Summer has officially begun with the launch of the first queer festival in Amsterdam. And here I am again, suddenly caught up in a spontaneous infatuation after a romantic encounter at this festival. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever learn not to fall for someone so easily. But infatuation is just something you can’t really control, no matter how hard you try to stop it. The festival grounds had three different areas with music and a small market with food stalls and people selling handmade items or offering tarot readings. It was a beautiful summer day, and I felt great in my own skin. I wasn’t really focused on men at all, but more on my friends and making new ones. I even managed to sell handmade jewelry by boldly asking if I could help one of the vendors. Not only was I allowed to do this, but I actually managed to sell something too. These are the kinds of things I love about events like this. Everyone is on the same level of openness and sociability. And so, the festival day slowly moved toward evening, where I met you.
I was in the techno area of the festival. It felt like I was in some kind of shipping container with an improvised roof held together with rope, tarpaulins, and hope. The line and extra security at the entrance made it seem a bit more exclusive, but once inside, it was sadly just more of the same. By then, I had a desperate need for something physical, so my primitive mode kicked in. Time to hunt, an expression I hate, but it explained my simple needs. In my current state, it was more about observing and slowly shuffling toward a goal. That goal being someone cute to talk to. I had just popped my last half of an ecstasy pill and was still reeling from the previous dose. While I was dancing next to an elevated stage, my gaze fell on a tall man across the way.
It’s not often I meet someone taller than me with the same pale, almost translucent white skin. With a dreamy look, he seemed to be staring right at me. Or maybe he was looking over my head at the massive fridge of a man standing next to me on the stage. The fridge guy had just told me, moments before, that I was cute because I was unabashedly staring at him. Cute, but apparently not cute enough to kiss. Because by now, he was already kissing with someone else.
It’s funny how you instinctively move when you have a certain goal in mind. The dance floor is an arena full of possible encounters and matches. People you might never see again or will always recognize at every party without ever exchanging words. Or perhaps that one guy is somewhere in the crowd. My thoughts had meanwhile lingered on everyone who, after hours of sweating and dancing, still managed to keep their hair in perfect condition. Even in this sweaty space where everyone had taken off their shirts except for me. Do these people just go to the hairdresser more often? Maybe twice a week? I stared blankly ahead as I tried to answer questions I had no answers to.
My brain was a bit like a swimming pool where I could occasionally dip my toes. Then, suddenly, there was movement from the beautiful giant across the way, and you started making your way toward me from the other side of the sweaty techno tent. I thought you were just going to greet your fridge friend on the stage, but your eyes were on me. I was pleasantly surprised and intrigued. Who is this handsome man from the outer ring of the arena? You had a soft, almost apologetic smile on your face. As if you felt bad for intruding on my little inner circle. But don’t worry, you were more than welcome. Even if it was just to answer my burning question about perfect hair, because, in my eyes, your hair was just as perfect.
With a full dark mustache and beautiful blue and grey eyes, you looked right at me. Just this alone would have been enough to make me melt into a puddle of sweat and other juices on the dance floor. But you just so happened to also be shirtless like the rest of the crowd. So, I took a moment to check you out from head to toe. You clearly go to the gym or play rugby, or maybe both? You were wearing tight white shorts that accentuated your thick thighs. I have a thing for thick thighs, you know. You wore white knee-high socks and had very big shoes. The shoes had nothing to do with the fact that I thought you were incredibly handsome, by the way, it’s just that I rarely see anyone with shoes much bigger than mine. It’s not impossible, but the chance is very slim. You were even a bit taller than me too, but just a little. Enough to be slightly towering above me, but still at the right height to kiss me. Two giants colliding at the end of a festival. Welcome to my little bubble, handsome giant.
You kept your attention focused on me, confirming my question of whether you had actually come all the way over to me from the other side. You said “hi” and so we started talking. It was more like shouting and misunderstanding each other. Coincidentally, you also knew the fridge guy on the stage next to me—typical.
I felt so euphoric that I couldn’t stop smiling. Later, you’d keep using that against me as if I were an insecure infatuated schoolgirl. The combination of the music, the setting, and your presence only amplified the fact that I was under the influence of party drugs, and I kind of assumed you were too. Together, we stood in a room filled with only men, red and pink light and loud techno music. But in the moment, it felt like everything just fell away and we were together alone. I asked if you were single, and you told me it was “complicated.” My sober self would’ve stopped right there and left, but I wasn’t sober, and I couldn’t let go of my gut feeling. You were something special. At that moment, everything felt just fine, and a little complicated too. And I definitely wasn’t planning to let go of a handsome guy who came over to me just like that.
