An oiled-up naked man graces the cover of Club 69’s debut album ‘Adults Only’ and, truth be forever told, that’s partly why I had to buy the CD at Tower Records. It was the 90’s and this was the standard club fare – house music and strong-throated divas singing power-anthems with a driving beat and a killer melody.
As the gay community smoldered in the ashes of the AIDS epidemic, and the damage to a generation was still burning strong around the world, I looked at love with wary eyes. For those of us who came of age at a certain time, sex would always be tinged with danger – and the lurking possibility that it could lead to death. What does that do to an already-marginalized population?
For the most part, I spent my weekends alone in the Boston condo – glad and comforted by the proximity of Chaps or Club Cafe, but socially anxious enough to not dare step foot into their darkened dens by myself, aside from the occasional moment of alcohol-induced bravery in which I’d join a few friends for a night of tea dancing. I always had a blast, but it was never enough to make me a regular, and hardly ever did I venture out alone. When my twinkdom was at its most potent, I was at my most hermit-like. I don’t regret it in the least. It may have saved my life. AIDS was still ravaging the gay community. Safe-sex was just starting to become the default, but people would always do what they wanted, no matter the risk or stupidity. The only person you could absolutely trust was yourself, and even then lust and desire could make you see things as they weren’t truly so.
Instead, I’d spin this CD of house music and play out fantasies of club life within the safety of my bedroom: dance party of one. I could wear only my underwear and no one would stare or cop a feel. I could get as sweaty as I wanted and just take a few short steps into the shower. I could dance the night away, absolutely safe and secure, and there was joy enough in dancing with myself.
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