Chapter 8 - The Ex

Originally, there was always going to be one guy who was never going to be a chapter in Cheque Please... One guy who I always said I wouldn't mention...

The Ex.

The Ex... whom for whatever reason I said I'd keep locked up in a private little corner of my mind and never disclose to you, my readers... For many of you know him... many of you are friends... For those of you who don't know what Im referring to, we move in the same circles... share the same social network, and even remained loyal "Facebook Friends" despite not actually sharing a civil conversation with one another even several years after going our separate ways...

...Well, guess what? Times change... and there's been a helluva lot of water under the bridge... He's since "defriended" me, and gone to the even more bizarre length of "hiding" his facebook profile from me all together... Friends "in common" dispersed... and I've since been convinced that his chapter is definitely worth sharing...

So sit down and grab a drink - Because "Chapter 8 - The Ex" is that chapter I know a lot of you have been itching to read...

- - -

Before he was The Ex, he was The Partner. We didn't like the term boyfriend because we "were more than that"... But even before that, before he was The Partner, he was an older guy who I very much looked up to who performed in many of the same theatre shows I did... He was the handsome prince... the leading love... the rebel leader... and I was smitten.

We were both working in a particular show together, the show itself escapes me because there have been so many now - But through the rehearsal period I watched him go through two breakups with two separate guys (one, believe it of not, was The Drunk from Chapter 1... amazing the webs we weave...) and somehow, one night, we wound up back at his place watching The Exorcist on dvd... on his computer... in his study... on his spare bed...

I remember being so utterly transfixed with how close we were... I don't think I paid attention at all to the girl masturbating with a bloody crucifix on his PC, but rather I was completely aware of the fact that his left leg was touching my right. And that was it... just legs touching... But I drove home that night thinking about the heat from his leg and how incredible it felt.

Driving home. And SMS came through.

"Tonight was fun" he wrote

"Yeah, I had a great time..." I responded quickly, waiting for the traffic light to turn green on Unley Road. "...we should to it again sometime"

Send.

His reply came through immediately "I like you Josh..."

My heart jumped into my throat. Like? Like as in like or Like as in Like Like?

Before I could respond, another sms came through from him: "I think we'd make a great couple..."

Well, I can't even remember what happened next - I could have driven through several red lights, I couldn't even tell you... But somewhere there we agreed to meet early before our next rehearsal... and we could "talk" then.

- - -

It was cold. Winter had well and truly set in, and here I was, waiting in the school yard of our rehearsal venue for him to arrive. When he did, we stood facing one another in silence. I was shivering it was so cold; Our breath forming clouds of frost in each others faces...

"Hi..."

"...Hi"

He took my hand and sat me down. From there, the conversation went slowly and carefully... he explained that I wasn't a rebound... that he'd always liked me... that he was hurting from his past breakups... that he didn't want to hurt me... that we had to go slow...

We kissed.

- - -

Flash forward two years and we were living together...

- - -

Flash forward another year, and despite living together, I still hadn't had a full conversation with his parents... The Partners parents, you see, didn't believe in his sexuality. Didn't approve... and thusly, continued to want to have absolutely nothing to do with me. I wasn't mentioned in conversations, I wasn't invited to family parties, bbqs, dinners or celebrations... I wasn't allowed to answer his phone if they called...

To his parents, he was single, and I didn't exist.

This alone, caused me heartache... Especially when my family had embraced The Partner with love and support - He was practically a son to my parents. Always welcomed. Always allowed.

- - -

Flash forward again, and we're now rehearsing for my third production of Les Miserables - We're both pivotal roles, and subsequently playing "best friends" on stage... Which, as it turned out, proved to be an incredibly difficult feat for me... given the circumstances which unfolded...

...mainly because of a certain guy in the male ensemble.

A guy from The Partners past.

A guy who, inevitably, became "The Other Man".

Throughout rehearsals, you see, The Partner grew distant...

And then the sms's started.

Now, The Partner couldn't keep a secret from me at the best of times - Hell, he couldn't even buy a christmas or birthday present without me working out what it was within the hour of him purchasing it - So Im not quite sure how he thought he was getting away with it... but I knew.

Especially when the sms's from The Other Man became increasingly obvious... 4 or 5 in a row... a chuckle from The Partner as he responded to the 6th... a subtle change of the phone to "silent" to try and cover the 7th, 8th and 9th coming through...

Looking back on it all now, it's hard to believe how stupid I was to even put up with that behaviour... let alone what came next.

