Chapter 6 - Mama's Boy

I was on a roll...

As well as organising what turned out to be quite an awkward ending dinner with the under-age Birmingham Boy, I had also recently started talking with Dino - An italian guy I met online.

I knew I was tempting fate with Dino - but after everything I had been through previously with the guys I had met, I was ready to throw caution to the wind... I mean, how much worse could it get?

Again, rather than dragging out weeks online, we organised to meet within a couple of days of chatting... He seemed like a nice enough guy; into good music, worked "in banking", and "got to the gym when he could..." - Sadly, it had gotten to the stage where you simply couldn't judge a guy on these things anyway, so I figured (like ripping off a band-aid) better to just meet him and be done with it... whatever happens, happens!

Sticking to my new gameplan, I suggested brunch down the bay - We'd had beautiful weather over the last few days and the sunny outlook seemed like it was going to continue long into the weekend. We organised an 11am meet for coffee, and we'd take it from there...

----

Waiting on the corner we agreed on (out the front of Optus... because he "knew that Optus"... as he didn't get down to the bay that often) I checked the time on my phone - 10.55am - He hadn't arrived yet, and I guess I was early... Looking around, I couldn't spot anyone that looked remotely like the guy I'd seen in Dino's profile photograph: a shorter guy, seemingly broadish build, early thirties, shaved head... olive skin...

At 11am on the dot, a car pulled up right infront of the corner I was standing on, and Dino climbed out of the back seat with a cautious, seemingly nervous stumble. He slammed the door and waved off the driver who appeared to be an older lady. She waved back and took off into the traffic with a slow, sunday-driver attitude.

I took in the sight that stood before me and my breath caught in my throat. Dino was dressed head to toe in Ed Hardy... Ed Hardy shoes... Ed Hardy jeans... an Ed Hady Hoody... an Ed Hardy baseball cap... He looked like somone had taken to him with several cans of spray-paint and gone to town turning him into a walking fashion victim - It was Ed Hardy overkill... I didn't know where to look!

Imaginary Josh shook his head in utter disbelief in my minds eye - This is what you get... I thought. I dare you to ask him if he likes Ed Hardy...

"Hey!...." I greeted him with a handshake "Wow... dropped off? Lucky you..."
"Yeah... Mum wanted to drive me in..." Dino replied flatly. "She's funny like that..."
"Oh?..." I paused, completely lost for words "Nice..."
"Yeah..." he shuffled his feet on the spot. "Should we walk somewhere?..."

We walked.

Dino was nervous as hell to the point where I probably could have smelt his fear if it wasn't for the completely overpowering smell of his cologne - He must have bathed himself in Davidoff Cool Water - and I thought only Italian guys did that in school... It was so strong I think I gagged as we were crossing the road to the local Cibo Cafe. I chose an outside table - Thank god for sea breezes!

"So..." I continued "...Ed Hardy fan?"
Imaginary Josh shook his head again - You idiot...
Dino looked at me blankly "...Huh?"
"You like Ed Hardy..." I rephrased - More of a statement this time than a question.
"Yeah, why?"...
Why? Alarm bells started ringing in Mission Control - Imaginary Josh flipped through our Conversation Hand-book - Why? If not for the simply attempt at trying to start conversation, Dino's reply of "Why" seemed all together on the defense...
"Why...?" I smiled "...Just asking"
Awkward pause
"Wow!..." Dino suddenly exclaimed. "You've got really white teeth!"
"I... I do?" I stammered, completely taken aback by such a random comment.
"Yeah, they're so white!..."
Another awkward pause. Imaginary Josh sighed.
"Lucky me..." I chuckled - More in reference to the killer situation I'd landed myself in than my apparently dazzling white smile. We'd been chatting for 3 minutes and I'd already decided I wanted out of this one... I eyed my mobile sitting on the table.

Drinks. Get us drinks.

"Thirsty...?" I asked
"Not really..."

God, this was like pulling fucking teeth - really white teeth...

"No?..." I continued "You don't want anything at all?"
Dino's phone buzzed on the table - He picked it up and read the front screen.
His face visibly lit up. "Its my mum..." he smiled.
He diverted the call. His mother must have dropped him off only 5 minutes ago - I couldn't imagine why she was calling him again so soon. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. The fact that I was possibly sitting across the table from Psycho's Norman Bates wouldn't surprise me... but at least this guys mother was alive - I'd seen her drop him off when we first met!

"So... nothing to drink?" I said, standing. I wanted to get out of there.
"Um... I'll have a baby cino" he replied quietly.
A. Baby. Cino. Imaginary Josh raised an eyebrow. Real Josh followed suit.
"A baby cino...?" I asked, clearly confused that I may had misheard him.
"Yeah, why?"
Again with the why! Why? Because you're 30 years old, and despite the fact you're dressed like a teenager with too much money I figured you were past drinking frothed milk dusted with cocoa...
"Why...?" I stammered again. "...Coz it's my shout... I'll go get some drinks..."
"Okay."

I grabbed my phone and literally ran into the cafe. B-lining for the mens bathroom, I speed-dialed my wingman - it diverted straight to message bank - Bastard! I shot off a text message:

This is a fucking disaster and I want to kill myself before he gets the chance - I have "really white teeth" - I think he wants to bash me unconscious and take them - Call me!

I moved back out and ordered a hot chocolate and baby cino.

"Do you want a marshmallow with the baby cino...?" the waitress asked. I glanced out to Dino, who was talking on his mobile. I shrugged, and nodded. I got him the marshmallow. As I walked back to our table, Dino hung up his phone before I could sit down -

"I have to go..." he sighed. "...Mum wants to come pick me up"
Imaginary Josh cheered while real Josh feigned concern.
"...Is everything okay? Wow... okay..." I muttered. I placed the Baby Cino before him and sat with my Hot Chocolate. Secretly, I was annoyed the waitress didn't offer me a marshmallow too, but I guess she figured I wasn't a 6yo girl drinking a Baby Cino.
"...Mum's just a bit over-protective"
"No kidding..." I replied. Fuck it, this was weird, I didn't care now if I offended him.
"...and I don't drive so I have to be nice to her." he continued
"I see..."
"...She's annoyed with me because she wanted to go shopping today..."
"Uh huh..."
"...and I kind of owe her"
"Nah, no worries... I don't want you getting into trouble with her!" I laughed... Half jokingly.
"Yeah... I know!" he nodded.
We slumped into awkward silence again
"So is she coming to pick you up?" I asked, sipping my hot chocolate.
"She's already here..." he muttered, his Baby Cino sitting untouched in front of him.
A chill ran down my spine - Was she watching us? Was she watching her little boy? Hell, she could have had a gun trained on me for all I knew...
"Shes... here...?" I quickly scanned the neighbouring roof tops.
"Yeah..." he spoke flatly "...She's waiting in the car"

Of course she was...

Dino stood up and grabbed his mobile and keys from the table

"Well..." I breathed.
"Yeah, sorry - I gotta go"
"Yup..." I popped my lips. "Keep in touch, dude..."
"Yeah, seeya"

And like that, Mama's Boy was gone in a flash of Ed Hardy and Cool Water. I watched him walk away, pulling his hoody on over the top of his baseball cap.

My phone buzzed. It was my wingman.
I answered.

"Dude, you're too late!" I laughed
"Huh? You messaged me 2 minutes ago..."
"I know!" I laughed again, just as much in shock as I was relief
"What happened?!"
"...His Mother..." I said, shaking my head "...His mother happened!"

I looked at the time on my phone - I had probably been at the bay for all of 15 minutes - and staring at the untouched Baby Cino sitting across from me, I leant over and grabbed the marshmallow. I ate it with a smile.

"Dude..." I chuckled into my phone "You're not going to fucking BELIEVE this one!"

Back to the drawing board.
Again.

Chapter 5 - Birmingham Boy

The Mars Bar.
Again.

