Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Thursday, December 04, 2003

The Diamante Celebration

Oh!

It was with a shock akin to the Canal Incident™ did I recall I have been officially out of the closet ten years this very day! Having not so much come out as shoot out, one must sit back and reflect – well, this sparkly sequin dress is a simple charm! – upon the decade upon which I unleashed myself on the world. Ten whole years! And what have I accomplished?

Divinely, absolutely nothing! How wonderful is that?

I do hope I’ve been a good wendy. Oh, I’ve had my fair share of relationships as well as one night stands. Unfortunately, the two often overlapped, by so much as a year with the last bleak association. But still, in those ten longs years I’ve slept with so many men I lost count after the second centenary, but if you laid most of them end to end, no one would be the slightest bit surprised.

I’ve just recounted to my colleagues exactly how it came to pass, and I’m utterly surprised at what a greenhorn I was back then. In the suburban and surreal of settings of the sorrowfully charming Peterborough, where I was attending a lifeless engineering course, I stumbled through the dark to find a phone box as far away from the house where I was in residence. I’d managed to steal a sheet of the local paper and secreted it in my room, hiding it from the God-fearing Irish couple I’d been placed with by the college. It had the number of an helpline for any gay man in the area, and so around seven, in the pitch black, I headed out, determined to find a public call box sufficiently far from their home that they wouldn’t even suspect.

I spent two hours walking around in the dark not finding one that wasn’t vandalised or removed, and instead walked around in a big circle and ended in the box right outside their house. Desperate, I called from there.

I spoke to a rather charming man who said that he’d meet me in town, would be with a gentleman with a rose in lapel (that I later discovered was a) pink and b) plastic), and that they would take me for a drink. They were perfectly amiable, and invited me to a big gay party that was occurring at that very moment. I had to be reassured several times that it wasn’t one of those swingers parties and I wouldn’t have to be touched or anything.

How times change.

And here I am today, sitting in a web of fabulous friends and glittering artefacts. I’ve passed my first, fifth and ninth anniversary (Baccara, Cottage and Margot Ledbetter respectively) with style and panache. One can only aim for the next ten years to be as equally, if not moreso, fabulous. But at the moment, I’m celebrating my Diamante anniversary with a bottle of Babycham and a pink rose. Join me, why don’t you!

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