Dance parties, College, and a very sad occurrence
‘What is pain? Pain, in the real sense of the word, is the deepest joy. If one has imagination, one can enjoy tragedy more than comedy. Comedy is for children, tragedy is for the grown-up. It is through pain that a person becomes an old soul. A person may be young in age, but deep in thought.’ Hazrat Inayat Khan
BY THE TIME I WAS FINALLY FREE from school at nearly 18, I was surprised that the thought of finding a job scared me. Thirteen years of schooling didn’t prepare me at all. I wasn’t ready for work. Most things I’d learnt at school didn’t make sense to the world. So, I definitely needed training.
I discussed this with Dad on a night his partner Fay was sitting beside him on the couch. It hadn’t occurred to me we should have been alone!
I had assumed Dad would support me. But when I suggested doing an extra year, studying a specific field plus business topics to feel confidently employable, his response surprised me: ‘It doesn’t matter if you sweep the streets, at least you’ll have a job’. I was shocked and tears came to my eyes … tears frustrated him.
Fay couldn’t contain her fury that seemed to come from nowhere. In a huff of agitation, she rose from the couch and stood over me pointing her fingers, saying indiscernible things while contorting her face. I was dumbfounded. Dad tried to quiet her, ‘Sit down Fay. Sit down’. Dad and I weren’t used to this.
At last, Fay finished and raced upstairs saying, ‘You can have each other, I’m leaving’.
‘Look what’s happened now’, Dad said as he walked towards the front door. Confused and feeling guilty, I watched as Dad stepped outside and quietly closed the door behind him, and then instinctively rushed to see Fay wildly irate in Dad’s bedroom. I apologised and tried to cuddle her, reassuring that she was important to Dad and to me because she was there for him, saying that the last thing I wanted was for Dad to be alone. Fay stiffened yet allowed my hug, which was good enough for me because she wasn’t an affectionate person.
It worked. Peace enough was back in the house when Dad returned from walking in the park. He asked me not tell Mum or my sisters about what happened with Fay. I reasoned that his objection to my extra study and Fay’s reaction was because they wanted to be free of childhood responsibilities, which I understood, but I believed my independence could only come by gaining actual work skills, and Dad knew I couldn’t wait to be independent.
Not deterred by the flare-up, I looked for a suitable course during the next few days, and found Passmore’s College of Business. They offered what I needed, but the course ran for a year. I informed Dad about the length of the course when Fay wasn’t around and he reacted positively like the Dad I’d always known, giving me the go ahead to enrol onto the Marketing and Business Diploma Course.
My future career was now on track with Dad’s generous financial back-up and blessing. But before it even had a chance to begin, I was thrust into a world of colourful grown ups—a world where I felt I belonged. Even though I should have found a part-time job to pay off the $4000 education fee, I didn’t even consider that mature option, and I took a walk on the wild side a month off turning 18, and went to a New Year’s Eve Rat dance party at the Sydney Hordern Pavilion with my best party friend Alicia, my sister Julie, Julie’s boyfriend Peter, and Alicia’s boyfriend Andrew.
In the company of thousands of homosexual men, lesbians, transvestites, and fewer heterosexuals, I was truly walking on the wild side, especially when I tried my first ecstasy pill! Ecstasy (MDMA) is a mind-stimulating substance, first developed in Germany 1912, patented in 1914, but no one discovered its real use until the 1970s when used in small doses as a relationship counselling drug to aid talk therapy. The American military showed a fleeting interest in ecstasy during the 1950s, experimenting with its psychedelic chemicals in search of a ‘truth serum’. In the 1960s legendary latter-day alchemist Alexander Shulgin rediscovered it and wrote that everything he saw and thought had been ‘brought about by a fraction of a gram of a white solid… I understood that our entire universe is contained in the mind and the spirit. We may choose not to find access to it, we may even deny its existence, but it is indeed there inside us, and there are chemicals that can catalyse its availability’.
Ecstasy really emerged in the late Eighties and Nineties, hitting the dance party scene, widely expressed at large scale gay events. For the first time in history, the gay community were coming together and celebrating! Ecstasy was opening avenues and hearts; it was a revolution of the gay spirit. ‘Empathy’ was to be its original name according to urban myth, because that’s a very true description of what it could do. Warm-hearted, connected, love-thy-neighbour feelings are primary to the Ecstasy experience. It’s more sensual than sexual and makes a great recreation drug and a valuable therapeutic remedy.
