It'll be like an ad break!

Cause I'm all inspired and shit, good ol' St. Murphy is getting an Oprah-like make-over! About time I hear you say.

Yes I am very aware of how daggy this page looks and how even with my best endeavours I haven't been able to make it do what I want it to do so I've called in the professionals. The very lovely Kelly Exeter in fact.

Kelly is gonna make me look all ProBlogger rather than AmaBlogger. And give this page some cool shit to play with.

So I won't be posting for a few days which I know will just be devastating for you but the wait will be worth it. When I'm back I'll be shouting it from the rooftops.

Have a fabulous weekend!

xoxoxoxo
St. Murphy

My childhood Fabio dream crushed!

Ever since I was a small little boy growing up amongst the oranges and grapes of Griffith I've dreamt of having long flowing locks.


I've always thought boys with long hair, in particularly ponytails, are the coolest thing in the world. Do you remember 80's icon Fabio? I would've killed to have hair like him. I gave it a red hot go in my early 20's when I was also going through a bleached blonde phase - it all went horribly wrong, almost perm-like. I never knew I had curly hair. It scarred me.


I've finally built up the courage to try it again. I figured I only had 18months left to try as a ponytail on anyone over 40 is ri-cock-ulous! So since about Easter I've been growing my hair with great determination. This is hows me looks today!

I don't actually wear it like this, for dramatic pictorial effect!

I absolutely love it. Love it more than I can tell you. I am fully aware it looks crap but I could care less. I have long(ish) hair! At least 3 times EVERY day someone says to me "Oh, you're growing your hair?" which we all know is code for "What the hell are you thinking?". The more direct I come into contact with give me a "So when are you getting your haircut?". I happily reply I'm not, that I'm growing it so I can look like Fabio. 


I literally spend all day playing with it. I've become very comfortable wearing headbands when I am cruising around Man Pit. I have a selection and choice is based on mood. I've bought those giant pump action shampoo and conditioners (before a travellers pack would last me a month!). I have more hair products than I know what to do with. They have their own shelf...

So you can probably tell I am rejoicing in having long hair which is well on its way to becoming a long bob - a LOB!


But this is where the crisis hits! Last week I found a long grey hair. Over the weekend I found more! Now I think every time I look in the mirror I am more and more like Santa Claus. Now there are very clear rules in the Gay Men's Handbook. The moment you start receding or turning grey then the whole lot has to come off. A buzz cut. And you know what this means - THE FABIO DREAM DIES FOREVER!

Love you Fabio!

I am absolutely torn as to what to do. I've got 8 months till my 40th and in that time my hair could become spectacular. I have visions of an elaborate up-do with a glittering headpiece for the big night. But if I am to follow the Gay Men's Handbook, which I passionately believe in, then it is time for a Remington once-over.


My gut tells me hold off. My new headbands say hold off. My shelf of hair products shout HOLD OFF. So, for the moment, I am going to hold off. I'm gonna be a rule-breaker. No buzz-cut for me just yet. 


What do you think? Is this the right decision?

Nothin' butt Shits and giggles.

I have warned you before, I am prone to over-sharing….

Ever since I got back from ProBlogger in Melbourne on Saturday I have had the most ferocious diarrhea. Even for me a new benchmark. At one point I was at the toilet every 15mins. I had to sleep with a drop sheet.

And gut-wrenching stomach cramps. Horrific. Thought I was about to rupture.

I love you, and your Missoni mat

Now the reason I feel comfortable sharing this story is I bet every person reading this will know EXACTLY what I am talking about. There ain’t nothin’ pretty about diarrhea! And it needs to be discussed. 

Diarrhea makes you feel so disgustingling dirty. It doesn’t matter how much Cottonelle you use or how much Domestos you spray around you still feel like you’ve bathed in whatever you just squirted out. At one point I considered Pine'O'Cleen'ing my ass.

And the sweating, combined with the squirting, just makes me feel even more dirty and disgusting. More disgusting than it would voting for Tony Abbot. Or catching a glimpse of an erect priest. Or stuck in a spa with Paris Hilton and Pamela Anderson. Just revolting.

I’ve gone through 3 AirWick’s and 2 Dove Mens cause I am sure the smell still lingers long after the last flush. At one point, in the midst of gripping stomach cramps, I was dead sure it must have been smeared on me. Thankfully it wasn't. That would have been the end of me.

Thanks big guys, you got me through a tough time.

So here’s my theory on diarrhea – the actual dealing with the diarrhea makes having diarrhea so much more dramatic And ten times worse. And that you should be able to buy diarrhea kits at the chemist that come with lovely soft cleansing wipes, air freshener and toilet cleaner.

