I decided to hit up WeHo the other night and see what kind of trouble I could get myself into. I’m definitely the bar-hopping type, I don’t like to sit around at any one place for too long. So I flitted about as much as I could—which isn’t terribly fast in skinny jeans when you are 4 jager bombs in. But despite my efforts to have a good time and get stumble drunk (you know what that’s like, when you get so drunk you appear to be a ping-pong going through a hallway), I had an awfully difficult time. It’s not like the drinks weren’t free-flowing, and there were plenty of attractive guys wearing shirts far too tight and eyebrows far too waxed. It seemed as if everyone was just, well, bored. And it got my little noggin’ a thinking—when did the WeHo night life becoming so boring?
When I first started going out in West Hollywood, 5 years ago, everything was fun and exciting. Rage on Thursdays was still fun, Mikeys had hip hop nights on Mondays and was super dirty on Wednesdays. Fiesta was a great place to, as one of my co-workers would say, “get your tilt on.” That means get drunk. Eleven was far too expensive for a (at the time) barista like myself, and the lines at the Abbey intimidated me. I’d never heard of Trunks of Motherlode or Gold Coast, I was still a young nubile newbie. But still, every time I went out, it was an adventure, and the night ended with some sort of craziness that I usually regretted the day after.
I know, I know, I sound like an old fuddie duddie. Like this was 20 years ago and I should be sitting at the Spotlight drinking a bourbon and soda (with a lemon twist), at 8am, saying “back when I was young…” But in reality, I’m only 25, so I’m not entirely sure that I am to blame. I think the powers that be, the ones that keep the WeHo bar scene going, have gotten into a rat race with themselves, one that’s slowly driving me insane with boredom. Everywhere I go, it’s just so…lame.
It all seems to be the same thing. Same dancers, most acting like they are so important that it’s beneath them to even try to dance along with the music. Same dirty themes, Rim Job, Man Hole, “Deep, Dark, Nasty” Spike, BigFatDick. It’s like no one wants to come up with anything that is remotely interesting anymore, unless its stimulating to your nether regions—which, believe me, I enjoy, but it’s sad to think that we’ve all become mindless slaves to the 3 P’s—Porn, Penis, and Pelvic Thrusts. Never mind that many of us are quite intelligent (some even went to college!), are socially and culturally aware, and are not innocent enough to think that all those go-go boys are even remotely gay and flirting with me because he wants to have my babies.
It’s time to step up your game, WeHo. Give me something more to look at besides a dude in Andrew Christian underwear. Stimulate my senses, make me ponder my sexuality, let me leave your club going “did that just happen?” Not every night has to be so dirty that you feel like getting an STD test and scrubbing your body with bleach—those nights should be reserved for special occasions. But unfortunately, since that’s all we’re seeing nowadays, the thrill is starting to shrink, much like my penis does at the sight of a vagina. If you need any help coming up with ideas, shoot me a message, as you can see I have far too much time on my hands.
Bring back the mystery of the night, and let’s all start having adventures again.
Lord, I need a drink.
Jesse
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