This Macho Dancer’s Last Harana

Friday and Saturday nights in the macho dancing gay bar are usually packed, with ladies wanting to be seduced and matronas wanting to fall in love. In the middle of the night, after a series of men dancing naked in their routine moves, the gay bar would feature a series of production numbers.

These production numbers are composed of various acts. They have in-house hired tranny performers doing a cabaret show or lip-synching to impersonate famous divas. Some bars have hiphop dance crews to liven up the show with upbeat dance routines. Some bars even create a full production act with a featured macho dancer, complete with full acting, back-up dancers, sound and musical effects, props, sets, and costumes.

However, out of all the macho dancing gay bars I’ve been, there was only one which had quite a unique performance. No, it wasn’t a live toro show, but something more wholesome. And in this particular gay bar, when all the macho dancers only flaunted their naked bodies on stage, there was only one who flaunted his vocal talent.

And that was before he told me that he decided to stop singing altogether.

This is his story. Our story.

Touched: Part 2

(Continued from Part 1)

The gay bar goer then awaits for the first comfortable breaking of personal space. He has been visually aroused by the performances by the manly eye candy on stage, and is already eager to elevate this with the sense of touch.

But the gay man needs to wait. Especially if with the boy of his choice.

He can start feeling up the dime a dozen (or P100 each) all-the-way dancers as much as he wants to. The bigger gay bars openly release them to the customers who are eager to get close to the rock hard dicks of these less-than-quality men. In the smaller gay bars, these men in the nude go directly beside the customer (an act the bar terms as "area"), where, for a tip, they allow themselves and their rock-hard thingies to be tapped, squeezed, fondled, grasped, and even shockingly stroked repeatedly. But to do that with his preferred macho dancer may take more than a hundred pesos and a one-time visit.

Touched: Part 1

The macho dancing gay bar of Manila has been known to be a very visual place. Patrons go there for the sights of dancing men in various states of undress. "Nude men, right before your eyes" seems to be a catch phrase for the curious wanting to enter the gay bar. Those who frequent the bar even find it as a feast for the lusty eyes.  

What I experienced last weekend in the gay bar got me into thinking though. I got the services of one of the fully dressed masseurs roaming the bar. Not the happy-ending type of massages, mind you (yeah, who would like to get it on with an er-ish oldie male masseur). For a tip of P100, these men try to give a 20-minute less-than-spa-treatment, if not painful, rub on the neck, shoulders, and back. It's a service offered to customers wanting to be relaxed, while watching the entertainment on-stage. 

The massage I got from this particular male masseur opened me up -- his warm hands stroking the grooves of my shoulder, his knuckles forcing the tight knots out of my back muscles, and his thumbs pressing deeply yet carefully into my palms. It was quietly arousing, without intending to be. And then, I thought:

Why can touch become so important in a very visual place?

Early Morning, Sundays

5:00 AM. 

Gay bar house lights open. DJ plays the closing song. The half-naked dancers start to dress up in their casual clothes, usually the same clothes they wore going to the bar. 

Inside the bar, the gay bar addict asks for the bill and pays another enormous sum after a night of partying. The dancers from the dressing room head straight to the cashier to collect their 6-day allowance from working the entire week. After paying, the customer stands from the seats, then heads out the gay bar door. Outside, the night sky lightens to a dark shade of blue-gray.

The customer leaves via riding a taxi or driving his own vehicle. One by one, the cars leave the once-filled parking lot in front of the bar. The remaining motorcycles outside the bar, those owned by the monied macho dancers, leave next. 

Beware the Invitation

You go to your favorite macho dancing gay bar, with the intention of spending another P3,000 like you did the previous week. You order your macho dancer espesyal, and while waiting for him to be served, the gay floor manager sits beside you. He chats you up, and mentions the upcoming male pageant search to be held in their bar. You've heard about this before, so you nod in agreement as he asks if you'd be going. 

"Kunin po namin kayong judge ha (We'll get you as a judge)," he tells you with a shy smile.   

Flattered?

Of course, you've now become part of this elite group of very important guests who already has the power and unique skill in determining the top macho dancer in the bar. Fantastic! Imagine a stage filled with semi-nude men trying to get your attention and your vote.

You go again to their bar. The gay floor manager chats you up, and shares his excitement about their upcoming outing to this private beach resort. You've heard about this, as casually mentioned by your frequently-tabled macho dancer a few weeks back. You ask the gay floor manager about their overnight trip.