I found myself at Mars more and more over the next few months - Either through birthday parties, or drinks with mates - and each time was exactly the same; the same music... the same guys... the same stories being told in the beer garden... the same drag act. It got to the stage where I could almost set my watch to the DJ's playlist... Pink would transition into the Britney remix which would then transition into Christina Aguilera which would then (undoubtedly) move into the Kylie Minogue Mega Mix.

It was like the Groundhog Day of Nightclubs.

And so, as I stood to the side of the dancefloor with my drink (as drinks were not allowed on the dance floor, lest you risk a tap on the shoulder by the large moustached bouncer) I surveyed the crowd through the strobing lights and smoke machine - Beanie-Boy (who always wore a beanie pulled tight down over his head, sometimes even over one eye) was dancing in his usual position at the front of the dancefloor... Singlet-Guy (a 40-something man with a clear Peter-Pan complex, who always wore singlets no matter how cold it was) stood in the shadows to the side... Balloon-Man (an older 'gent' who once told me he owned a Hot Air Balloon) sat at his normal corner of the bar, striking up conversation with whichever guy had the misfortune of ordering a drink next to him...

Ceeeeelebrate good times, COME ON!

It was probably midway through the Kylie Mega Mix that I spotted him - Standing up by the stairs to the beer garden; He was shorter than me, with short, brown hair which had been fashioned into a sort of crew cut. Surpringly he was wearing a large, loose shirt (unbuttoned, at least, at the collar) which was doing him no favours at all when compared to every other skin-tight t-shirt currently gyrating on the dancefloor. He looked fresh and seemingly uninterested in what was happening around him - I watched him glance around the room before pulling his mobile out of his pocket.

Ahh... the old "Im going to look like Im waiting for someone by pretending Im sending a text message" trick. I recognised this immediately, because I'd used the trick myself on a number of occasions...

This guy looked so out of place he may as well have hung a sign around his neck that read "NEW GUY".

I shrugged to myself - I guessed I could either stand there and continue to watch the night play out on 'repeat', or I could go and talk to the new guy. I chose the latter.

Now I admit - When it comes to striking up conversations with complete strangers, Im generally pretty good... Not shy when it comes to conversation, and finding things in common to talk about is a strength Im rather proud of - That's outside of any situation concerning guys - With guys, Im practically the opposite. Moving across to the other side of the room, I stood myself close enough to the new guy to be within talking distance (or at least be heard over the thumping bass of the latest SClub7/5ive Mash-up) We exchanged eye contact and a smile as I now surveyed the room next to him. He reached for his phone again...

"Waiting for someone?..." I asked, loud enough to be heard.
"Nah..." He smiled in reply "...Im text'n meh sisteh".
I think he said he was texting his sister... It was hard to tell over the music.
He smiled again. "Ah ye ere'aloon?"
"Sorry?"
"AH YE ERE'ALOON?" he repeated
"Am I here alone?" I repeated back.
"Yeah!"
"Nah, Im here with some mates..." I replied. Only God knew where they'd gotten to, I hadn't seen anyone in about 1/2 an hour... The new guy smiled again - He had dimples to die for.
"A'vin a'goed wen?" He shouted.
I nodded.
I had no idea what he had asked, but I nodded.
I gestured to the room "Have you been to Mars before?..."
He shook his head "Nah, aive jus moov'd ere" he laughed "Weh, Kin ye'tell?"
I nodded again and smiled. "Yeah, kind of..."

Conversation went from there - Brendan introduced himself and we exchanged a handshake. Offering to buy him a drink, he agreed as the music shut off and the standard announcement to clear the dancefloor boomed across the speakers - The drag show was about to begin - As a wave of jocks, bears, twinks and fairies surged towards us, we were pushed in the opposite direction from the bar and back towards the dancefloor...

Guess we were watching the drag show, then...

The show ran its usual course - A tragic group dance number... a tragic solo number... and then general high-jinx shenanigans with the head drag queen and the crowd...

"Do we have any fiiiirst tiiiimersss?" she/he crowed from the stage. Fiiiirst tiiiimerssss....
Naturally, not knowing what was involved, Brendan put his hand up. The host spotted him instantly before I had the chance to pull his hand down to remain inconspicuous.
"They'll pull you up on stage!" I whispered...
"Wha...?"
But it was too late... The damage had been done, and as the crowd cheered Brendan was dragged up on stage.

"Ooooh, helloooo" the hostess sighed. "And whatssss your name?"
"Brendan."
"First time here, Brendan..."
"Aye, 'tis"
On hearing his accent, the hostess creamed herself with excited "AN ACCENT? And where are you from, sexy boy?"
"Birmingham..." Brendan replied with a smile
The hostess wrapped her manly arm around him "Biiiiiiirminghaaaaam!... And are you single?"
"Aye."
The crowd cheered.
"And are you going to get your cock out for us, Brendan?" the hostess shouted. The crowd cheered louder as Brendan realised that he was suddenly part of the show - It was your general run of the mill Mars drag show as far as I was concerned, but for the new guy who had never seen the been before, how was he supposed to know that any new guy that got dragged up on stage was normally asked to get his dick out. He shot me a suddenly shocked look of surprise.
Shaking himself playfully from the grasp of the hostess, he declined the chance.
"WHO WANTS TO SEE COCK!?" The hostess screamed again, and like rabid dogs hungry for blood, the crowd cheered once more. Brendan shook his head... "Nah, no wey!".
Though he never stopped smiling, Birmingham Boy had turned a distinct shade of crimson. Grace under pressure.
As he was dismissed from stage with a free drinks pass and a slap on the back, the final drag dance began. Returning to my side, he raised his eyebrow at me "Jesus, Im not get'n me todger out up there!"
Shrugging, I laughed. "They do it to everyone! You'd be surprised what you get... "

We watched the show finish side by side.

As the final dance came to a close, I suddenly became distinctly aware of the eyes in the room - Everyone was staring at Brendan... And of course, I could understand why: Good looking guy, new to the club, foreign... It was a hook-ups dream.

We moved up to the beer garden as soon as the show was done, and like seagulls fighting for a chip at the beach we were mobbed by several guys who clearly weren't interested in me, but my new friend Birmingham Boy. I had never seen anything like it in all my times at Mars - A group literally formed around us - Brendan had become fair game.

Questions, comments, jokes... Conversation between us had become near impossible with interruption after interruption of guys all desperate to get his attention. I took my chance while I could.

"Give me your phone!" I muttered quietly. Without question, Brendan handed over his Nokia.
I punched in my number and saved it under "Josh - Mars" so that there was no question of who I was. Handing it back to him, I decided to play a card I'd never used before - The Mystery Card.

"Dude, Im gonna cruise!" I whispered into his ear while an older guy retold his 'Holiday in Birmingham Story" to a less than interested Brendan. "Have fun with all this!..."
He turned to me and grabbed my shoulder "Yer goin?!" He exclaimed. I quickly explained my number in his phone, and told him to give me a buzz tomorrow when all the "men had cleared" He nodded and rolled his eyes as I moved away from the clawing, vapid mess that had surrounded us.

Glancing back before leaving the beer garden, I saw the group surrounding Birmingham Boy tighten and increase... Honestly, you'd think Colin Farrel had come to The Mars Bar the way everyone was behaving.

With a smirk, I left the club.

- - - - -

As agreed, Brendan called me the next day and we joked about the craziness of the night before. After chatting for a while about how our nights ended up, we decided to continue conversation over a meal - Brendan didn't have a car, so I offered to pick him up and drive us together.

"D'ye know the carpark 'cross the rohd by th shopp'n cenner?"

I did. We organised at 6.30 pickup.

Things went smoothly. I pulled up to a smartly dressed Brendan waiting on the corner like a gigolo. Climbing in, we exchanged hellos again and continued conversation where we left off previously.

