- Upton Rand
- Aug 26
- 3 min read
Updated: Sep 4
Let's be honest - I was shit at cruising. Absolutely terrible. While other gay men could communicate an entire evening's worth of intentions with one perfectly timed glance across a bar, I was the guy awkwardly waving like I'm flagging down a taxi.
But here's the thing: being bad at something doesn't mean you can't learn from watching the masters work.
Cruising is older than Grindr, older than those sketchy chat rooms we all pretended we never used. It's the original social networking - conveying everything about availability, interest, and intent without saying a word. Park benches, gym locker rooms, the produce section at Whole Foods. Location doesn't matter. It's about mastering nonverbal communication in its purest form - those notes between the music, the way two people can lock eyes and instantly know they're speaking the same language.
The Accidental Master Class in Reading People
When I started researching gay culture for my writing, I realized cruising wasn't just about getting laid - though let's not pretend that wasn't the primary objective. It was a master class in nonverbal communication that most people never get access to.
I began noticing these subtle signals everywhere, like someone had handed me decoder glasses for human behavior. The guy checking his phone every thirty seconds during our coffee meeting? Same energy as someone at a bar who keeps looking over your shoulder for better options. The woman who leans forward and maintains eye contact while you're talking in a pitch meeting. She's locked in, just like that leather daddy who used to give me the slow up-and-down scan that said, "I'm interested, but I want to see what you're working with first."
Intelligence agencies train operatives in this exact skill set - reading micro-expressions, understanding what people want without them spelling it out. The difference is they're trying to prevent international incidents, and we were just trying to get off.
Context Is Everything (And I Fucked This Up A Lot)
Different environments have different unspoken rules for nonverbal communication, and I consistently screwed this up by not reading the room. Corporate boardrooms operate like high-end hotel lobbies - everything is subtle, measured, and if you come on too strong, security escorts you out. Startup meetings are more like neighborhood dive bars - casual, direct, everyone's a little desperate and pretending they're not.
I was the nervous guy whose default setting was "approach directly and hope for the best." Picture a golden retriever trying to cruise - enthusiastic, obvious, and completely missing every social cue in the room.
Like The Blog - Grab a Shirt, and CC the World! - U.R.
The Power of Actually Listening to Nonverbal Communication
The most important lesson took me years to internalize authenticity beats technique every fucking time. Desperation shows in your posture, your timing, how quickly you move from person to person when things aren't clicking. I've learned to recognize that energy in myself and step back before I start radiating "please
validate my existence" vibes.
But here's the real magic: genuine curiosity changes everything. When I'm actually interested in understanding someone rather than just trying to get something from them, the entire dynamic shifts. When I stop calculating what I might gain and start thinking about what I can offer, suddenly they're leaning in instead of checking their watch.
Mastering nonverbal communication isn't about manipulation - it's about becoming genuinely attuned to the unspoken conversation happening beneath the surface of every interaction.
The Notes Between the Music
I'm still learning this shit, obviously. My track record in both cruising and business networking is checkered at best. But I'm getting better at reading those subtle signals, at understanding the unspoken rules of whatever situation I'm in.
Maybe what cruising really taught me is that connection happens in the spaces between words, in the willingness to see and be seen. Whether that's across a crowded bathhouse or a conference room, the fundamental skill set remains surprisingly consistent.
And sometimes, you have to accept that you're the guy waving like you're flagging down a taxi. There's honesty in that too.
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