Like many, my stage experience is limited to a single, somewhat disastrous immersive play back in college. In the vibrant atmosphere of queer bars, I’ve always been a spectator, more comfortable observing than participating. I’m the type to offer a polite tip to a dancer, then retreat to the sidelines, engaging in hushed conversations over drinks and shared cigarettes. While I can express myself freely in private writing, public displays of sensuality always felt daunting. So, when a proposition to audition as a go-go dancer at a dimly lit kink bar in the San Fernando Valley came my way, my acceptance surprised even myself. “Writers need to embrace new experiences,” I rationalized. And, a nagging thought persisted: “What if I actually have a knack for this?”
After extending the audition invitation, the party promoter, a friendly man in his fifties with combat boots, a yellow jockstrap, piercings, and a mohawk, set the stage – or rather, the platform. I had a mere thirty minutes to make a memorable impression. He shared cautionary tales of previous hopefuls, physically fit individuals with sculpted physiques, who unfortunately moved with the stiffness of robots. Heeding his advice, I resolved to push my boundaries and unleash my inner performer.
With a month leading up to my debut, preparation became paramount. Even before hitting the gym for stamina training, my first priority was securing the perfect outfit. Go-go dancing, as I understood it, was about the art of subtle allure. The objective was to reveal just enough, to tantalize the audience and, in return, collect a generous amount of tips. My partner, Brent, assisted in the quest, navigating through racks of delicate lace and bold leather at a West Hollywood lingerie boutique. We finally settled on a striking fluorescent blue micro-mesh G-string. Back home, I tried it on, examining my reflection. The image staring back was a blend of raw physicality and vibrant sweetness.
In other words, mission accomplished – or so I believed.
An hour before heading to the bar, I staged a dress rehearsal for my most supportive critic: my partner. Donning the G-string, I put on Lana Del Rey and moved in front of the mirror, my partner offering encouragement and some gentle pointers. Just as I was about to leave, a bathroom visit revealed an unwelcome stain on the blue thong. My world momentarily froze, and a wave of panic washed over me. Should I just call it quits?
My mind raced, contemplating the potential disaster. The stain was noticeable, a stark contrast against the bright blue fabric. Would the audience notice? Would it be distracting? Self-doubt crept in, amplified by the vulnerability of the situation. This was my first time venturing into such public performance, and the stakes suddenly felt higher.
However, the thought of backing out at the last minute felt even worse. I had already committed, mentally and emotionally. Turning back now would mean succumbing to my anxieties, letting self-consciousness win. Taking a deep breath, I decided to improvise. A quick change of underwear was in order, even if it meant deviating from the carefully chosen outfit. Luckily, I found a clean, albeit less flamboyant, alternative.
Walking into the bar, the initial nervousness lingered, but it was now mixed with a sense of determination. The music was loud, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. As I stepped onto the platform, the dim lights and cheering crowd became a blur. The hours of preparation, the outfit anxieties, the last-minute wardrobe change – all faded into the background. In that moment, there was only the music and the movement.
To my surprise, the initial awkwardness quickly dissipated. The rhythm took over, and my body responded instinctively. I moved with a newfound freedom, channeling the energy of the music and the encouragement from the audience. It wasn’t about technical perfection; it was about expressing myself, connecting with the crowd, and embracing the moment. The tips started flowing, and with each dollar bill, my confidence grew.
The thirty minutes flew by in a whirlwind of music, movement, and exhilaration. Stepping off the platform, I felt a rush of adrenaline and a sense of accomplishment. I had faced my fears, stepped outside my comfort zone, and discovered a hidden part of myself. The experience was liberating, empowering, and unexpectedly fun.
While I may not be quitting my writing career to become a full-time go-go dancer just yet, the experience taught me valuable lessons. It showed me the power of embracing new challenges, the importance of pushing past self-doubt, and the surprising joy of expressing myself in unexpected ways. My foray into the world of go-go dancing was more than just an audition; it was a step towards greater self-discovery and a reminder that sometimes, the most rewarding experiences are found outside our comfort zones.
