Thursday, 2 October 2014

Can't Control Myself

Well R and I attended our first meeting of our local LGBT group last week.

It was quite a…collection of people shall we say?

We didn’t arrive in the best of moods as the pub we were meeting at was far away and we took the longest and stupidest route to get to it. So what should have been a 20 minute stroll ended up taking over an hour with many breaks as we stopped to consult google maps and despair over how we could have walked in the wrong direction for a mile and not noticed.

I blame R.

So we finally arrived. Late. And took the only remaining seats available at the end of the table.

…There was a reason why those seats were empty.

So while we were treated to one lady’s life story of how her marriage of 7 years to a bloke broke down and now she was back home with her parents and her friends on the internet helped her through and God knows what she would have done without them….I gazed wistfully at the other end of the table where the younger, normal looking people were laughing and chatting.

R orchestrated a quick getaway after the crazy life story lady ran out of steam and we switched tables to go and sit with the other young whipper snappers, where we all drank too much and organised a night of gay bingo. 

But what was nice, was that there were 2 other long term lesbian couples there. So although I felt a little bad for the 1 single young gay guy surrounded by 3 lesbian couples, we all got on really well, drinks were had, numbers were exchanged. It was all good.

So as we were all preparing to leave, the leader of the group came and sat with us briefly to tell us that she was glad we had all made a “connection” and then regaled us with her tale of how she moved to our little city after a bad patch in her life. It was like anyone over the age of 35 in that group had a condition that made them instinctively share too much information and make everyone feel awkward.

I have such an awful feeling that I will be one of these people when I’m older. But hopefully I will have R to shove a glass of wine in my hand and whisper, “shhhh, shhhh, shut the fuck up darling”.

And I’ll sip my wine and let R do damage control over the widespread awkwardness I’ve caused.



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