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I went to a bar with Shobhit last night that was, to put it mildly, a new experience for me: they were having a "Naked Night." I didn't even know the place—or any place—did this.
For the most part, it was like a normal crowded night at a gay dive bar. The key difference was that 90% of the people there were naked. I was among the 10% who were exceptions. I suppose I might cosider it another time, but I just went along with Shobhit, had a cocktail, hung out for a while, and then went home well before Shobhit did.
My appearance there was arguably a bit comical. I didn't even take off my jacket—a pea coat. I was also wearing a scarf. I was basically bundled up, in the middle of countless men who were standing, let's say, cheek to cheek. The crowd was actually quite beautifully diverse, at least in terms of body type, hair or lack thereof, height, and even age. It felt like a very underground, old-school kind of gay bar event and there was something of a thrill about that.
And: it got Shobhit another Social Review point. He's now at 34 points compared to Laney's 23 for Winter 2025. Her catching up to him by the 21st at this point is impossible. He should stop worrying about it, but I guess now he just wants to maximize the number.
Anyway. Instead of a coat check, there was a place to check everything you're wearing—except for shoes; no one was hanging out barefoot (that would be gross). They had brown paper sacks to put your clothes in. By the way, the windows were covered with black, so no one could see inside. Even just inside the front door, the second door had hanging black strips you had to walk through. The guy checking IDs even said, "You know it's Naked Night?" Shobhit did! (So did I, before walking there, anyway; thankfully I was not surprised by this upon arrival.) In some cases, people wore one or two accessories, like a leather harness.
They also had pens available, for writing your name on your body. Most people wrote them between their nipple and their clavicle. I wrote Shobhit's name on his pec for him.
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— पांच हजार सात सौ पचहत्तर —
We got to the bar sometime around 8:30. It was about a mile from our condo, and we walked. I left before Shobhit did, and just walked home on my own.
Before going, though, we just had our dinner, and sat through the virtual Annual General Meeting for the Braeburn Condos Owners Association. Miraculously, it only lasted about an hour. It's hard to say whether I prefer this to the snooze fest that had been the in-person annual meetings before the pandemic. At least those had free treats. Some of them even had prizes, with things like pastries donated from Regent Bakery—which, by the way, is apparently rebranding. They closed their space for renovations at the same time the scaffolding went up for our building residing project, and just the other day they put up a new sign with a totally different name. I can't remember off the top of my head what it is, but it's certainly not Regent Bakery.
Honestly I did not pay super close attention during the meeting. I happened upon old journal posts about "Cult Movie Nights" I did with Gabriel and Stephanie between 2003 and 2006, and logged a bunch of them on Letterboxd. Meanwhile, Shobhit chopped and sauteed a bunch of bell peppers, onions, and sprouts. He's thinking we can use some of them on a pizza for dinner tonight. I have mixed feelings about sprouts on pizza, but whatever. It just occurred to me I'm not sure we have pizza crusts right now, although I did take home a bunch of flatbread samples from work that maybe could be used.
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[posted 12:34pm]
