We were at Taboo, popular gay club on Neil Road, last night.
“Can’t be,” I responded over the loud heart thumping music, “they provide liquor here.”
But in my heart, I knew what he was talking about. I haven’t been to Taboo for ages, at least for a few years. The crowd of about more than a hundred, 80 percent guys and 20 percent girls, (yes, they were boys and girls, not men and women) looked hardly beyond their teens.
Many had waists as slim as bamboos and skins as taut as a baby’s round butt, note my tone of envy. Of course, there were exceptions, more among the girls than the boys. There were pudgy ones especially among the girls who didn’t seem to mind looking like they were bursting the seams of their tight micro-mini dresses. Or the ultra slim girls with skirts so short, they threatened to move up, leaving too little to the imagination. Among the boys, there were those with budging boy boobs and waists too. The similarity is that they all didn’t seem very self-conscious, which I reckoned could be a good thing in self-confidence. But most were….well, little boys.
The wonderful thing about it is that
the crazier ones made it their duty
to draw the quieter ones into their fun…..
I could see the party-goers who were comfortable with exaggerated gestures and voices, all trying to outdo and outperform the deafening music. Then there were those who seemed rather out of place, quietly sipping on their alcoholic drinks on the side. The wonderful thing about it is that the ‘crazier’ ones made it their duty to draw the quieter ones into their fun and as time near midnight, everyone seemed to be in a party mood, whether dancing or playing number games with their hands and fingers. It was quite fascinating to watch them.
Another noticeable thing was that under the spell of the loud throbbing music, the intoxicating alcohol, the semi darkness with flashing strobe lights and smoke machine effects, it became legitimate to be letting loose and an excuse to be touching, hugging and kissing each other. In abandonment, there were no inhibitions, everyone touching and willing to be touched. One skinny guy with a chest tattoo had stripped off his top and was dancing on an elevated ledge but no one seemed to care. Fortunately, no one seemed to be headed for the full monty and hopefully, everything would stop at just plain good fun and a way to release youthful energy.
In fact, the abandonment and acceptance of each other was so great that one group started moving closer and closer to me. It had to be them moving, because I was perched on a heavy high stool and I couldn’t have been the one doing it. For more than one moment, I became part of their group of about 6 or 7 boys. They didn’t seem to mind that I looked more like an adult chaperon and carried on with their hand guessing game as naturally as if I wasn’t there, which was good because their game was quite interesting to watch. But of course, I was the Daddy and naturally didn’t join in.
I was drawn into their infectious youth.
Although, I was old enough to be their father of all the party goers, for a moment I was drawn into their infectious youth. Well, only for the moment, because when we left at around the bewitching hour of one, we saw the aftermath casualties of such parties. Along Neil Road as we walked back to the car, we saw revelers vomiting, collapsed over the pavement. Well, to me it’s clear – it’s wonderful to be young, but youth does have its consequences.