This is what it was like for me to visit a strange gay bar for the first time. Finishing my beer too quickly, I tried to look nonchalant as I returned to the bar-to a different bartender-to get a second, calming my beating heart and strategizing: Who would find me hot? Who was hot to me? Would I even approach them? How? Second beer finished, I planted myself as a wallflower at the edge of the vacant dance floor, waiting for more than three men to hit it so I could join them and maybe find abandon. As I stepped through the door into the steaming, thumping din, I shot straight to the bar for a beer while scanning the room for a place to perch that wasn’t too close to any of the other men leaning against the wall but had a good view of the men passing from the illuminated bar into the shadows of the dance floor. This mix of excitement and dread did not flag when I noticed the security guard in his orange vest at the doorway who scanned the street behind me as he checked my ID.
As I walked toward the door my heart raced, my hands went clammy, and I felt self-conscious about my gait. As I stepped out of the car I glanced through the windshield, making sure no jacket or loose change were visible that might cause a thief to smash the glass. I scanned the empty street looking for shadows in the dark storefronts or between two vans parked next to each other. When I parked down the street from Detroit’s R&R Saloon for the first time, I sat in my car for a moment.