The end of the affair

I recently split up with my long-term, long-distance partner - I want to say boyfriend but he's in his fifties for chrissake - and it was one of those very sad but we-knew-it occasions. We love each other but it wasn't meant to be, etc.
We had great times together though. One of my fondest memories is of taking puerile butt shots of him during our various travels. It never failed to reduce us to giggling schoolboys.
Here's my favourite, courtesy of the Star Hotel in Melbourne.

I imagine if I lived in America I’d be legally required to call this ‘closure’.

Showdown: Farmer Dave vs Real Gay Cowboy

There are currently two men locked in a ruthless battle for the title of Non-Threatening Face of Gay Australia. It’s an epic clash of the bruised blondes with bright futures and I’m riveted.
For the uninitiated – and lord knows I hope that’s a lot of you – following is a form guide on our two noble hotties.
Just who will win the hearts of the mindless?

FARMER DAVE


Actual name – David Graham
Appeal – hair has shine (sometimes lacks bounce); cries on cue.
Path to celebrity – appeared on Big Brother; revealed past gay-bashing, produced photo; proved not all gay men can dance, on TV; continues to refer to himself on personal website as ‘model’.
Good deeds – admits farm is suffering; Australia now aware of drought.
Key quote – “Today I would really love to hear where you are at in your journey to completeness.”
Reason to be fearful – looks like the Joker’s girlfriend; announces holiday to gay press; may return.
Public life expectancy – six months.

REAL GAY COWBOY


Actual name – Adam Sutton
Appeal – dim good looks of young Woody Harrelson; can ride upside-down on horse.
Path to celebrity – Met Heath Ledger; appeared on cover of broadsheet; revealed violent homophobia, expressed regret; led Mardi Gras parade with Rupert Everett; ‘co-wrote’ memoir; walking Great Wall of China with Olivia Newton John.
Good deeds – latched self to cancer, HIV charities; offered self as dinner date.
Key quote – “And I had a guy come and try to hit on me, and it took me back, but I thought, ‘I can't let this be right.’ And grabbed the poor guy's fingers and snapped them backwards.”
Reason to be fearful – seamless shift from hand-breaking to hand-waving; rides Heath wave; cowboy hat.
Public life expectancy – This could take a while...

So who do think will win the sash? (I hear the prize package includes lifelong anal bleaching!)

The Neighbourhood

I live in HiDarl, or High Darlinghurst, two blocks from Taylor Square. It’s a small precinct of respite from the grime of its immediate vicinity, a pocket of denial buoyed by architectural serendipity (seriously frickin’ fancy houses and apartments) and plenty of foliage (flattering spots for working girls to entice their frankly not-that-picky clients).

It’s a very pretty number with unspeakable habits, if you will.

Here’s a sample pic. It sets a tone. More to follow when I get a handle on this thing.

Well hello!

I’m a gay freelance journalist, Sydney-born-and-bred.
Lois is me. Or maybe I’m her.
Allow me to explain.
Lois has been residing in a cramped but cunningly appointed storage unit of my brain for many years. I learned to listen to her constant objections against what she viewed as insufferable social infractions with the bemusement of a new colleague or old friend – nodding, tutting and/or sipping on cue – but gradually her arguments began repeating, beating against my conscience until her voice attained a pitch of such shrill despair I just couldn’t bear it any longer.

So she’s all yours now.

I promise to offset her bile (a little sour cream and freshly torn coriander does wonders) with some lighter moments, local drama and a few real men. You know, with hair.