Hitting On Guys in Straight Bars

Saturday nights on the High Street. Drunk people walking on roads, horny guys hitting on vulnerable girls and dodgy dancing to questionable music. We all know how it rolls on a bog standard weekend in the early hours. I usually frequent my local LGBT bar as I know friendly faces, but tonight, I decided to head into the beating heart of Bedford town to see what really goes down.

I arrived at about midnight, and already the Police were in action. Someone had peaked too soon, as I joined the back of the queue to the most popular club in Bedford, Hi Fi. In my mind, I was planning a social experiment; to see how far LGBT acceptance has really come. Equal laws are all well and good, but what about attitudes?

This is what happened.

I had planned to meet my friend in Hi Fi, who was already with a few of her friends as I found her at the bar. I told her what I had planned for the night and she raised an eyebrow, wondering why I was throwing myself into the bear pit. Throughout this experience, I remained sober, just in case it got a bit out of hand...

We headed outside, to people generally mingling and having fun. I have always wondered how girls deal with guys who see them as prey and already I noticed a few conversations around me where a man was clearly trying to hit on the lady. However, my focus was on trying to find a young man for myself. On paper, this should be completely acceptable. We've come so far, right? Hmm...

Guy Number One. He was stood leaning against the circular table, checking his phone and sipping from a bottle of beer. I simply started a conversation, and we got chatting. His name was Mike and he was waiting for his friend to come back from the bar, but I was more interested in his appearance. He had an open collar shirt on, showing a bit of chest and his hair was slicked back. I asked him if he was waiting for his girlfriend:

"No, no, I'm single", was the response. I continued the conversation.

"Well, we could easily change that". I then gave him a cheeky wink, and turned to my friend and began an idle conversation, keeping an eager eye on the reaction of my new friend. He looked decidedly uncomfortable. I then introduced Mike to my friend, and complimented him on how nice he looked. My friend agreed, knowing what I was up to, accompanied by a stifled smile.

Thanks", said Mike, looking towards the bar. He was clearly eager for his friend to save him, but the aggressive response I was expecting never came before he quickly disappeared.

Thirty minutes passed, with me looking around the crowds, looking for number two. This all sounds rather predatory, but I reminded myself I was giving guys a taste of their own medicine, so continued. A fight had broken out on the other side of the bar, with security rushing past to break it up. All in a Saturday night's work. I decided to crank up the pressure.

Man number two was called Brandon, a skinny, half-cast man with a fairly good-looking pair of glasses. He had been chatting to my friend of a friend, as I sidled up to him and introduced myself. He was friendly, if a bit too drunk, as I began to chat him up.

"So, a good looking guy like you must have girls all over him right?" I asked. The gravity of the question didn't really hit home as he shrugged and mumbled something inaudible. Attempting to purposefully push buttons, I then complimented him on his look and said he looked hot. The gravity of that certainly hit him, as he looked at me as if I'd punched his dog.

"What did you say?" he asked, staring at me as if I was some sort of alien. I was preparing to run away. At no point was my social experiment to land me in a fight.

"I just said you looked hot, that's all. No biggy." I haven't said "no biggy" in about six years, but maybe the heat of the situation led me to say random things. Bearing in mind guys all around me were telling girls the same thing, It's 2015, I should be able to say that to another guy, right?

Wrong.

Brandon started shouting at me, asking "Who I was" and whether I was, "having a laugh". In slight panic, I said, "Yeah I am having a laugh, chill chill, I'm only joking with you!" I then passed him a drink, a Jagerbomb, which he gladly accepted and things cooled down before I swiftly walked away. If I was being sensible, I should really have stopped the experiment there...

I settled down in a seat with my friend for a while, contemplating what I was doing and whether I should really have been doing this at all. I had a couple of drinks, my first drinks of the night, before deciding I would try one more guy. Rather bravely, (or stupidly, depending on how you look at it), I went for the jugular. The results were not pretty...

We were still sat outside, under cover from the rain, when a guy sat down on the seats opposite us. He was actually a really gorgeous guy, and if he'd have ended up being a raging homosexual, I probably would have taken it further!

As it happens, he wasn't.

"Hey, I'm Tom!" Using the same introduction as I had for the last two, the chap held out his hand. "I'm Tom too!" he said, cheerfully. Just like the previous guys, we chatted about this, that and the other before I plucked up the courage to dig deeper...

"So which gym do you go to? You must go to the gym with biceps like those!" Other Tom laughed and said he went to 'The Gym' - a place I had only learnt about a couple of days ago and is actually the name of a gym. I feigned deafness, choosing to slide over to his bench and sit next to him.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you?" I said, knowing full well that I had. He repeated his answer and I made a strange sound that showed that I was intrigued.

