3 months ago
RIP to the Manchester Gay Village. I’ve visited several times since being back, and each time the disappointment sinks deeper—like a cheap heel into a sticky carpet. The current vibe? Empty bars, dated decor, and faces so sour they could turn a fresh Margarita into a battery-acid cocktail. I popped into REM today and sat for less than two minutes. I wasn't even scrolling through TikTok; I was actually looking up their room rates because I was prepared to spend real money. Apparently, that was two minutes too long for the staff. A bartender swooped in with all the charm of a Victorian bailiff to tell me: “You can't just sit in here if you're not going to buy a drink. Either get a drink or get out.” I informed them I was actually planning on buying a whole lot more than a drink, but since their version of "Customer Excellence" feels like being interrogated at a border crossing, I’d take my business elsewhere. I thought queer spaces were meant to be a sanctuary where you could let the worries of life pass you by. Instead, I found a place where "Safe Space" apparently means "Mandatory Transaction within 60 Seconds." I’m heading back to the Northern Quarter, where the bars actually treat you like a human being rather than a loitering citation waiting to happen. Advice to Management: If you want people to stay at your hotel, maybe don't kick them out of your bar before they can finish hitting "Book Now."
Review from Google Maps




