Night out was a bummer
Dear Annie, I WOKE up the other morning with my trousers down and a very sore bottom.
It was the morning after a mate’s Stag Night and I distinctly remember we’d all decided to go to an area where working girls plied their trade and treat the soonto-be-wed pal to a last illicit legover.
Anyway, we went to this busy pub where there was a drag act on and a lot of noise and singing and that.
I seem to recall this tall lass chatting to me at the bar with a lot of make-up and big hair and me thinking ‘any port in a storm’ and leaving with her.
I must have been well up for it as I have vague memories of groping and kissing her on the bed before all the drink I’d had took its toll.
Next day, though, she was gone and I had this awful feeling ‘he’ was a ‘she’. I’m not a gay, am I?
TW, Hull Annie says: