When I was a teenager, I remember heading to Canal Street with a girlfriend for a drink. We noticed a guy sitting alone at the bar, and my friend, feeling sorry for him, suggested we strike up a conversation. Before long, she started complaining about being tired and decided to head home, leaving me to continue chatting with him. He was handsome, a university lecturer, older than me, and eventually invited me to the Eagle Bar.
I had never been to Eagle before, and I distinctly remember having to sign in on a sheet of paper. The guy I was with signed up before me, and I couldn’t help but notice the details he provided. They didn’t match the person I thought I’d been getting to know—something felt off, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of being lied to. Was he hiding his identity from me, or was there something about Eagle Bar he didn’t want linked to his real name? The uncertainty left me feeling uneasy.
Inside, I found myself surrounded by a maze of different gay men—it was a first for me. The atmosphere was intense, both intimidating and unsettling, the kind of place I had always imagined avoiding. After a while, the guy I’d come with left abruptly. We hadn’t exchanged numbers, so I had no way of contacting him. Despite the strange turn of events, I decided to stay and started talking to some other guys. I had a few drinks, feeling quite merry, but one guy, in particular, seemed more into me than I was into him. He wasn’t as handsome as the first guy and just wouldn’t leave me alone.
Eventually, I decided to leave Eagle Bar with him. We walked together towards his car, which was parked a few streets away. I wasn’t entirely sure why I did this, especially since I didn’t find him particularly attractive. When we reached his car, we said our goodbyes, and I felt relieved to have finally gotten rid of him. Feeling free again, I headed back towards Eagle Bar, hoping to make a new connection.
To my surprise, I saw him return and walk back into the bar before I could even get inside. It became clear that he never intended to leave in the first place. Perhaps he thought I would be naive enough to get into his car, but fortunately, even at a young age, I knew better than to trust strangers so easily. Moreover, I was only interested in being intimate with someone I was genuinely attracted to. End of story.
