I can’t remember the last time I went to a gay club. It must have been weeks, perhaps months ago. I usually can’t stand them because I feel out of place and it’s a whole new sleazy world altogether. However, from time to time, they’re fun to go as long as a) you’re with friends (friends ok, not friends with benefits) and b) when they play cheesy pop/dance music to shake those pesky calories off. Sweat and shake that booty gurl! The six-foot-two Marco aka Marker, was my hostess slash caretaker slash driver for the night slash dance buddy slash protector slash bodyguard. It’s amusing how he protected me from certain people at the club who kinda creeped me out. This is why I love having tall guy friends with stubble. Swoon. They make me feel like a fragile, precious little thing.

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Or the only girl in the world.

Crew gay club South Africa

I had fun. I really did. So happy I had a good dance session/exercise and burned some calories.

Time to get some shuteye. Tomorrow we’re going to the Biscuit Mill!