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Oh the judgement of youth

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The other week me and Wend (wife) bought a close teen girl tickets to go see Tegan and Sara in that big London for her 18th. She was beside herself and I was a bit excited cos she asked me to go with her. When yer a bit old (43) being invited out in public by a teen is a bit of a highlight ya know.

Any way a few days before the event Wend went to get the tickets and the buggers had disappeared!!! This isn’t the first time things have vanished in this new home, we’ve got a visitor from the other side we think. All good but by fuck I wish whoever it is would stop bloody hiding things! We searched and looked, turned the place upside down but no tickets. Phoned the teen who had a very un characteristic strop and slammed down the phone. What could we do but buy more tickets and eat beans for the rest of the month eh?

So armed with shiny new tickets, sat nav installed on my phone by Wend, a wad of ‘just in case cash’ and an umbrella ( yep I admit it, I’m the old bird who took an umbrella to a gig) we got on the train to the big smoke ( no idea why I just typed that cos I always call it that big London, it’s the trainee writer in me trying to find new words for the same thing I reckon). Me and the teengirl sat and drew in notebooks, my bum was itchy from the horrible fabric on the seats, I managed to go for a wee without being hurtled into a wall or getting covered in me own piss yay!

Off we get at Waterloo and look at the sat nav. Picture this, two confused females spinning in circles attempting to figure out where we are and where we need to go, it’s raining a bit so I DO need the brolly, ha! We are shit, we need a device to help us figure out the sat nav, it’s telling us it will take over an hour to walk where we need to be. Fuck that for a laugh, back into Waterloo, navigate the underground. I dunno about you but the underground always makes me feel like a village idiot, I’ve been on it so many times I’ve lost count but still, every time I feel a cloying fear of getting lost and ending up in the middle of nowhere with no idea how the hell to get out. By the time I’ve swallowed me heart back into the right position without letting on to the teengirl we are at our destination. I feel like a super hero.

Get to the queue, there are hundreds and hundreds of baby dykes . I start to feel a bit like Methusela. There’s lots of staring and checking each other out. There’s scruffy ones, cool ones,butch, girly, is she isn’t she ones, a couple so styled and shiny brand new they must’ve squeaked when they walked. All normal stuff for a long line of strangers waiting for the same thing. Well, All except the 12 year old would be Domme strutting up and down the line in her leather waistcoat and peaked cap trying to flog seated tickets. I promise I did not laugh, well ya gotta start somewhere at that age right? Bless her, she must have watched some very old S&M porn to come up with that outfit. They are ALL 12 except me and a couple of other older gaybers, we stick out like a very sore thumb.

We’re in! Thank fuck, I hate queuing, the long stretch of time you go from excited, to bored, to self conscious, to ‘is she staring at me’, to ‘don’t be a twat no one’s looking at you’,to ‘I need a pee’ to YES!!! We’re in!

The warm up band are dire, as in ‘anxty teen the world is such a terrible place and I’m going to make a noise that befits such pain’ dire. I start to eye rove in my boredom, I make eye contact with quite a few, they look from me to the teengirl then back to me. It’s at this point I realise my ‘I’m being stared at’ paranoia wasn’t paranoia at all. There are lots of teeny tiny 12 year olds who think I’m the teengirls sugar mummy. I’m confronted by a sea of disgusted little faces who view me with revulsion and her with confused pity. At one point we walk past a small group and I hear one of them say ‘That is SO wrong’!

The teengirl see’s it too and spends the rest of the gig avoiding any kind of contact with me so I stand, the old fart, alone in a sea of judgmental and very young righteuos indignation just wanting to nip to the pub round the corner and drown my very old dirty pervy old sorrows.

Only I haven’t done anything other than spend a day with a much loved young gay woman, what should have been ( and to be fair mostly was) a gorgeous day out for us enjoying each others PLATONIC company has turned a bit sour and unpleasant. I’m struck with sadness that in a minority group, of which I am part, judgement and assumption is rife.

I do get it, I understand the assumption. In my experience on the scene, it’s a very young place mostly. And the older gay women there go out in groups all of a similar age. When you do see an older dyke with a younger one  ( and I am making a huge generalisation here) it is as a couple. So like I say, I do get that for the kids who were giving me the eww eye that’s where their brains jumped to. But they were wrong and I do not like assumptions cos they are often wrong.

So on that note I reckon I shan’t be doing that again, I’ll take the bugger for tea next time!!

Edited to add, given my small whinge about the staring I want to say, I am very thankful that we now live in a society where it was possible to queue in broad daylight, obviously gay, in a major city and no-one got their head kicked in. I love that the worst it got was some mean and nasty little girls making faces at me :-).

Remembering those who lost their lives 40 years ago in the upstairs lounge XXX

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/friendlyatheist/2013/06/24/remembering-the-upstairs-lounge-the-u-s-a-s-largest-lgbt-massacre-happened-40-years-ago-today/



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