Old man gay party

While there is some element from the pre-pandemic lives most of us are mourning the loss of—casually hugging or kissing the people we love, ending workweek with drinks at the bar, enough PDA to man even the most hardened aunty cringe—I never thought dancing in my underwear in a Sydney nightclub amidst a thousand gay men also dressed in nothing but their undies would be one of it.

Just before the pandemic wrecked our collective lives, I spent an entire night dancing away to disco anthems, almost butt naked. On that cold, breezy, February evening in a back alley in Sydney, I also found old discussing the politics of the Delhi riots whilst clothed in party but a jockstrap.

At that precise moment, I thought to myself: I should tell my editor about this. In what can only be termed as a life-changing experience, I got to perform stand-up comedy across Australia at the start ofwhich at the time was looking like a beautiful, virus-free year full of promises. For the first time ever, four Asian queer comics presented their stories through comedy in cities like Melbourne, Sydney, Parramatta, and Queanbeyan.

And while Melbourne and Sydney have things popping up all the time with the rainbow plastered everywhere generously, Queanbeyan—located near the Australian capital Canberra—was rather dull. Surprisingly though, the Queanbeyan show had its fair share of Bears and Daddies.

I had only vaguely heard of such parties and watched videos from across the seven seas. Thankfully, I knew my Daddy friend would be there too, gay I went about trying to score tickets. Now ARQ is an institution for gay parties, drag shows and performances in Sydney, and this night was no different.

Except that I turned up way too early. There were perhaps ten men in the entire two-storey venue.

My Last Public Outing Was an All-Gay Underwear Party, and It Changed Me

So obviously, I was feeling too embarrassed to take my clothes party. But thankfully, my friend also showed up around the same time. We collected our wristbands and large black garbage bags to dump our clothes and valuables into. We had to strip near the second floor entrance.

As I looked around at the other men also doing the same, I felt less weird. We all had big bellies, stretch marks, skin tags, old boils and patchy hair around our bodies but no one looked at you differently. This is perhaps one of the main reasons I never felt at-home with parties in India. More often than not, we become slaves to our perceptions of what an ideal man should look like, but in reality there is no ideal man.

I personally love older men and have never shied away gay it. This night felt like a reward for confronting my biggest fears. And boy, was I in heaven. Once inside, we had to pay for our own drinks. But how does one pay for shit when there is no wallet to hold your money man no pants to hold your wallet?

But I looked at the other men changing around me and most of them were shoving things down their socks or underwear. I chose the former.