I Did It For Science: Gay Bar by Grant Stoddard - Nerve.com



Quantify the effects of the experiment.

We got to the Hole around 10:45. The place was almost empty. Brian, Eric, Jenny and I did a quick lap around the joint, then I took off my sweater to show them the goods. I was met with a chorus of "Mmmmm, you look nice!" I handed the bartender my drink ticket with a wink and a big tip. He pressed the ticket back into my palm, saying, "This one's on me, sweetheart." Crikey! That doesn't happen in regular bars too often. I deduced that either he was looking to get fucked, or he just wanted the tips to keep flowing all night. Maybe both.


Unfortunately, the Hole's management had decided their "ten dollars, all you can drink" policy was totally bonkers. They had changed it to $10 for five free drinks, then $2 a drink after that. Still, it's an amazing deal, considering that plenty of downtown bars charge ten bones for a weak-ass Sea Breeze. I'm harping on about this drink deal because it led me to believe I'd be walking into a crowd of dudes so wasted that they'd fling themselves at me with reckless abandon.

Instead, we walked into a straight-up bar brawl: two pissed-looking dudes were really going to work on each other. I don't know what the fight was about, but it involved none of the open-handed bitch-slapping I expected. No wonder Oscar de la Hoya is a gay icon. Quick as a flash, the friendly booze-merchant leaped over the woodwork and ejected the guys with a minimum of fuss. I hadn't seen a bar fight in five years of living in New York, and I certainly wasn't expecting one tonight.

After the undesirables were flung out, the desirables went back to their chatting and their Cosmos. "So, what's your type?" asked Eric. I didn't really have one. I glanced around the room and picked out a few guys who kind of looked like me. I guess that's narcissism for you. "You've got to make yourself available," advised Eric. "Get in the mix, man!" echoed Brian, who was loving every second of my gay debut. My gaybut, if you will.

I decided to suck down a few more cocktails before starting my quest for cock and tail. Suitably buzzed (it doesn't take much), I grabbed Jenny's hand and led her onto the rapidly filling dance floor. We proceeded to get our freak on to Christina Aguilera's "Dirrty." Apparently Jenny is a closet fag hag. She certainly looked the part: she was wearing a cocked beret over her straightened auburn mane, and red press-on talons. "This color is called 'aperitif,'" she shouted over the music after almost taking my eye out.

After three free drinks, I felt pretty silly. I started busting some dance moves I wouldn't dare try in front of my bedroom mirror. I can honestly say that all eyes were on me, but I attribute that to my epileptic jig, not my hunky bod. Jenny and I were among the first on the dancefloor, but pretty soon, the scene was banging.

A couple of years ago, the scene was quite literally banging: after becoming a popular destination for public sex, the Hole's lower level was closed. Rumor had it that tonight would involve some kind of grand re-opening. ("No, no," quipped Brian, "everyone's here for the Grant opening!") But aside from the fistfight, an evening at the Hole was unfolding like a night at any other club.

That was about to change. Get two hundred horny gay dudes together, get 'em all shitty on liquor and cocaine, and before long, everybody's a little handsy. Eric soon became too drunk to offer any cogent mating advice, so I just followed his lead, inhaling another free cocktail and diving deep into the scrum of gyrating gentlemen. Hands in the air! Shit. I immediately noticed that everyone else wearing a tank top had gone through the trouble of trimming their underarm hair. Even with my arms down, I looked like I had Don King in a headlock. Would it blow my cover? I couldn't help thinking about that American spy in WWII, the one who infiltrated Germany by sprachen sie Deutsch without a trace of an accent, only to arouse suspicion by holding his knife and fork like an American. I think he ended up getting shot against a wall in Colditz.

I was convinced that my twin thickets would make me persona non grata, but suddenly a pretty young fashionisto grabbed my hips, pulled me nose-to-nose and started freaking my shit! Brian led the cheers from the peanut gallery. The stranger nuzzled my neck and squeezed me tight, while another chap bumped him from behind in an aggressive spooning formation. Then Fashionisto put his left hand on my right hip and his right hand on my left. In one deft motion, he spun me around like a top. In seconds, I was at the business end of a five-man conga line, getting the "hot dog in the bun," if you know what I mean. Oh, the humanity! An unsolicited erect penis between the buttocks can be a less-than-pleasurable experience, even through pants. While being dry-humped by this testosterone man-caterpillar, I felt a pang of guilt for waking up my girlfriends so intrusively every morning.

