Here's what The Guardian says about the place I just got back from: "Reopened in a vast new venue just off the Grand Place is Le You (18 rue Duquesnoy, 00 32 2 639 1400) - a labyrinth of dancefloors and chill-out rooms that has a wild reputation for its Sunday afternoon gay-friendly tea dances."
Surrounded by men of all ages, styles, shapes and sizes (including a few specimens of the very elusive pocket gay) and on a very high dosis of apple juice, I danced my heart out to some of the first house hits, as well as the unavoidable "It's Raining Men" and other "Sing Hallelujahs" (and, what can I say, I may have also sung along). Some of the boys had the good taste of coming accessorized, so I wasn't the only girl. Though when a guy tried to set me up with his lesbian friend only to watch her run in the other direction, I wasn't sure how to take it. I thought about it for a second, decided she was shy and carried on dancing.
I left my gay prince at midnight. Tomorrow's Monday, even for fucking Cinderella over here.
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