- - -

Our apartment was up for renovations - Cleared out of all our belongings... empty save for the pizza boxes scattered across the carpet, and all of us lying around chatting about the opening night of the show coming up. The Partner and I had decided to throw a "renovation party" and that night the plan was to sleep back at my mum and dads in the spare room...

As the night wound to a close, The Partner made a rather odd announcement...

"I'll stay here tonight..."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why?..." I asked "...Mum and Dad are expecting us."

"Im afraid someone will break in..."

I looked around our very empty lounge room. "There's nothing to steal..."

"Yeah, but... I'd just be more comfortable..."

I paused... Something was up.

Tricky tricky.

I countered his idea - "But dude... there's nothing to sleep on. Our bed is in storage..."

He struggled for a moment. "My swag is in the car..." he replied. I sighed tiredly.

His swag was in the car? Huh? So let me get this straight... this sudden idea to stay in our vacant apartment overnight wasn't a sudden idea at all, but rather a preconceived plan it would seem...

I paused for a moment before continuing - "It'd be rather lonely here in an empty apartment by yourself..."

Suddenly, I was aware that others were listening to our conversation.

"You're staying here?" The Other Man piped up...

"Yes..." came the partners reply with a casual shrug... His acting skills, it appeared, were apparently stronger off stage than they were on stage...

"Cool! Sleep over! I'll stay too..." The Other Man sang. "Sounds like fun"

The pieces started falling together in front of me.

I smiled. I shrugged. "Well, I'll stay too... may as well..."

The Partners smile faded "But... your parents... they're expecting you..."

I paused again, then continued; "They're expecting us...."

The final piece finally fell into place...

Our friends went their separate ways that night, and I pulled away from the curb alone while I watched The Partner and The Other Man pull his swag out of his boot together.

I didn't sleep a wink that night.

- - -

Two nights later - The Partner and I were sitting in my parents driveway. The air was thick with a nauseating tension. We were about to have "The Conversation"

"Josh... we need to talk"

We talked. I cried.

"Why...?" I asked.

His reasons came thick and fast... I felt like I was being punched in the face.

"We're just going in separate directions..." he sighed, patting his hand on my knee... I was amazed, that after years of being together, years of sharing secrets together, sharing the same bed, and loving one another fiercely that suddenly I was practically being treated so patronisingly.

"Separate directions...?" I questioned.

"Well, you don't earn enough money for one thing... you hardly contribute financially to this relationship..." he replied flatly.

His comment stung... Contribute financially? I was studying full time and holding down a part time job... The Partner, meanwhile, worked when he could in a charity office, and performed shows in primary schools in an attempt to hold onto his waning television career...

I sat in shocked silence.

He continued: "And I want to move to Melbourne, and you're holding me back from that..."

My breath caught in my throat... Holding him back? Melbourne? This was the first I'd ever heard of Melbourne...

I continued to sit in silence.

He continued: "And... quite frankly... you just don't support me and what I want to achieve in life... You don't believe in me and what I can do"

I was sinking... I felt like gravity was pulling me back into the car seat and down into the concrete below... The conversation became muddy and hazy.

"But..." I fumbled through tears, "...where will you go tonight? Where will you sleep?"

The Partner paused again, then sighed. "I've organised to sleep at Derek and Jens..."

The conversation continued.

Somehow I wound up in bed.

Somehow I slept.

- - -

The next day. The "day after"...

I lay in bed and sent a few sms's around to friends telling of what happened... I slunk into my brothers room to wake him up, sat on his bed and cried while I recounted the story from the night before. Jake sat in silence and listened attentively. At the end, he hugged me.

That was honestly the first time I felt a real brotherly connection with him.

- - -

The day after the day after... The gaping hole in my chest tore into an open wound as I arrived at Les Miserables to discover that The Partner hadn't stayed at Derek and Jens at all, but rather at The Other Mans the night we went our separate wayS; They arrived smiling together at the theatre and got ready for the nights performance as if nothing had ever transpired...

- - -

Tongues got whispering. People got talking... Josh and his partner - the golden couple - had broken up! Had you heard? They dont even talk to one another back stage now! It must be difficult... Imagine that! Playing best friends on stage, after all that! Have you heard? I hear he's seeing The Other Man! Did you notice? They arrived at the theatre together again...

And so it went... Days turned into weeks... weeks into months... Shared friends chose their sides... factions were practically formed... and inevitably we went our separate ways...

The Partner became The Ex.