Talking with Brendan was great, but I really struggled with his accent. When he got going, I caught three, maybe four words out of every sentence - and rather than asking him to slow down or repeat what he had said, I would simply nod and smile like I knew exactly what he was saying. We talked about life in Adelaide (he was studying nursing... of course) life in Birmingham (which he loved, and missed) friends (he didn't have many yet) and family (and his brothers, or as he referred to them "Our Tony" and "Our Caleb") - It was cute. He was cute. Things were going well...

"Las' week me ma came doon fer me birthdey..." he casually mentioned between mouthfuls "Twas good te se'er agehn... "
"Awesome... A birthday huh... How old are you?" I asked.
He paused to take a drink and then continued - "Jus' turned 17"

I stopped mid-chew. Imaginary Josh stood up quickly in my minds eye - Don't looked shocked!
"Woooow..." I smiled, picking my words carefully. "Happy Birthday to you!"

I had just turned 26. Birmingham Boy was 9 years younger than me.
That, AND still not even 18 yet.

Growing up with a younger brother, I had somehow made a rule for myself that I would never date a guy younger than him - Jake was 3 years younger than me, so at 26 that made my 'cut off point' 23 years old. Birmingham Boy was still 6 years younger than that. I wasn't even OUT at 17 years of age, let alone standing on a stage at a gay-bar with a crowd shouting at me to get my cock out... Imaginary Josh held a sign up in me head: ABORT MISSION!

I didn't know how to continue - It suddenly occured to me that we were drinking wine - I was supplying a minor! A minor who I had every intention of taking back to my house and shagging senseless up until about 5 minutes prior to finding out he still technically couldn't even hire movies like Trainspotting or Apocalypse Now from the video store...

We finished our meals (and he finished his wine) and I began to draw the night to a close - I felt dirty! Suddenly, somehow, I had become The Balloon Man - The older gent - And I was only twenty-fucking-six! How was Birmingham Boy even allowed into The Mars Bar? I mean, he definitely looked older than 17. Imaginary Josh sat up in my minds eye and pointed a finger: He looked older, Your Honour!

We drove home listening to the radio - It was late, so I could forgive the guy for being tired (it was probably past his bedtime anyway) And our conversation became a lazy back and forth. Dropping him off at his house, I shook his hand.

"Great night, thanks!" I smiled. "Was fun..."
"Yeah, 'twas goed..." He concurred.

We parted ways quite amicably, and stayed in touch a bit here and there via random sms or msn conversation. He continued his nursing studies and settled into life here in Adelaide nice and comfortably, though it was safe to say that Birmingham Boy was not a guy I felt the need to catch up with again; That ship had well and truly sailed!

An alcoholic with a chemical imbalance... A religious fundamentalist... A guy with a truth complex... A party boy with questionable morals...

And now, a minor...

Doing well so far!

And thus, the search continued...

Chapter 4 - Party Boy : Part 2

((NB - Chapter 4 is split into 2 parts - This is Part 2 - If still unread, please follow link to Part 1 before continuing))

I continued my drive home with several voices arguing in my head...

"You can't judge him on this..."
"Of course you can judge him on this..."
"It might not have been him..."
"It was definitely him..."
"Maybe he was going to the restaurant?"
"At 11.45 at night?
"So what if he's into Beat Sex?..."
"But it's dangerous..."
"You're not in danger..."

I argued with myself well into the night - Questioning my moral point of views and opinions as to why I was suddenly battling with the knowledge that, it would appear, Sam was into sex with anonymous guys in parks...

"Maybe he was meeting a friend there?"
"You meet friends in bars, not parks"

Somehow - He had gone from a cool guy I had brunch with... a guy I was looking forward to catching up with again... to a guy I was rather turned off by.

I wasn't stupid, or naive - I knew what guys did, and I knew it wasn't uncommon for guys to head into The Gardens... Sadly though, the subject seemed so taboo that I certainly had never, ever discussed it with any of the gay men I knew, and because of this the entire thing still seemed so foreign and strange to me...

For me - Sex wasn't a handshake... it wasn't something you shared with a faceless individual... it wasn't something you stopped off in a park for like you were driving through a MacDonalds drivethrough...

Sex wasn't a happy meal....

I argued with myself to sleep

"Admit it, you're intrigued with the idea..."
"It's dangerous..."
"He's a grown man, he can do what he wants..."
"It's not nice..."
"You hardly know him, what's the problem?"

......

At lunch the next day, I was sitting with friends when my phone beeped.

"Hey Josh! Still interested in coming along tomorrow night?"

Sam, and drinks with his mates - Under normal circumstances, the idea of this would have been enough to scatter butterflies across my stomach... Sadly, I was disappointed to note that I wasn't as excited as I perhaps should have been. I replied, thumb-punching the keys into a message I didn't really feel like sending.

"For sure! Looking forward to it. Let me know the where and when"

I hit Send.

Pausing briefly, I then began another message.

"Hey, I think I saw you last night? Were you driving down Greenhill Road?"

Send.

A lie, of course - But cleverly I figured it wasn't as confronting as "Hey, are you into Beat Sex?" Greenhill Road wasn't even where I saw Sam, but he couldn't have gotten where he was without driving along it in the direction he was facing when I saw him. He replied immediately.

"Mars Bar - 1130ish - Buzz me when you arrive. Yeah, you may have seen me"

That was confirmation enough - I hit reply.

Imaginary Josh sat up in my minds eye: Don't fuckn reply to that message...

Real Josh ignored him.

"Wow... Out late? What were you up to?

Send.

Idiot. I knew this was crossing the line. I knew I had no right at all to ask the question, and I knew it wasn't any of my business. Sam didn't owe me any answers - I'd only known him a couple of days - But I had to know... I wanted to see what he would say. His reply came through immediately again.

"Just catching up with some mates"

Catching up with some mates.

Indeed.

- - - -

The following night was cold and wet - Parking on Gouger street was a nightmare (as always) and a hard rain shower had begun to fall across the city. Boys huddled under umbrellas together in line for Mars and I lined up behind them with no cover above me.

This sucked already.

I moved under the veranda and out of line to try and stay dry. I removed my phone and started another message.

"Hey dude, just arrived. Waiting to get in"

Send.

It took another 15 mins to get in, and Sam didn't reply in that time. Checking my jacket at the door, I purchased a drink and began scoping the place out. Mars Bar never failed to amaze me - You could wait months and months between visits... years between visits... and the place simply never changed... The same guys on the dance floor, the same Kylie remixes, the same barmen and DJs... It was like everything was somehow trapped in time.

Trapped being the operable word.

I did a quick lap of the main dancefloor before heading up to the beer garden which, despite the driving rainstorm, was still surprisingly full of people. I couldn't find Sam anywhere... Which only left one place: The Kitchen.

To be honest, I didn't even know why they called it "The Kitchen" - Nothing about it was remotely kitcheny - but it was the 'second' dancefloor at Mars. The main dancefloor played your regular pop, your Top-40, your RnB, The Kitchen played your hard dance and trance. It was nearly always frequented by guys off their tits on pills or thin twinks dancing topless on blocks.

Neither image appealed to me.

Looking around, I spotted Sam sitting on a couch chatting to another guy who was wearing a baseball hat. Who the fuck wears a baseball-cap to a nightclub?

I walked up and gave his leg a playful kick. "Hey dude..."

He looked slowly up at me.

"Oh HEY! Josh..." He smiled. "You made it..."

He remained sitting. I stood, half waiting to be introduced to Baseball-Cap Guy, half expecting the conversation to continue. It didn't.

Imaginary Josh held up a sign in my minds eye: Third Wheel.

"Your mates here?" I asked, to fill in the silence more than anything else.

"What?..." The music was loud.

"ARE YOUR MATES HERE?"

"Nah, I don't know where they are..." he replied. I glanced to the guy sitting with him again.

Third Wheel.

Silence.

"Cool, well Im going to...." (you've already got a drink, Josh) "...get another drink"

"''Kay!"

Fuuuckn hell.

I moved away from the kitchen and back into the main area - Grabbing my phone, I sent a group text to any friend in my phonebook who I figured might make it to Mars that night.

