I first met Paul at The Sanctuary.
See now, I always get these confused. There's one Sanctuary on Maryland Parkway and Charleston, right next to the old Huntridge Theater; and then there's the Goth club, the other Sanctuary, in the back of Angles on Paradise on Wednesday night. I just have to remember-- one's a place where bands play, another is a gathering of Goths once a week in the back of a gay club. But still, I'll get them mixed up, no matter how often I'd been to either one.
Paradise Road, especially between Harmon and Tropicana, is a paradox, much like Vegas itself is paradoxical. It's usually known as the "Fruit Loop," where most bars for guys and gals of the same sex persuasion go and hang out. On the west side of Paradise are The Gypsy and Angles, and on the eastern side, off Swenson, are The Free Zone, and the very punk and very not gay (but not anti) Double Down Saloon. About half a mile north when you hit Harmon there's the colorful Hard Rock Hotel and Casino, a bevy of pretty people just waiting for you to enter, spend your money, get drunk, and walk out with someone who looks much nicer than yourself. At least, that's how I always looked at it.
"Hey Cam, how many of those guys there wearing those silver shirts in that casino would you believe were in the closet?" Paul said as we drove past on our way to Sanctuary, the Goth club in the back of the gay bar, one night.
"All of them, probably," I said.
The Hard Rock was never really my kind of place. Great concerts at the Joint (I saw Tori Amos once there-- I was about 10 feet from the stage-- and she blew me away), but the people were just disgusting. It was like being in L.A., except after it had gone through the nuclear meltdown.
Most people think that Goths are freaks until they pass once through the casino of what Paul affectionately refers to as the "Hard Cock" Hotel ("All those men," he said, "and they want to suck on plastic tits? They could just as well be sucking on a dildo. And if that be the logic honey, then they'd be better off with some real cock. Like mine. Serious repression going on, honey"), and then The Sanctuary seems as normal as a cafe in Seattle. I try to avoid the casino at all costs, despite the fact that they have stuff hanging up of people I actually like to listen to. But then again, that would be buying into the whole commercialism thing, now wouldn't it?
Where was I? Oh yes, I was talking about Paul. And The Sanctuary. I was there on a whim one night with Kiernan, the only girl I know who could walk through Angles and not give one shit that all the queens in there were giving her looks. I'd never been to a Goth club before, really, though I was a Goth in high school. I'd wear all black and I seriously got into witchcraft to scare the hell out of all the Mormons. And I seriously stayed a witch, well, because I liked it. It's a long, mushy story that I won't get into here. I used to play violin, and for awhile thought I was some kind of female Lestat or something. I don't remember what I was thinking. But then I graduated and for some reason, maybe it was because I started working full time, I started to wear clothes with color in them.
Anyway, I was at The Sanctuary that particular night because my ex had decided that bringing his new girlfriend into the cafe where he knew I would be (and am at on a regular basis) was actually a very civil idea. And Kiernan knows my ex, and she saw this whole thing happen, and said, "Go to the Goth club with me, we'll hang and you can get your mind off this asshole."
So I went.
A dance floor was in a corner opposite the entrance, mirrored walls with a wooden floor so whomever was dancing could make noise and look at themselves at the same time. A light would shine on a mirror ball at random points, casting shards of reflected glass onto black hair and leather. A DJ was in the corner nearest the dance floor, and he was intent on putting his records in order. To his right were the bathrooms, and opposite him next to the entrance was a bar. On the other side of the entrance was a threshold to an outdoor patio next to some tables and chairs inside. All the walls were painted black, and there were two TV screens hanging from the ceiling on either side of the indoor chairs and tables, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory playing. Gene Wilder was looking eccentric as ever.
And it got my mind off of things for a little while. I danced, arms snaking in the air and my hips swaying, in my white t-shirt and blue jeans, while kids who looked a lot like some of the Endless from The Sandman walked around me, danced on the mini dance floor in much the same way I did. It was actually kind of nice to chill out to some music I hadn't heard in a long time.
