Out.
Last weekend, I went out on Saturday night. No biggie for most people, but I haven’t been OUT out on a Saturday night for years. And cop this, I didn’t freak out at all. I didn’t have to leave early. I didn’t feel sick. I didn’t spend all night in the can or hiding somewhere. In fact, I did quite the opposite. I danced my arse off and got sweaty with masses of gorgeous gay boys at the Greyhound. Their drag show is brilliant and stars the talent of one Queen who is the spitting image of Liza Manelli! She was fucking amazing. I’ll so be back there sometime soon! Anyway, the talent that on offer notwithstanding, the most exciting part of the night was…well…me. The fact that I could be okay in a loud and sweaty and crowded pub without feeling like I was about to die. The fact I was there with friends I trust, in a non threatening environment certainly made me feel much more at ease and while I’m not likely to become a party animal any time soon, it’s nice to know I can be a party insect when I need to be.