You told me you did power-lifting in the gym, which explained why I suddenly felt so small and thin. But you didn’t do rugby, so I kind of got it right, but not completely. As much as I try to act like I don’t have an opinion right away, I really thought that people who are that muscular are mostly attracted to like-minded people. By like-minded people, I mean that muscle-bound people are more often attracted to other muscle-bound people. And right now, I can only lift the weight of life, which is heavy enough. Big muscular men don’t really come up to me often. On the other hand, I don’t approach muscular men either, because of my own assumption that they don’t find me attractive. As honest as I can be, I confessed these thoughts to you on the dance floor. You replied that you didn’t like it that I jumped to that conclusion so quickly, because for you, that wasn’t the case.
I clumsily tried to explain that I was surprised you stayed interested, considering I was one of the few people still wearing clothes. As if that would even matter. But keep in mind that I had been sitting in the sun all day, on drugs. By now I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed anymore. With my pale white tank top, I probably stood out even more in this mass of sweaty people. It’s funny how sudden feelings of doubt take over when you least expect them. You’re trying to impress someone. But honesty lasts the longest, so I prefer to expose all my thoughts as a form of disarming myself. Then it’s up to the other person to decide what to do with it. Of course, I’m his type, otherwise, he wouldn’t have been talking to me for twenty minutes already. Unless he is now going to admit that he only approached me to ask for a lighter. Which wouldn’t be the first time that happened.
The conversation moved on to the topic of attention, especially receiving it. We said to each other that we must get a lot of attention from men at a festival like this. A repressed confirmation of the fact that we both found each other attractive. Not that this confirmation was even needed, but we paused for a moment to reflect on it. I tried to explain that, in my case, that wasn’t entirely true, or that I just didn’t always notice it. You didn’t believe me, which made me smile and I played along. You told me that you didn’t get much attention because people immediately assume that you’re, for example, unapproachable. Just like I made an assumption about muscular men not being interested in me—shit. It’s a strange way of flirting, and I’ve figured out that you’re teasing me a bit. I apologized, and you said you understood. It’s a common mistake, you said. And I was very happy that he approached me instead.
With a dry mouth of all the talking, I offered to go get a drink, and you were up for it. I gently took your hand as we walked a little further toward the bar. You had a strong and sturdy hand. Probably because of the power-lifting, but what do I know? The bar was probably only about five meters away, but that short walk became a vacuum of a comfortable dream state. Secretly, I hoped you didn’t want anything special because I only had two festival tokens left. And those things are ridiculously expensive to buy. It’s basically a rip-off, but not something I could worry about right now. You ordered a Fritz Limo. Fritz is a sustainable brand of carbonated drinks that I only really know in Cola form. When the Fritz Limo appeared at the bar, I looked at it with a tilted head, surprised. I asked the handsome giant if his drink wasn’t supposed to be a black color, to which he responded, laughing, that it was a Fritz Limo, not a Fritz Cola. I wasn’t fully there because I was on cloud nine, my apologies.
With the drinks in hand and plenty to talk about, we chattered away. After showing all my tattoos and giving a cryptic but humorous explanation, the conversation took a darker turn. Apparently, almost half an hour of talking was enough time for us to feel comfortable enough to dive into the heavy life stories. This usually happens when I get to the creepy panda tattoo on my ribs, but which version of this story I tell depends on how comfortable I feel with the person I’m talking to. You listened attentively to everything I had to say while looking at me with those beautiful eyes. I never ask for pity, just respect, and you gave me that.
Not long after, I asked if you were getting hungry, and we stumbled out of the techno tent together. It had since become a little darker outside, but the festival was still buzzing with people. You were hungry, but I wasn’t hungry just yet. Sadly, you put on a shirt again, and suddenly I saw my friends standing close to the entrance, realizing they probably wanted to leave the festival. We were now in the final lonely hour of the festival. I told them I wanted to stay until it was over and that I had met someone. I did not even catch his name yet. But he was talking with one of his pretty friends at a distance. I said goodbye to my friends, sealing the outcome of my evening. Normally, the rule is always together out, together home. But I didn’t want to let him go just yet and was a bit selfish for once.