And then Kiernan introduced me to Paul. I remember this distinctly. He was wearing a gray shirt that had two old men kissing on it with an inscription on the bottom in black letters: BERLIN MAUER 1961-1989. He had a shaved head, two little golden hoops in his ears, a leather jacket, black jeans and the ever-present-at-all-Goth-clubs black Doctor Martens.
"Nice to meet you," he said. "I hope you aren't too scared of this place." His voice was a medium pitch, just the right balance between being high and low. And he had a slight lisp, which made me wonder.
"No, no. I've been having a weird night so being here feels quite normal at the moment."
They always say that the cute ones are either married, buried, or gay. In this case it was probably the latter. I was lonely, pissed off, and bitter, which are all the same thing whenever it all happens to me, and in comes along the sweetest, cutest guy in the world-- and there's no way he's ever going to be attracted to me. It was the kind of situation I told myself I should've been used to by now, considering that I date, like, once a decade. And in twenty-something years of life, that's not a whole lot.
"So what's your shirt say?" I inquired. I figured I might as well try and talk to someone of the male persuasion. Better than just sitting there brooding. Oh, wait.
He looked down at the shirt. "Actually, I'm not sure." I noticed there were some German and Russian words on it as he pulled out the bottom so we could both see the whole thing. "All I know is that this here down at the bottom says 'Berlin Wall.'"
"You saw the Berlin Wall?"
"What's left of it. They might actually tear down all of it, especially in East Berlin, because of all the construction going on there. Ten years gone already and they're still rebuilding. It's weird."
"Were you vacationing there, or...?"
"I was there on my spring break. I was studying abroad in England and had a month off, so some friends and I went around Europe for those four weeks. Very fun."
I nodded. "Cool." I didn't know what to say. I felt like even if we were just friends he was way out of my league. What the hell would we talk about?
"So you're straight, I take it."
I'm not sure to this day if he saw me blush under the lights, purplish-blue like a bruise. "Yeah, I am," I said.
He leaned in close to me. He smelled mixed, like sweet vanilla and sour leather. And I wondered for a second. Could he...? "You think any of these guys are cute?" Survey says... psych.
My eyes turned to the dance floor. I remember Depeche Mode's "I Feel You" was playing in the background, slowly and darkly making its way into everyone's ears. Then I looked around. Hmmm... vampire, Robert Smith of The Cure, Morpheus, vampire... "Uh, not really," I said. "As much as I like to revel in the dark side once in awhile, I really don't think these guys would be a likely candidate to join me."
"Amen to that, girl," he said. "And believe me, all those guys in Angles... they make me shiver in fright. It's hard to find a descent man in this town."
"No shit," I said. "People are just so... I don't know--"
"Fucked up?"
"Exactly."
"Oh good thing you said that, because I was really wondering if that's just a queer thing or not."
"No straight people have no clue, either."
"I've always wondered about that. And the straight people I know tend not to be very forthcoming with information. It's like they want to keep a mystery around them or something."
"Well, considering I've known a very few gay people in my life, all I can tell you confidently is that people are people, and they'll end up fucking you over no matter which way they swing."
"You know, that's what I've seen, and it's so true," he said. He laughed. "You know, for a straight girl you're pretty good."
"Thanks. I think. Can I ask you a personal question though?"
"Sure."
"Have you always been gay? Or did you realize after being with girls, or...?"
"Always have been, always will be."
"I hope I didn't offend you."
"Oh nah. It's cool, it's cool. I actually haven't had anyone really ask me that before."
"See, I'm a different kind of straight girl."
He laughed loudly. "In most circumstances, that statement would mean you're bi, but I think I can make an acception in your case."
I shrugged. "What can I say? Girls, as cute as they are, just don't do it for me."
"Most straight guys would probably be disappointed in that sentence."
"Well, tough shit for them, huh?"
"And a bitch too. I think I like you." We both laughed. "You wanna dance?"
I looked at the dance floor, and despite the fact that it wasn't exactly the fastest beat in the world, I said, "Sure, let's go."
I could've swayed and moaned and attempted to look as sexy as possible and it wouldn't have done anything. And it didn't. I just kept thinking that I'll have to wait another ten years. It was depressing. Not that it really made any difference in a Goth club anyway.
He took my hand and pulled me off the dance floor.