For the fun of it, Alicia and I divided the little white tablet. It crumbled a bit, and had a bitter taste, but about a half an hour later we were euphoric. Ecstasy lived up to its name! Everything felt wonderful. Intense, pleasurable feelings showed all over our faces… big smiles, big eyes, big love. My self-confidence increased along with my energy, feeling peaceful, accepting, full of empathy, and even more than that, ecstatic! Invisible air jets sprouted under our feet; we had lift-off with every step! I danced as one with the music, feeling close to others, drawn to dance and interact with everyone and anyone! Our hearts pounded to the beat as the energetic music compelled us on. To dance was to rejoice! And we rejoiced!
I was in my element! All around us, men were dancing… rhythmical, sexy, erotic, cool, and masculine! We’d never imagined men would go to such lengths to dress in provocative get-ups and give attention to their hair, faces, brown bodies… making them look like models. Neither had we seen men dancing with men! Everyone danced so well… and, crème de la crème of the celebrations were transvestites putting on extra unique and colourful spectacles, as if they came from another world.
Laser beams often flooded the high vaulted ceilings of the Hordern Pavilion and the Royal Hall of Industries to enhance the atmosphere. Beams would catch the reflections of hanging mirror balls and light up the faces of vibrant dancers and people resting, watching, or kissing in the grandstands. Everyone vibrated with utter passion, passion that spilled outside onto the surrounding grounds where people partied under the stars. The massed bodies, decorations, lights, drugs, costumes and music created a powerful sense of belonging, shared circumstance, and vitality! Open and free, thousands of upbeat characters moved around interacting with others through body language, humour, dance, and smiles. The ambience embraced uniqueness. The word of these parties was LOVE, and I was lucky to be there! People were so friendly and inviting. I felt welcomed wherever I went, and knew I belonged in this weird and wonderful world, bursting with every colour of life in our light system!
The 12 o’clock song in the Royal Hall of Industries was ‘The only way is up’ by Yazz, and I was way up! Riding the upper of a lifetime, we never wanted to end. Alas, three or four hours later the effects wore off and Alicia and I wanted more. Another half and we were whirling, buzzing, bopping to the music again. Singer Grace Jones was the star performer of the evening but I was too busy dancing to catch more than two glimpses of her! It was soon daylight and the party thinned to a remaining crowd of hardcore partygoers.
January 1 marked the beginning of my mind’s expansion. I began to see the world as potential playground full of colourful people wishing to have fun and share love! Life could never be the same.
* * *
I felt like a woman-of-the-world on starting college after my eighteenth birthday. It was good being in a classroom situation again, but restricting after the long summer break filled with an extraordinary party life. Even so, I mounted the college swing!
At the same time, my nocturnal studies continued to be my focus and I went to the world famous Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras soon after college began. Not only did I go: I was in the parade with Alicia, my stepbrother Mike and his friends Dan and Ryan! Dan knew the organisers of a float promoting a forthcoming Meltdown Sweatbox dance party and we volunteered to hand out flyers beside the float as it went along in the parade, in hope to get into the Mardi Gras party for free.
We parked at the Sydney Showground—home of Mardi Gras’, Sleaze Balls, and dance parties, – and walked four kilometres to the floats’ assembly point. The members of the Meltdown Sweatbox float were happy to have us walk beside them distributing flyers; but no one said we’d get in free. Our float was last to move along the path through Sydney, first walked in 1978. In the early years, the parade was much smaller and suffered abuse from spectators and police. Many were afraid of the people who held banners high to the tune of: ‘We’re Queer and we’re Here’!
It was all fun initially; but, I began feeling paranoid a third of the way through the procession. People began throwing paper in our direction and I felt hostility coming from a small pocket of the onlookers. I suddenly realised that people assumed I was gay too, which would have been a complement to me if I had been a man because the thought of a girl with a girl was still uncomfortable to me. At one point, I held Mike by the arm and called, ‘I’m not gay, he’s not gay’, making me feel instantly dreadful considering the parade I was in. Discrimination is what gay people have tolerated for too long and I suddenly had a tiny glimpse of how it would feel being in a minority. As we moved along the parade, the spectators beside the road hung over barricades singing out Happy Mardi Gras and celebrating in high spirits! I even spotted Mum among the onlookers and jumped through barricades to give her a big cuddle. The supporters were the majority.