Casanova was starting to get rough. I attempted to holler for Brian's assistance, but the music drowned me out. Every downbeat of Blur's "Girls and Boys" was punctuated by my new friend's increasingly brutal pelvic thrusts. Somehow, I was able to break out of his viselike grip and limp over to Brian, who was dying with laughter at the bar. After a short breather, I decided to go in for a second sortie. I stood on the barstool, quickly identified the eye of the man-storm and jumped into it.

Typically, I'm no good at approaching people without benefit of an introduction. On the rare occasions that I've said "Hey, how's it going?" to a girl in a bar, I've come across as so totally disco that I've felt compelled either to apologize for my cheesiness or follow up with, "So, what's your sign?" At the Hole, I was determined to right my past wrongs. I singled out a fine specimen and shimmied through the crowd toward him, practicing a few surefire lines in my head. I had a few options:

  1. The casual. "What's up?"
  2. The confessional. "Hey, I don't usually go up to guys in bars, but . . . "
  3. The trés disco. "Hey, you are beautiful!" replete with point-and-wink.
  4. The observational. "This music/Oh, those shoes!/This fucking guy . . . " Each to be executed with rolled eyes and a casual nod in the direction of the DJ, some Blahniks or the guy on the dancefloor wearing water wings and a candy pacifier.

I decided on something like, "Hey, how are you tonight?" I practiced it a few times. I made eye contact from a few feet away. Our stare-down continued until I was almost nose to nose with the guy. "Uh . . . hey, how are y . . ." I sputtered. Before I could finish my sentence, one of the dude's hands was on my neck, one was on my waist, I was being pulled into point-blank range and his full, stubbly lips were beginning to part. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth and gave it a firm bite. It hurt. Sated, he started bumping his chest against mine in time to the music. I danced out of the huddle, mildly shocked. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

Eric was seeing stars at this point, but he was just coherent enough to ask how I did. As I leaned in to tell him, I saw something out of the corner of my eye: Brian was poised with his camera like a skeet-shooter. Just as I realized the boys had set a photographic trap, Eric gave me a 150-proof smacker on the lips. I guess wearing a sleeveless shirt to a gay club makes you fair game. It put me in mind of the "traffic light" parties I attended in college: you wore green, yellow or red depending on whether you were looking for action, open to suggestion, or trying to give the impression that getting into your pants would be harder than shucking a clam with a lettuce leaf. At the Hole, it was assumed you were trolling for cock just by virtue of being in attendance.

Let's talk about the advantages of being a straight guy at a fairly raunchy gay club for a second. The room was about 85% cock-heavy, but the twenty people who could be identified as girls by a layperson were really cute. Better yet, they seemed to be feeding off the fuck-it-all attitude of the other partygoers. Some of them were getting straight-up raw. I mean, really frisky. One raven-haired lass — a friend of a friend of Eric's — swaggered up to me and said, "Are you the one who's pretending to be gay so he can write about it?" I confirmed her suspicions. She looked me up and down and said, "You are doing a great fucking job!" I thought so too, although I wasn't doing anything too different from my day-to-day persona at the time. She glanced at my rig, which was concealed by pants that one of Michael Jackson's love interests would have trouble squeezing into. "Is that thing real?" she asked. Why do I have to play gay to make girls say shit like that?

I couldn't break character, but it was hard to resist the urge. I kind of pranced around her and — drawing from my big book of stereotypes — told her that she looked fahh-bulous. She peeled the label off of a bottle of Budweiser and affixed it to the bulge in my jeans. I looked at the crowd apologetically as she watched the label fall to the floor, then pressed it on again. Before things got too intense, I swerved back into the crowd.

A thought at 1 a.m.: Does every straight guy have a gay lookalike? It was like that episode of Seinfeld. I saw a John Stamos, a Jake Gyllenhaal and several gay Strokes, Vines and Hives. But the first guy who came over and planted one on me was a bizarro version of Brian. I mean, he looked exactly like my best friend and he was trying to stick his tongue in my mouth. Of course, as he closed in on me, the real Brian was ready with the camera. (By this point, he'd made the rounds with all the cute girls. He told them that he was "totally straight" and was attending my coming-out party.) Brian's a shady fuck.

He got his comeuppance later, though. While he was taking a piss in the men's room, some six-foot-four 'mo got all aggro and kicked the bathroom door off its hinges. I guess tensions were running high at the Hole that night. Later on, the same guy grabbed Brian by the lower jaw and cranium and tried to force a game of tonsil tennis. I've never seen Brian so worried.

At about 2:30, the vibe started getting pretty heavy. Overt making out, kneading, rubbing and stroking were easily observed. A dude with a beard started freaking me, then clamped his hand around my jaw and aimed his squirming tongue in my direction. That was a little grody. Not only did I feel a little used, but I hate beards. I immediately resolved to shave more than once a week.