Safety in numbers.

"Hey! At Mars for once... Heading out? Let me know!"

I leant up against a wall and watched the dancers on the dancefloor grind and step to the beat. My phone surprised me by beeping back. It was a girlfriend from work.

"Im here now! We're in the beer garden!"

Thank Christ - I moved up to the beer garden and happily greeted my saving grace, where we chatted for twenty or so minutes. I explained the entire situation to her.

"What are you going to do?" She asked, laughing "Is he still here?"

"In The Kitchen, I think. He seemed to be with a guy"

"You should let him know you found friends..."

She was right. With a nod, I moved back to The Kitchen.

No longer sitting, Sam was now dancing topless with Baseball-Cap Guy. Moving onto the dancefloor with the music, I joined their dancing... Rave music wasn't neccessarily my forte when it came to dance, but it hardly required coordination; It was more kind of just a matter of moving your head in time with the music...

"Sorry, found mates!" I exclaimed over the bass.

"Cool!..." he looked at me... looked around me. I recognised the look immediately. The gritted jaw, the shifty eyes... Sam was clearly not altogether there on the dancefloor.

Goddamn it - Beat sex and pills... This Party Boy was falling fast in regard.

We danced for a few more minutes - I watched Baseball-Cap guy out the corner of my eye while Party-Boy moved up and grabbed my hips. I let him. His broad chest was covered in a light fur, his skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat - The smell of ocean had now been replaced with the smell of heat. We danced closeley with one another.

Baseball-Cap guy came up behind him and put his arm around his Party-Boys chest.

I saw the posturing immediately - The game was on.

The three of us continued to dance, Party-Boy in the middle facing me. He reached down to pull my shirt up - I stopped him.

"No..." I smiled "That stays on..."

"Loosen up..." he slurred.

We continued to dance...

I watched Baseball-Cap Guy's hand snake down into Party-Boys back pocket and bring out another pill. He placed it in Sams mouth before chasing it with a bottle of water. He sucked it down like a babe on a teat before Baseball-Cap Guy pulled the bottle back and sprayed us all with water...

...Like it wasn't wet enough outside already.

Nice work, dude.

But they loved it... Dancing to the music, I backed off.

This was stupid.

Holding up my empty bottle, I indicated I was going to get another drink. Party-Boy smiled and pawed at my face playfully, the palm of his hand sweeping across my forehead and down the side of my face to my neck when it rested on my chest "Good. Drink more"

Moving out of The Kitchen, I turned back briefly to see Baseball-Cap Guy and Party-Boy disco-pashing on the dancefloor.

Yup.

That was the last time I saw Party-Boy. He called me once a few days later and apologised for being so "fucked up" the last time he saw me. I allowed the apology, and told him it was certainly an interesting night. He didn't question where I disappered to after I left him on the dancefloor, but admitted he didn't remember much about how the night played out.

I didn't ask about Baseball-Cap Guy.

Our sms's slowed down to nil... I caught him briefly on msn a few times here or there, but was no longer interested in pursuing anything with him. The cool lifesaver who worked with kids and their problems seemed to have quite a few of his own from what I could tell... What little and brief conversation I had with him since that night uncovered a few demons that I could well have done without discovering... Drugs... Drinking problems... Beats... and a seemingly lost sense of 'wellbeing' over all...

I had already done my time with "The Drunk" - Party-Boy and his antics were now of no interest to me... I refused to play the Florence Nightingale of gay men, rescuing the lost and troubled guys of Adelaide...

So I cut the cord...

...Back to the drawing board.

Chapter 4 - Party Boy : Part 1

The gameplan had to change...

It was more than safe to say that my enthusiasm had waned since my encounter with Opposites-Guy... My interest in 'the gay scene' in Adelaide was failing rapidly - What little opportunities there were to meet a nice guy in Adelaide seemed to be few and far between...

The Mars Bar offered up a fun night out if you went with a crowd - but I couldn't stomach the idea of going alone... The music was good, and with friends at least you were guaranteed safety in numbers - The brief moments I had found myself alone at Mars in the past left me feeling awkward and uncomfortable: Older men (much older men) would slyly approach and smile drunkedly... like sharks... and whilst overly harmless their perusal creeped me out. Twinks (young, thin gay boys... or 'bois') would scream and vamp together in groups like seagulls, pouting their freshly glossed lips and constantly checking and re-checking their sculptured fringes... The occasional Muscle-Mary would appear in the crowd without his shirt on, though to even make eye-contact with such a guy was near impossible given the amount of drugs pumping through their system - A hazy dull gaze would probably be the most you'd get, and even then "boys like that" didn't go for "guys like me" ... All in all, Mars Bar was good for a dance, but that was about it... Actually going to the club in the hope of finding a possible 'guy-friend' wasn't neccessarily a practiced thing... A hook-up, possibly... But I wasn't interested in hook-ups. Especially given the crowd.

So.
Given the circumstances.
The internet, was where I was stuck.

I logged onto my computer.
And began again.

No... No... Too young... No... To old... No... No...
It continued like this for days.

And then, Sam turned up.

Sam messaged me a standard greeting and his profile certainly had me interested. He had listed his occupation as "Therapist" - And on chatting with him online, I discovered that he was actually a childrens Speech Pathologist. Further to this he was also a life-saver, and trained Nippers on the weekend when he could find the time - Judging from the photographs on his profile, this seemed to fit - He appeared a bit shorter than me, well built, broad shoulder, friendly smile, with short cropped mousy blonde hair. Pictures ranged from him with mates at a party, to him standing on a beach with the ocean in the background looking... well... life-saver-ish.

It was like the Gay-Gods were mocking me; tempting me with a good looking guy, healthy and fit, with a great job, great extra-curricular activities... AND he worked with children?

He was too good to be true.
I thrust a middle finger to the Gay-Gods and went for it...

Like I said, the gameplan had to change.

Firstly; rather than spend a couple of weeks getting to know them over MSN, I'd organise to meet them straight up after the first initial chat online - There are a couple of reasons for this... It doesn't waste time (if they're gonna end up being psychos, better to get it out the way than waste 2 or 3 weeks trying to determine if they are) And, there's less attachment, and less opportunity to build up an 'expectation', and risk another terribly awkward Opposites-Guy scenario...

Secondly; no more 'drinks'... no more 'dinners'... no more 'movies - Too much, too much, too much! Now, it was all about the lunch date... all about the brunch date... Doing this, I believed, would completely take the heat off any scenario I would normally set up in my head - If it was good, you had an afternoon or even an evening to extend into... if it was bad, you could easily come up with several reasons to not continue the date (I have rehearsals... Im babysitting... I have surgery...)

Sam and I organised to meet at a breakfast cafe he suggested just out of town - He would come up straight after Nipper Training (and pervertedly, I found the idea of him showering up at 'the surf club' before coming to meet up with me incredibly hot) and we'd have brunch.

The cafe was small, and 'communal' - There were no separate tables, just large trellises and benches. Luckily, there was only one other couple there, seated way down at the other end of the outside dining area, so arriving before him I had the opportunity to pick a space down the opposite end.

Sam arrived soon after me, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief - He looked exactly like he had in his profile pic... masculine, friendly, healthy... His broad shoulders and large arms filled out his polo-top beautifully... nicely tanned... he smelt like the ocean...

I reached out to shake his hand with a smile and it was returned with a solid, firm handshake that got my grandfathers nod of approval straight away.

"G'day, sorry Im late - One of the boys had to wait for his parents to pick him up..."

He wasn't late... in fact I think he had still arrived before time - But the fact his excuse was related the welfare of one of his nippers made me smile.

"It's alright... I hadn't even noticed"

Hadn't noticed? Huh? Hadn't noticed what? He wasn't late... What hadn't I noticed?
The imaginary Josh in my head mouthed four simple words:
Don't. Fuck. This. Up.