We arrived at the Showground with tired legs and couldn’t automatically get in as we’d hoped. The tickets were $30. Alicia and I had $35 each. If we bought a ticket, we couldn’t afford ecstasy. To be in there all night, trying to dance and stay awake a la natural, was not an exciting prospect… one we didn’t even consider!
So, we decided to sneak in. Darting around the central arena of the Sydney Show Ground, we found our way through darkness to a wire fence separating us from the party. Without hesitation Dan, Ryan, then Mike climbed the fence and headed for the crowd. As they were climbing, Alicia and I saw a security guard in the distance and we needed to be quick. Almost over, the guard turned and saw us but looked away. Perhaps he thought if they want to be here that badly then they deserve to come in! We were so happy to be inside, and believed we deserved it after our input during the march!
A happy Mardi Gras was had all nightlong… a night that went in slow motion, especially when Alicia and I took half a ‘Trip-ecstasy’ each! It was a half magic mushroom (LSD), half ecstasy concoction and although the effects were mild, everything changed motion. Unmoving high ski lifts began moving, even though no one was aboard. Wherever we looked movement sped up or slowed down according to what music we were listening to at the party. In different areas, musicians and performers entertained … at times we were in Africa, others South America or Europe… we were amazed by the variety of faces and diversity of presence. People from all lifestyles had come together.
Guys and girls dancing to ‘Stand Up for Your Love Rights’ (by Yazz), performed the main show around 2 am, rocking the house. When morning light eventually poured through high windows in the Government Pavilion, white confetti dropped from the roof appearing like fresh fluffy snowflakes coating the floor. As I danced in this surreal fairyland, surrounded by dynamically diverse dancing people, I wondered what it would be like to need to stand up for my love rights! My respect grew for people of alternative sexual persuasion.
ALICIA AND I HAD A LIFT back to the CentralCoast at eight in the morning. The party had two hours remaining, yet we managed to drag ourselves away from the fun so I could arrive home in time for a short rest and shower, before Dad took me to Church. I wasn’t going to a Sunday Mass for repentance, but to a Christening ceremony for my Godson, Christopher, and arrived just before everyone stood, taking my place beside my best friend Lindy, who was elated to see me. She knew where I’d been and that I hadn’t slept, but she trusted me, knowing how important I believed it was to be the Godmother of her firstborn child.
Almost immediately, we moved into position at the front of the Church. Before the Priest proceeded, he looked at me and said, ‘There’s mischief in those eyes if ever I’ve seen it!’ I gave him a blushing smile and turned to the Crucifix. Although feeling guilty for consuming impurities and not sleeping, I looked at the Cross in amazement and thanks. This life was full of expression! Colourful party times and most of all love boomed in my heart… I loved being old enough to party!
I spent the day celebrating with Lindy, family and friends. Later at home, when natural fatigue slowly took over, my energies subsided into a nice mellow go to sleep hum! Oh, I appreciated slipping into bed after being out all night and day; oblivious to any disruptions the chemicals may be causing my body, ignorant of possible danger. I had read that ecstasy affects the Central Nervous System, which only sometimes came to my waking mind …
Dance parties were held almost every fortnight and it was very tempting to go to every one. These parties were mentally addictive—as was ecstasy. Designed without physically addictive ingredients, end users of ecstasy were still unable to verify the actual ingredients in each pill. Despite this, we felt safe indulging in the risk because a goodwill bond existed between gay people. During my years of partying, I never witnessed an ambulance or anyone require medical assistance. Even though thousands of people were partying together for many hours, I didn’t see or hear of anyone in trouble. Nor hear of or see arguments and/or bad behaviour anywhere around anyone!
I DID HAVE A ‘BAD’ TRIP at a dance party called Fun on April Fool’s Day after sharing a small portion of LSD. LSD is virtually non-toxic but its effects can be chaotic, and I felt extremely confused a half an hour after the gel dispersed on my tongue. I had taken only ‘a quarter’ at a few other parties without problem; experiencing enjoyable mental stimulation and heightened body co-ordination. But this time while dancing in the thinned out crowd, I hallucinated for the first time, my mind transformed people’s expressions and distorted their movements, causing me to lose my direction.
Once successfully off the dance floor, I had trouble explaining my problem to my sister Julie. Words just wouldn’t come, although I did manage to say some people looked ‘retarded’, owing to repetitive dance moves and peculiar expressions. The acid was causing me to contort the faces of nearly everyone! What’s more, the song seemed never-ending; time was slow-moving, warping. Sitting amongst these crazy thoughts, feeling anxiety for the first time in my life, a sweet gay guy named Mark came and comforted me, understanding me! He was a ‘seasoned’ tripper.
