wtf r u talking about
Boys Boys Boys is a late night warehouse party that pops up periodically in Vancouver, BC, and bills itself as “a night celebrating joyful faggotry & sexual freedom in a consensual and safer queer environment.” I’ve had my eye on it since last summer but this pride month I finally made the trip to the mainland to take in the experience. Overall, it was a relatively positive night but definitely left something to be desired, and I’ve been thinking a lot about it since I got home, bleary-eyed, at 3:30am that morning. I wanted to unpack some of my thoughts, so let this be a way for me to process my time there.
Wait… a play report about a party?
Shut the fuck up.
¯\(ツ)/¯
More seriously though, I am interested in the exploration of play in many forms. You might have already read my reflections on sexuality, my body, and making porn for the first time, so it might come as no surprise that sex and games are both part of my “art practice” and are just two contexts where play might take place.
For me the difference between a play report and, say, a review is less a formal distinction for you, the reader, and more a method or perspective distinction for me. I find myself writing play reports from two perspectives: in one way as a game maker, wherein I’m reflecting more deeply on the function of the work itself, and in another way as a player, in which I’m in more of an affect analysis headspace. This exercise feels closer to the latter.
While it feels…. unusual to report on my play at a party, it also feels like the most fun and helpful format for this type of reflection right now. It also fills a gap in the kind of cultural crit I see in my circles and I’m excited to contribute to that. So, without further delay…
Safety First
One thing I was particularly impressed by with was the commitment to safe partying and harm reduction at this venue. This was something I was reminded of at every corner of the party. Happy to know that partygoers are being given the resources to party responsibly.
Although it was postponed for this event, the Health Initiative for Men seems to be regularly on site at The Birdhouse to offer free drug testing for those intending to use at their events. Never use untested substances, as they say.
At the party, free drinking water and cups were also available by the bar with clear signage. This was a refreshing change of pace from a previous warehouse party pre-pandemic where the only drinking water available was bottled water charged at $4 each(!) on top of a $40 ticket price!!! A lack of drinking water in a space where people will be using is irresponsible so I was unexpectedly excited to see this.
Elsewhere on site, especially by the washrooms where folks will usually use, there was plenty of reminders that this was an open use space, and that the washroom stalls were for, well, what washrooms are supposed to be used for.
There was also a specific corner of the warehouse near the patio where there was a harm reduction table set up. That table came equipped with information, supplies, and best of all, a safety buddy. The safety buddy was a staff member on site specifically to support attendees with harm reduction, including monitoring them if they had a bad trip. This particular kind of taking responsibility for the safety of attendees is something I very rarely see on my outings. Here’s to hoping it’s a new best practice.
Imagine: A Circuit Party
I have only gone to one party with vibes like this since COVID rolled in. It was thrown by normiecorp, another queer event group in Vancouver. The vibes back then were surreal. I was, predictably, a wallflower, which gave me plenty of time to watch the scrolling floor-to-ceiling hentai visualizers, which was interrupted momentarily for a stunner of a set by Kalifa. One thing that Normiecorp party had over most other circuit parties I’ve been to, however, was a pretty diverse crowd (even if I only met all of 2 of them 🙃).
Although Boys Boys Boys is definitely for the boys boys boys, its marketing towards all sorts of different kinds of boys gave me hope for a similar kind of experience as Normiecorp. Alongside, my hope, however, was the fear that it was going to be just another party of well-off men whose whole personality consists of being fit, doing hard drugs, and sleeping with carbon copies of themselves. I feel like Boys Boys Boys straddled the line between these two groups — by which I mean that there was definitely a majority of stale bread circuit gays but there was a notable and reassuring crew of leather vested trans dudes, shy nerdy types, burly big bears, and high-heel queerdos (the last of which I was among). I was not out of place there, but I was certainly not the main clientele.
This is a weird feeling. Like, ostensibly this party was for people like me, and I had a good enough time, but I found myself with that familiar feeling of “I am not who these people are here to meet.” It’s hard to tell how much of that is me being Too In My Head and how much of that was actually in the environment, but I know it was not all me. As my friend (who recognized 75% of the attendees from his local gym) put it: “It was a boat show.”
Disappointingly Chaste
Last month I attended my first dungeon party in Victoria with one of my partners. I was disappointed to find out after we arrived that it was a no-sex-on-premises party, which while I understand the necessity of it, I am nevertheless disappointed by the fact. Sorry, I just really wanna fuck.
So, after being disappointed by one party where no one was allowed to fuck, I was stoked that Boys Boys Boys was going to have a no-holds-barred playroom. Whether acting as a voyeur or an exhibitionist, I was ready to play.