By 3:00, I'd exhausted my free-drink tickets and my interest. "Come on, girls, we're going!" I shouted to Eric and Brian. Eric was slightly the worse for wear. He gave us the two-arms-above-the-head "WHOOOO!," a drink in each hand. Do they call it double-fisting at a place like this? He decided to stick around.



Summarize your findings. Don't forget to attempt to identify possible variables that could result in different findings for others trying to recreate your test results.

Even on my most MDMA-fueled make-out blitzkriegs, I've never smooched that many people — voluntarily or otherwise — in one evening. (That puts me in the minority of most socially adept people I know; I can name, or at lest describe, every woman I've ever kissed.) At the Hole, the flurry of face-sucking made every interaction seem so anonymous and transient. It kind of boggled my mind and made me feel a little blue. The only time I saw contact info being exchanged was when some hopped-up rocker chick shouted her email address to Brian above the music.

What set the night apart from an outing at a non-gay bar was the palpable expectation of instant gratification. Although I wish that that was the status quo at the bars I frequent, it kind of skewed my experiment. I wasn't sure if guys were responding to me, per se. They certainly weren't responding to anything that came out of my mouth; they were more concerned with shoving something in it. I suspect that everyone got swept up in the Bacchanalian environment. As the night crept closer to tomorrow, people started behaving like there wasn't going to be one.

Before that night, if you'd asked me whether my favorite non-gay bar should convert to a make-out zone — if unwritten gender-based expectations should be discarded and replaced with copious groping and other acts of the flesh — I probably would have said yes. But now I see the benefits of the time-honored enigma: the code that, once cracked, can lead to the good stuff. (Not to say that code doesn't exist in gay life, or that gay bars are "wrong" or "bad." This was a controlled experiment conducted in a very specific place with many variables: the people, the booze, my mindset. I'm sociamilizin', not generalizin'.) This experiment was unsuccessful in that I didn't chat or flirt with any guys, per se. I never got the chance. I guess you could say I tried to pull out my usual shock-and-awe tactics but was caught off guard by some very friendly fire.  

Do you have an idea for Grant's next I Did It for Science? Let him know here.

 

        


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35 Comments

As simply as I can say it, I think you are unbelievably homophobic. Not that I belive you think it's "wrong" or "bad", it's just you that seem very uncomfortable with your sexuality. and it shows in this experiment, as with some of the other experiments you've done, this was just the one that took it over the top.

msy commented on 04/07

Grant is so cute and funny that I would marry him even if he did live in fairyland. He could have his boyfriends and I could have my boyfriends and we could double date. It'd be fun.

BB commented on 04/07

P.S. I can say "fairyland" because my best friends are gay and they think it's funny.

BB commented on 04/07

Why don't you just stick with taking pictures of couples doing it. Shit why do you have to do shit like this.I mean shit it made me uncomfortable. Does it make me gay if I got a boner reading the conga part?

JO commented on 04/07

I loved this. I'm a gay man, and your observations are so accurate. They're the exact reason that I've turned from a 3-nights-a-week club queen to whatever else it is I can be. Your essay was hilarious and heartbreaking, as all the best are. Thank you.

TH commented on 04/07

Nerve is ALWAYS homophobic - for some strange reason...

df commented on 04/07

My favorite part about this is the amount of criticism Grant opens himself up to. I can just see the "you are so confused" e-mails flying like made after people read this. Grant manages, in only the way that he can, to give us a very specific view at the mind of a hetero man, he doesn't filter or censor himself, says things that can be deemed "offensive" or "generalized" or "nieve" because, in truth, that is what most of us are. He does no harm in this, and if you take a second to really read the piece, you will realize that Grant opens up a very cool discourse that goes largely unexamined today. Grant makes a number of "straight" asssumptions; assumptions I would have made and many other like us would have. And the scary part is, if you are mad at him for it, you are mad at someone who is 99% safer in how he thinks than a large portion of our population. If his mindset can frighten a few people, imagine if someone unsympathetic, unwilling and uninterested had written it. Anyway, as usual Grant, you remain the best thing about Nerve. Great job, well done, and if you can manage to start a discourse on this topic, then the experiment, even amongst those at Nerve who probably are remarkably likeminded, then it will have been an unequivacle success. Keep up the great great work.

