I wrote this a couple of
years ago for another blog. When I came across it I wanted to include it
here. Maybe I'll finish it.
Last October I went to Seattle for
Gender Odyssey, an annual Transgender community conference. Upon
receiving the schedule I saw that on one of the last nights there was going to
be a Trans positive play party. I hadn’t ever heard of a play party
before and the description left me guessing between something like a slumber
party (like a tupperware party but with sex toys) and a straight up
sex party. The only reference I have for sex parties are sparse
cinematic and literary images of somewhat gross and desperate people engaging
in rather filthy acts. Safety and fun didn’t immediately jump to
mind.
At the opening social I made an
uncharacteristically bold decision to ask some random but very friendly Trans
folks what this party business was all about. They confirmed that it
was, for all intents and purposes, a sex party and explained to me that some
people go to watch, others to participate. Later at the GenderQueer
social, I listened in on a conversation between several inquisitive young minds
and two veteran players. I was initially captivated by the
interracial, inter-age, inter-gender and general Queerness (and hotness) of
these two players but was eager to hear more details about the party. They
answered the question on the collective tip our disbelieving minds, “Yeah but
to people actually have sex?”
I spent the rest of the conference
days leading up to the play party discussing attendance with my fellow Utah
travelers. My friend (w/benefits :), M, from Washington was
definitely going, the super-Queer couple in our midst was in, some were too
young, some were too bashful, and one particularly tragic guy was intrigued but
caught up in the trappings of monogamy.
On the night of the party, M and I
waited for the shuttle from the hotel to the "Center" ***name
ommitted due to legal waiver***. The name conjured up images of
community centers and resource spaces I have always frequented. I
imagined these spaces temporarily manipulated, possibly cordoned off for one
night to accommodate 100 or so Queer Trans folk. Riding the shuttle
felt kind of like getting strapped in to a really exciting but really
intimidating roller coaster. Everyone who had ridden before exuding
calming energy to those of us trying to slow our breathing. Boasting
in the kind of way that makes you grateful instead of violent. I was
glad there were other first timers going. The short ride transformed
our motley crew into a united cohort. Nervous talkers asked for
introductions. The bold started flirting, not with anyone in
particular but more like throwing some flirt into the air and just letting it
sprinkle down onto the rest of the riders.
Tension mounted as we pulled into
the parking lot. I recognized the collective intake of breath that
precedes the falling scream on roller coasters. I stepped out of the
van and instinctively took one final deep breath knowing that the taste buds in
my lungs would soon be breathing in unknown flavors. Holding onto M’s
hand tighter than I probably intended, a bright-eyed-bushy-tailed smile on my
face, I followed my cohort through the door…
(to be continued)...
No comments:
Post a Comment