Fresh out of grad school, DJ Reimer wanted to be a diplomat or at least get a job in international relations. He was applying to 30 jobs a day and attending networking events but was still coming up short. His brother helped him move to Los Angeles, a city that invites people to reinvent themselves. What would his future bring him?
Reimer found himself working as a go-go dancer for a year and a half. Friends and acquaintances started to ask him questions like, “How often do you get booked? Are the boys nice backstage? Are people hooking up backstage? What’s that life like?” He started a blog with 10 FAQs about go-go dancers. When he saw how long his answers were, he realized it was something that could be made into a full-length memoir. And so he wrote Go-Go Boy: Memoirs from the Kitchen Floor to the Dance Floor, which was published in August.
Wander+Lust talked to Reimer about what it was like working and travelling as a go-go boy.
How did you become a go-go boy? Are you a great dancer? A person who loves nightclubs? A model?
None of the above. Interestingly enough, the very first line of Chapter 1 is, “I am not a dancer.” Growing up, I was a theatre kid. I loved musicals, I loved Broadway. I always wanted to be on stage. But dancing was the one skill I lacked. When I was in grad school, I started working out with a personal trainer. I felt a bit more confident, and started showing a bit more skin. This friend of mine from my childhood, a choreographer from my hometown community theatre, became a go-go dancer. We kept in touch. One day, he rang me up and said, “We’re short on dancers this weekend. It’s a bear event. If you’re interested, you can make some money and make some tips.” I had never in my wildest dreams considered that I would ever dance for money, dance without clothes for money or any combination of those. So it was a surprise. But once I had that first opportunity, I knew that more would come. My friend saw that I have an energy and a vitality, especially when I perform, that could be conducive to a nightclub. I might not have the best moves, I might not know how to twerk, I might not know how to use a pole. But I know how to have fun, and I know how to make everybody else in a room feel upbeat and excited about being there.
In the book I wrote about the three different types of go-go dancers, as I see it. There’s the hot rods, who are the guys who are just perfect; they look like AI-generated images. They could jostle from right to left like they’re on the It’s a Small World ride at Disney World, you know, and still get tips. The second group is the people who can dance. They can do the twerking, they can do the pole dancing, they can shake their body in all kinds of directions. The third group is the group I identify with the most. We’re the fun ones. We’re the ones who play to the crowd instead of at the crowd. People feel the most special when dancers make eye contact with them, when the dancers give them energy. Because even though those clubs get really crowded, you can still feel lonely, as dancers fully well know.
You grew up in California’s Central Valley and you now live in Los Angeles. But you’ve lived in Taiwan, Vietnam and Mexico. Let’s make a stop in each of those places.
When I graduated from my undergrad, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I studied Mandarin when I was in college and I got a scholarship from the government in Taiwan. They were giving them out like candy, these scholarships to bring people in and enjoy the island, enjoy the culture and the food, and to learn Chinese along the way. I got a scholarship to study for one year and stayed another year teaching English. Taiwanese people are incredibly hospitable and warm, friendly and funny. The food was incredible and cheap and healthy. There are a lot of cute boys there. Until recently Taiwan was the only country to legalize same-gender marriage in Asia. So Taipei Pride is massive. You get people from Malaysia, Hong Kong, Singapore, China and Japan. My first Pride, actually, was in Taiwan. It’s also where I first met go-go dancers. I didn’t even know what a go-go was until I saw a float with these handsome guys in harnesses and jockstraps, acting with this vivaciousness I had never seen before. It was intoxicating in many ways, especially because I come from a really conservative part of California.
Vietnam?
I went to a very intensive language program in the summer between my two years in Taiwan, where I only spoke Chinese. It was supposed to be a kind of diplomat boot camp. Right before my contract ended, my company said they were opening up a new school in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, and asked if I was interested in being an English teacher there. I was 24. I didn’t have a reason to say no.
As an American going to Vietnam, you are faced with our legacy there, the darker legacies of the Vietnam War. The War Remnants Museum (Phường 6, District 3, Ho Chi Minh City) showed the full history. It didn’t sugarcoat things, but I never felt attacked as an American. Leaving that museum, I walked out on the street, and somebody selling something smiled at me. It was really difficult to hold back tears. He probably wondered why this guy was crying.
Mexico?
I studied in Puebla, which is about two and a half hours southeast of Mexico City. They have a fabulous English institute where you do four hours with a teacher and then two hours with a tour guide. I fell in love with the architecture and the people. It didn’t feel like I was in Mexico or Europe or America. It was kind of an amalgamation of all of those.
You mentioned an interest in diplomatic service. The book is about a topic that some people might find racy. Does it mean you’ve closed the door on being a diplomat?
In the book I write about my trepidation. I was finally going to make some money. But on the other hand, the internet lasts forever, right? We all know of other politicians and other public servants that have had their careers ruined because of one night, one extra drink or whatever it is. My worry is that I had to choose between being a diplomat and being a go-go boy. I was unable to recognize that I could be both. That’s why I started to spiral and started drinking. Why do people pay me money to not wear clothes when I want to be paid to use my brain? It was a big part of the journey, to accept that I can do both.
There are a lot of stereotypes about L.A. being superficial. What have you discovered about it that would surprise people?
The stereotypes are not wrong, but they’re not the full picture. There are people who can only talk about the gym or their nose job or their Botox. But my first friend group when I moved here were musical theatre people who invited me to Musical Mondays, a weekly event at the Chapel in The Abbey (692 North Robertson Blvd., West Hollywood). I was completely shocked. I was expecting everybody to have the same face and same waistline, but it was diverse in all senses of the word. Just a bunch of goofy theatre kids having fun. I’m a member of the Gay Men’s Chorus of Los Angeles and we rehearse in Koreatown. But I stick mostly to West Hollywood. I’m an extrovert. Trivia nights, karaoke nights. Anything like that is where you’ll find me.
I know this is what your book is all about, but can you give me a nugget or two about what civilians should know about go-go boys and what goes on behind the scenes?
We’re regular people. All of us have day jobs. The diversity of jobs is spectacular. I’m a teacher. I teach English as a second language. Some do porn. One guy I know is an accountant. Obviously there are people that are trying to break into the film industry in Los Angeles.
A lot of go-go boys are introverts and don’t like interacting with people. My friends will say, “This go-go ignored me.” And I’ll say, “He ignores everybody because he doesn’t like talking to people.” It’s interesting seeing the difference in how people behave on the box versus off of the box. Some people, when they’re on the box, can be so engaging and seem so accessible. Then, as soon as they’re off, they make a beeline for the dressing room to play Pokémon the entire time.
What advice would you give a wannabe go-go boy?
I would probably say, don’t do it. Not because I didn’t like it. But there is something very tough about commodifying yourself that way. It’s difficult to mix your financial issues with your self-esteem. Particularly for young men, because those are the people who do become go-gos, they don’t know themselves well enough to be able to make that distinction between their financial issues and their self-esteem. But if someone is determined to do it, come hell or high water, I would say that you need a really thick skin. You should always have a positive attitude when you’re on the box. Even when you’re off the box, if you’re talking to strangers, you’re really on the box. You can’t just flip the switch and go into another mode.
Would you ever go-go dance again, maybe just for fun?
Yeah, I love dancing, even though I’m bad at it.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
