A boy from the club: part one.


I met this boy at a club. I went there last night with the licentious group of students I now call my friends. We had gone to a gay club and there was this small boy who didn’t seem that interested in dancing but was casually chatting with a few people in the group I came with.
He immediately caught my eye. He was just my type, mysterious, dark hair, bearded, a bit feminine. I had to strategize, he wasn’t dancing with anyone, he could be gay or just aloof..

I stepped out for a smoke and he was outside. Hands in pockets, looking pensive. I began rolling up my cigarette and we struck up a conversation. 

He was a reserved one, but as soon as we began to speak, it was obvious.

My friends had walked out of the club, but this time it was around 4 am. We saw they were ready to leave. He turns to me quickly before they had a chance to carry me away, “do you want to go inside and dance?”

I knew that is not what he was after. My previous observations saw that he wasn’t much of a dancer. But I accepted and we proceeded to make out for an entire hour (I guess you can call that dancing!)

This is what I love about Europeans, they will take you and make out with you wherever because they want you… Back home there is this hesitancy, this denial, this worry that by being too passionate you may “send the wrong message.”

Let’s be clear. I DON’T want to marry you, I just want to make out.

 After about an hour, I surfaced from his lips and asked, “Do you want to leave?”

DiaryEve LemeurComment