Remembering Manhattans
Lessons Learnt Part 1
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
I remember like it was yesterday. The narrow steep staircase leading up to a club named after an island city on the other side of the world. ‘Manhattans’ wasn’t exactly what you’d call a classy nightclub but it had cheap drinks, was open all night and played all the music we loved to dance to back then.
I used to go there all the time with two girlfriends. By this, I mean two girls who were friends. For the sake of it, lets call them Beth and Sara. They always dressed in white, flowing clothes. Both girls were slim, pretty and blond. I think they both fancied themselves as Stevie Nicks clones and I have to say, they did a pretty good job at it. All the white clothing did was accentuate their look of innocence. Neither girl was innocent but they sure loved to play it up.
I was their opposite; tall, slim, dressed completely in black, stovepipe jeans, winklepickers, hair dyed black and spiked up with gel. The girls used to love getting me ready and I have to say, having two pretty girls primp you is as good as it sounds.
Manhattans’ was the only gay-friendly place in the town I lived in back then. Tuesday nights were for lesbians, Wednesdays for gays, Thursdays, for transvestites, leaving the weekend nights for everyone, straight and gay alike. We went for the music.
We usually went Friday and Saturday nights. The music was fantastic. This was the early 80’s, when a lot of music was weak, limp electro sung by overdressed peacocks with ridiculous haircuts. Manhattans played the alternative to the popular stuff, music by bands like The Cure, Sisters Of Mercy, The Clash, Talking Heads, The Style Council and a whole lot of other bands I’ve forgotten.
At the time, I was in the Royal Australian Air Force and pretty straight. Oh, I sure liked a drink or three but this was the sum of my vices. The girls and I would go out on a Friday, drink and dance all night, leave when the sun came up, go home and sleep to do it all again on Saturday night. I think back to those days now and wonder how I did it. These days, two late nights in a row nearly ruins me.
I met some great tragic figures at Manhattans. The club drew a lot of weird people out of their hiding holes. I remember one particular guy who, after a few cocktails, would stand in the middle of the floor, waltzing by himself and crying his eyes out. The last time I saw him was in a department store, asking random strangers if the woman’s slip he was wearing looked good on him.
I remember meeting a beautiful blond woman and her boyfriend, who was an ex-motorcycle cop. She was a stunning lady and a lovely person to boot, very down to earth. I got to know both of them quite well before I found out she was actually a he on his way to becoming a she. Boy, was I surprised. I'd entertained a few fantasies involving her prior to then and felt a little uncomfortable about after finding out the truth. As I said, I was pretty straight.
Beth had a boyfriend, a guy called Jamie, who was in a cool local band. We’d go to the ‘Hat, as we called it, and he’d meet us there after whatever gig he’d been playing. Sara, though, was very single. Again, I’d had a few fantasies about her, but didn’t think I was her type. Sure, we were great friends but I was so blind to her flirtations, thinking she was only ever joking with me.
Beth and Sara introduced me to a guy one night called Simon. He was a good looking young guy, about my age back then and I thought he was interested in Sara. I was so wrong. He was actually interested in me. At one point, I’d gone to the bar to buy a drink and he’d followed. I remember, he leant back on the bar and looked over his shoulder at me. Then he tried to kiss me.
I backed away, more surprised than shocked. I told him I wasn’t gay but thanked him for flattering me anyway. He seemed really surprised. I went and sat down with the girls, leaving Simon with a stunned expression on his face.
As I sat down, Sara wanted to know if I didn’t like him. I said I did but not in that way. Sara looked at Beth and then back at me. Then she asked if I was gay. Then it dawned on me. She and Beth had been trying to set me up. I couldn’t help but laugh as I told them I wasn’t. They both looked at each other and burst out laughing too. I still smile thinking about the expressions on their faces.
A few years later, after Manhattans had long closed, we’d all sort of moved on, some because of tragedy, some because of love and some through necessity. I caught up with Beth one afternoon and we had a few coffees and smoked a half pack of cigarettes while talking about old times. We got talking about Sara, who had recently married and moved interstate.
At one point, Beth asked me why I never ‘went’ for Sara. I was a little surprised at the question and said I didn’t think she was seriously interested in me. Beth said Sara felt exactly the opposite, that she‘d flirted with me heaps but I hadn‘t reacted. I explained I always thought she was joking with me, teasing me, sort of. Again, Beth said Sara was really into me. I was completely gob smacked. Later, I kicked myself for not seeing the signs. But I was blinkered by naivety and inexperience. Sara was my first “one that got away”.
