One afternoon, I saw a flyer on a campus bulletin board for “New Wave Night” at a bar called Diggs, and I got brave enough to consider going. Diggs was the only gay dance club in Tallahassee. Monday was their slowest night, and the New Wave angle was their attempt to lure a wider client base—all of which I’d learned from Frankie (“New Wave” in a gay bar ad equals “straight,” he’d told me, rolling his eyes). I had no one to go with, but if I could get myself through the door, I thought, I could safely mingle in a “mixed” crowd. I took a bus downtown to a quiet grid of streets behind the Capitol building. As I walked toward the club, its unmarked door opened and closed with foot traffic, the music wheezing out and drawing in as if from an accordion. A woman behind a counter, standing in front of a spice rack of poppers, said, “Not so fast, sweetheart.” I stopped, momentarily convinced that it was her job to ask me whether I was gay or straight. “Two bucks,” she said.

“Absolutely.” I scrambled for my wallet. “The New Wave cover charge, right? It’s a bargain, you know, if you’re really bored and you’ve just got to get out. I love this song.”

She smiled warmly and said, “Exhale, honey.”

Most of the first level, including the dance floor, was empty. I walked upstairs to a large, open room with a scattering of round tables and a center bar, over which spun an illuminated, multicolored soccer ball. I bought a beer and anchored myself against a drink rail along the back wall, and from that darkened vantage point I watched the crowd. There was a circle of guys in fraternity sweatshirts and baseball caps regaling one another with arm punches. There was a straight couple making out against a pool table, and a gay couple that appeared to have fallen asleep in a corner booth. There were a few loners who sipped drinks and stared at a video screen playing a muted rerun of Remington Steele.

I recognized most of the songs: British, androgynous sass I’d come to like. I nursed the beer and watched one of the guys sitting at the bar bobbing his head to the music. He had white-blond hair and was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that read HAVE A NICE DAY on the back. His face was turned away from the screen. I shifted my focus to the far end of the room and saw what had captured his attention.