Entitlement to My Body

I want to start off by saying that this is a rant, and also that I don't believe that this is an "all X" type of problem. For the most part, I get along with older gay men very well. Occasionally, though, not so much.Last night, I was at my local gay bar with my friend whose Birthday was the day before yesterday. We didn't get to go out then, so we were celebrating last night, just the two of us. We frequent this bar, usually Tuesday nights, but we sometimes go multiple times a week or on other days. We know the regulars (who, except for one small group, are almost exclusively 40+), and we're pretty friendly with the staff. I tend to sit in the corner and play pool, but I've made friends there and it's become a safe place for me - somewhere I felt comfortable - until last night.Two older guys that I didn't recognize were sitting at the end of the bar being unbelievably racist (they kept harping on the fact that Obama was only half black, so he didn't count as a black president; they joked that he was half African, and half American, and whites could take credit for the good stuff, and the blacks could take credit for his fuck-ups). It wasn't funny, but I wasn't going to say anything to them. They either knew the bartender or were tipping well enough to avoid getting cut off (which I would have done at this point - they were both wasted).The atmosphere on weekdays is why I go; people talk to eachother, and we usually have good conversations. No one gets drunk, everyone's kind and respectful. Tonight the conversation turned dirty, which is completely fine, and we were all trading our grossest slang terms and seeing who could guess what they meant. It was fun.Until the two racist old queens starting asking me very personal questions. I told them that I didn't want to talk about my sex life, and they bristled.One guy came and put his hands all over my lesbian friend, explicitly asked her if "she want[ed] to have sex tonight," and rubbed against her chair. She kept saying no, trying to laugh it off, and told him she was a lesbian, but he wouldn't back off. He then reached over and grabbed my back - I flinched away and asked him not to touch me, but he didn't move his hand until I physically removed it. The bartender started busting him about it, and he went back to his seat. A little later, the bartender asked me how old I was; I said 23, and the guy started repeating "ooh, 23?" over and over. I tried to ignore him but he came over and got right up against me. He started touching me and rubbing my back and arm (not flirtatiously, overtly sexually, like I was already in bed with him). I explicitly said "you're too close to me; it's making me uncomfortable," and then "please stop touching me." He just kept on going, asking me how old I thought he was. I said "I don't know, late thirties?" and he laughed and pressed me to guess again. I was getting really anxious and upset, so I just said "49" and hey, it turns out I was right. He then started asking why he looked 49, and why I would say that to him (like I was the one with no social skills here). I said I don't know, you just look 49. He said he was 48, and then said "I really fucking hate you. Fuck you. . . I really hate you right now." Now, this guy was drunk, so I just stared ahead and said nothing. I sipped my drink for a minute but he wouldn't back off. I looked at him as stern as I could and said "I think you need to go back to your seat."And, of course, he started hurling insults at me. He kept saying "Fat, god, Fat and 23." Then he and his friend, who were all of two seats away, started talking about how they would have killed themselves if they were fat at my age, and that they hoped I lost weight by the time I was their age. I just kept to myself, anyway I was easily fifty pounds lighter than either of these assholes. I just ignored them, hoping that at some point the bartender would step in and ask them to leave, or at least to shut the fuck up. But no, he just sat by and let it happen.The entire bar stood by and watched as I was berated about my weight because I didn't stroke an old man's ego and go home with him. People I thought were, I don't know, at least familiar with me, thought that I deserved this abuse because I refused someone. People talk about millennials being entitled, but tell a baby boomer "no" once he's decided he's going home with you, and get ready for the todler-esque shit storm.So, we left. I was furious for all of about half an hour. But honestly, I let go of all the anger. He was clearly a really hateful person, with a really hateful friend who were determined to ruin my night. Whatever. It's not a big deal.What pisses me off is that an entire bar of people watched that and thought, "yeah, this is okay to be happening here." What's the point of a gay bar if a gay man can't feel safe there?