Wednesday, 10 February 2010


Before last night I must admit I hadn't been a fan of 'Gay Night' in Sunderland. I'd always found it sort of insulting, giving the gays of Sunderland one night a week to go out and get down with their bad, gay selves before exiling them for another seven days. It reminded me somewhat of 'Negro Day' on Hairspray, though obviously less racially intolerant. I expect I'll have to patrol down the streets of Sunderland alongside Queen Latifah singing I Know Where I've Been before the gays are allowed to roam free among the normals on a night out that isn't a Tuesday.

However, my mind was changed last night as a lovely time was had. Before I get back to ranting and raving about gay men sending each other mixed messages, here are some photos to prove I am capable of enjoying myself. I'm wearing my denim shirt with that stripy gay thing again. Please don't judge me, denim shirts could go back out of fashion at any given minute I need to get my wear out of mine before it's too late:

I am queen of the pool table. Well...I potted two balls.

Myself and the lovely Miss Karen.

Lauren and Ryan who I met last night.

Now, then. I have been going out on the gay scene for a year now, and so I'm starting to get to grips with how things work. Just because someone grabs your arse does not mean that they want your phone number. Just because someone sticks their tongue down your throat does not mean they ever want to see you again. Just because you let a stranger ejaculate on your face does not mean they'll be around for Sunday lunch the following weekend. I have accepted these as sad truths of the gay scene, but I can't help but feel that it would be a lot easier for all concerned if people laid off the bullshit and actually said what they meant.

I'm going to be honest now. There have been times in the past when I may have pulled random strangers simply because I was too drunk not to, or because it was my birthday, or simply because Bad Romance is on. Had any of these men asked me for my number, I would have declined because it is no good making promises one can not keep.

I say this because last night I went out with the explicit intention of not pulling anyone. I know I've been doing the whole "flying the flag for all who are single" thing for the past 12 months but if we're calling a spade a spade here I am beginning to grow a little tired of it and can't help but feel that if this is going to change then I am going to have to change my attitude somewhat and behave respectably and like someone who would actually be interested in some form of relationship. Annoyingly, I was distracted (as always) by a fit lad who I'd been doing that stupid eye-flirting half-smiling suggestively thing with in every bar I'd been to. And I thought to myself that somewhere underneath the hairspray and skinny jeans there is this boy here with his crooked teeth and Russell Brand hair, who didn't kiss a boy until he was 17, and I thought that I owed it to him to kiss the beautiful boy. And so, because the DJ was on a winning streak playing Telephone/Revolver/Bad Romance/Like A Prayer, I decided it was a sign and kissed the handsome stranger.

Mega oops all round, really.

The thing is though, I am a big boy, I can handle the truth. I may not exactly be street-smart or wise in the ways of the world, but I do know what not to expect from men. Once you have removed me from your face you are more than welcome to wander off and dance with your friends, get yourself a drink or do whatever takes your fancy. I would happily never speak to you again, otherwise I would have chased after you. Which is something I would never, ever do anyway. This cynical attitude towards the romantic side of life explains why I was genuinely caught off guard when the handsome stranger pulled away from me and said

"I think you should definitely give me your number".

In my entire life I have never once had a guy ask for my number. I do not see why they would, if we're being honest, unless we'd had some sort of killer conversation beforehand which we had not. This did not seem right, somehow. I could see this even through my alcohol and post-pulling haze.

"Are you actually going to text me or not?" I asked. I hoped this sounded scrappy and confident but playing the episode back in my head, I just sounded like a dick.
"Of course I am," he smiled back at me. I gave him my number. He was very, very attractive. And he said very nice things to me, which really were quite unnecessary and would be the sort of thing that would, in normal circumstances, turn my stomach. Blame the alcohol, blame the kissing, blame the looming Valentine's Day festivities but I ate it all up.

More dancing more kissing more alcohol. I danced with Karen for a while, and she and her friends went upstairs for a smoke. And there was the lad, with his tongue down some other drunken idiot's throat. "OK then," I thought to myself. "He is obviously a dick. Not bothered." I wasn't really. It was the number exchanging and the compliments that through me off. I wasn't used to them. I was even more thrown off when later in the night he came back over to me and put his arm around me. I decided to spare myself some integrity and ignore him. This lasted roughly six seconds.