But, from what I hear, The Ex and The Other Man are still happy... Have an array of pets together, and continue to pursue theatre - I've seen his shows, though sadly can't say he's seen mine. Perhaps he's just not into the shows I pick...

And now, years later - I look back fondly... Going from a guy who "doesn't earn enough to support someone financially" to owning my own home... Going from study and part time job to wonderful career and income... Im not too sure what The Partner is doing with himself these days, but last time I bumped into him a few months back he was still performing for primary school students... all these years later.

And he still hasn't moved to Melbourne.

Chapter 7 - The Mexicasian

I was ashamed to admit it, but The Mars Bar was becoming a habit – Once again, a trio of my friends and I had wound up descending the fluro-lit staircase and checking our jackets at the coatroom before grabbing a drink and scoping the crowd out… All the regulars were there; Beanie-Boy… Singlet Guy… Balloon Man…

The night played out like it always did – Drinking… Dancing… Beer Garden… Drinking… Dancing… Drag Show… Dancing… and as the clock struck 3am, standing with my back to the speaker, I knew I had had several too many drinks when I was happy to dance alone to Christina Aguilera… Two of my mates had disappeared for the morning, and my third mate Aaron was standing at the bar gazing drunkenly through the crowd… Pushing through the badly dancing crowd, I joined him.

“Who’s that guy…?” Aaron slurred into his beer…
“…Who?”
“That guy there…” he slurred again, gesturing across the floor towards the stairs to the beer garden. I followed his gaze and saw a taller guy standing alone; Dark features, black hair swept back off his face, dressed in a suit. He was texting someone… or pretending to, anyway. “I’ve never seen him before…”
Aaron was right. “Neither have I…” I replied. “Looks new in town…”
“He looks Mexican…” Aaron stated.
I raised an eyebrow “You can’t call him Mexican…!” I laughed.
“Why not, he looks hot. He looks Mexican”
“He looks Asian…” I corrected.
“What you can call him Asian and I can’t call him Mexican?” Aaron started up.
He swigged his beer and tried in vain to hold his eyes on mine. He was wavering.

Too much beer for Aaron…
“I think you mean he looks Hispanic…” I continued. “Unless you know he’s from Mexico, you can’t say he’s Mexican”
“He looks Mexican… Mex-i-Can”
“Asian…”
“…Mexican”
“Dude…” I laughed again. “You can’t….”

I glanced across at the Mexicasian and caught him staring at me already – Meeting my gaze, he looked away coyly. Either he’d realised we were openly talking about him (which was near impossible with the music being so loud) or he was checking me out and I had caught him mid-perve.

Aaron drank from his beer again, but his bottle was empty “Mexxxxican!”

I shrugged - Only one way of finding out…

I grabbed my drink and moved over to the stranger, leaving my very drunk friend swaying at the corner of the bar. I was still relatively sober, as was often the case when I spent the night dancing and sweating alcohol out of my system as fast as I could consume it. I smiled as I approached, the Mexicasian saw me coming and returned the smile. I pulled up next to him and leant against the wall.

“Hey!...”
“…Hey!”

Good start.

I shot a look back at Aaron, who was watching with a smile. I shook my head and returned my attention to the new guy. “Good night?”

“Yeah…” he replied. “Seems a bit dead around here…”
Dead? Mars was pumping… For this guy to think it was dead meant he was definitely not from Adelaide.
“Not from around here?” I asked, already knowing the answer, but figuring it kept the conversation going long enough for me to determine his origin.
“No, Im from Melbourne!”
“Ahhh…” I sighed.
Now was the time to go in for the kill. “My mate thought you were from overseas…”
“Yeah, I saw you guys looking…” he laughed “Your mate has been staring a while, but I was watching you on the dancefloor before you joined him at the bar…”

Imaginary Josh raised his hand to get my attention – He’d been watching me dance? Interesting…

I tried a different tact - “Your accent doesn’t sound like Melbourne”
“No… Im Malaysian”

Booyeah.
Asian.

“Oh, I lived in Malaysia for a while…” I replied with a smile. “Cool…”
We continued talking for a few minutes before I decided to wind things up and return to Aaron.
“Im Josh!...” I sung, moving back to the bar where Aaron had practically fallen asleep.
“Fuck!” the Mexicasian shouted back
“…What?” I started, shocked.
“Fuck!”
“…Fuck?”
“No, Phuac!... Phu-ac!”
“Oh…” I smiled. I Shrugged. I didn't really care. “Fuck! Cool!”

I danced my way back to the bar.
“His name is Fuck!...” I shouted over the music “…and Fuck is Asian!”

