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was starting to get tired of casual dating and quick fucks; he was starting to want something more meaningful. Maybe he was getting too old for this sort of thing. He was in his early thirties, but he was starting to feel old. Maybe he was just feeling lonely, still unsettled after his move, still not really knowing anyone yet. The people he worked with had been friendly and welcoming, but they all had their own plans over the holidays.
    He still hadn’t been here long enough to find the kinds of places he wanted to go to, either. Did Edinburgh even have a gay culture? Well, of course it must, practically every country in the civilized world did, whether they would admit it, but it wasn’t like he could go up to someone and ask,
    “Excuse me. Could you tell me where a good gay bar is, 7
    New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

    please?” And anyway, that could lead back to unwanted short flings and one-night stands.
    He started to move through the other revellers, wanting to find a place to eat once the procession ended.
    Edinburgh was indeed a beautiful city, with its ancient history, its cobbled streets, its castle, and the Scott Monument, which looked like some sort of Gothic space rocket. Even the modern day shops were in old, elegant buildings. He would have felt strange trying to find a gay nightclub in such a setting, though he knew Edinburgh’s night life was vibrant, and he was sure they existed. But he thought it would be out of place, like finding out a proper, elderly matron wore scarlet silk knickers and black fishnets under her ankle length tweed skirt and white petticoats.
    Maybe his New Year’s resolution could be to find a good man, though he still wasn’t sure how to go about it if the nightclubs and so on were out. It wasn’t like one would just turn up out of the blue.

    WELL, Edinburgh certainly knew how to bring in the New Year. He had gone out with some others from work to a
    “Night Afore” party, again held in the city center, somewhere called the “Grassmarket” in the Old Town. And now he was getting ready for this Scottish dancing night with his boss and his family. He could only hope he didn’t make a complete fool of himself. He fussed again with his curly black hair, his deep brown eyes squinting in frustration as 8
    New Culture, New Year, New Love S. Blaise

    he tried to get it just right. He’d settled for a smart outfit, deciding against full Scottish regalia. He hadn’t been there long enough to go so fully native yet. Instead, he wore an evergreen shirt, top button undone, with comfortable black trousers in case he was roped into dancing. He took a deep breath and made sure to wrap up warmly for the short trip from his door to the taxi, remembering at the last minute the narrow, long bag he needed to take along.
    He’d been told to arrive between six thirty and seven, which was when the dancing would start. He got to the sports hall where the dance was being held in good time and saw as he entered that it was already quite busy. The hall was brightly lit with some colored lights around the edges.
    There was a table covered in various buffet foods, and circular tables with chairs spaced out close to the walls, allowing a large area in the middle for dancing. A small stage was at the far end, with musicians setting up instruments and other paraphernalia on it. He was relieved to see that, although there were quite a few kilts scattered around, he was not the only male in the room wearing pants.
    He also noticed several people in his age range, both male and female, standing around or sitting at the tables. There were those of an older generation as well, and a few kids running about. His boss spotted him as he lingered in the doorway and strode over, his already bulky form looking larger than life in a white shirt and a kilt of greyish blue and green plaid, which he’d been told by several people now to call tartan. He also had something that looked like a round 9
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