False Go-Go Idol
People have nightmares about appearing in front of their peers in only their underwear and here I was volunteering to do just that.
It was Saturday night on the Lower East Side and I had signed myself up for Boysroom’s amateur strip contest, Go-Go Idol. I hadn’t planned on entering a go-go contest when I left Brooklyn that night, but it’s funny what you’ll do for $300 and a whole lot off attention when you’re unemployed and living in New York. Particularly when the attention is that of judges Amanda Lepore and Cazwell. I have the biggest crush on Cazwell. There’s just something about a gay white boy rapping in bunny ears that brings out the exhibitionist in me.
I’d seen amateur go-go contests before. I actually persuaded a friend to enter one when we were in New Orleans for spring break last year. To me, it always seemed like the kind of thing you do on vacation. A couple over-priced margaritas and the knowledge that you’ll never see anyone in the audience ever again and suddenly you’re on a Guys Gone Wild DVD. I went pretty wild on that trip, but in more of a secluded, shadowy banquette kind of way.
Also, I’ve never really thought of myself as the type of guy who should dance partially naked in bars. I’m definitely the type of guy who would, but that doesn’t mean other people want to see it. I know what I look like. I’m cute, but I’m scrawny. I ain’t got much moneymaker to shake. And fags can be pretty brutal to strippers, even when they’re professionals. At best a chiseled Adonis can inspire a strange combination of desire and resentment in gay guys, so there was no telling what I would be in for if I got up there.
But, having just moved to New York, it still felt a little like being on vacation. And it would have been fiscally irresponsible to let the opportunity to win $300 slip by. So I signed up and immediately started to panic.
There were only three other contestants in the first round. The first guy was short and ever so slightly pudgy. He stripped down to a jockstrap and left his socks on. Contestant Number 2 was kinda cute with his clothes on, but he was wearing the most generic, un-sexy white boxers. He was skinny, and from my angle beside the stage I could see he had the flattest ass in Christendom. I was nervous, but I was starting to feel like I might have a chance.
Number 3 was from Georgia, and he really shook me up. He was well dressed, very cute, and had a lean, tanned, slightly toned body. He made up for his ugly gray boxer briefs with a bunch of glittery, purple necklaces that made him look like a 70’s glam rock star. If anyone asked me, this is the guy I would have bet my money on.
I already had my boots off when Cazwell introduced me. I was wearing dark jeans, a black studded belt, a white t-shirt and black leather driving gloves with the fingers cut off.
“The more naked you get, the better chance you’ll have,” Cazwell whispered.
The music I had to dance to was some generic classic rock song, maybe Aerosmith. My friend Kelsey said it was the same thing they played for everyone else, but I hadn’t noticed. I’d started a little tear in the collar of my shirt and I ripped it off, right down the middle, and threw it into the audience. I was hoping to come off as a bad-ass, so I left my gloves and belt on. There was no graceful way to get out of my pants. I just had to stop and pull my feet out of them. There I was in tiny black Calvin Klein bikini briefs, belt and gloves. And a funny thing happened: I started to feel really fucking sexy. I banged my head and swiveled my hips like David Lee Roth on crack. If there had been a pole I would have swung myself around it. It’s the closest I may ever get to feeling like a rock star. I’m still pissed that I didn’t stage-dive.
While I was up there it felt great. I had a blast. In a way, it was a lot like the days leading up to the election when I really believed we could win. I was so optimistic, so hopeful. I kept thinking, We just might pull this off!
The other go-go boys joined me onstage and Cazwell had the audience cheer for the guys they thought should go to round two. Contestant #1 was the first to get the boot. Number 2 got up there and immediately dropped trou. The crowd went wild and he made it to round 2, flat ass and all. Number 3, predictably, got a pretty decent applause, so he made it to the finals as well.
Then it was my turn. I got a pitifully localized applause, coming from left side of the stage where my friends were gathered. Cazwell looked right at them and said, “Y’ah can holla all you want, but he ain’t goin’ to round 2.” I was crushed.
In the end, the flat-assed guy won. He got completely naked on the bar, and I’m telling ya, it wasn’t that impressive.
A few older guys came up to me later and said I’d done a great job. None, however, said they thought I should have won. Cazwell offered by get me a drink, but I was so embarrassed I had to run away and hide. So much for flirting with minor Lower East Side celebs.
I expected to wake up the next morning thinking, Oh God, why did I do that? But the more I think about it, the happier I am that I did it. I had fun. And I also really like knowing that I’m the kind of guy who can, in fact, get on a bar and dance in his underwear.