How I kept my LTR from going DOA on the dance floor

BY MICHAEL ANTHONY

Yes, the circuit season is now upon us. It’s both beautiful and tragic at the same time. It’s awe-inspiring and yet emotionally draining. It’s networking at its most fun and backstabbing at its bitchiest. It’s everything you ever thought it would be and it’s like nothing you could conjure in your wildest dreams. It’s the circuit scene, and as easily as it can give you the night of your life, it can chew you up and spit you out like a tween popstar with a bagful of nose-candy and a bad set of extensions.

I stumbled (quite literally) onto “the scene” almost accidentally. At the semi-tender age of 23, my wild outings in WeHo had been relegated to episodes of overt intoxication at The Abbey and nights of far-too-many sugar-free Red Bulls at Fubar. While my bubble butt projected all the bravado of a bad-ass, I was, truly, more PG-13; some strong language, perhaps even a little brief nudity (if I was lucky), yet nothing questionable enough to shake a moralistic stick at.

A professional gay like myself, however, can only live life in the “children under 17 strongly cautioned” lane for so long; ergo, flash-forward to this fairy’s “once upon a time” introduction to the wild world of after-hours. Prince Charming (aka the guy that I had been dating for four months who, somehow, I’ve managed to trick into being my partner for the past four years) casually asked me: “Hey, you want to go to this circuit thing tomorrow night?”

Interested and yet hesitant in equal measures, I responded with a tentative: “Uh, OK.” My inner party animal wanted nothing more than to experience what all the hot hunks in the 24 Hour Fitness locker room were already calling the “most totally fabulous party, dude!” Conversely, however, my body dysmorphia was kicking into overdrive: “How will I fare among the smooth and shirtless demigods?” Regardless, I squelched my internal-aquifer of self-hate and purchased my $120 (are you freakin’ kidding me?!) ticket.

Despite my reservations, the evening was a spectacular success. My better half got the chance to shake his six-pack, and I had the opportunity to showcase my Beyoncé-back-up-dancer dance moves. As a couple, we met a slew of astonishingly sexy guys, got hit on more than I thought humanly possible, and, most importantly, danced off roughly 2,000 calories. Together, the two of us had a blast; I was now an out and proud circuit addict.

Twelve months of bi-weekly parties ensued, and although my man and I drew closer as a couple during the day, our nights of dancing slowly ate away at the “as a couple” and “together” mentality that was the basis of our relationship. You see, in a sea of shaking SexyBack studs, it can be quite difficult to keep your wits about you.

Although we had managed to remain 100% monogamous, I began to ask myself… is the AstroTurf greener on the other side? Should I really be filling my dance card so young? Between the Britney remixes and Tony Moran tribal beats, I had to wonder if it was time for my man and I to move on?

I queried my queer friends for their advice, and the best guidance came in the form of a flippant response from a gym bunny-cum-circuit queen: “When it stops being fun for the two of you, it’s time to dance your last dance and hang up those go-go boots!”

The truth is, the late nights and crazy antics had stopped being fun. Moreover, the casual flirtations and endless stream of options had truly chipped away at our “together” and “as a couple” bond. Although riding the cha-cha line with a train of could-be Abercrombie models was titillating, at the end of the night, it was my mate with whom I wanted to go home. Seeing him hurt or jealous simply wasn’t worth all of the jollies under the disco ball.

Then, there and with that realization, I made a resolution to step off the merry-go-round of circuit merriment. Some couples are more than able to dance their cares away, either separately or together, and go on unfazed. My relationship, however, was not one of those romantic partnerships.

I can’t say that I’ll never again make an appearance on the proverbial dancer’s pole, but my formerly regular outings will now be fewer and farther in between. Nowadays, nights of discothèque lights have given way to couple’s board game parties and movie dates at the ArcLight. And although that’s both beautiful and tragic at the very same time, it’s more than a-OK for this happily coupled gay.

BOYFRIEND MATERIAL

Name: Trevor
Age: 30
Occupation: www.trevorwayneshow.com
E-mail: trrrevorrr@yahoo.com

Ideal first date: Taking long walks on major expressways, sitting by a DVD video of a fireplace on TV, and eating only the best fast-food takeout by candlelight.

Little-known fact: I’ve never owned a gerbil.

Are you, or is anyone you know, Boyfriend Material? Fill out the above survey and send a high-resolution image to lenora.claire@frontierspublishing.com.