When she was cosied up in bed, swiping left and right on Tinder for the daily ego boost, a party invitation was not what our reader, Josie, expected…

Up popped an account named ‘the gay girlies party’. Rather than the bio of a five foot eight man trying to sell himself as six foot, there was an introduction of four housemates who wanted to bring together queer girls for a night of booze, bonding and unexpected bondage. Obviously, I was intrigued.

To be clear, I’d never been to anything like this before. This was well outside my comfort zone. But I’d just moved to a new city where I knew barely anyone. The friends that I had made so far all happened to be straight, so I thought having some new queer friends might stop me from shying back into the closet. It’s one night with nobody I know… F*ck it, why the hell not?

I tapped through the profile photos of the girls together on nights out and they were giving good vibes. The bio said if you identify as a queer woman, then to swipe right. We matched and they sent a para with all the details.

Before you say anything, don’t worry, I did my best to make sure it was safe. They sent their names and said their guy friend would be stood outside the apartment block in hi-vis to let people in and make sure nobody entered who shouldn’t. Three of my friends also had the address, walked me there and waited outside for 20 minutes until I texted I was okay. For the record, I was more than okay.

Upon entering, it was clear the girls had gone all-out. The flat door was crowned by a huge cardboard sign saying ‘welcome back into the closet’ with a dozen coat-hangers stuck to the edges. Starry-eyed, I made my way through the maze of glitter curtains that was their hallway into the living room where with every turn of the head, there was something iconic in sight.

Lingerie and rainbow flags hung from the walls. Girls were playing bra-cup beer pong (the smaller the bra-cup, the more points you get). Posters of gay icons were plastered around the room.

The night started off with everyone putting their Instagram handles on a black and white poster of a practically naked woman stuck to their fridge. As I wrote out my @ on her underboob, the girl behind me that I was chatting to informed me it was in fact her nude. That set the tone for the rest of the night.

There were group jello and tequila shots every five minutes as we all chatted the night away. After the first couple glasses of wine, the nerves were gone and everyone was loving getting to know each other in the most inclusive and welcoming environment. A few more glasses of wine later and one girl whipped out some rope and started showing people Shibari (aka Japanese rope bondage). Some girls were swapping numbers, others were sat playing drinking games, and others spent the night nattering on the balcony. It felt like everyone found someone they clicked with in some way.

I hit it off (friendship-wise) with two girls in particular, and when the party was slowing down we headed off to a bar for the rest of the night. What a success. It was such a bizarre but immensely fun evening, and certainly felt like one for the plot. I felt back in touch with my gay side, made some queer friends in my new city, and proved to myself that I’m brave enough to say yes to things that make me nervous (and yes, that includes gay women).