Dear young cousin:
Why ask me where and how to meet people? Are you assuming that because I've bummed and barred around for some years I'm a successful meeter-ofpeople? I've never thought so, and, frankly, the question you ask has puzzled me ever since--well, ever since it occurred to me that I needed people. Probably outsiders of all descriptions have been puzzled by this question since people began. We homophilic outsiders like to think that in our time and place it's especially difficult to meet the people we want to meet. In another world beyond this one we outsiders may compare notes, who knows? But again I ask, who am I to advise you? Yes, I've learned a few things; I've known cities, streets, restaurants, museums, beaches, bars. And yes, I've met people, just people or special people or people whom I might as well not have met. From several points of view my time was not entirely wasted; and yet, my considered judgement is, 'I regret'.
You ask particularly about the gay bars. My remarks about them will not be very encouraging. (But you'll form your own opinion, having already begun wasting time in them.) Gay bars are not the lewd dens of sin as imagined by some who've never been in them. When the bars come to life, that is, when they are not merely crowded, they resemble a cross between a social club and a theatre where actors and audience are mixed together. Needless to say, the confusion, noise, the artificial atmosphere are not ideal conditions for meeting anyone on a serious level.
Now forgive me for generalizing outrageously. I'll try to describe the type of person who usually seems to enjoy himself at a gay bar, for without this information your conception of the gay bar will be lacking. (If the shoe fits, throw something at me.) He is young, under thirty; his physical charms are obvious at first glance; he is superficial or is actor enough to appear superficial. The word 'superficial' in this context covers a lot of ground. Without delving into the matter of his superficiality I'll only make the observation that his humor, which is an indispensible part of his act, isn't much above the level of a clever late-teen-ager's. To enhance the teen-age impression he dresses informally, in jeans and sport clothes. His manners aren't too bad; but if he feels that he is put in a defensive position, he'll be unpleasant on small provocation. And he is, of course, cliquish. He is not in the majority, even in those places where he lends himself for highlight and often sets the tone.
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