The night soon became day and the Hordern Pavilion’s side doors opened. Like nocturnal creatures emerging from a cave into the morning’s bleakness, everybody looked disorientated and quite poorly in the glare of the overcast day. I had had a heavy, bizarre experience on the acid and was relieved to get into our car. Tears rolled down my face as we drove away and I uttered the words, ‘I never want to go back there’. I didn’t return to ‘normal’ until after sundown, whereupon I danced with my shadow in the candlelight. There was no one there then. Julie and Peter had gone to bed and I was ready to party again…
THOSE WORDS were quickly dismissed. Only a week later, Alicia and I attended the Big Time dance party. Our home base in the Hordern consisted of a colourful array of people including my sister Julie and friends, the group was so stylish and glamorous; we felt blessed to be around them. Some called them the ‘beautiful people’ or even the ‘tinsel town people’. They earned this title due to their matching outfits and cool nuance… marking them as one of the coolest, sexiest group ever to walk the earth.
I always had touchstone people in the dance party scene and one in particular was a legendary figure, more down to earth and Aussie-like than the rest, named John. Lovely Johnny was a gorgeous, incredibly dynamic man with a wealth of fathomless energy. He could go on and on. We felt a strong brother/sister connection the moment we met and he reminded me of my brother. A very masculine gay guy, John’s happy face comforted me. Even though there was nothing to fear, everything felt extra wonderful when John was near. Dancing with him or having him in sight on the dance floor gave me extra ease because dance parties were for mainly gay men, who welcomed females, but every now and then, I wondered if I was overstepping the mark. Should I be here? This doubt would only come when dancing within the proximity of numerous, pounding, sweating, shirtless men, with no women in sight! Then, one look at John, and all would be well inside my dance party mind.
Sometimes we’d go out locally when a party wasn’t on. This was fun in a different way because our identities had changed. We’d go to the Central Coast’s nightclubs dressed in black, trendy dance party clothes—cropped tops and shorts, Doc Martin shoes, bandanas etc, when most other patrons were in shirts and women in high-heels and dresses. Upbeat, skin-showing clothing of the dance party era signalled a change in people’s fashion sense. Our dancing styles had evolved too—the many incredibly funky people dancing at dance parties had influenced the way we danced. Onlookers at these nightclubs, would sometimes stand watching with wide-eyed interest, having never seen people dance in such motion. Due to this and without the necessary Dance Party atmosphere, we would tone it down, but people were still amazed … which was half the fun!
* * *
After a time, my ex-boyfriend Ben and friends from the Coast started going to the Hordern dance parties. It was strange bumping into faces of friends from my teenage beach and house party days when life was so much slower. After these huge Sydney nights, Alicia and I began traveling home with them, rather than later that day. It was great hanging out with Ben again.
I was 18 now, and felt cool having so many new party friends, who were gorgeously good looking, fantastic dancers, and most were wonderfully gay. I loved dancing with them with all my heart and soul, not believing how lucky I was to receive so much love from men who loved me for me! The energy was indescribably glorious, dancing with dazzling men compelled to dance and convey stories with their movements. The dance exchange was a language of its own. I was captivated by many of these dance maverick storytellers… … and my enchantment was expressed by my own story movements.
I daydreamed about dance parties at college, spoke about these fabulous weekends with my classmates, and became friends with a new girl named Mel, who seemed to know about the Sydney ‘scene’. After a while, she came to a dance party with us, and I soon wished I’d never invited her into my private life.
Mel liked Ben’s flatmate Mark and they soon began a relationship after meeting. After they’d been together for a couple of days, Mark and Mel enthusiastically suggested Ben and I get back together, so the four of us could hang out. Memories clouded my heart of my years with Ben, when I was on and off with him from 14 to 17 years (only a year earlier), and I strongly refuted the idea…
Days later, Mel came home with me from college to visit Mark, who lived a few blocks away. I went with her to visit Ben and Mark, thinking it wouldn’t be a problem, Ben and I had travelled home from parties a couple of times by then. But, when Mel decided to stay the night, Ben offered to walk me home…
By the time we got there, we were back together.