Next round was on Aaron.

- - -

Dragging my tired ass to bed, I rolled over to switch my bedside lamp off when my phone beeped – It was nearly 5am in the morning, who was texting me at this time of the night?

Hi Josh, it’s Phuac – Your mate gave me your number – Nice to meet you tonight, would be nice to see you again – Im not in Adelaide for long”

Fucking Aaron!

I ignored the sms, rolled over and crashed into a deep sleep only 5 hours of dancing can induce.

- - -

By the time I had woken up the next day, I had completely forgotten about my experience with the Fuck the Mexicasian – The sun was shining, the birds were singing and it was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. The clock struck three when my phone beeped again:

Hi Josh, it’s Phuac again – Is this your number? Im going to Mars again tonight, will I see you there?”

I sure as hell hoped not! Phuac was fast becoming a stalker, texting me twice already after what was probably only a 5 minute conversation over Britney Spears blasting over the speakers, and even then we only talked about the living standards in Malaysia and how they were vastly different to Singapore… I ignored the message again and instead messaged Aaron:

Rise and shine, Princess! Thanks for giving my number to The Mexicasian – Fuck has messaged me twice already…

My phone beeped in reply, and I flipped it open to discover that it wasn’t Aaron, it was Phuac again.

Would you like to go out for coffee today?

I was dumbfounded and semi-annoyed that he was seemingly taking such a head-strong approach with me – Seeing as though I technically hadn’t responded to any of his text messages, I was surprised that he had no written to me a third time. I decided to respond:

Hi, sorry I have stuff planned all day today. Won’t be able to!

Short. Sharp. Shiny.
My phone beeped immediately in response:

What about tonight?

I hit reply again:

Sorry, I have a birthday party tonight.

Lie. Send.

Again, his response came through immediately:

Where’s the party, perhaps I can meet you there instead?

Imaginary Josh started dialing the police in my minds eye – What the fuck?! Phuac sounded fucking crazy… I took slight comfort in the fact that I knew he was only here for a couple of days – Putting my phone on silent, I decided it was probably best not to respond anymore. I’d told him I was busy… Surely I’d conveyed a sense of “not interested” ?

My day continued as any other lazy Sunday would – Cleaning, chilling out and getting ready for the following week of work. Within hours I had forgotten about the crazy Mexicasian and was happily getting on with my evening when I decided to grab my phone to call Aaron.

I flicked open my phone.
7 New Messages
1 Missed Call
And all of them from the number I had identified as Phuac.

A chill ran down my spine – What the fucking fuck?! Are you seeeerious?! I had a sudden vision of the Mexicasian sitting in his darkened hotel room, the light of his phone illuminating his manic, strained face as he stared at the screen waiting for me to respond.

I opened my inbox:

---

Are you doing anything after the birthday party?

---

Why aren’t you responding?

---

Sorry, I understand if you’re busy - Perhaps we could meet tomorrow night instead? Are you busy tomorrow night?

---

Are you ignoring me?

---

Is this Josh the guy I met last night?

---

Why are you being so fucking rude?

--

I paused and re-read the last message again… Excuse me? Rude? As far as Phuac knew I hadn’t received ANY of these messages, but now my apparent lack of further response made me “fucking rude” – I shook my head in disbelief as a wave of slight nausea washed over me.
The missed call was from Phuac… and the last message was a voicemail.

He’d left a voicemail?!

I almost didn’t want to listen to it… Especially if his last sms was anything to go by.

I dialed into my voicemail and listened:

Silence
Silence
"Hi Josh, it’s Phuac we hung out last night…
Silence
Silence
Silence
…Can you give me a call please?
Silence
Silence
Silence
Silence
...Bye."

He sounded strangely calm.
Like Patrick Bateman calm…

Imaginary Josh flew off the handle – Hung out? Hung the fuck out? We didn’t hang out, Phuac or whatever the fuck your name was, we talked for roughly 5 minutes in a nightclub and even then the conversation wasn’t that good – Now you’ve left me 100 fuckn messages, and you’re behaving like an obsessed stalker.

