The friends you make when you’re Out Out

I was in my hyper femme era when I attended my fourth UK LGBTQ+ event. Barbie pink mini skirt, purple nails, pink lipstick, heels and 80s prom hair. The look was a knee-jerk reaction against the pressure I felt, mostly from internal prejudices, to ‘look gay’ (eg Doc Martins, shorts, big chains).

All my life, going out has included the joy of several hours of preparation. A day of preparation is even better. If it includes treatments with ridiculous ingredients, like sage gathered by the light of a crescent moon, I am fully onboard. I’m from the Legally Blonde school of feminism ie I respect your right not to engage with the beauty industry or the way it makes women feel bad in order to sell products to fix non-existent ‘problems’, but I also love massages and pedicures too much to give them up.

Getting Ready Music, gal chats and makeup is as much a part of a night out as being out as far as I’m concerned. Applying makeup is meditative. I am not interested in going Out Out without makeup. Not because I can’t - I go out in the day barefaced - but because it’s part of The Ritual.

The Ritual before this particular LGBTQ+ event included a swim, sauna, various cleansers, scrubs and masks and the creation of a new Going Out Out playlist. I’d heard about this event through a gal from the boat party (my first LGBTQ+ event), I call Lola. She called herself ‘femme’ and referred to me as that too, although I hadn’t thought about the word or what it meant before then. It basically means ‘girly’ ie LGBTQ+ women who often wear lippie and skirts. Because they look so girly, sometimes people don’t realise these women are gay (this is known as ‘femme invisibility’ and something I continue to struggle with - there are pros and cons but one major con is you are more likely to get asked out by men than women in Sainsbury’s).

Despite these ‘struggles’ I like being girly/femme and it was reassuring to meet Lola, who was so confident in her look - long hair, shimmering makeup, bold. She was part of a big group of women around my age from miles away who regularly went out together. By the grace of some goddess they had adopted me into their group, so for that I call them the Angels.

For this event, an LGBTQ+ club night, I was meeting the Angels there. I took the Tube then the bus and arrived far too early at a bar with Wonder Woman artwork on the stairs. I bought myself a drink and headed upstairs to a window seat, and watched people filter in.

I soon got bored of just observing and headed to the basement club to start dancing with any and all and sometimes none. I danced with beautiful women, some in gold hot pants, some with fans, some with hair longer than mine, some with none. I had a nice chat to a fellow femme about Virgin Island and how to flirt, then later saw she didn’t need any help in that department.

Lola and the others arrived and we danced, chatted and danced some more. I made a tit of myself - misreading signals I thought were coming from one of the group (whose primary appeal, I’m ashamed to say, was resembling MGD). We were dancing together and she seemed to be edging towards me. She was also half ignoring me by texting incessantly. This level of disinterest was probably half the appeal. I put one arm on her shoulder only for her to immediately walk away and dance with somebody else. (Side note: as a strategy for getting over someone, getting off with people who remind you of them is Not A Good Plan. Get off with people completely different).

Feeling like a 13-year-old at the school disco who’s moved in for a kiss and got ‘the head turn,’ I headed outside and got chatting to a beautiful trans woman I call Ava. And she was the point of the night. We both came from the same area and had similar interests. We were on the same wavelength. We had the same sense of humour. It was such a relief to find a friend from my part of the world. It was such a relief to find a friend at all, especially after my baffling false start with Heidi. We exchanged numbers and quickly made plans to investigate our area’s Premiere Gay Bars (spoiler alert: we were the only two there but still had an incredible time because we are our own party).

I headed home, alone, on the bus, embarrassed about putting my arm round a woman who, like her Doppelgänger, had no interest in me, but happy to have made a local friend and looking forward to more nights like this.

Who’s the best friend you’ve made when you were out out? How did you meet?

Bi for now

xY