I was suddenly incredibly nervous... Sam was everything he had said he was. No opposites...
"I'll have a pineapple juice..." he ordered. Imaginary Josh nodded. Real Josh just sat in silence.

"I'll have a coffee, thanks" I spat.
A COFFEE? I didn't even drink coffee... What the fuck was I ordering coffee for?
"A flat white?" our waitress smiled.
"Yes..." I stammered "A flat... white...."

God...

After the initial nerves passed, the conversation flowed freely and easily. Sam was great. Sam was smart. Sam was funny. Sam was interesting.

Sam was hot.

We talked about family... friends... hobbies... We talked about guys...

"I don't really have time to catch up and meet other guys..." Sam spoke between drinks "It's nice to get out and actually met a nice guy for once"

I could feel myself blushing. "Me either..." I lied in reply "it's a nice change..."

A nice change from what? I panicked.

"...a nice change from being so busy."

Good save. Hold on, busy? Don't sound busy, you're not busy if you make it sound busy he'll think you don't have time for him and lose interest...

"But I've got more time on my hands lately..." I continued.

Shut up shut up shut uuuuuuuuuup. Imaginary Josh was waving his hands wildly in my minds-eye... You're rambling. Shut up!

I sipped at my flat white and tried to swallow it without cringing.
Suffer for your art, Josh.

Hell, this was exhausting.

We drank. We ate a light, healthy breakfast. We walked out into the street.

"Hey, this was fun..." Sam smiled. "What are you doing tuesday night?"
Rehearsal.
"Nothing..." I smiled in return. I pretended to think."Yeah... Nothing".
Rehearsal could wait.
"My mate is having going away drinks... you should come." he stated, chilled.

Hell yes.

We agreed to meet Tuesday night.

We shook hands again and parted ways. I floated back to my car like a 16yo girl.
My day continued in much the same fashion - I replayed my morning over and over again in my head - From start to finish, on an endless loop, all the way through lunch and into the evening.

That night, after I had finished my gym session, I drove lazily back through the city homeward bound - Skirting the city, I turned left and began to drive past a well known-strip in the gay community - An infamous beat - to shortcut between main roads to get home quicker.

A beat, for my more innocent of readers, is a place normally outdoors, dark and secluded, where men (straight, gay, bi, married, single, whatever) can go to have anonymous sex. Beat-sex never interested me - Actually, it scared the absolute hell out of me - Guys wound up dead around places like this... and there was sickness... and any number of unknown variables that could seriously fuck you up. As a kid growing up, my dad had always warned me of 'certain places' where 'men did things' - The toilet block by the bike track... The wood by the hiking trail - And I was not to ever go there under any circumstances... I'd basically been conditioned into fearing (and I guess disapproving, to an extent) that kind of lifestylepractice.

And anyway, this was my shortcut...

...Sometimes, just sometimes, as you drove down this road, you could catch a car waiting with it's blinker on waiting to give way to you before turning into 'The Garden'. These cars were nearly always being driven by 'older' men.

As I neared the turn-in - I recognised the car immediately.
This was no older man.

And as I drove down my short-cut, I passed Sam sitting there with his blinker on. Waiting.
Giving way to me.

Somewhere, The Gay-gods I'd given the bird to earlier were watching with smirks on their faces.

...Fuck.

Chapter 3 - Opposites Guy

After crawling back out of my shell a week later from The Mormon incident, I believed I was a pillar of strength and experience... Ha! One religious scare wasn't enough to throw me off my game-plan - Like it or not, I was kind of excited by the prospect of getting back on the horse again... I'd had my freaky experience over a dinner and movie and that was behind me now, surely now it was clear sailing!

Logging on to my online profile, several messages clicked through to my inbox, and the art of sifting through the options was an art I was already quite good at...

No... No... To Young... Maybe... No... To Old... No...

Wait a second...

"Hey there. Nice pic! I really like the sound of your profile...
Up for a chat sometime?"

Interesting.

In terms of Internet Dating, this message roughly translated to "Hi, judging from your pic, I think you're fuckable - Want to see if I am?" Clicking the link directly to TuffGuy11's profile, I was pleasantly surprised with what I saw; Thirty-two year old guy... looking for a relationship... interested in sports and the outdoors... 'Straight Acting'...

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Good so far.

'Straight Acting' was a term I was still coming to grips with myself - It was rife throughout online profiles: "No fems, straight acting only!" "Must be straight acting!" "Don't bother unless Straight Acting"... There were many guys out there that would counter this with "Im not straight acting, or gay acting, Im just me..." - Basically speaking, a straight acting guy doesn't behave in an outwardly 'gay' way.

Checking out Tuffguy's picture, I was greeted with the friendly, smiling face of a guy dressed in a rugby uniform. He was well built, blonde, posing with his beer and a couple of mates.

Tick.

I shot a message back to Tuffguy11's inbox - Cheers for the message, sure Im up for chat.

I attached my msn address and waited for him to add me.

He did immediately.

And thus the internet dating dance had begun once again... Formal introductions, aimless chat about ones day, how one is feeling, what one has planned on the weekend... No I'm not online much, yes I'm out, no I don't have a boyfriend... So on and so forth...

Tuffguy seemed pretty cool... He easily kept up with me on msn and fired questions back as quickly as I could reply and send my own - Nice work! Encouraging...

"What do you do for a living?" I typed, honestly interested.

"I work part-time..." he replied. "...Im studying." He didn't answer the question.

"Really?" I asked. "...Studying what?"

"Metaphysics..."

I paused. That sounded hardcore... Clearly Tuffguy11 had his head screwed on if he was interested in the nature of reality and mind over matter...

My interest had been sparked.

We continued to chat for a few days - I deliberately drew this out longer than normal, because I wanted to check and double check that there were no hidden skeletons in his closet that would come bursting out over dinner to dance across the table to kick me in the face.

Finally, I decided that Toughguy11, otherwise known as Steven, was sane enough to meet face to face. We organised a time and a place - 6.30pm, out the front of Hoyts Norwood.

"I'll be wearing a brown jacket" he typed...

Good to know. We exchanged numbers and locked it in.

I've learnt that exchanging phone numbers with a guy online is an interesting concept - Heaven forbid you should actually call them... Generally recieving a phone number means you move from chatting on msn to chatting via sms - Guys who actually call the number they recieve will no doubt get diverted to message bank to leave a message... This means the guy on the recieving end can suss-out his callers voice; friendly? masculine? coherent? Being diverted to message bank means the caller also gets to judge the guy on his voicemail answering message: how does it sound? short? long? to the point? waffling?

Such a tangled web... but I was learning these are the subtle ways on the Internet Dating scene.

Either way, I never actually called Steven on the number he gave me.

I had already learnt from my previous experience with The Mormon to leave plans open... Dinner was far less of a commitment than dinner and a movie - And if we were going to meet at Norwood, and things were going well, we always had the option to take things further to a bar or indeed the cinema if we wanted to... A good plan.

The evening rocked around, and I decided for a more covert approach to my evening. Knowing where Steven would be meeting me, I staked out the cafe across the street, sitting quietly with a coke, watching for a brown jacket to appear across the street...

6.30pm rolled around. No brown jacked.

6.35.

6.40...

6.45......

If it was one thing my parents taught me, it was time management... Being late, unless with a relatively good excuse, was enough to lose points with me... Especially on a first meet with someone.

6.50 ticked over, and a tall figure appeared across the street wearing what appeared to be a tan, leather jacket... Could that be Steven? I hoped not.

Steven described himself as having a 'rugby build' - well built, solid... The figure across the street was probably best described as portly if it wasn't for his height... his height just made him appear oafish...

The guy across the street easily looked in his forties... Though he was wearing sunglasses, and from this distance it was had to tell... Steven's profile claimed he was 32.

Sitting on his hip with his arms crossed, I figured it wasn't him. Straight acting or not, you didn't have to be an expert to realise the figure in the tan jacket was a little 'nancy' acting simply by decoding his physical body language... He looked mincing.