While we had walked, the familiarity of each other… the apparent depth of his love and my deeper attraction and unconscious need for it, made us kiss. Maybe he had grown since the dance party and ecstasy experience, I hoped. After all we’d been through trying to break up I couldn’t believe we kissed again! This reunion, without anticipation or pre-emption on my part, must have harmonised with destiny. It also marked the end of my friendship with Mel. She didn’t come back to Passmore’s to finish the course and she soon betrayed me with Alicia.
Mel accounts for the reason my friendship with Alicia ended for a time—our friendship had waned when I stopped going out in Sydney as much. I couldn’t go to every party because of college, and didn’t go to the Let them Eat Cake dance party because I had too much homework. The real problems arose when Mel, Mark, and Alicia moved into an apartment together in Sydney shortly after Mark and Mel hooked up. By then Mel had changed her mind about Ben and me, now thinking we shouldn’t be back together and asked me to visit their place without him. They were shitty I wasn’t going to the Let them Eat Cake dance party, choosing instead to stay on the Coast in order to study for a marketing examine with a fresh mind on Sunday.
They were upset whenever Julie, her boyfriend, Ben, and I, chose to go out locally rather than to yet another Sydney dance party. And, I quickly discovered how they felt. On the Sunday morning following the Let them Eat Cake party, Mel said horrible things about me and my family to a friend from college, who told me all about it on Monday morning. They gave me the title of ‘Miss Dance party’, which was a huge compliment, even though they didn’t want me to interpret it that way!
* * *
My very sad occurrence was the worst thing Mel spoke about that morning. I had fallen pregnant. Up until then, only Lindy and Alicia knew. And I fell due to running out of my pill, stupidly not refilling my script in time! Consequently, it happened at the end of May, and only one option was possible when I realised. This was devastating! The fact was so evident there was no need to visit a doctor. My breasts were growing larger, and urinating was becoming more frequent, especially firstthing in the morning. I couldn’t tell beautiful Mum, Louise or Julie, or especially Dad, knowing how he’d feel, knowing how distressed they would all be.
I had work-experience at the Marketing and Promotions Department of the State Superannuation Board the week of the appointment at the clinic. Luckily for me, the Public Relations Officer was Julie’s friend, so I obtained a week’s work as the Publicity Assistant and stayed at Mum’s house during that week. Each morning I was sick in the toilet and it was a relief Mum didn’t notice anything unusual. I commuted to and from Sydney with this sickness and felt it at work, secretly vomiting there too. The thought of the coming Saturday morning appointment at the clinic also tainted the joy of this new working experience.
Ben accompanied me to Sydney for it, and it was the saddest trip I’ve ever taken, as if we were in a surreal play that wasn’t really happening. However, it was and I needed to go through it. Oh, how I wished it were only a play! Recovering in the rest room after the procedure, I noticed my hunger. Cheese and biscuits were on a plate beside me. Cheese, that would have made me sick earlier, I now eagerly ate.
Over the years, I somehow blocked the memory of that day, until I saw a television program regarding terminations. I re-lived it in the watching, and a statement by an anti-abortionist found its mark: ‘If you terminate your child, you’ll still be a mother, just one of an unborn child.’ It was true, my thoughts have often returned to the life so briefly inside of me, a life I have honoured even more in time… strange as that sounds. But back then, I was too young, immature, and unable to think about having a life connected ongoing to Ben. I didn’t even consider actually having the baby. We had had an immature, on and off relationship for far too long.
It was many years before telling any of my family—firstly Julie in 1995, and then Mum in 1996. Mum was shocked I didn’t go to her at the time, wishing I had told her and not gone through it alone, but I felt I deserved this, and reassured that she would have known if there had been any possibility of me having the baby.
I worried about telling Dad the most. Both Mum and Dad would have loved the baby and would have given me support at any cost, but Dad had strong Catholic ethics. He told me how he felt about abortions a year later, over lunch one day. The subject of abortions came up and Dad affirmed: ‘Under NO circumstances do I agree with abortions! Perhaps under only one condition—if the girl was raped’. I don’t remember what I said, but my body language declared all guilt—head down, stomach on the ground, and heart in the bin. I was glad Dad didn’t notice.
AS WELL AS putting my body through that sad pregnancy mishap, it also went through a lot at dance parties, not only because of what I took, but also because of the amount of dancing. Sometimes, Alicia and I would stand on the scales before leaving for a party, to see we were around the eight stone mark. Ten dancing hours later, we’d weigh in at seven and a half stone, from the water lost during dancing. This yo-yo affect wouldn’t be good for anybody, but we kept doing it anyway. It felt good being slim at dance parties since they glorified the body beautiful!