While I stood there in my lounge room trying to figure out what, my phone suddenly let out a shrill ring – My feeling of nausea suddenly increased, and I suddenly felt like I was in one of those movies where the hero has to beat all odds in surviving the attack of a crazed psychopath…

I relaxed a small amount when I realized it was Aaron:

“Dude, what the fuck?” I spat into the phone.
“Hello to you, too…” Aaron replied “What’s up?”
“The Mexicasian is fucking psycho killer, that’s what’s up…”
Aaron laughed. “Him? He seemed nice…”
I sat on my couch “No, he did not seem nice, why did you give him my number?”
“He was interested, he asked while you were taking a piss…”
“Dude he’s called me like 800 times and left a series of increasingly crazy messages”
Aaron laughed again “Serious? He sounds keen… Have you called him back?”
“NO I HAVE NOT CALLED HIM BACK!”
Cleary Aaron didn’t understand the magnitude of this situation.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Um, because I don’t want to wind up dead…”
Beep beep
I moaned. “He’s calling again now…”
“What?”
Beep beep
“I have call waiting, he’s calling again now…” I continued. “Dude… this is fucked”
“Talk to him…” Aaron suggested. “Just be honest and talk to him.”
“No!”
“Im hanging up…” my stupid friend chuckled. “Talk to him”
Aaron disconnected his call.

Gritting my teeth, I answered the incoming call from Phuac the Mexicasian.
I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible; “Hello…?”
“Hi… is this Josh?”
I paused. I couldn’t even lie – He knew it was me because I’d already responded to a couple of his messages. I silently kicked myself while Imaginary Josh shook his head as if to say Im all out of ideas… you’re on your own!
“Yes, this is Josh.”
“It’s Phuac! Phuac! We met last night” – He suddenly sounded a whole lot brighter.
“Yes. Hi Phuac”
Silence
Silence
Silence. I rolled my eyes.
“So you’re busy tonight, huh?” he continued.
“Yeah, sorry…” I replied, trying to sound as ‘sorry’ as I could.
“Tomorrow night?”
“Rehearsal…”
Rehearsal was always an excellent ‘out’ – Rehearsals could be any night… any time… and you were always too tired after them to ever do something afterwards
“Tuesday night?”
Fucking hell.
“….Rehearsal… Again”
“Oh…” Phuac sighed. He sounded positively heartbroken. “Im flying back on Wednesday morning”
“Oh, that’s such a shame!” I lied again. Imaginary Josh, meanwhile turned cartwheels of relief in my minds eye “Sorry!”
Silence
Silence
Silence
“If you’re ever in Melbourne, you’ll have to look me up!”
“…Yeeeeeah.” I replied, sounding terribly awkward – Look him up? I’d rather cut my legs in a warm bath and bleed out. I tried to wind up the phone call.
“Have a good flight” I sang.
“Yeah, you too…”
I paused again. Me too? I wasn’t flying anywhere…
Silence
Silence
Silence

"That's really fucked..." Phuac suddenly continued. Clearly he wasn't letting the conversation go."This always fucking happens to me, guys dont want to meet me!"

"Im sorry Im busy..." I consoled "I didn't know Aaron gave you my number"

"Yeah well he did! And perhaps he shouldnt have!" Phuac raised his voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Perhaps if you didn't want to fucking talk to me, he shouldn't have!" Phuac spat again.

I was completely lost for words. "Im sorry, Im busy" I repeated.

"Yeah, fucking busy. Always fucking busy" the crazy Mexicasian ranted

Always. Fucking. Busy?! This guy was clearly insane.

Okay.

Enough was enough.

"Hey, calm the fuck down I don't even know you..." I stated. Clearly and slowly. "So lets leave it at that - Perhaps don't call me again"

Silence

Silence
“So Im going to go now..." I wrapped up.

Silence

Silence

Silence
“Whatever..." Phuac sighed. "...I didn't even fucking like you anyway!"

Well Christ, that was a relief!

Silence

Phuac sighed again. He sounded like a keening 14yo girl. "Okay, thanksbye”
“By…” – The phone disconnected before I could even respond in full. The Mexicasian had hung up on me…

I went through a series of emotions – Angry, annoyed, confused, shocked... Not to mention fear. I even felt a little disappointed and ashamed that I had seemingly broken this guys heart – A guy who, in reality, I had only spoken to for 5 minutes over ½ a beer and a Britney Spears remix. The entire situation was so alarmingly strange that I almost thought it was a set up.

I was just thankful he didn't know my address!

I never heard from Fuck the Mexicasian again – But every visit to The Mars Bar always has me on high alert, not to mention my last trip to Melbourne, which had me scanning pubs and department scores in fear of bumping into the crazy guy again. I never heard from Phuac after that, thankfully – Though I thank myself lucky for successfully dodging the bullet…

And life in Adelaide continued.
And things were about to get a whoooole lot more interesting.

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...