The Soho Experience

I was really quite nervous about last night. In the last few years, the confidence that once was when meeting new people has been replaced by an irrational discomposure and the idea of attending a night doing just that, left half of me feeling a little uncomfortable. Throughout a torturing slow day at work, I could do nothing but sit and wonder what the night ahead might hold. On the other hand, I felt a high-strung excitement. An urge to attack it and really do my best to integrate with what has become one of the greatest communities to be involved in.

For that is what I think it is. The RUComingOut site, (that I have mentioned a fair bit - almost as if I can't shut up about it), is an extraordinary project. It might be difficult for those of you unlucky enough to be straight to understand, but the coming out process is one of the toughest that life will throw at us. The fear, the apprehension and the inner distress.  Being in the same room as hundreds of people who have felt the same - who understand its feelings - and enjoy a great night with them, was a privilege I can barely put into words.

*Buckets for vomiting are available from all good retailers*

And now I pause, for an absurd length of time, as I don't know how to continue. Where do I start?

Maybe the couple I met at the start of the night, who are part of an LGBT group called 'Outdoor Lads', who have been through all sorts of hardship and formed this outdoor pursuits group that has brought a lot of people, a lot of comfort. The level-headed nature of their conversation was astounding, so much so, that it must have looked like I wasn't bothered as I simply nodded and agreed with what they said. This was at the beginning of the night, with nerves off the scale, but that conversation calmed me down somewhat. It was confirmation to me, that I wasn't going to be inundated with camp madness, but instead could hold simple conversations with people similar to me. A room full to the brim with people who knew how "that" had felt...

Maybe it was the fact that CJ de Mooi, from 'Eggheads' fame, was casually walking around talking to people. Or singer Beverley Knight, sitting in the corner, chatting away to normal folk like us, was in the same room as silly old me. Just a nervous chap from Bedford, who had come down to Soho, simply out of intrigue. I was in the same room as celebrities who had been through the same experience I had, or in Beverley's case, are extremely supportive individuals. All of these people knew what it felt like, and the comfort that feeling brought was exceptional.

Or maybe it was 86-year old Billy Thornycroft, still attending gay pride parades and turning up at these crazy events, just like he was as a young man in the 1940s. Hearing his stories was an absolute inspiration. I was transfixed as he talked about how he thought it was actually easier in the 1940s, without the pressure of expectation and the modern lifestyle of celebrity magazines and obsession with beauty. Just before he put his earplugs back in to go back out into the furore!

But no. Despite these amazing moments, the whole idea of the night was encapsulated in one nervous looking guy standing in the corner of the room. At the beginning of the evening, as the place was slowly filling up, I noticed a young man standing by the door, looking at his phone, all on his own. I won't name him, (he might well be reading this as he later said he'd read a few of these silly little blogs!) Maybe I shouldn't speak about this, but he reminded me very much of me. Nervous and apprehensive. I know that I'd have been exactly the same had I not had the company of Billie, who must have been wondering what she'd let herself into, probably being the only straight person in the place! I went over to him and introduced myself, and we got chatting and seemed to get on very well. We compared our own stories and experiences and found they were similar. He had travelled from West Wales for a couple of days, (a hell of a commitment if I may say so myself!), so naturally, the general chitter-chatter of The Barley Mow on a Saturday night in Bedford town got a bit lost I think. But generally, we got on like a house on fire. He was an absolutely genuine gentleman, and I'm really very glad I met him last night.

After a few trips to the bar, a general battering of the wallets, a strangled performance from the campest entertainment act I'd ever seen, plus the strongest (and only) Mojito I've ever had, we joined a couple of guys who had taken the brave step of being the first on to the dance floor. Frankly, I'm surprised this didn't happen earlier, as the now huge crowd of people jostled in and out of one another as they walked around the place, chatting and meeting like-minded others. The multi-coloured squares of the dance floor in the middle looked especially bright, with a planetary gaggle of people circling around like vultures, looking wistfully towards it, hoping a large group of people would make the first move and get the party started. Amazingly enough, Billie (who was the confident one of the small party of three we had created), dragged us there as we were thanked a lot by the two alienated guys pulling off camp moves on the rainbow squares. These two guys happened to work for the BBC, one of which for The One Show and the other in the talent department. I was tempted to bring out the break dancing, but thought better of it...

From then on, it was pretty much like an overstated yet unbelievable night out. Everyone had loosened up a bit, the dance floor got busier and busier and people just enjoyed themselves. It really is amazing what a relaxed atmosphere can do to a party, especially in the presence of people you had never met before the night. You can just be yourself, and after a few normal drinks, (of course I had reverted to the tried and trusted JD's instead of fancy cocktails!), we danced the night away. I was not wary of the time, as I probably should have been given our location, and at the time I just didn't care. This was amazing. Simple as that. It almost begs the question of why I was so nervous. But then again, alcohol in moderation has the ability to create a character beyond your normal self. My jumpy, hesitant being replaced by someone else in a room full of other similar people, in bloody Soho. It can't get better than that.

I probably shouldn't have drunk as much as I should, especially in a place I had never been before, but in many ways, last night was the greatest night of my life. It might not have held many crazy, unbelievable or manic stories like others have, and it might well be difficult for others to "get", but to be yourself in an environment like that, all in the name of a fantastic initiative, is one of the greatest honours of my life. I'm so proud to be involved in such a project, and I cannot explain how pleased I am to be helping others who are currently going through this incredible yet difficult journey themselves because of the site. You know who you are, and I will always be here if you want to chat. And that goes for absolutely anyone.

I'd like to leave the link to Billy's story. An unbelievable 86-year old gentleman who wrote his story for the site. It's an incredible read for anyone : http://www.rucomingout.com/billyt.html

P.S. I have just found out that ACTUAL Gandalf turned up. Like... THE Sir Ian McKellen. But we had already gone! Noooo!