Some lessons just have to be learnt the hard way, dammit.
I used to go there all the time with two girlfriends. By this, I mean two girls who were friends. For the sake of it, lets call them Beth and Sara. They always dressed in white, flowing clothes. Both girls were slim, pretty and blond. I think they both fancied themselves as Stevie Nicks clones and I have to say, they did a pretty good job at it. All the white clothing did was accentuate their look of innocence. Neither girl was innocent but they sure loved to play it up.
I was their opposite; tall, slim, dressed completely in black, stovepipe jeans, winklepickers, hair dyed black and spiked up with gel. The girls used to love getting me ready and I have to say, having two pretty girls primp you is as good as it sounds.
Manhattans’ was the only gay-friendly place in the town I lived in back then. Tuesday nights were for lesbians, Wednesdays for gays, Thursdays, for transvestites, leaving the weekend nights for everyone, straight and gay alike. We went for the music.
We usually went Friday and Saturday nights. The music was fantastic. This was the early 80’s, when a lot of music was weak, limp electro sung by overdressed peacocks with ridiculous haircuts. Manhattans played the alternative to the popular stuff, music by bands like The Cure, Sisters Of Mercy, The Clash, Talking Heads, The Style Council and a whole lot of other bands I’ve forgotten.
At the time, I was in the Royal Australian Air Force and pretty straight. Oh, I sure liked a drink or three but this was the sum of my vices. The girls and I would go out on a Friday, drink and dance all night, leave when the sun came up, go home and sleep to do it all again on Saturday night. I think back to those days now and wonder how I did it. These days, two late nights in a row nearly ruins me.
I met some great tragic figures at Manhattans. The club drew a lot of weird people out of their hiding holes. I remember one particular guy who, after a few cocktails, would stand in the middle of the floor, waltzing by himself and crying his eyes out. The last time I saw him was in a department store, asking random strangers if the woman’s slip he was wearing looked good on him.
I remember meeting a beautiful blond woman and her boyfriend, who was an ex-motorcycle cop. She was a stunning lady and a lovely person to boot, very down to earth. I got to know both of them quite well before I found out she was actually a he on his way to becoming a she. Boy, was I surprised. I'd entertained a few fantasies involving her prior to then and felt a little uncomfortable about after finding out the truth. As I said, I was pretty straight.
Beth had a boyfriend, a guy called Jamie, who was in a cool local band. We’d go to the ‘Hat, as we called it, and he’d meet us there after whatever gig he’d been playing. Sara, though, was very single. Again, I’d had a few fantasies about her, but didn’t think I was her type. Sure, we were great friends but I was so blind to her flirtations, thinking she was only ever joking with me.
Beth and Sara introduced me to a guy one night called Simon. He was a good looking young guy, about my age back then and I thought he was interested in Sara. I was so wrong. He was actually interested in me. At one point, I’d gone to the bar to buy a drink and he’d followed. I remember, he leant back on the bar and looked over his shoulder at me. Then he tried to kiss me.
I backed away, more surprised than shocked. I told him I wasn’t gay but thanked him for flattering me anyway. He seemed really surprised. I went and sat down with the girls, leaving Simon with a stunned expression on his face.
As I sat down, Sara wanted to know if I didn’t like him. I said I did but not in that way. Sara looked at Beth and then back at me. Then she asked if I was gay. Then it dawned on me. She and Beth had been trying to set me up. I couldn’t help but laugh as I told them I wasn’t. They both looked at each other and burst out laughing too. I still smile thinking about the expressions on their faces.
A few years later, after Manhattans had long closed, we’d all sort of moved on, some because of tragedy, some because of love and some through necessity. I caught up with Beth one afternoon and we had a few coffees and smoked a half pack of cigarettes while talking about old times. We got talking about Sara, who had recently married and moved interstate.
At one point, Beth asked me why I never ‘went’ for Sara. I was a little surprised at the question and said I didn’t think she was seriously interested in me. Beth said Sara felt exactly the opposite, that she‘d flirted with me heaps but I hadn‘t reacted. I explained I always thought she was joking with me, teasing me, sort of. Again, Beth said Sara was really into me. I was completely gob smacked. Later, I kicked myself for not seeing the signs. But I was blinkered by naivety and inexperience. Sara was my first “one that got away”.
Some lessons just have to be learnt the hard way, dammit.
C'MON! I gotta wanna see it!