Last seen Jack… I mean Glinda had graced the beautiful black tiles of my work. Glinda impressed everyone from the word go. He was fast, efficient and was willing the put in the extra hard work. Qualities I myself admire as I was never one to shy away from a good days graft. As the weeks came and went I found myself chatting a lot with Glinda. Finding out about who he was as a person, his degree, what he studied and whereabouts in the Big city of Belfast he hailed from. It was rather hard to tell obviously as he had that unmistaken East L.A twang. I guessed Beverly Hills. He was too upmarket for the Valleys. Its strange when you meet someone with you whom you share an instant rapport, however this was defiantly the case with our Glinda. Though as always the guard was ever present.
As we got chatting we both discussed our many nights of debauchery in canal street and decided we should have a night out. How it came about is anyone’s guess? Next thing I knew I was in a taxi to levenshulme. Levenshulme for those who are unaware is a student area in Manchester. Every house has a recycling bin with only three items. Alcohol bottles, Cigarette buts and frozen pizza boxes. All the essentials for an inspiring professional studying at university. I knew this fact as my own bin at university had the same contents, I’m pretty sure this is explained in first year orientation just after the obligatory registration photo and before you receive you class schedule for the year. Their I was on my way in a taxi (uber was not even conceived at this stage), I was filled with nervous energy as I had made the ballsy decision to go to a house party filled with randoms. Definitely out of my comfort zone. I had asked Dazzles and DVC to come however what you need to know about the gays in their mid/late 20’s is that we get very comfortable. We don’t like making effort and meeting new people. Its kind of redundant at this stage. Or so we thought.
I arrived with my little bottle of something and wearing a two piece;
Two Piece; Definition: Usually an outfit donned by a homosexual man denoting the items he is wearing I.E a t-shirt and jeans, a shirt and shorts…. never a jacket as this does not show of the ‘I haven’t eat all day body’. Normally served with a biscuit.
Biscuit; Definition: Your ASS! Specifically with low-rise jeans and a visible boxer waistband.
I arrived at the house party greeted by Glinda. I was met by another Diva to enter my Life, ‘Queen LA’. So at this point I met QL in the hallway and was greeted by this sweet little girl with the strongest Californian accent I had ever heard. QL and Niall grew up together in East L.A. ….. I mean West Belfast. She had bright red hair, fair skin and a cheeky little smile that could light up a room. Full of mischief and a subtle hint of wisdom. Glinda was off for a moment topping up his bronze colour, I assume with natural sunlight. I was left with QL. We started to chat and immediately I felt at ease. She had a natural energy that was instantly calming. I could see why her and Glinda stayed close all these years. We headed out eventually and knowing us we danced all night in one of the homosexual dance halls. Usually Michael would find himself at some stage having an Irish exit. We found over the course of the weeks having many similar nights, having a blast each time. This proposed a problem.
How could I be friends with this guy, I’m his manager.
So that made it all the more easier for me to give him to someone else. It was a choice of being his friend or being his manager. It was an easy decision. I didn’t want that conflict of interest. Sometimes people come into our lives (a wicked reference right there!) and for whatever quirk of fate, destiny, random probability we know their is a reason behind it.
So in a nutshell the ‘family was complete’. Our little dysfunctional Manchester family has been together a lot of years now. We have spent Christmas’ together, Birthdays, nights out, all the fun times…. and the not so much.
Two nights before my mothers passing I knew it was coming, deep down I knew. I text one of the boys to tell them I think she was dying, they all appeared that evening in a show of support. We barely spoke about anything until DVC looked at me and said “hows things with your mum?”. I couldn’t speak, I skirted over the topic as I wasn’t really ready to deal with the emotional turmoil I was dealing with inside. My heart was breaking. Though the comfort I got from these people was amazing, I didn’t feel alone in this.
The night she passed I text them all to say the funeral was in 4 days. I let them know they were all welcome to attend however I would understand if they couldn’t. After all it was a long journey and getting time off work for a non-relative is a nightmare, I know this from experience. Within minutes I received a text.
We are all coming.
That is the importance of friendship and family. People that will go above and beyond for your wellbeing. That selfless act, the kindness. I cannot describe how my heart filled up with emotion after reading that message.
Mummy knew how important friendship was to me. She loved to hear about my escapades with the family and what crazy adventures we would be getting up to. I think she was so happy that I had found people in Manchester that I loved, and more importantly loved me. For me.
I count myself lucky to have the family, the ladies (more on them soon), the Uni girls (so much more to come from them too) and all my other friends in this world. Sometimes we feel alone in this process but I am reminded constantly that I am not and don’t have to be.
Now in the words of Rupaul Charles;
“Let the Music Play!”
A Grievers Guide to the Galaxy 