— पांच हजार आठ सौ सैंतालीस —
Last night was Naked Night at the gay bar on Capitol Hill that is a Seattle institution but I won't name. This was my second "Naked Night," but the first in which I actually got naked. I went with Shobhit back in March, and I wasn't ready for it then. I hung out in the bar fully clothed, with a scarf and my pea coat on, and 90% of the people there buck naked—including Shobhit. I even went home before he did, that day.
It turns out these nights are held on the second Monday of every month. There's an extra one a couple times a year, the "fifth Saturday" whenever there are five Saturdays in a month. This is happening next month, although whether we can go on August 30 is still in question. Right now we're set to go to Tulalip that day for fondue dinner at Karen and Dave's new, second house up there.
Anyway. There's a ton of detail about last night that I won't share here, as it would be too much. I can tell you this, though, and even this is borderline oversharing: it might as well have been a bathhouse. I should clarify that. Certain spots might as well have been a bathhouse. Most of the space was just a crowded gay bar, people drinking cocktails and socializing just like any bar, except almost everyone was naked. There was a couple of areas of the bar, though, that it was kind of a different story. Those were the spots that might as well have been a bathhouse. Also I spent a lot of the time in those spots. I did take a while to warm up to it, but eventually I got pretty into it.
The key differences between this and a bathhouse are that Steamworks requires a membership
and either a locker or room rental; my last time there, because I went on a Saturday and it had the weekend rate, cost me $47—it would have been $62 had I gone after 6:00. Mind you, it can be as little as $32 if I go on a weekday before 6, or even less if I rented a locker rather than a room, but I prefer to have a room. Anyway, kind of astonishingly, there is no cover charge for Naked Night; the only cost was for the drinks Shobhit bought for both of us: he had a beer, I had a Moscow Mule. And I missed out on about half my cocktail when I accidentally knocked it over on the counter space in the little nook area of the back hallway. This is where a lot of, let's say euphemistically,
shenanigans take place.
The event lasts from 7:00 until, if I remember right, midnight. Shobhit and I agreed to leave to come home by about 9:45; in the end we left a bit after 10. We arrived maybe twenty after 8:00. It was closer to 9:00 when we got there in March, and it was stunningly packed—again, 90% of them naked. All of them men. Or I suppose I should say, people with penises. I did see a Black person there last night who had both breasts and a penis, but otherwise presented as a woman—the hair, makeup, etc. Presumably she was a trans woman. It was good to see that she seemed perfectly welcome, which would not be the case even at every gay bar, especially elsewhere in the country. Anyway we got there about an hour earlier this time than we did last time, and it was still pretty crowded when we got there. We could probably aim for 7:30 next time.
— पांच हजार आठ सौ सैंतालीस —
— पांच हजार आठ सौ सैंतालीस —
Now I'll skip the lurid details to get right to what I thought was the most interesting part of the evening, when we were leaving and picking up the bag we had checked, with our clothes in it. (Shobhit and I both got strap pouches for keeping our valuables in, which we found as free samples from BECU at Pride. We noticed a lot of these types of things carried around by the naked men in March.)
The guy at the counter, a tall, hairy guy with a beard who looked pretty fit, flirted with me
hard.
Any kind of flirting can often be lost on me, because I never assume anyone would be prone to flirting with me. But this guy was beyond obvious about it, though it still took a minute for me to register it. The first thing that happened was when he said, "May I?" or something to that effect—then he took take my hand and admired my long fingernails. He didn't even realize at first that they were real, and when he did realize that, he was even more impressed. He took my hand in his and was very kind of sensual about it.
He also noticed my ring. "That's a wedding ring," I said. "I got it from him!" And I pointed to Shobhit, who was on the other side of a small, narrow table stand that stood perpendicular to the bag check counter. The guy holding my hand registered my husband and said, "Oh, excuse me!" in a very apologetic tone. It was adorable, and I didn't see why he should even worry about it. What did he think we were there for?
We finished our exchange with the guy actually pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing it. It felt like kind of a strange place to experience such a deeply romantic gesture, but that was still what it felt like. It was deeply charming. He asked us both about our jobs while we slipped our underwear and shorts back on, so the friendly chatting continued for a bit. I'd have been happy continuing to talk to that guy under any other circumstance, but I needed to get home and get to bed.
We weren't there for very long, maybe an hour and 45 minutes at most. But, this was a far different experience for me than it had been the first time. And honestly it was great. No regrets! I'll definitely go back again.
— पांच हजार आठ सौ सैंतालीस —
[posted 12:34pm]
