A day in the Pride
5 folks, 3 boys, 2 girls, 1 Manchester Gay Pride.
I’m not interested in men in the slightest. I do however, enjoy a good knees up (and that’s not a euphemism) so Saturday (28th) I found myself heading to Manchester dressed as a character from the film “An Officer And A Gentleman” intent on partying the whole day. The only reason I agreed to go was; I figured party + lots of people + lots of booze = good times.
Saturday morning I woke nice and early, way before my alarm, so arose to get my morning fix of porridge and coffee and waste some time before heading over to the fancy dress shop. I hadn’t immediately thought that fancy dress was a valid idea until the others said they were going in fancy dress, while I was aware what the gay scene was like on parade weekend with drag queens et al, it was my assumption that only the floats and followers dressed up. Not wanting to look the odd-bod I said I’d go dressed up too.
Had my recent weight-loss programme worked a little better, I was looking at something that flaunted ones stomach, alas, I don’t quite have that flauntable stomach just yet so decided against anything that showed unnecessary excess flesh, excess being the primary word here. The fancy dress shop lady opened early specifically for us and so we went in and discussed the options. She did suggest some rather daring costumes, to which my bottle went from “yea, I’ll wear anything, the gayer the better” to “I don’t have the balls to wear that” and settled for the aforementioned costume which I thought was a bit subtle really, although pulled off quite well being my height.
The car journey to Manchester raised some funny looks from others when they looked round to see a car containing 2 tarts, an officer, a sailor and a rather camp looking police officer although it was not as embarrassing as when it came to actually walking round Manchester outer-centre heading into the parade area when it became all too apparent that absolutely NO ONE else thought that fancy dress was a good idea. I really do mean no one. We walked up to the queue for the tickets (wrist bands) and proceeded to join the back only to be gaupped at by the other two hundred or so people waiting patiently in line. Maybe it was the fact that my trousers were actually see-through (good job I put white boxers on that day!).
After waiting for 30 minutes or so and enduring a few short but excessive downpours we were finally heading to the parade to watch the floats. At first I thought to myself “well, this is interesting” with a sarcastic tone to my inner voice. I guess I’d imagined more of a Brazilian-style parade (more extravagant, bigger, louder, etc) but instead got a few poorly designed floats (some still bearing the “Salford” van hire logo), some great dancers, some great looking guys in drag and equally great girls just looking hot, quite frankly, along with some equally terrible polar opposites. It wasn’t until a group of marchers came down the line that I realised the meaning of the entire parade. It wasn’t about who could look good, or dance the best, or pass off for most extreme transformation from their daily self or even the best float most skillfully crafted, it is about being able to be yourself, regardless of your sexual inclination, celebrating acceptance and diversity, fundraising for the LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender) community and raising awareness to ‘members’ and non-members alike.
At first I felt a little strange, not because homosexuality offends me but because I felt it was widely assumed that everyone at the parade was gay, and as I was there, this also included me. Not that this was a problem, it just felt, different. Then it started. Two women randomly pulled me aside, playfully groping my every appendage, telling me how good they thought I looked towering over them as a 6’2″ Naval Officer.
Moments later I received a tap on the shoulder, 2 lads wanted a picture with me, which I gracefully accepted. Then another tap, 2 ladies wanted a photo with me as their male friend took the photo. Minutes later, the male friend returned and he wanted a picture with me. I, being the only straight male of our group, was loving the attention and made the 2 gay members jealous! I began to relax and from there on in it became a game to see just how many people I could attract.
The parade finished and we headed into the “Village” to find a pub, there were thousands of people all over the streets and the pubs were insanely busy, waiting 20 minutes to get served became a common factor that would last the entire day. Once the beer became a factor in our day, it pretty much featured heavily for the next 8 or 9 hours, drifting from pub to pub just to say we’ve been in them. In the second pub we visited, I was confronted by a, well, dirty old man, quite frankly, who decided that I looked “fucking gorgeous” (his words) and attempted to _passionately_ kiss me, at which point I made emergency diversion tactics my utmost priority and decided that although side-stepping out of the way was my best option, it could have been offensive and played the old “turn the head” card instead. I did expect people to cheek-kiss but hadn’t even thought of the possibility that people were there for “more”.
After being told I wasn’t gay by another member of our crew, he took offence and walked off, only to follow me round from a distance for a short while until being told in no uncertain terms that continuing to do so may result in unnecessary force. He was harmless enough, I think that some people had been on the beer longer than we had so we carried on to another pub and forgot about it.
Throughout the next unfathomable number of hours I drew in more photo shoots, gropes, bum pinches, kisses (on the cheek only) and suggestive looks and loved every single one of them! It was great having so much attention, regardless of the fact none of them were in the slightest bit attractive to me, nor would they become after several more Guinness but it was fun ‘going with the flow’ and accepting that if you dress up at gay pride, you WILL attract attention.
We didn’t really see many people in fancy dress, maybe 100 out of the thousands of people there, which meant we got lots and lots of people asking for photographs. Once one person saw that we were OK allowing people to take photos, more and more people came over to ask for photos, it was like we were part of the entertainment more than just every day folks enjoying a beer.
The nicest part of the whole day was that everyone was so at ease, they could truly be theirselves, holding their partners, dressing up if they so desired, just enjoying the fact that there was no trouble, no fear of being outcasts. It was nice to see so many beautiful women too, shame I wasn’t their type 
I went for a beer and came back with new friends and new understanding.
Category: Personal | Tagged: August 30th, 2010