I prepare for a very big upheaval. In a few weeks, our surrogate mother must give birth to our little boy whom we expect with my spouse. We have been spending a lot of our couple for five years. I am afraid of feeling swallowed, of no longer having time for me, to become a prisoner. I am looking for spaces of freedom, effervescence.
This pregnancy at a distance worries me. We are far away, we do not know the process of gestation for others, we are alone in our experience. Our entourage does not support us too much. I am also happy with this life that promises to be, but I am superstitious so I don’t leave too much room for happiness, I am afraid that it will make. Everything mixes, I need escape.
There is this held evening to which we are invited. Cocktails, small ovens, incredible buffet, that beautiful and very well dressed people who look at each other. I hesitate to go, I want to drink and dance, but not in a space where everyone will make me feel that there is nothing that goes, that my hair does their life without me and May my dark circles widen. My companion insists, I agree to go, and I tell myself that it does not matter, that I will dance after, during one of my night trips.
I often do, night trips. In general, at the start, there is a conventional dinner not very funny, with friends that I know well but without surprise, without adrenaline, without adventure. I start to beat under the table, I have to escape. As the boring guests go to bed, my evening begins. It’s my valve. I walk very quickly and alone in the streets of Paris. My crossings are lonely, no comrade who groans because I stroll too much.
I hope for gay bars. I speak to people I do not know, we do not give ourselves our first names, not our professions, we don’t care, we are far from our social statutes of the day, we talk about the alcohol we drink , music that passes in the background. It is the antithesis of what I live two hours earlier. It is a life drive, not really sexual, a shovel rolling or two, but that’s it. I feel with the family in these homos, we understand each other without talking to each other, which is not the case with hetero dinners.
At the chic evening where I am with my companion, I already think of that, of my escape from the next. We land in a sumptuous VIP space. The number of gays per square meter is very high. I feel badly dressed, especially in relation to this man – his name is Gabriel, I will learn it afterwards. He is very undermined. Our looks are electric. I try not to look at it, because I think it’s injuring for my spouse. I don’t like it when he does that with me, so I try not to do it, we are not a free couple.
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