(Note. Old article finally finished. Yep, I'm behind, behind, behind...)
It's Kink night at a local bar, I saw the poster advertising at Beano, have noticed it a few times and always resolved to check it out, and, finally, without the obligation of partying with the ex-coworkers, I head on down.
I haven't any Kink gear so I simply wear a suit. To these people that will be plenty kinky enough.
It's a dire little pub, centrally located off of crack avenue in downtown Calgary, and a bitterly cold night outside, probably it will be empty, but if it's that bad I can bail and find a better bar.
First impressions aren't so good, the pub is dirty, poorly furnished, dimly lit, everywhere there are fleets of battleships in brightly colored corsets anchored around tables drinking schooners of beer and waiting for someone, anyone to take them away from this. These women, of the second, the third, and even the fifth freshness, the jade working the door, all managing to be sad, lonely, and eager at the same time, it's heartbreaking, there is nothing sadder than a pub full of masterless bbw subs, it's like going to the SPCA, and you want to adopt them all, but that's not why I'm here...
This is my out of the box night, my do something new, get out of my head, dip, briefly, my foot into the current and see what goes on in the city when I should be soberly at home and sleeping.
The show begins, and some of the seniors get up from the VLT machines they've been working all day, begin to pay attention, the early birds and hardened drinkers, they don't have to pay the cover, they're getting it all for free.
A haggard and overweight drag queen is hosting the venue, she does a little improv comedy, answers the catcalls in the audience, banters, I don't know the crowd, don't get the specific humerous insults she's tossing out and recieving, but it's not for long and she introduces the show.
These shows, they're always the same.
1st Act - a foot worshipper lovingly undresses, bathes and examines his lovers feet.
Some polite applause, well (check my watch...hmmmm...).
Intermission. People dancing, talking, it's a social thing, they all seem to know one another. I'm new here.
Now time to check out the audience in a little more detail. The men, well, the few that dressed up are nothing to look at. Gay men do a much better job of BDSM and Kink, they value the aesthetic, keep themselves toned and in shape, there's something to be said for the superficialities. These men, a good fat many with plaid shirts and long biker beards, their girlfriends dressed to the nines in stockings and bustiers, those that dressed up, generally as BDSM masters, invariably short, 5'6" a reasonable average, tight jeans and leather straps across their sunken chests and protruding bellies, fat or thin arms with preposterous leather cuffs, they're fooling no one.
Get in line, get a drink, I'm getting the feeling I'm gonna need a few...
Act 2
A BBW nun comes out in the aspect of prayer, lighting & chanting to create mood. She kneels before a cross, (back towards audience), undoes her habit baring her breasts to the cross and with a whip begins to self flagellate, working herself into a frenzy and raising stripes across her back.
More enthusiastic applause, the audience, they like this, I can only think that she's gotten away lightly, How long was that? Give me the whip and I'll punish you properly my dear, you won't waste my time again...
Intermission.
Get in line, another drink, no, better make it two, more people watching.
A BDSM master midget, strutting about all shirtless and strapped in his harness, it's not politically correct but I can't help thinking wasn't being a midget freaky enough? My Karl Pilkington moment. But someone corrects me, tells me that midgets are people too and really, it does make perfect sense in that absurd sort of way...
The drag queen introduces the next act, checks the audience for "Virgins", I go unspotted, I've set up a chair with a clear view of the show, sit comfortably and watch while the newcomers are given a hard time, humorless and repetitive innuendo...
Act 3
A sensual undressing of his partner on stage down to her bra and slip, caressing her at every stage, at one moment she spreads her legs towards the audience...
"Is she wearing any knickers?" I ask in mock horror to one of the two hippy chicks who are watching with fascination beside me, clearly they're out of their box as well...
They don't know, but one walks away, changes her point of view and returns to assure us she is...
Intermission.
Get a drink. Return to seat. The bar, by now, has filled up nicely, and what with the drinks and all I'm beginning to take a kinder view of things. "All in good fun" I tell myself, and strike up a conversation with an asian fellow overlooking the dance floor, he's been standing too close to me, he's trying to steal my mojo, he's wearing a suit jacket as well, and thinks that if we stand together his odds will improve.
He's wrong, his name is Kyle, he's a Korean, he asks me if I'm on fetlife, I say no, he asks me how I knew about the event and I tell him about the flyposter in the cafe, he's surprised, I am as well, to me he looks like he'd just be lucky to get lucky, let alone lucky with some caveats, our conversation is distracted by a couple of attractive women who take up station beside my chair to watch the show...
Act 4
The drag queen comes out, notices me upon my chair "Look at you all 50 Shades of Grey you, you enjoying the show?". I affirm that I'm enjoying the show, but deny reading 50 shades of Grey..."He doesn't have to..." someone hollers from the audience "...The Movies coming out.."
Candling. Man lovingly dripping hot wax upon his partner.
The End.
The show is over, but the real show is just beginning...
The 2 girls standing next to Kyle and I introduce themselves, my vantage point, it wasn't the best, and I knew why they stationed themselves there. She notices my cuff-links, antique, Victorian cameos, homage and a kiss. "You look just like a Flight Attendant" she gushes, everyone has their kink, and follows it with: "Have you ever made a girl squirt?", and I appreciate the frankness, this bar, this event, they're not so bad. She's attractive, in a Egon Schiele/Cruela De Ville sort of way, tall, long with mobile, elastic features, 35 years old, and I hedge with discussions of the many online courses I've taken, and try to steer the conversation in safer directions, "How long have you been in the lifestyle?" she continues, not to be dissuaded, and here I take issue, I'm not in the lifestyle, not by a long shot, it's a pretty fucked up world in which you need to belong to a club or a clique to be a pervert, but apparently this is what it's coming to. Her friend stands by, bored, she's along only to help her gf get lucky, Kyle is impressed, but his limited English make him poor sport for conversation, he involves himself by congratulating my on my excellent choice in wives, he's misunderstood their familiarity, I correct him, and leave to roam the bar.
Little cottage enterprises selling leather bracelets and BDSM accessories, there are one-on-one demonstrations in the darker corners, a metal cross, rope bondage, on the dance floor a proper cretin and her well dressed boyfriend, she locks herself in the cage and laughs hysterically, her boyfriend releases her, they have large sexual appetites, I've heard, somehow it all just seems so wrong, is nobody here more than the sum of their deviance and sexual proclivities? Is this their only, their sole claim to personhood? Or maybe, a kinder way of looking at it might be that it's just more honest than your average bar, but my kindness is exhausted. There's a large swart man dressed up for all the world like a Muslim cleric, what must they think of it all, it's the fall of the Roman Empire all over again, only the Romans had far kinder biographers...