"And I bet you get all the girls with a chest that big!" He had his shirt slightly open, and Other Tom laughed again and said, "Well, work hard play hard." He stared back down at his phone. Then, for some unfathomable reason, buoyed on by the sense that I thought I was constructing valuable research, I leant across and put my arm around him suggestively and a hand on his thigh.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Other Tom jumped up from his seat, sending my full drink flying to the ground and me skidding along the benches. The scene around us quickly focused on us, as I planned as escape route. "Are you trying to hit on me?!" shouted Other Tom as I quickly apologised and shuffled as quickly as I could past the crowds. Yeah, it's time to go home. Heading towards the exit, pairs of eyes staring at me as I did so, I got the impending feeling that I was about to be punched in the face. However, I did make it to the exit unscathed and took a deep breath as I reached the cold air outside.

In hindsight, it was a stupid experiment, and quite frankly dangerous. If I had chosen the wrong guy, events could have taken a turn for the worse. However, what it does highlight are the unacceptable attitudes that still exist and indeed, the invaluable need for LGBT bars. If the world was truly equal, these guys would simply have stated that they were straight and moved on. Taken it as a compliment and continued with their night. Instead, they felt intimidated and threatened, as if gay men are somehow diseased or wrong. The hypocrisy of guys, who easily use girls as prey but get aggressive when the same happens to them is astounding.

We live in a country where, legally, heterosexuality and homosexuality are seen as equal. In the cold light of day - or indeed the cold air of a Saturday night - the extraordinary difference in attitude and reaction is still a world apart. I could have been knocked out tonight. Luckily, the worst I got was shouted at, but companionship should not be as difficult as this in a bar, in a world that is supposedly accepting.

What Do I Expect from the NHS?

Ahh, Britain. The country where the people are equally complimentary and derogatory about the same thing. For many years, I have been through a vast number of NHS services from Accident & Emergency, GP's, mental health services and physiotherapy. For the past 10 months, I have been an employee of the National Health Service in Paediatrics.

From where I'm sitting, I'm quite a good person to offer an all-rounded view on one of our greatest assets, but let's begin with America. The Land of the Free, at least when it comes to healthcare, is very much not free, with an average stay in an American hospital costing upwards of $4,000 merely for a room. If you have the audacity to take home medication from your hospital stay, the average cost of that is around $2,500. Need a CT Scan? I hope you have $7,000 handy. What I'm trying to say is, however frustrating, arduous, long-winded, annoying and uncomfortable your stay in a British hospital may be, it won't cost you a penny. And the following issues that I will bring up just don't matter with that knowledge in the back of your mind.

In the UK at the moment, there are severe cuts taking place across every government department, and the NHS is not exempt. Naturally, this will impact on staff numbers, equipment and actual physical bed space. It is no secret that our health service is stretched to it's true limits. However, knowing this, the main complaint about our health service are the waiting times. And it drives me insane.

Bear in mind you are not paying for this. Because of that, people use Accident and Emergency for the most minor of minor things, yet complain that they are asked to wait hours for the privilege. It's a very British trait, to complain about something amazing, yet I see it every day. A&E is for saving lives and someone with a cut to their arm cannot prioritise over someone experiencing cardiac arrest. Accident & Emergency does not have a queuing system. Pick up a ticket and wait for your number. You will wait. Emergency doctors and nurses are not keeping you waiting to amuse them. They are dealing with more important people. If you are waiting in A&E for eight hours, that says a lot more about you than it does of the service.

From A&E then, personally, I expect nothing on waiting times. If I was on the verge of death, I'd expect to be seen to immediately. Otherwise, I will wait for as long as needed. All I expect are a bit of politeness and not to be completely forgotten about. Which I think is reasonable, given the strain that our NHS staff are under.

Government targets on GP waiting times are clear. Everyone should be seen by their GP within 48 hours of requesting one. However, this target was set before the cutbacks. My own personal GP practice has been cut to such a degree that they are now not a full time service. I walked along there to drop off a prescription one day to find that it was closed. Not at all ideal, yet not at all surprising. Five GP's were cut to three, (one of which is semi-retired) and with the same number of patients to see, it's naturally going to be stretched. The public have to bear this in mind and look towards other services.

In fact, the public have to take some burden of the responsibility on everything to do with the NHS. Self-help (try not to use Google) is adamant in ensuring that you get the right level of treatment. Don't go to Accident & Emergency is you have the flu. Equally, don't ring the 111 service if you're having severe chest pains. Do the right thing.

Looking past front line services, the NHS do remarkable things post-care. If it's needed, they will come to your home and cook you dinner. The community care is a vital part of the NHS cycle and needs to be looked after just as much as the services you read about in the papers. After I was released from hospital, I was referred on to specialist services to find me a place to live. I was effectively coming out of hospital and possibly on to the streets. NHS after care saved me from that hell. I find it surprising that this isn't lauded by people. But, being British, we tend not to.

It's everyone's responsibility to look after our National Health Service, not just the professionals and Jeremy Hunt. With the winters getting colder and hospitals getting busier, don't automatically presume your problems are the worst. Be sensible, be proactive and be mindful of the fact that our health service cannot take much more unneeded stresses and strains.

We all have a part to play.