My intuition offered a soft growl of warning.

I reached for my phone, and dialed Stevens number...

It rang.

Please don't reach for your phone I thought - Please don't be him.

The figure across the street turned around and reached into his pocket.

Flipping open his phone, he answered my call.

"Hello...?" he mumbled. Nervous.

"Hi... Steve? It's Josh."

I watched as he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder. Steve crossed his arms and paced to the left. Was he cold? The sun was shining...

"Hi. Where are you?" he asked quickly. If I had pondered on it, it was almost like he was accusing me of being the late one. I pushed the thought aside.

"Im across the street" I said, standing up - I raised my hand in the air.

Steve turned around and looked in the opposite direction.

"...No, the other side..." I corrected...

Steve finally caught sight of me and raised his hand in reply. He flipped his phone closed and started to cross the street.

No... No no no no no no no.

"Hey there, nice to meet you..." I said as I extended my hand to shake his. We connected.

It was weak and limp wristed. A slight shiver ran down my spine.

The perfect way to judge a man... my grandfather once told me ...is by his handshake. And if Steves handshake was anything to judge by, Steve was possible an 8 year old girl.

"Sssssssorry Im a bit late" he chucked.

I cringed inwardly - Steve lisped the 's' in 'sorry', and not in an unfortunate speech impediment way; he sounded like he was channelling Ertha Kitt as Catwoman. Straight acting? No. My heart sank a little. He sounded gayer than a bag full of butterflies...

We made brief small talk, and decided to walk to the nearby Indian restaurant to grab a meal. Like it or not, I was a man of my word. We had agreed to dinner, and I wasn't going to bail within 30 seconds of meeting someone.

As we walked, I quickly went over everything Steve had told me previously - By his definition of 'rugby build', Frankenstein possibly could have made the team - He was large, wide, and slow moving... Sometimes when he walked it almost looked like he swung the same arm forward as the leg he was stepping with, something I'd only ever seen happen when choreographing uncoordinated dancers in theatre... I never knew it was something someone could do simply walking down the street...

If he was honestly 32 years old, then I was the Prince of Abu Dabi.

His lisp was unfortunate.

Sadly - I know this entire breakdown makes me sound like a shallow, vapid man-hunter... Unfortunately though, when meeting one from The Internet, a description is something you heavily rely on - It's not like you see someone at a bar and decide to talk to them - It relies a lot on the back and forth interactions that happen electronically...

I decided the photograph he used on his profile must have been at least 4 or 5 years old...

It was then that I remembered he was dressed in a rugby uniform.

"So you play Rugby?..." I asked, trying to break the awkward silence that had already fallen

"...huh?" he breathed.

"You play Rugby...?" I continued "...The pic on your profile... you're in a Rugby uniform"

He paused for a moment. "Oh that..." he chuckled. "No, that was a dress-up party..."

A dress up party...

Of course it was a dress-up party.

This guy didn't look like he could catch a ball if he had velcro sewn to his palms.

It occured to me then, that he was pretty much the opposite to everything he said he was...

No rugby build...

Certainly not 32...

Not straight acting...

Our evening continued awkwardly... For the first time, I found myself faced with a situation where even I couldn't fill in the quiet moments with conversation. His answers turned into one word replies that made our chatter almost robotic.

Yes.

No.

Blue.

Adelaide.

Yes.

Sometimes.

No.

Uh huh.

Sadly, I gave up.

Excusing myself from the table - I subtly grabbed my mobile and headed quickly to the bathroom. I didn't even bother with an sms this time, I called my wingman directly.

Voicemail.

"Dude, it's Josh - Call me immediately - I don't care what you have to fake, but get me the hell out of here - This is a fuck'n nightmare! Pretend grandma is dead or something..."

I hung the phone up and returned. Ensuring my phone wasn't on silent, I sat back at the table with Opposites Guy.

We ate our dinner in silence. Occasionally discussing the taste of the food or the ambience of the room... The complete stranger sitting across from me didn't make things easy for me.

I sat there silently begging my phone to ring.

"So metaphysics, huh? How's that for you?" I asked...

"Oh that..." he spoke through half-chewed butter chicken. "It's not really metaphysics..."

"Its not...?"

"No..."

Silence again. Conversation with Opposites Guy was slowly killing me. I waited for him to elaborate on what it was if it wasn't metaphysics he was studying. He didn't, so I probed him further; "If it's not metaphysics, then what is it...?"

He looked at my warily. "Some people don't get it... I don't often talk about it..."

I had already surrended myself to the fact that the night was a write-off, so I pushed further.

"Well... Im interested." I lied. "So go for it..."

"Im studying Tarot..." he spat out suddenly, like he was confessing.

I raised an eyebrow. THIS was interesting. Having a background in Tarot myself, a smile broke across my face. "Really? I know Tarot. What deck are you working with? The Rider Waite?"

Finally something mutual to talk about...

"No... Angel Cards" he replied.

My heart sank again... Angel Cards were not Tarot Cards... It was at this stage of the conversation that I also realised you couldn't study the Tarot - Online he made it sound like he worked part time because he was studying at uni... and he certainly wasn't able to study the Tarot at a university level... let alone at TAFE level... and even then he wasn't studying Tarot, he was 'studying Angel Cards'...

Christ, get me out of here...

I stared at my phone wondering what the hell my Wingman was doing.

This was pointless.

We finished our mains and I took the opportunity there to end the night.

I paid for the bill myself - Quick and painless - And we headed to outside onto the Parade.

"Tonight was fun..." he smiled.

Seriously? Fun? Had he actually enjoyed himself? I was briefly shocked into silence.

We walked back in the same direction to our cars.

When we arrived, he spoke again. "...Do you want to catch up again?"

Do. Not. Lie.

I couldn't do it. Tonight's dinner was bad enough, the actual thought of sitting through another night of it was enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Do. Not. Lie.

I took a deep breath.

"Well this is what sucks about meeting someone off the internet..." I began.

WHAT? I was suddenly split in two... My mouth was running by itself while my head screamed at me to shut up. My mouth wasn't listening.

My mouth continued; "You build up an image in your head of how someone is going to be..."

I took another breath while my head continued to scream at me: Shut up... Shuuuut uuuuup! "...and then when you meet them, they're nothing like you imagined them to be..."

The small, imaginary Josh sitting inside my head threw his arms in the air and just stared in disbelief at what the real Josh was saying.

"Really...?" he asked. "How did you imagine me?".

Well I walked right into that one, didn't I...

The imaginary Josh facepalmed himself.

Once again, my mouth responded before I could filter my answer. "...differently."

"I imagined you differently" I continued.

I had an image of myself with a boot squarly planted in my mouth.

Another image of myself digging myself further and further into the ground flashed into my head. This was, quite easily, the most awkward conversation I had ever had. Ever.

"So..."

"...So"

I was suddenly talking under water. Under sand. Concrete even.

"Drive safely..." I smiled. "...lots of Cops around"

"...Uh huh"

Im a bastard, I thought... a heartless, cruel and judgemental bastard. Steve stood there looking heartbroken... Seriously? Had he really enjoyed the night that much? Did he honestly think we hit it off? I was confused and tired and embarassed and I just wanted the earth to open up and swallow me...

Steve stepped closer, leaned in and kissed me on the cheek in the middle of the car-park.

"Have a good night..."

This was God punishing me... Had The Mormon prayed for this? Opposite Guy, despite being everything he said he wasn't, despite what I thought was a terrible, awkward evening, despite me absolutely saying the worst things possible to end the evening, had kissed me and wished me a good night.

I was evil incarnate.

We separated and I walked back to my car as a light rain began to fall across the suburb. I didn't bother to run - I deserved to get wet.

This was strike 2.

3 Strikes, and I would consider myself out of the Internet Dating game...

But they say third times a charm...

