BE THE CHANGE YOU WANT TO SEE IN THE DARKROOM

image: photo of my clothes check ticket taken under red lights.

The city I live in has two main bars with back rooms. One has a “dress code” on weekends and during events; the other does not have one at all. The dress code basically means you have be a little vulnerable. Do you have to be practically naked? Absolutely not, but you need to at least be wearing some sort of fetish gear. Even a union suit counts and that is basically neck to ankle pajamas. Though they do make assless union suits, or at least union suits with a butt flap in the back.

I have not always been the sort of person who is comfortable in my own skin. In fact, I have mostly been one of the most self-conscious people in every situation ever for the entirety of my life. H O W E V E R, when I go to these sexualized spaces, I try and leave that anxiety at the clothes check. I try and follow the sage advice of my buddy who told me to that it’s important some skin in the game. This is where the conflict starts.

In some ways, I like the no dress code ever approach. It’s great to help people I was literally one of these people not terribly long ago check out the scene and see if it’s something they’re into. It’s democratic too because not everyone is in a financial position to even buy a harness and such. But it does create a situation sometimes where it invites a lot of voyeurs who bring a weird energy. I don’t even know how to explain this but there’s a fine line between voyeur and like … idk sex pest and I feel like spaces where there isn’t a dress code seem to invite a lot more aggressive sex pests and pushy voyeurs.

Maybe the oddest energy of all is the young guys bringing their cis female friends in the back to point and giggle. And, to be clear, I really don’t have a problem with cis women in these highly sexual spaces but when it feels like two fully clothed people on a dare, it starts to get weird for me. Sometimes it feels like a breach of trust. As a contrast, a few night ago I was in a back room and there was a cis woman in full gear sucking as many dicks as she could and that was amazing. She fit in great and was invested in the space. Perfect.

But anyway, back to my story.

Last night, I had two options. A formal event with a cover and dress code or informal event with no code. My friend really wanted to go to the informal one bc it was free and closer. So we did and we met another friend rounding out the group at a solid three. Almost everyone at the bar was wearing street clothes. Literally (literally!) one guy was wearing a jock strap and maybe one or two guys were wearing harnesses. It was kinda lame. I could sense a high level of sex pests and voyeurs who had no intent of even taking off their jackets, let alone their pants.

So we had a drink or two and grumbled about it and decided to be the change we wanted to see in the world; or, in this case, the darkroom. We checked our pants and set an example and it worked a little. Slowly a few more guys got braver. Asses were seen. Dicks came out. Alliances were formed. Sunny D Vodka drinks were drank.

It ended up being an fun night but I kinda wish we’d just gone to the other place and paid the cover.

I knew it was time to leave when a dance remix of Fleetwood Mac’s “Seven Wonders” came on. Stevie has never steered me or Misty Day wrong.

image: another less successful photo of my clothes check ticket taken under red lights + Fleetwood Mac lyrics