As we walked toward the food stalls at the festival, we ran into another tall man, with whom he immediately started talking. Probably another acquaintance—but are all the people you know good-looking? You began speaking, but it was more like whispering, so I just stood there, barely involved in the conversation. So, I introduced myself to this other man. In that moment, I kinda wondered why you had started whispering, but I shook it off. It wasn’t my business right now. After the brief conversation, you said this was your ex, who had stayed at your place. I think this is where things started getting complicated for me too and your story began to mix with other layers. Your ex said goodbye and disappeared back into the crowd, while we stayed by the barriers heading toward the food stalls. My mind started wondering, what exactly makes it complicated with your ex? Are you perhaps still married? Is your ex jealous? Questions I couldn’t bring myself to ask at that moment.
We immediately ran into another conventionally attractive man, and my handsome giant started whispering in conversation again. Maybe it’s a tactic of sorts. When someone whispers, people have to try harder to listen carefully. But it’s not very practical to do this at a crowded festival. It probably wasn’t about me anyway. This time, there was no chance for me to introduce myself—fine. After all, I’m just some random person you met half an hour ago. Slowly, I started coming down from my cloud. Is that all I am to you?
After this second conversation, we finally started moving again and headed toward the food stalls. On the way, he explained that it’s rare to run into so many acquaintances at a party. But didn’t he come here with his ex that I just met? And you live in Amsterdam, so why wouldn’t this happen? Or do you never leave the house? My sober mind would have probably picked up on all the red flags by now, but I was far from sober and I was letting my feelings guide me. These fleeting encounters aren’t meant to be overthought. Even though I love doing exactly that and over analyzing everything, now was not the time for that. Just try and enjoy the moment.
We stumbled a bit along the stalls to check out the food options. At first, he wanted fries but ended up choosing a vegan pita, which we ate at one of the many empty picnic tables. I chuckled a little—of course, the gym enthusiast would go for the healthier option. Suddenly, sitting at that picnic table in the evening twilight felt very innocent, like two kids on a playground. After a long day, the summer sun was finally dipping into bed on the horizon. At the same time, this also meant that Cinderella’s last pleasures had arrived before she had to return to her stepsisters. Me being Cinderella, but I didn’t want the spell to break just yet. He offered me a bite, but the drugs in my system still weren’t allowing me to eat, so I still wasn’t hungry. I thanked him for the offer, and we laughed at each other while a blob of garlic sauce hung in your mustache. I tried to point it out, but apparently, the left side of your face looked like the right side to you. So, I helped you out in the end.
Meanwhile, someone had walked straight toward us. He stumbled a little toward a fence by the picnic tables and humorously climbed over it to get to us. All we could do was stare at each other as the show unfolded. It was your ex, and he decided to sit with us at the picnic table. I decided to be mature and start a conversation with him. We talked about video games, and it almost felt like a natural connection. I glanced at my handsome giant briefly to gauge what was going through his mind, but his expression gave nothing away. Suddenly, it occurred to me that I might be the potential third wheel in this situation. But I quickly pushed that thought aside. These are the things you suppress when you have sudden infatuations—after all, he’s only interested in me, right? Your ex disappeared again, and we had another short moment together.
After he finished the pita and the garlic sauce had completely disappeared from his mustache, we walked together to the other stage and started dancing. This time, it was outdoors next to the stage that was still open until the festival would finally end. His ex appeared again like a little demon from the darkness and started dancing half-naked between us. Why did it only just occur to me that he was wearing a leather harness with shorts? Like a sudden barrier, he blocked what had started to blossom in the techno tent. I saw a change in the expression of my giant, as if he was asking me if regret had already hit me. My god, how annoying, can we go back? Your ex disappeared again temporarily, and the giant immediately told me that his ex had a thing for me too. Great, this is exactly what I need right now. Someone I like, and someone I don’t want around who also has a thing for me.
Right after that, his ex came over to tease me some more and tried to kiss me, but this wasn’t what I signed up for. An annoying, unwanted mating dance emerged between the three of us, and I wanted to jump out of it. This is why female ducks evolved those weird vaginas with different dead-end entrances. I don’t need you here, so get out. After a while of dancing, his ex left again, and we pressed our hips together as if nothing had happened in between. I think it was pretty clear to his ex that my interest was only in him. Sorry, no orgy with the two of you for me tonight.
