Saturday, September 12, 2009

Gay wedding/ Boday gay

Last weekend I went to a wedding in the middle of Spain, in Cáceres, where you can find one of the most beautiful historical towns.

I went there four days after comig back from New York, not knowing where I was or what for. I met some friends I had not seen for a year, and I danced and cried and ate and drank and flirt, in an outdoor night wedding next to a medieval castle, with flowers scattered all around, and a fountain, and lovely live music, and a great video that my brother made for the grooms, and beautiful speeches . The theme was The wizard of Oz and on every table there was the name of a movie to identify yours. Even when I still hate weddings in general, framing myself in the usual affected wedding mood, it was a great wedding. Despite the fact of it being a very expensive posh one. ( I told you, I don't like weddings)

I asked my friends if it was going to happen what usually happens to me in the gay weddings of my male gay friends: all guys are gay, all girls are straight...In the end it was a mixture of people, and I was more interested in sharing time with my friends, who I left here last August,than in anything else. However, when my brother was booking a room for me in the very posh hotel I told him to put somebody in the room with me to share the cost, and his answer was "Sorry, we all come in couples". And I said " Excue ME"

So there I was, for two nights... no, for one night and a half, in the big room of a posh hotel, on my own. I never go to posh hotels, unless I am with the band, and then there is two or three of us in each room. I told my brother I wanted to change the hotel for the youth hostel in town: it was 50 euros difference and, at least, you can go to the main hall and there is always somebody wanting to chat, but he persuaded me to stay there with the rest of the group. The group that shared a room with their partners in their expensive rooms next to my lonely bed.

I am used to go places on my own, particularly after NY. And I go places and I meet people. I am not obssesed about finding a partner, it somehting that happens, but I think about true love. My brother says I am just naive and stupidly innocent. Not so long ago, I developed a crash on a teacher, and it was great, because it was just a simple naive innocent honest thing with no intention of anything beyond, and it reminded me that sometimes, you meet somebody and something tickles inside you; it reminded me that there is always the chance that you might still meet that person that makes your eyes sparkle. It reminded me that love is something different from the guy that you pick up on a bar one night or the silly chats you have when you flirt with somebody that is ok and could be something, but who does not really matter.

I could not avoid feeling a bit odd. The odd number in between the even group of happy couples. An odd person in an odd place with odd clothes. I don´t have the type of clothes you wear in a posh wedding where people wore exclusive designer clothes. My concert clothes are winter clothes and are not so flashy and desginer like. I have a much better time in a burningman event, sleeping in a tent where my cajon and me don´t fit together, or at a BM party dressed like Isis wearing a couple of wings. I should have gone there with my Isis wings. But, instead a wore this old-fashioned top that my mum had made for me 15 years ago and fixed for me, and this nice skirt that is elegant but did not quite go with the top., and sandals because my nice concert shoes were coming from NY in a box...

So there I was, dressed a bit odd and not caring about it, which was also odd; feeling a bit odd; looking at places in an odd way like if I had just arrived from another planet...And then I realised that the oddity really came from inside, from something that was struggling not to die, like a big odd fat warm biting big chunks of something in my stomach.

And it´s all because, even when I am absolutely over the moon sharing time whith my friends and the people I love, NY hurts.

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