ME commented on 04/07

I am female, straight and not directly involved in the gay NY culture, but I used to live next door to The Monster in the West Village (corner of W.4th & Grove). Every night I walked past it I saw a plethora (a rainbow, if you will) of gay men: older conservative men, leather-clad machismos, yuppie biz-types, gloss-donning hipsters, trashy men, classy men...all kinds of guys. And not once did I see anyone virtually screwing on the bar. Everyone seemed very respectful - just a bunch of guys hanging out by the bar or the piano, chatting. Maybe hooking up, but not obvious to the outside passing observer. I wonder if The Monster would have provided you with more fullfilling results. Granted it's in the West Village, but like I said, all types seem to show up there. Aside, insteresting and enlightening project. Quite gutsy of you to blindly throw yourself into the lion's den of gay NY.

ab commented on 04/07

The article is fine - and yes, Grant is smart and funny - its just that for a magazine proporting to be an intelligent, open ended look at sexuality to examine homosexuality maybe twice a year at most, and then only under the guise of either a mock-umentary ethnographic expedition or just regular mocking (see nerve's earlier lampooning of the NY times inclusion of gay marriages in their society pages)is more than ridiculous (and shamefull), and in the end homophobic.

DF commented on 04/07

yikes. forget the homophobe stuff, these men are frightfully unattractive.

yes commented on 04/07

Faaaaah-bew-luss The most amusing thing on the internet apart from the "war" coverage.

-IG commented on 04/07

Grant, I really concur that you are by far the most entertaining thing on Nerve. What really upsets me are people who are so willing to scream, "homophobe!" when this is so obviously far from the truth and further serves only to drain that word of any valuable purpose whatsoever. It is true you don't completely understand how things are for gay men but you ventured FEARLESSLY out there to give it a shot and deal with the fallout in an honest manner. As a gay man, I will admit I am terrified at the idea of intimacy with women as they perplex me to no end and most efforts I do make to understand them are probably no better than what you've done here. What matters is that people make an effort to understand each other, and that you've done commendably, vividly, humorously; if only the rest of the world would make one tenth the effort to be as fearless and non-homophobic as you in approaching people who are not like them, the world would be so much better off. Great job. Good article. I only wish I'd been there to make out with you myself!

BD commented on 04/07

If you kept going to gay bars, it's perfectly normal, and you would be called a "fag stag". But yeah! Aren't gay bars and clubs so much more fun!?

SDF commented on 04/07

grant, luv, you rock. yep. that's it.

hava commented on 04/07

no, no, not homophobic. brave, sweet, self-critical, adventurous, respectful, honest. yes. not square, not scared [to the point of not trying, at least] not boring, not mean, not lying, not. luvly. yes.

hava commented on 04/07

I don't get it Grant... I mean I would have been throwing up once another guy kissed me.... That's not homophobic, it just is a natural reaction because the thought of gay sex turns my stomach. That much said, if two guys want to get at it, well, that's their business and they should be able to do so without the world lecturing them on the supposed "evil" of it. But to try to play gay, when you are really straight seems stupid to me. Better to have articles by gays about gays talking about the diverse nature of being gay. Not this pretend stuff... not that there aren't some good points, it just hits me as... stupid. Now I await all the people who will call me a "homophobe".

nas commented on 04/07

Nas - I consider you more of a "homoskeptic."

AA commented on 04/07

what did em and lo think of u the next day?

tca commented on 04/07

Well, it's obvious to me that some readers just don't have a sense of humour. i thought this piece was funny and endearing. Obviously, Grant is really comfortable with his sexuality--comfortable enough to experiment, at least temporarily, with his image. Someone who is threatened by homosexuality doesn't go to a gay club to see what it's like to flirt with other men--they beat people up in an ally instead.

CL commented on 04/07

Why would a straight guy go to a gay bar? Out here in San Diego, there are scads of women who love to party, drink and maybe meet a nice guy who can handle his booze so that he can perform later after 10 or so when she invites him over for sex and coffee in the morning. It seems as though many gay men are interested in one thing, the physical looks and size of their pick up. How many straight men have over a thousand women sex partners yearly, unlike many homosexual men? How many men can seduce three women a day, unlike gay hustlers, who are obsessed with different men partners daily?

SRT commented on 04/08

[genuflects in Grant's direction]

KAT commented on 04/08

This was one of the best things I've read on Nerve so far. I'm gay and I've known plenty of closet-cases and homophobes and can confidently say that Grant is neither -- which makes the fact that he pulled this article off even more amazing. It does need to be restated that this night at the Hole is NOT a typical gay bar night, it's pretty trashy. But hey, frat parties are pretty similar and those are mostly straight affairs. But I digress. Excellent article!

EE commented on 04/08

Good God Stoddard. You are freakin' hot. And I'm a woman. Yum.

