And it was better than my dream. Bill and their
family took such good care of me and I didn’t have a single second where I felt
I couldn’t be myself. We went all over the place from Club Tropicana, to New
York New York (where it was packed tighter than a sardine tin and getting a
drink at the bar took 45 minutes) to The Goose and spent about a quarter of the
evening looking for either a karaoke bar (which panned out) or a bathroom (bar
bathrooms are a brand new experience for me) due to the copious amounts of
water I was drinking, all the while listening to stories or terrible puns and
jokes (the worse they are the more I love them). Seeing all of the different style
and beautiful drag outfits pretty much put me in fashion heaven.
There was something so freeing about just
seeing where the evening took us. Eventually we got hungry and ended up at a
chippy, where Bill had to come to my rescue when a French guy started chatting
me up. I’m standing there with Bill, another friend (whose name I completely
forgot), and sharing my chips with Ophilia when this stranger steals one of my
chips then snakes around me. I know I shouldn’t be pissed over something as
petty as a chip but what the hell!! I love sharing, including food but only
with people I know; also don’t steal my food. But also I hate it when men snake
around me from one side to the other when I’m unaware because I find it
unnerving. I shouldn’t have to be on guard when I’m with friends but I’m
realizing now that I will just have to be only because of men. Anyway he asks my name, I ask him what he
would do with it if I gave it to him so he then he asks me if I speak French or Italian,
I say no, neither. He asks me where I’m from and I said, “that’s too long of a
story for me to get into and I don’t want to get into it with you.”
“You are beautiful.” He said, then he had the
cheek to stand closer to me and tell me, “give me your number.” I looked him in
the eye and said “No.”
“Give me your number, come on.”
“No I’m not giving you my number.”
Now I have no idea what Bill and everyone
else is seeing form their side but I’m pretty sure my answers made it clear that I
was definitely not interested to which Bill stepped in and said,
“She’s my fiancée, she’s not interested. We’re
engaged”
He looked slightly confused looking from
Bill to me then asked, “You two are engaged?”
“Yes” I said.
The he said “Oh well.” And then he stepped
forward and tried to hug me, trying to bring me closer. I put my hands up and
said no quiet loudly at the same time I felt Ophilia’s hand of support hovering
by my elbow and everyone around me going "no" as well. I stepped back as Bill stepped forward and said “No, she's not interested, bye.” If I’d stood there
in front of him for another second I would have started screaming and I was grateful that everyone was there for me and walked away with me.
What part of no is so difficult to understand and why do men tell me to give them my number as if I’m stupid enough to obey them? Men are certainly strange beings. The fact that we had to move pissed me off, as well as his inability to take my no as an answer, but the thing that unhinged me was the snaking movement behind me. One of my earliest Manc male experiences included cooking in the communal kitchen of the hostel I was staying at while taking to a man who kept moving to different chairs at the table positioned behind me while I cooked and he talked. On a physiological level we were both aware that he was testing me to see how aware I was of him, whether he could retain my attention by flirting with me while I was focused on cooking and a couple of levels he succeeded but I think that may have been due to how handsome he was (lot of my formative moments took place in that kitchen now that I think about it). Anyway the moral of the story is I now get extremely pissed off when men who want my attention sneak up behind me, but to be honest I was more pissed off about the stolen chip. Refusing to let it ruin the night for me, but also seeing the funny side I thanked Bill for coming to my rescue.
I’m actually a really big hugger, but if you piss me off there’s no way I’m hugging you.
After wondering around we found ourselves at
my last stop for the evening The Goose. It was packed and I ended up getting up
on the tiny stage dancing and singing my heart out. At one point on the beer
sweated dance floor I danced with a man with a very vibrant personality who took
my hand, kissed it and told me I was beautiful and that he just had to come
over and dance with me. Despite the fact that I was furiously blushing I was completely
taken aback even when we danced together. I know I probably shouldn’t admit
this but romantic gestures are a weakness of mine (plus I blush really easily)
and I never expect them to actually happen to me. To have had an evening where
I had two very different interactions with men is one of the reasons I’ll
always be fascinated by them instead of frightened by them.
Saying my good mornings at 1:30am I left
and headed for my bus stop, along the way meeting a young pair of friends who
were also on their first night out since being in lockdown together (and
declining their invitation to join them on their adventures for the rest of the
morning), then I kicked a passing football and started the trek home (texting
Bill to let them know when I got home safely). It occurred to me that I and two
other people in our group were the only black people I had seen in the village
that entire night apart from two security guards at New York, New York and I
wondered why that was. When I got home my feet felt like they were on fire and I
was feeling the aches the next day but it was all so worth it.
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