Chapter 2 - The Ex, The Promise, The Mormon and Me

After The Drunk, we need to jump forward a few years - Roughly 4 to be precise - Taking me from a niave and closeted 18 year old guy, to a 22 year old with a bit more experience under his belt... But why the flash forward, I hear you ask? There are two reasons, mainly...

Firstly, The Ex.

I can honestly say (or sadly say? happily say?) that there's only one real guy out there who I call 'The Ex', and he knows who he is - The thing is, the majority of you out there know who he is too; We move in the same circles, the same industries, and have a ridiculous 126 friends 'in common' on Facebook...

...And it's for these reasons I won't disclose the ins and outs of our relationship - Simply know that things were never the same after The Ex, despite best efforts, and know there are always two sides to every story...

Secondly, The Promise.

There is a man, whose memory I still hold close and dear to me. I promised him a long time ago that I would never disclose our story - and I am a man of my word.
Strength and Honour, mate...

So moving on...

Four or so years later - I was single again... Living back at mum and dads house with two rooms to myself and a computer... It was here, that I discovered the incredible world of Internet Dating.

The incredibly sad, scary, funny, depressing, exciting and strange world... of Internet Dating.

Again, I was alone in trying to work all this out by myself... What on earth do you put on your profile? Which picture should I use? Do I seriously have to list the size of my dick? Top? Bottom? Versatile? Should I be worried that guy has "flamed" my profile? What the fuck is CBT? Is NSA-NRR a good thing?

It was insane - And within a week of setting up my profile, I had recieved several offers to meet other guys ranging from a young 18 year old afraid to tell his parents he was gay to a 60 year old guy who wanted to treat me to a night in a hotel...

I settled on a guy a couple of years older than me - Mark.
Mark and I struck up conversation via msn, and chatted back and forth for a few days before I finally struck up the courage to ask him if he wanted to 'catch up for a drink'

"Busy Sunday?" I typed into the chat window.
"I am in the morning..." he responded immediately "...But free in the afternoon onwards!"

So we arranged to catch up... "Drinks and a movie..."
Seemed harmless enough... right?

Mark seemed like a cool guy - He even wrote music! On discovering this, he asked if I'd like to hear one of his songs, which of course I jumped at the chance... The MP3 file came through msn smoothly, and I hit play... The song was entitled "My Sacred Heart", and reminded me immediately of a badly remixed Enigma song.

"What do you think?" He typed...
"Wow, it's great!" I lied... "

BUT - Out of the ridiculous selection of men who had messaged me that week - He appeared the 'most normal'. Nice enough looking judging from the profile pics he had on his internet profile, and sadly (and something I still believe about internet dating) he seemed to be the "best option" out of what I had to choose from at the time...

I clicked stop on My Sacred Heart.

"Meet at my house at 4pm?" He asked
"Sounds perfect..." I replied "Catchya then..."

I was terrified.

What if he was lying? What if Mark was actually a crazy fuck who kept a dead body under his bed and a collection of defaced porcelain dolls in his fridge? You hear occasionally about guys who are found dead in the parklands - He only lived TWO BLOCKS from there...

Sunday rolled around quickly before I knew it, and I found myself sitting out the front of his apartment. This is it - My first 'date' with a guy I met off the internet - Was I about to become a statistic? Giving myself a quick check over in the reflection of my car window, I walked up through the front garden of his apartment block and knocked on his screen door.

Kylie was playing.

God, I wanted to die.

He answered the door, and to my relief looked relatively like he had in the pictures he had sent me... Boy next door type, a bit taller than me, sandy crop of dusty looking hair...

We exchanged greetings and I walked into his lounge room - A well kept place that smelt like he'd just finished vacuuming... There was a Smashing Pumpkins poster block mounted on his wall - He had been playing Golden Eye on his N64... It was on pause.

After brief, nervous introductory banter, he offered to get me a drink... This is where I die, I thought: He drugs the water and I pass out and wake up buried alive in a box under a sand dune in West Beach. I declined the drink, and moved to the couch for a chat - The plan was to eat... and see a movie.

Somehow, what could only be described as minutes later, Mark was on top of me on the carpet grinding his hips into me and kissing my ear... badly.

Kylie was singing The Locomotion. You gotta swing your hips now...
I wasn't into it.

"Should we head off?..." I asked, obviously awkwardly. "We won't have time for dinner..."
He stopped mid-lick. "Really..."
"Yeah..." I struggled for words. "Hungry...?"
Christ, I wanted to melt into the floor.
Mark stood up, grabbing his hard-on through his jeans "What about...."
"Later..." I smiled, as my head screamed NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!

He didn't stop his Kylie CD - And with Golden Eye still paused on his N64, we left for dinner...

Sitting in the restaurant, I had a distinct feeling that Mark wasn't enjoying himself... I know I wasn't - And hence, I learnt my first lesson about Internet Dating.
On the internet - It's not conversation... it's chat.
On the internet - There's no awkward silence.
In reality things are different...

The conversation went from bad, to worse.
"So, you meet many guys off the internet?" I asked casually.
"No..." he replied "...Actually, you're the first one"
My intuition kicked in strongly - He was lying - I let it slide.
"Really?" I continued "Wow... Lucky me"
Silence. The clinking of our cutlery on the plates was deafening me...
He put down his fork to grab his glass of water "Yes. You're a test."
I laughed, thinking he was leading into a joke. "A test?"
"Yes..." he looked me in the eye "Im testing my faith in God"

I stopped eating mid mouthful, my fork poised halfway to my lips "Faith... in God?"

"Yes." He replied. It was almost like he was daring me to laugh.
"Are you joking?" I stuttered. I suddenly had images of a crazed preacher cursing the devil out of my seriously unclean and besmirched soul...
"No. Im Mormon"
I placed my fork down on my plate. "Shut up, nice one..." I laughed. I hoped.
"Do you think it's funny?"
"Yes..." I paused. No reaction. "I mean... No?"

Honestly, I didn't know what to think - Suddenly I was kicking myself for not checking his fridge for those headless porcelain dolls. He seemed gay enough... Kylie... not to mention the hard-on he managed to maintain in his lounge room... I mean he even wrote music that sounded like Enigma... So far all signs pointed to Yes, but apparently now I 'was test' - Like an Amazing Race challenge, but gayer.

Oh my god... Music titled My Sacred Heart...
Busy Sunday morning, free in the afternoon...
It all suddenly made sense...

"You're not kidding..." I stated. It wasn't a question.
"No... I believe if I can get through this, then it brings me closer to God" he smiled. Serenely.

Now I should point out, dear readers, that I do not have a problem at all with a religious man. In fact, I admire a man with faith. It shows strength. Conviction. Hell, it even indicates he's not afraid of commitment... Sure, I happen to err more on the 'spiritual side' than perhaps The Mormon would have liked to hear - But the fact he was was describing me as 'a test' suddenly put the fear of God in me...

I was suddenly very aware of the restaurant we were sitting in - He was drinking water - Could Mormons drink alcohol? Soft Drink? He was eating a Salad... was eating meat evil? I looked at my half eaten steak and suddenly felt like a complete heathen - A blemish on the face of Gods green earth - And I wasn't even sure if I was being religously accurate.

But the panic button had been well and truly pushed.

I looked at my watch "The movies gonna start soon... Shall we?"
Again, my head screamed NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!

Reluctantly, I turned off the rational, ranting side of my brain and we headed into the movie together in silence.

No touching.
No awkward, lingering hands.
At one stage the damsel in the movie kissed her hero - I awkwardly wondered if he thought it was wrong for a woman to display such outward and dirty feelings so openly - Then I flashbacked to him grinding me on his loungeroom floor and I quietly told myself to stop being so ridiculous. Whether or not I was a test, this guy was gagging for cock.
Just under the watchful eye of our Lord and Father.

I grabbed my phone and sms'd my wingman: Im in a movie with a mormon. Im a test. Im the devil. Abort Abort Abort.

My wingman delivered immediately - The "Excuse SMS" sent through - My brother needed me to pick him up. I was saved. And not by God.

