My ex-flatmates from when I lived in Valencia came to Madrid this weekend to see me, and hit the gay party scene. Of course I was going to be part of it, there was no question.
NB: We are talking about gay men. Lesbians are not in the picture.
I go to pick them up at Zara. Of course they are already shopping.
One of them was wearing a black suade coat, suade trousers, pointy leather shoes and a scarf around his neck. The other was in his ripped Armani jeans, silver shoes and cool denim jacket. They would classify as pretty ‘happening’ should I have been a man on the pull!
‘Oh darling there you are! how are you gorgeous girl?’ they say, and run to give me the biggest bear hugs. They clutch me from either side and we begin striding down Gran Via.
‘So how are things? how is Madrid? how many boys have you taken home so far? Look at the clothes we just bought!’
I so felt like Carrie Bradshaw walking down 5th Avenue gigling with Stanford (in my case Stanford x 2).
I love having conversations with these friends of mine. They are the most open minded people to speak to. You can talk about the silliest, strangest or dirtiest thing to them like you were talking about the weather. It’s awesome.
So after our chat and gossip about everything in-around-and-about Valencia and Madrid, we go to Chueca for a few copas.
Chueca, as you may have guessed, is THE gay barrio in the centre of Madrid. And it was rocking. Heaving with men from all walks of life, from all over the world, wearing all sorts of things, in the street with litres of alcohol. Talking, smoking, kissing, pinching asses, or merely checking out asses they would like to pinch.
And then there was me.
A 27 year-old Indian girl checking out unavailable guys with her gay friends. There was something very surreal and liberating about it.
We hit a club. Not a gay club, but it could have been. There must have been about 400 people in there – 5 of whom were women. There was a even line outside the men’s bathroom! I have never seen that in a club.
We rocked to the tunes of George Michael and Boy George – there were some super dancers.
It wasn’t long before I got noticed and got hit on in the nicest and weirdest ways ever.
“Oh look! When I see such gorgeous girls, I get confused about my sexuality.”
“You dance really well. Can we dance? don’t worry I’m gay. And smell my dreads, they don’t stink!”
“Darling are you lost? come let daddy show you the way.” [huh?]
“Get off the phone! If he is a guy, and he is not here – forget about him”. [ I didn’t quite get that one either].
Anyway…super night. Great music. Great dancing. Great conversation (love, sex, lovers, prostitutes, balls and underwear). Lot’s of alcohol. And a piggy back home.