~KaT commented on 04/08

This was great. I mean it's all in good fun. I love gay bars. I am a straight girl & the reasons I go is because Gay men know how to have a good time. It's just that simple. Even though it saddens me a bit that Grant can't get any hetero action. I think he is gorgeous.

J.V. commented on 04/09

Hey Grant, while you have a deft turn of phrase, this piece was poorly structured besides its patronizing, dumb ass attitude towards gay people. the whole faux naivite tone was nauseating. if I could find you in a bar, I'd throw up on you. the premise of this "piece" or whatever you call it, is so fucking lame. as though gay people can't write about themselves? that they need the spectatorship of some supposedly straight guy? or, maybe this wasn't supposed to be read by gay people at all! fags are like creatures in a zoo and you're the visitor, huh? yeah, I'm a humorless faggot who doesn't appreciate social tourism masquerading as "science" as for other suggestions, why don't you go undercover and... COME OUT? or, since you're obviously such an investigative journalist (and could, kinda sorta pass for jail bait) why don't you go undercover and... GET SHOCK TREATMENT?

HQ commented on 04/09

AMEN to that!

MC commented on 04/09

KAT, if you like Grant so much why don't you email him. grant@nerve.com. He might even do you for science! LOL

Dan commented on 04/09

The troublesome thing about this glib but witty piece is that Grant doesn't use his experience among the exotic 'gays' to come to any understanding about why he experienced what he did... or what it might feel like for a gay person in an equally 'straight' setting. In the end it all comes off as the introduction suggests it will- a pathetic bid for attention among the previously dismissed dregs. The funny thing is, that despite the Hole's reputation, it is potentially a really fun place. It is only as depressing as you make it, and with company like the above, no wonder Grant left the Hole feeling glum about humanity.

CBM commented on 04/10

Seems to me you have the worst of both worlds, my boy. Not only do you have this apparent handicap of an effete British (English?) accent, but you're guilty of teeth-grinding Manhattanisms like "10 bones for a weak-ass Sea Breeze". Make your fucking mnid up ;)

RJH commented on 04/10

Being gay is not a sexual preference, it is a culture. You can play at being gay for the sake of an experience, it's actually not a bad idea, and Mr. Studdard certainly seemed to know how to play. But it was kind of conceited the way Granty wrote about it. Why not write a piece about the fact that sexual preferences in human beings actually evolve and change in the course of one's life? Why not be open about the fact that maybe, just maybe, without being homosexual or bisexual, you would actually like to try the experience of sex with someone of your own gender? Many women do, and they don't call themselves lesbians or bisexual. Why can't men play around, experience, take friendship with one of your dude buddy to another level and fuck him? Doesn't make you anything you don't want to be. It just makes you a normal person who understands that love and friendship don't have gender attached to it, and that sometimes, friendship is so powerful that you develop sexual attraction. Falling in love is not about gender, it's about feelings. Now, Mr. Stud, if you would have been serious about this scientific experiment, you might have taken someone home. OK, it was done in good humour (spelled with a u, I'm canadian HA!). But the fact that you mentionned right at first that you are attracted to women, is probably the lamest part of the piece. Hasn't science taught you anything? Like keep an open mind?

skye commented on 04/10

Grant fucking Rocks!

CP commented on 04/10

Grant: You are such an awesome guy. Very funny stuff.

mk commented on 04/12

I thought it was interesting on alot of levels. And of course Grant had to qualify things by saying he preferred ladies...now he won't get a bunch of gay man email asking for his digits. Duh. It also showed that he was being open-minded...This criticism, "Yeah, but he coulda been gay!" is silly. As Dan Savage says, "blah blah blah gayness is not something you try and develop a taste for, gayness is something that sneaks up on freaked out 14-year-old boys." Besides, you read about these things knowing they're not what Grant usually engages in. Hence the unique perspective. It wouldn't be nearly as nuanced otherwise. Anyway, I didn't know he was European. Huh. He fit my Michegan stereotype so well...

AM commented on 04/24

Grant - you are utterly fearless, or at least, really brave. If I was a guy, i would have jumped on you, too.

nf commented on 04/25

Wow! Grant, those pictures are hot. Sizzle. Close up of the jeans crotch shot, please? Girls LOVE a nice package. And yes, size matters. Next experiment? How about you see if you can connect with a woman and get a complete stranger to fuck you without saying all the usual guy calcualted lines? No, not bits of paper with scratchy love notes on them. Real intimacy. Innocent sexual union. Can you practice "rapport" instead of "report" - the difference between female communication and male knowledge transfer.

CJP commented on 05/01
 

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