I found out that there was a student party through my housemates; they had already bought their tickets. I was not sure if I would go. We were having drinks at our place. The group was getting bigger and I was already getting tipsier. I was like a honeybee, the freaking worker Apis Mellifera jumping from a conversation to another.
“Are you coming with us?” one of the girls asked me. I told her I was not sure. I said I hadn’t bought the ticket and I was afraid they might not have them at the door.
“Of course they will have tickets at the door,” she added.
“There are 400 students coming!” shouted another girl who had surpassed her tolerance level.
I was getting curious; perhaps it was the alcohol. The next thing I remember was putting some nice pants. It was my last month of being a student so why not enjoy it. It was -1 degrees outside and before long it started to drizzle: welcome to Netherlands. We were not fizzled as we walked to the venue. The group was getting bigger and it seemed everyone was going to the same party.
Although the line was long, it was moving quite fast and in about ten minutes we were inside. €10 was the entrance fee but this time they didn’t charge for the cloakroom. We bought tokens in order to buy drinks – they had this “special/weird/like it/possibly not” system where bartenders didn’t accept cash. We started dancing and the place was getting full; students everywhere.
And then a girl came to our group. Aussie. Short. When she found out where I was from she got excited! She started talking to me in Swahili from her six month stint as a volunteer. They played Crazy in Love and she came close and kissed my cheek. This was the second time Crazy in Love brought someone close to me; before it was a straight guy in a very straight club.
I realized that I had two choices – to tell her that I am a fag or just to play along until I got burned. I decided to go along with it until my queerness would get me caught.
We started kissing. This was the first time I had kissed a girl since 2009. When I started kissing her I realized that I was a fag 200%. I didn’t feel anything. The only thing I could concentrate on was the taste of her mouth; literally. And there was nothing special about it and it was not getting my member excited; I continued kissing her. I realized that this was going to be so fun to retell. I was playing a part, this could have been a movie. This became the motivation. She was light and I was carrying her, her legs around my torso while kissing her.
Then I make my way to her neck and she was getting even more excited.
I went down on her cleavage. I could feel eyes watching us. And then the motivation changed; upstage the motherfucking straight guys, show them how it is done. This energized my performance. I became more scandalous, running my fingers through her hair, long silky black hair, cupping her buttcheeks. When I came back for air I realized that more people were watching.
She was freaky. At one point she was trying to put her hands inside my sweatpants. Red alert! Wait! I removed her hand swiftly and guided it back to my chest. She tried again and I did the same action.
“Where do you live?” When she asked me this question I realized then that it was the best time to get out of there.
“You wanna go somewhere quiet,” she added.
We headed away from the center stage. We were sweaty as if we were in a music festival. We continued kissing on the seats at the back of the dance floor.
I excused myself to go to the washroom. When I was in the washroom I looked at my face in the mirror. I imagined it covered by the DNA of the crazy encounter. I regarded it for some time. I did it! I washed it. And then I sneaked out, grabbed my coat from the cloakroom and I was gone before she could find me.