Flash cut to me, sitting with my legs seductively crossed, looking around a room and trying to make any sort of eye contact with one of the 5 other people, all glued to their phones. They weren’t even on Sniffies. Yes, I checked.
Throughout the night, I would periodically stop in to the play room to rest my feet and be a pervert. People would make out, and then stop short of getting undressed. If I was lucky, I would catch a glimpse of some guy’s shaft as he tried to sneak a blowjob with another guy without anyone looking. I’m told that at the end of the night someone was eaten out; I sadly missed the event.
Why wasn’t there play in the play room?
Spatial Design
Here is maybe the only part of this play report where I will perform the role of pundit and offer some tangible, non-expert advice. It does come from some experience with play spaces in general, though. I’ve realized over my years of debauchery that the structure of a space has everything to do with how people use it, and so from my perspective I see both a few missteps and a opportunity to improve it next time. I don’t do this often so if that’s a thing you like, drink up.
The playroom itself was located in a barely-separated third of a side room at The Birdhouse. The entrance to the side room is huge, so the division between the dance floor and the social space is loose at best. In the main part of the side room, there was a bunch of sofas and couches, including a TV set up with an N64, four controllers, and a copy of Mario Kart. This was separated from the part of the room where people were supposed to fuck by some room dividers. This is the first issue.
Look. I get it. A little race between homosexuals in heat is a great way to relieve some burgeoning sexual tension by proving who really comes first, but I think the mix of speed-boosting Princess Peach between cows in Moo Moo Meadows while listening to your roommate moan as he takes a hit of jungle juice before getting absolutely railed by a leather daddy is a bit of a weird combo. Without seclusion from the rest of the party, it’s kind of hard to get in the mood.
The second problem comes from the lighting. The party, overall, was pretty bright, and for some reason the dark room was brighter than the dance floor. It was cast in a low red glow, but one which nonetheless did nothing to obscure the visitors. In my experience, lower lighting equals a stronger feeling of privacy, and as a result a greater willingness to do the socially taboo thing of having sex in a public space. Not only that, but it then allows playmates to lean on the more sensual aspects of play: touch, sound, smell, and taste take priority in the dark. Makes me a little excited just thinking about it.
Finally, I think the most impactful thing that could have been changed was the assemblage of the room itself. It was more or less the same furnishings as the other side of the room, and it was definitiely functional, but the only thing that signalled to me that this was the place I was supposed to have sex was a small coffee table with safe sex consumables and disinfectant wipes. If I had not seen that, I would have assumed this was just a more private part of the lounge on the other side of the room divider — which is kind of what it ended up being. If I had the reins and the resources, I would have made sure there was at least some sex furniture in the room. A sawhorse, swing, or St. Andrew’s cross would do wonders for sparking playful imagination. Even if they go completely untouched, these are visual signifiers that invite visitors to explore the space… and each other.
Desire Hyperanalysis
I’ve not been very coy with my contempt for the Circuit Gay, but if I put aside my general annoyance with their (lack of) personality, what I find is a strange reflex that connects with a deeper, formative relationship to desire.
I have come to accept, over the past decade and a bit of dating, that I unfortunately have a type: line up all the historical subjects of my desire and you’ll see mostly tall, dorky, twinkish verses and tops — often neurodivergent, and usually with some facial hair. I, for some reason beyond my comprehension, just have a soft spot for those cute fuckers.
This does not resemble the stereotypical Circuit Gay, so it makes sense that I was not especially aroused by this warehouse full of mostly clean-shaven, broad shouldered jocks who dressed up real special for the night by wearing their nicest pair of gym shorts and taking off their shirt or, if they’re feeling a little faggy, throwing on their best Shein-grade Folsom Street Fair cosplay. I would also be very surprised if any of them were into little, chubby, fuzzy, and femme me. And yet, I really wanted them to be.
For some reason, I wanted to say no. And maybe I did, unknowingly — a couple cute friend-of-friends were a little hands-on with me, which was nice, but wasn’t it just platonic? Or did I not pick up the signs? Did they lose interest? Should I have made a move rather than just flirtatiously reciprocating? Come on, people, I’m a bottom here. My tactic has always been to look slutty and approachable. It’s done me pretty well so far but if these last two parties are telling me anything it’s that maybe I need to change tactics. But in my heart I know I want to be pursued and I want to turn them down. I’m mostly just disappointed I didn’t get that chance.
Maybe I could have. Maybe if the space was a little different. Maybe if the people were a little different. Maybe if I were a little different. I had a fun time, don’t get me wrong. It just left me wanting a little more. I think I’ll adjust my expectations next time.