I was psychologically addicted to these parties. The thought of them was pure bliss and it was paradise being at one! Many people felt the same way! I wished life could be one big ecstasy, and imagined how wonderful the world would be if everyone tried one even for a few hours, hearts and minds would open to feelings of goodwill and to the simple beauty around and within us! It was my first step towards seeing the oneness of life, the simplicity of love, and knowing the joy from meeting so many fun-loving, beautiful, interesting people. It wasn’t about sex, or drugs! It was about seeking, giving and receiving love. Ecstasy was healing too, which I inwardly needed, holding all the sadness of my recent tragic experience inside of me!
* * *
With so many nights at dance parties sharing love, and the hours I lost sleeping, it was a great relief to gain a Credit on the Marketing and Business Diploma at College. I stayed awake all night before my major Marketing examine thanks to a small dose of no-doze, and went into to college to sit a three hour examine that was extended to five hours.
I was happy with a Credit. We marketing diploma students basically taught ourselves from our textbook over the year, because the Marketing teacher was often away overseas having major health treatment. It was a wonder any of us passed—marketing was boring enough. Trying to teach ourselves from a book had the capacity to turn us off the subject for life, as it did with me.
We certainly deserved to enjoy the Graduation Ball after such a tough year. Alicia came, along with Mum, Dad, Nanna, and my oldest sister Louise. It was wonderful Louise came to the Ball because she moved to Sydney when I’d just turned 14, upon marrying her prince charming who took on overseas holidays and gave her the life of luxury.
The college students dressed in lovely dresses and suits for our special occasion, thrilled to be celebrating our year together. After the ball, Alicia and I danced the night away at a nearby nightclub with a few other students, celebrating freedom from school all over again.
Happily, Alicia and I had made up after our fall-out when Mel said awful things about me. Not surprisingly things didn’t work out for her living in Sydney with Mel and Mark, and when she returned home across the park from me she came over to apologise for disclosing sad information about me and not standing up for me. I was thankful and happy to have my friend back. I’d missed her!
We went to the Barbarella dance party next to celebrate further. For the first time I could party without feeling guilty about my studies. Julie and our new friend Paul were among the entertainment dancers at this gathering celebrating the lustrous tale of Barbarella. They wore sparkling silver sequin shorts (and bra top for Julie) and danced in elevated cages.
I met the splendidly gorgeous and cool Paul and Daniel that evening. Paul and Daniel were going out together and I loved the way they danced. Especially Paul, wearing navy blue short overalls, with no shirt looking extremely cute with his dark hair, big hazel eyes, and a beautifully structured face. After Julie introduced us, I remained standing in front of him, elated to meet him, but he was shy back then and didn’t say anything to me. He didn’t need to. To the music, he moved towards me and lifted one of his arms into the air, which made me respond in the same way. As we danced, we clicked and connected into a dancing partnership. Captivated by his gentle, glorious, uplifting energy, I followed his beat, and the beginning of a beautiful friendship began to unfold!
To end a great Christmas Day with all the family together like all Christmases in my memory , I went on a big night out with Julie, Paul, and friends. On the way in the car, and at the house gathering beforehand, Paul and I had strange vibrations between us—exciting but also nervous energies. At quiet times, it seemed like I couldn’t say the right things, be funny, or create an easygoing air with him, and inwardly berated myself for not being amusing enough in the effortless way Julie and others were. Julie was extremely funny. Everyone was a clever, witty wordsmith! The entire gay world is alive with humour. I was fortunate the gay world was also alive with music and dancing, because in that world, I was home!
On this night, as with many times ahead, Paul and I would forget any uneasiness between us when the music began. We’d be off dancing, and I’d follow his lead in movement to the tune. He danced magnificently with refined moves and a unique rhythm that I loved to mirror. Our relationship was at its best whenever we were out, whether at dance parties, nightclubs, or recovery parties, we were in harmony when the atmosphere was non-verbal! He became like my boyfriend, albeit a pretend one. We’d be close during the entire outing, whether we were dancing or not, I loved being his special dancing party girl. I also loved being his girl, and secretly wished he wasn’t gay, although I knew the purity of our relationship was divine.
So many new and exhilarating things were happening in my life! I couldn’t wait to start working in the city!