"You seem angry," he said to me.
"I am," he said.
"Why?" he asked.
"Oh, its nothing," I said. I frequently go about chatting that people can do what they want when they are single, and had I not been on here three weeks earlier talking about drunkenly encountering three gentlemen in Powerhouse, and I am many things but I try not to be a hypocrite so I decided to say nothing.
"Did you see me with that guy?" he asked. I said nothing. "Because, well, I am single." As far as I'm concerned this was a perfectly valid excuse. I, however, was not playing.
"Yeah well, so am I," I said, turning away. I had actually won an argument in a bar. However, I am a dick and decided to continue to kiss the pretty boy. He was, after all, very, very pretty. And I was rather drunk.

Kiss kiss kiss.
Drink drink drink.
Dance dance dance.
Gosh, all I could think all the way through this was "Oooh I can't wait to write a blog about it" and what a tedious blog it's been and it's not even finished yet. Bloody 'ell.

"I need a cigarette, will you come with me?" asked the pretty boy. "You don't mind that I smoke do you?" I was beginning to get mixed signals here. If I was on a third date with someone and they asked if I minded if they smoked I would tell them they could do whatever they wanted and I was not arsed. This was someone who I had got off with, then watched getting off with someone else. It wasn't really the smoking that was bothering me.
"I don't really know you, to be honest," I said, "Why would I mind you smoking?"
"Well...I like you," he said, "And I'm definitely going to text you tomorrow, so I wouldn't want you to not like my smoking". Then he reached for my hand. I'm sure we've all seen the Sex And The City where Smith tries to hold Samantha's hand and this happens...

The next day, and without direction, Smith tried the most intimate hand position of all.

...and I must admit that my reaction was quite similar. Welcome to "How To Scare Off A Man Despite Your Constant Chatting That You Quite Fancy Being In A Relationship Again".

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, tactfully.
"I'm holding your hand, what's wrong?" he asked. He seemed confused, but not as confused as me. You cannot just go holding strangers' hands. It's not the way to go on. I think that perhaps he could tell I was a desperado in need of a date before Valentine's Day, much like every other year of my life (although admittedly this time last year I was the only person in the world aware that I would be on my own for Valentine's Day), and thought that this was the right way to go about wooing me back to his flat. He was incorrect. Further chatter ensued.

"You should come back with me," he said. I declined. I chatted to his friends, and then I went downstairs. I turned around later and counted him getting off with three more people in the space of one song. I'm still waiting on that text.

I would like to stress that I am not naive enough to be bothered by the actions of this person, more his confusing behaviour. I'm always slagging off people who live their lives by THE RULES, no sex before a third date, wait a certain number of hours afterwards before calling someone, playing hard to get and all that shite. I do think a line must be drawn somewhere though, especially in the more-or-less anything goes world of gay clubbing. In my book, when you give someone your number you go out of your way to stop this person seeing you getting off with anyone else, usually by not getting off with anyone else. Conversely, it is perfectly acceptable to get off with, let's say three or more, guys in one night provided one doesn't include any intimate acts, such as hand-holding. Also, the golden rule, do not tell someone you will text them if you are not going to. If you don't want to text me then do not ask for my number. Don't feel obligated to do anything because, at the end of the day, I am just one, tiny person. What am I going to do? That is just good manners. Good gay etiquette or gaytiquette, if you will. Perhaps it is time to spread the good word of gaytiquette to stop people behaving like arses.


  1. My only experience of the Sunderland gay scene is I was in TTonic one night, and a gorgeous boy was wandering from table to table with a picnic basket purched on his elbow. When he came over to us, instead of producing sandwiches and orange juice from the basket - out came handfuls of condoms and lube.

    I *heart* you DanDan <333 We should most definately have a night out!! :) xxxxxxxxxx

  2. BASKET FULL OF LUBE :D :D :D I love it. Dorothy Gale would be proud, that minx, all she had in her basket was Toto.


  3. 'A Basket Full Of Lube' sounds like what would be 'A Heart Full Of Love' in a pornographic version of Les Miserables.

    Is Ghey Night on a Tuesday?...Next Tuesday, please? I haven't had a proper night out since Christmas because THIRD YEAR IS A BAG OF TITS! >:(

  4. Carla I retract my statement about not going out next Tuesday LET'S DO IT. Although we may have to meet quite late CAN YOU HANDLE THAT? x


    LET'S DO IT!! :DDD

  6. God Carla nice use of the gay lingo there CARLA CAN YOU HANDLE THIS
    BEYONCÉ (who will inevitably be joining us) CAN YOU HANDLE THIS

    To sum up, I don't think they can handle this
    woo x