From the Ghetto to Heaven

Yes, in clubbing terms that'll mean a great deal to many gay men out there.

I used to hate clubbing. Considered it pointless and considered myself far better than those who actually went out and danced the night away.

This morning I got home at 4.38am. And it was one of those nights that are incredibly fun when you could, and do, dance the night away.

Was supposed to meet J at 8.15pm. He turned up at 9.00pm. Thankfully the weather was beautiful outside and Leicester Square is always alive and kicking. The time did pass. Needless to say, it won’t happen again. I’ll guarantee my lateness from now on. None of this waiting around like a whore.

So, after he turned up we went to the Friendly Society. Now, I have mentioned this place on previous occasions and I do like it, although, it is a little stuffy. The Barbie dolls (of every colour and creed) hanging off the ceiling more than made up for this. When I say hanging, they were firmly attached.

The difference between J and I is that whereas he is exceedingly confident within himself and his sexuality, I am not. I mean, it’s all one big experiment for me, though this is less the case now. The thing is, I admire that quality. That complete ease with oneself. It comes across in the way J is, and the way his friends behave around him. I, on the other hand, feel as though I’m inside a fish bowl, looking at the world outside.

Time should do it. Although, as it always the case, as the night progressed I felt more and more comfortable and when it came to the end, I almost didn’t want to go home.

It’s difficult to describe that feeling when you’re dancing and can almost feel the world fall away.

For once, I didn’t think it necessary to attempt to pull a handsome stranger, instead, being content with our little threesome (J, myself and The Vet – who was also incredibly attractive).

We went to Ghetto, and despite the name, it wasn’t full of Beyonces. In fact, there was quite a mixed crowd. Alcopop after alcopop, nice, though very bad for you.

And then we left and ended up, via use of a rickshaw, at Heaven. Now, I’ve always loved it there. It’s the music. Where you could almost lose yourself in a matter of seconds.

And let’s not forget the show. Drag queen supported by two body beautiful men. Good for the eye, although I did tire of the loin cloth.

I want to do it again. Soon. Although, with exams looming, will need to consult the diary more than usual this time around.

Upon returning home this morning, I wondered whether I could have had a threesome with The Vet and J. Is the morning after muddle of feelings worth a few orgasms the night before? That millionaire dollar question.