When I was young and single I never really did the gay scene.
At that time Sheffield's scene was confined to a few pubs and clubs most of which were located in the industrial badlands of the old steel city.
They were glittery, camp and very rough around the edges.
Former steel working pubs that had died when the factories and works died in the Lower Don Valley.
I went out occasionally with a group of men who were
the friends of Nige who was one of my best friends. As I recall they all dressed up to the nines like the gals in Sex and the city .
My friend I were more conservative in our looks.
Nigel is neater and tidier than I.
I disliked those pubs especially the one called Demseys which wasn't particularly rough as it was common.
Demseys catered for a gay clientele many of whom went out after supermarket shopping in the cuty centre so it was common to have to negotiate bags of peas and tins of this and that scattered on the laminate floor when you fought to get yourself to the bar.
They also gave out occasional freebees of anaemic looking sausages on paper plates before last orders
I much preferred the once a month gay night which was based at the city Hall's ballroom. The Art Deco ballroom resembled the main dining saloon in a The Poseidon Adventure and so suited my camp love of 1970 disaster movies.
It was also quite dark so I could hide my bad dancing ability behind the ballroom pillars.
It was at a time before "swipe the app left or right on your phone" and the dating technology them was a sticker with a number on it. The sticker was slapped unceremoniously onto your left shoulder as you entered.
In the corner of the ballroom was situated an overhead projector! And if someone fancied you, they would write your number with a felt pen on the acetate ! When you read your number you would have to walk the walk to see who had " picked you"
Perhaps it was my dress sense
Perhaps it was my lack of dancing ability
Perhaps it was my clumsy walk or the odd bleach stain on my t shirt
But I never got picked!
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