoving. The numerous times that strangers brushed up against This Man and then on top of that, it was the bunch that grabbed my ass. It was a gang of boys attempting to display their feminine qualities. Oh and I can't possibly forget, the bartender who, on the worst night to start a job was attempting to please everyone.
In short, it was Welfare Wednesday at Flicks.
To follow my own advice, This Man decided that what better time to get back out into the gay San Diego nightlife than Welfare Wednesday. I mean, the drinks are dirt cheap. The liquor is one notch above generic and on numerous previous occasions, This Man has had a great time hanging out in the mini lounge. However, of all Wednesdays to pick, I decided to go out tonight. Originally, I'd planned on being out for about 2 hours. Groomed and dressed somewhat decent, all of this would fall by the wayside as I was pushed, prodded and shoved all in attempts for other fags to get drinks for, not only themselves but the other gang of queens that was part of their entourage. It was downright ridiculous! Then tainted by the fact that This Man's favorite bartender wasn't working tonight, I found myself standing in line for damn near 30 minutes for one one dollar drink. Drink in hand, my next venture was to the patio, where (thanks to California law) everyone was smoking. Let's just say that on top of the 30 minute wait for the drink, the 10 minutes of pushing and shoving to get outside and finally manging to find a small corner in which to enjoy my cocktail & cigarette, by the time all of this was accomplished, This Man was no longer in the mood to be social or cordial. Everywhere I looked, everyone looked the same, they talked the same and (I'm sure) they even fucked the same!
Frustrated but observant, it'd finally dawned on me that there was a reason why I'd taken myself out of the "scene". It had all become so premature and there was no reason that This Man could think of why I would continue to torture myself by being there. But I have to say, the best part of the night was when a guy, barely standing next to me looked over and asked why I looked as if I was having a miserable time.
"Because I am..." This Man responded. And I'm sure that drunk homo has no idea how much sense he made when he asked, "Then why are you here?" It was with that comment that This Man trashed the drink, stubbed out the smoke and headed to my car. But I couldn't help but start to question myself and why I was miserable in a place that I'm normally so comfortable in.

Then the answer came to me; it had all gotten tired. I didn't go out to meet men. And the crowd of boys and girls weren't exactly people that I would even want to waste time getting to know. So I drove myself back home and concluded that I was happiest being home alone. I didn't need to be out being deafened by music that I didn't enjoy, I didn't need to be snubbed by complete strangers and I just didn't need the nightlife. This Man figures just because it's expected doesn't necessarily mean that I should partake, right? And with that being said, I'm finished with gay San Diego. This Man doesn't need it and I sure as hell won't miss it.

Mahalo