The night to be young and gay in inner northern Melbourne, Australia has and will always be Thursday night.

It all started in a small corner pub in Fitzroy when a queen, an old school punk and a hipster decided they needed to create a queer night that they wanted to go to. They wanted a place that would rail against the stereotypes we gays had somehow set for ourselves. They wanted a night for gay boys who didn’t want their entire social lives to be backed by techno epics and re-mixed Kylie songs, and one for girls who didn’t want to spend their nights in dyke bars listening to the Indigo Girls.

And it turned out a lot of us wanted the same thing. Before they knew it, countless young Melbourne queers measured their social lives in weeks between Thursday nights. To a backdrop of sound that catered to our every musical kink, we drank, we danced, we made eyes at hotties, and we kept coming back, despite the hellish queue to get in.

The crowd was mixed, but that was its charm. We were like some island of misfit queers and we were more than happy to mingle. There were the ubiquitous gay boys in their skinny jeans Bonds tee uniforms and perfected hair. There were the there were the leather dykes who rotated doing security on the door and dominating the pool table. There were the baby dykes with their cropped hair and key chains. There were the ubiquitous indie and hipster kids, and the pouting eyeliner-ed girls in crushed velvet skirts with jet-black hair. There was the one lone drag queen who clutched her handbag to her floral, mumsy dress, and twirled expansively across the small dance floor, ricocheting off anyone who got in her way. And we let her do it because who could begrudge the rapture on her face when the right song was playing? ….

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