Mark and I parted awkwardly - Did he pass his test? I wondered if he talked about me in confession. Did Mormons even HAVE confession? I wondered if he was wearing his mormon underwear while we were out... I didn't see a black suit, or even a bicycle while I was at his house... Was I just another rung on his spiritual ladder to climb closer to God?

Who knows...

What I did know though, was that I'd jumped the first hurdle and cleared it pretty easily... I'd met my first guy from The Internet... so things can only get easier, right?

....right?

Chapter 1 - Closeted

When you’re 18, you think you’re indestructible… Just out of school, fit and healthy, no ties or commitments… and for a closeted young guy like myself, the world presented itself with a confusing fork in the road option I had only previously considered behind closed doors:
In the cold, crisp 3am darkness that Sunday morning in 1999, pushed up against the front fence of the family home with Robert, I had a sudden realisation:

“Yup…” I thought between fumbling hands and awkward kisses “…This confirms it. Im Gay.”

I knew this because; a few months before, whilst snogging Sally on her couch while her parents were out seeing a movie, my mind was anywhere BUT there snogging Sally on her couch… But there with Robert, I was so unbelievably focused and clear that there was no way I could deny it.

Now being 18, and indestructible, just out of school, fit and healthy with no ties or commitments… I was also extremely naive.

Naïve because I was completely and utterly unschooled in reality…

You see, being a gay guy growing up in a ‘straight world’ – I had completely modelled myself on a heterosexual upbringing, based on television, movies, stories I'd hear, hell even theatre! A world where a kiss meant something… a world where anything more than that meant a whole lot more… And 3 hours later, after my Sunday morning with Robert, whilst crawling into my bed with the sun coming up outside, I thought I’d found myself a boyfriend. I thought I’d found The One

Ohhhh readers – How wrong I was...

But when you’re 18 you’re so damn clueless that it’s only in retrospect you realise these things…

You see… Robert wasn’t The One…
Robert was actually an alcoholic with a chemical imbalance who was rebounding from his ex… Who actually happened to be a mutual friend of ours.

But back then… curling up in bed with his smell on my skin and the previous 3 hours racing through my head on a continuous loop… My head was giddy with the excitement that I had found a guy who was (seemingly) into me in a big way…

I’ve always been one to wear my heart on my sleeve – Anyone who knows me understands that Im an emotional guy… Happy… easily fired up… a crier… and in matters of the heart, Im no different… A quality that even now, 11 years later, I am still kicking myself for…

So when Robert suddenly disappeared for a few days without calling… My closeted self was thrust into a world of confusion and panic – Here I was, 18 years old and not out to a single person I knew (except, I suppose, Robert) I had no-one to talk to about it, no one to ask, no understanding of gay protocol…

Why hadn’t he called? Was he upset with me? Did I do something wrong? Maybe he doesn’t like me? Should I call him?

I literally drowned in questions…

But - A weekend later, Robert sms’d me. He and some friends were “going out for beers” – Would I like to come?

I was so relieved I think I replied immediately telling him I’d pick him up and drive us there myself…

Of course, drinks with Robert and his friends were great! I had a blast and couldn’t wait for things to finish so we could head home and continue what we’d started the week before with my brand new boyfriend… But over the course of the night, I watched Robert down so much heavy liquor that by the end of the night I actually had to hold him up to walk from the car to his front door, before we crashed into his bedroom and he fell into a slump on his bed…

…It was so romantic.

We awkwardly got down to business with one another… Awkward, because Robert seemingly had no motor function below the neck. He kissed like a St Bernard, all tongue and no tact - Here I was, getting naked with a guy for the first time in my life, a moment I’d fantasised about for years… I’d often thought about how things would look, how things would feel… what would happen, how events would unfold – However, what my fantasy didn’t involve was me having to untie his shoes because he was too drunk to sit up, and it certainly didn’t involve having to undress a guy lapsing in and out of unconsciousness – My knight in shining armour was slowly turning into a sad kind of homeless guy you see begging for money in the street - If that wasn’t enough to ring alarm bells for me, what happened next certainly did.

“I’ve missed you, Peter…” he slurred into my ear.
“….Huh?”
“I’ve missed you so much, Pete” he slurred again.

Pulling back from him, I had to cradle his face so he could look me in the eye without his head lolling back “My name is Josh…”

He smiled drunkedly “Yeah… that’s what I said”

Nope… My second night with my new boyfriend, and he was calling me by another name.

And not just any name… The name of his ex…

“You just called me Peter…”
“No I didn’t…”
"Dude, you did... you called me Peter"

With a drunken chuckle, his eyes closed and he literally fell into a drunken sleep right there while I was holding him up.

Oh, I’d landed myself a real dreamboat…

But… being 18… and indestructible… I had myself a boyfriend – For better or for worse… And how many other gay guys my age could say they had a 30-something professional guy on their arm? Not many… Ha! Look at me, playing grown-up! I was so adult…

So we slept…

Well… Robert slept… I just lay there wondering if I should monitor his breathing and ensure he continued to lay in the safety position lest he choke on his vomit while unconscious…

I was living the dream. Truly.

This pattern continued over weeks… My alcoholic boyfriend would call me up, and I’d drop everything and run to his side to watch him drink himself into oblivion. I would look past that – But as if being called The Ex wasn’t enough… things only got stranger…

One highlight that springs to mind was a call that came through at 4am...
"Robert?..." I answered the phone groggily...
"I've lost... my car"
"Huh...?" I sighed. I could tell he was off his face. again.
"I fuckn parked it somewhere else... I can't remember..." he slurred...
"Where are you?"
"I dunno..."
"You must know where you are, Rob..."
"Come get me..." he whined.
"I can't..." I said as I pulled on my tracksuit pants in the dark... "I don't know where you are!"
"Im by... trees... there are trees, and a light"
And after talking to him for nearly 20mins while I drove aimlessly around the city of Adelaide, I discovered him leaning up against an alley wall off of Pirie Street. Trees? A light?
Uh huh...

Our relationship blossomed - Another night of drinking… another strange night back in bed with my chemical romance:

“Just ignore them…” he whispered.
“Who?” I asked… suddenly concerned.
“The others… they just want to watch…”
I pulled back immediately and switched on the light
“Who’s watching?” I whispered… scanning his room quickly to only see clothes scattered everywhere and several empty gin bottles in the corner
“They are… but ignore them… they’re just watching” – Surprisingly, Robert appeared strangely coherent this time… He wasn’t even slurring…
“Rob…” I stopped him “…there’s no one here, dude… It’s just us”

Sitting up, Rob scanned his own dirty room and looked at me as if I was blind “I said ignore them, so just ignore them….”

So as I lay there, wondering what the hell was going on, Robert continued his normal, hasty job of trying to get himself off. It was then and only then that I realised I had perhaps gotten myself into a situation that other guys wouldn’t… or shouldn’t… Lets face it, this guy was pretty fucked!

I lay awake the entire night… staring at the ceiling wondering what the hell I’d allowed myself to get involved with while Robert slept loudly next to me, snoring and mumbling through another unconscious coma… I kicked myself - surely I was smarter than this? My first 'gay experience' was fast becoming an episode of 'Intervention' - I knew it was time to smarten up and get the hell out of there... Either way, Robert had taught me one thing – He’d taught me what I wanted… Regardless of the journey there, I had well and truly arrived in “Gay-Town” – And I much preferred to take a positive lesson away from the entire experience, rather than something else, like Chlamydia.

And as the sun rose that morning, I rolled over and shook my alcoholic hook up awake as I went to leave... “This won’t happen again…” I said, slowly so he could understand me through his drunken haze
“What wont?”
“This… Us… It won’t happen again”
By then though, he’d already fallen back asleep. He didn’t seem too heartbroken, and I was okay with that…

So I grabbed my stuff… and walking barefoot back to my car with the sun shining – I realised something I’ve remembered ever since.

This was going to be nothing like the movies…

And so it began.