Eventually, your ex came back to join the dance again, and another man in the group remarked that it was very pleasant to see the three of us tangled up in each other while dancing. I thanked the man, although I didn’t fully agree with him. Maybe I should have shown him the video about duck sex and then explained that, in this case, I was the female duck. By then, we were all on three different levels of being high on drugs and feelings, and my sobriety was slowly kicking in. The giant invited me to an after party at his place, but suddenly, responsibility took over in me, trying to save what was left of me. I said “no” and thanked him. I tried to explain that I had plans for the next day and couldn’t stay overnight. But he immediately knew I was lying because I’m an extremely bad liar when I don’t mean it. But I had to plan my escape from the situation I had ended up in.
But I didn’t want to escape at all, to be perfectly honest. I never wanted this to end, this night with this music and with him. But it´s like someone accidentally bumps the light switch on the wall, and the room lights up like a bright white dentist’s office. We all wake up from our dream involuntarily, and the magic of the moment is gone. I’ve never had an easy time with abrupt endings unless it’s my decision. In that case I can easily remove myself from any situation. But this is not my decision. And the day has already lasted for so long that my feelings have become a bowl of good soup. I realize that I’m going to poetically dwell on this the next day.
Dynamic and playful, you opened my eyes in this playground. The party isn’t over just yet. But when this moment is gone, it’s really gone. A deceptively annoying trait, that automatic rationalizing of situations that haven’t even happened yet. Cunningly, it’s added itself to my adult brain. A tug-of-war between attraction and repulsion. Tonight, I’d rather just do the pulling with him, but sadly, we’re not alone. A while later, he stands by me at the lockers while I clumsily decide to put on some proper pants after all. His gaze immediately falls on my underwear, which reveals quite a lot because the fabric tightly forms an outline. With a bulge that reveals more than I want, or maybe I want him to look at. It could have been his tonight, but unfortunately, it´s not. And so, not much later, we left the festival grounds for good.
On our way to the ferry, the three of us laughed as if we had been friends for months. I ran into Bu from the party a few weeks ago, and he tried to kiss me. No, I absolutely don’t have time for this right now. So I quickly walked away. While we were waiting for the ferry, I changed shirts because it had actually become too cold. Of course, I did this partly on purpose to provoke a reaction, and he couldn’t take his eyes off me. I still had his attention, good. Once on the ferry to the station, your exhausted ex rested his head on my handsome giant’s shoulder. That could have been me, but I was obviously too late to sit next to him. Or maybe I let it happen slowly to create some distance between us. With us departing, I tried to mentally depart too.
Once at the station, we waited for a while until my train finally arrived. After all, my handsome giant lived in Amsterdam, and I didn’t. It was only twelve minutes of waiting, but I still really appreciated the company. In the meantime, I hated myself for not bringing my headphones. Music not only helps me pass the time, but it also helps me decipher my feelings a bit. It would take an hour and a half before I’d be home and my head would disappear into my pillow. He asked again if I really didn’t want to come home with them, but I wanted him, not his ex too. No matter how tempting the offer was, I wasn’t in the mood for drama or an orgie. He gave me a final kiss that left me wanting so much more. If I could have paused life for a moment, it would have been then. He promised to keep me company on the way home by talking to me on the phone, but that failed too, unfortunately. I was left behind with a mix of dumb grinning and sighs of blissful regret in a noisy train. No music and no contact with him.
Later, I found out that he had slept for a good ten hours, while I had only slept for five hours. I stayed awake due to a drug-induced haze and intense sudden happy emotions. It had been a long time since anyone had made me feel this way, and I was a bit overwhelmed. He told me that he was enjoying another party next weekend and that he would be using drugs again the weekend after that.
But those are parties that I won’t be at. He will probably meet someone else, just like he had met me last night. I responded a bit too curtly to this message, and because of my brief reply, he asked me if I found it strange, to which I honestly replied that I did find it a bit strange. That time of endlessly partying every weekend and getting messed up was something I was a bit over. But maybe he was just in that phase now, or maybe this is just his lifestyle. I’ve only known him for a few hours, so what do I really know about it? And the last thing I should do is judge, right?
The next day, I was finally sober enough to realize that I might have trusted my feelings a little too much. How well do you really know someone after such a short night? And yet, I was left with feelings. And especially a lot of interest. I wanted to get to know him better.
Martijn Winkel 