Fridae

Weekend lunch with the posse. An understandably irate Stephen was accounting his close encounter of the scum kind at the club the night before. Now, we've heard the same story repeated in a thousand permutations a million times before but we nevertheless indulged in his ranting with empathetic hearts and sympathetic ears.

Jabbing his fork through a sliver of saut�ed beef, he said, "I was dancing alone in the middle of the dance floor when this guy came out of nowhere and told me he liked the way I dance and started to dance with me. He was totally cute and totally my type and before I know it, he was all over me."

"Just when I thought that something good might actually come out of this, he let go of me and boogied to a topless muscle lulu across the dance floor without even saying goodbye. I could have just died there and then. I've been "deselected" without any warning and I feel worse than dirt," Stephen said, finally catching his breath and popped the beef into his mouth.

There was a brief moment of silence as we nodded our heads when Danny said, "the Club Cow." All of us stared at him quizzically and he proffered, " you know, guys who roam around clubs looking for choice meat like cows looking for greener pasture to graze. We ought to gather these guys in an abattoir and slaughter them for their flesh for the way they treat other guys like meat."

Danny's analogy though trite is not far off from reality. The gay club is probably the place to film if Discovery Channel decides to do a weekend special on the animalistic mating rituals amongst gay people. And it is in this hot bed of activity that scum and lowlifes thrive.

Just the week before, Edmond made his way down to an infamous gay watering hole to celebrate a friend's birthday. Since he's not seeing anyone, he arrived alone, fashionably late but his friends were fashionably later. While nursing his tumbler of vodka cranberry at the bar counter, he was accosted by unwelcome company. Ever the PR consultant he is, he tried his best to cordially convey to the numbskull that his presence is most unappreciated but the guy just kept pushing it.

In a desperate attempt to shake the guy off, Edmond decided to fake it and told him that he's happily attached. To this, the club idiot retorted, "I'm sure you guys have enough room for me right?"

"Just then, his boyfriend arrived and stared at me like I'm some cheap slut hitting on his partner," Edmond said. "It was so sickening, I wanted to throw my drink at him but I decided not to, as it will be a complete waste of booze."

"I can top that anytime," offered Danny. "I've lost count of the number of horror encounters I have in the clubs. I've been through everything from the aunties who are way past their sell-by dates to the amnesiacs who never calls when they said they would. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother anymore. Why do I bother dressing up, hoping to catch Mr. Right's eye when all I attract are losers."

---

It's a sad state of affairs and we know it, the same old scene being played over and over again, night after night in gay clubs. While there are some amongst people like us who go to gay clubs to let their hair down and indulge in an all-gay party experience, others patronize the clubs to find a potential mate. Whatever our agenda, we can be sure that some ballroom turkeys will always be lurking in the corners, ever ready to spoil our evening.

So how do you "scum-proof" yourself to ensure that your evening's revelry will not be marred? First of all, move around in packs. When you are alone, you're fair game to the dance floor hunters. When you are with a group of friends, it complicates matters ten-fold for the loser. It's simply a matter of safety in numbers.

If unfortunately you do not have the luxury of numbers, arm yourself with at least one clubbing buddy. When the need arises, he can stand in as your surrogate jealous boyfriend to drive away unwanted attention. However, do make sure that he is dependable. He'll be as useful to you as your belly button if he's flirting with everybody half of the time or gets himself pissed drunk before midnight.

Secondly, build up a network of friends who are in the loop. The cutie eyeing you from across the bar may seem harmless but if you accept his advances without doing a background check first, you are doing so at your own peril. It's best if you have a pool of informants ready to give you the lowdown on demand of the guy in question. Moreover, the lowlifes are a presumptuous lot. When they see that you are acquainted with some regulars in the scene, they will automatically presume that their reputations have preceded them and would think twice about making their moves on you.

Last and most certainly not the least, never underestimate the power of technology. Equip yourself with a mobile phone on your next trip to the joint. When an overzealous clubber gets too close for comfort and you cannot for the life of you shrug him off, pretend that you've got an incoming call, calmly whip up your mobile telecommunication device, conveniently excuse yourself and flee the scene.

The strategies mentioned above are of course by no means exhaustive but it is sufficient for your survival. For best results, combine all three strategies. If you go to a club with a group of friends who are in the loop with a mobile phone in hand, you are virtually untouchable.

However, being untouchable may be a double-edged sword, for not only will you be driving the bees away, you may actually scare away your potential soul mate. Then again, if you can be finally free from unnecessary distractions, you will be finally free to pursue your love interests on the dance floor.

For once, you can actually be the hunter, not the hunted.