So of course I called my beautiful Doctor O who over the years has dealt with more embarrassing ailments from me than one poor man should have to suffer through. He’s poked, prodded and scraped near every organ in my body. I called Dr O cause he is the very best at dealing with my ‘boy who cried woof’ mentality.

I was certain he was going to tell me I have bowel cancer as this is how the darker, more vicious side of my mind works. I am rather fixated on cancer. A headache means I’ve got brain tumour. A grey hair means I’ve got cancer of the scalp. A toothache is sure to be gum cancer. Thank fuck, I’ve never had cancer. But I digress…

Turns out my ‘increasing susceptibility’ (yes, this kind of shit happens to me all the time, pun intended) to stomach bugs is due to the bacteria infection I had this time last year. Boring! That’s not even a time-off-work offense. What it does mean though is that I have to go through that whole testing process again, for about the 5^th time in as many years, where you have to shit in a bowl, spoon it into cups and keep some of it in your fridge. Lucky I don’t keep food in there.


I also have to buy some probiotic over the internet. Wow! That's v. cool. Combines medical supplies with shopping. You just know this discovery is gonna get me into trouble.

But be thankful people, the Imodium Advanced and Buscopan Forte have finally kicked in now. It’s been hours since I’ve done the crazy-poo-dash. Thank god!

Now I just need someone to come round and industrial clean Man Pit's toilet.

Turns out I ain't such a Pro

Spent Friday at a brilliantly organized ProBlogger conference in Melbourne.

Turns out though… I ain’t no ProBlogger. In fact, I reckon you’d be hard-pressed to even call me an amateur blogger (or as I now refer to myself, an AmaBlogger). 

In a room full of people who love blogging and who are very good at it, I quickly realised that it is perhaps a little too early for me to be attending a Pro event. While there is no question I am a Professional Homosexual, it is very clear I am quite some way off being a Professional Homo ProBlogger. Which is my desire, my niche.

I did put out the call via Twitter during the conference to see if there were any other ProHomo ProBloggers attending. I was secretly hoping they would be cute, single and ready for an ‘email exchange’ at post-conference drinks. Sadly, there was not one other. It appears I have this niche market cornered. Oh the pressure.

This is how I rolled at ProBloggers! Coconuts courtesy of SylingYou, pic from Mrs Woog

Back to the conference; they kept they kept using words that I didn’t really understand. And concepts that where too big for me to grasp while recommending tools I had never heard of. There was even this talk of ‘your 12 month blogging plan’. Well my plan at this stage is that I wait until the next weird-shit-thing happens to me than I write about it. Yes, I am firmly in the AmaBlogger camp.

But that is absolutely fine! Does not matter at all. Cause what I did get out of ProBlogger is that blogging can be absolute anything to anyone. Which is very cool. Very cool AND very encouraging. So here is what I am, my blogging mission statement:

I am a time-wasting Professional Homo over-sharer who posts when weird shit goes down, which could be once a week or 8 days straight. I will also type loudly about gay issues. And gay dating. My audience is whoever the fuck wants to read my babble – gay, straight, amputee, Kiwi, single-mums, circus acts, cute boy at cafe, lonely dads, geriatrics, bankers – absolutely anyone. While I am sure to offend some people, which worries me little, I will hopefully amuse others. I will make fun of myself. 

And I will do it for as long as I find it fun for me.

The other very cool thing I got out of ProBlogger is lots of new friends. Very cool indeed. It was a fantastic event for networking. And I haven’t told them yet but it is all my new cool friends who I will be calling on to fix up my blog! And answer my questions. And explain all the things I didn’t understand. And help make this AmaBlogger a little more professional. Suckers! Bet you wish you hadn’t of been nice to me now.

But of course I have stories from ProBlogger!

My buddies ‘in transit’ where Edenland and Woogsworld. Well, you would never have thought it was so difficult to get 3 people on a plane. In fact we didn’t, we all missed our flight. At one point our comedy of errors became so farcical that I went from being on the verge of tears at the Qantas counter to near wetting my pants with hysterical laughter. Please don’t tell either of them, but I wouldn’t have changed a second of it. Only our dear Eden could accidently park at the International terminal and demand to fly to Brisbane, and then to have Woogsworld proclaim “we’re having own ProBlogger at the Qantas terminal in Sydney” was just too much. 

And can I be very clear about this, none of it was my fault!  Some are born to be personal assistants, others are born to have them. Eden and Woog are firmly in the second camp, while I am in the first. I love them dearly because they are so fucking funny, smart and genuine – I will never ever turn to them to help organise my diary or plan a trip. Love you skanky bitches! Read Eden's account here....

Now my new bestie LadySmaggle got me drunk! One her post today she describes me as ‘a hoot’. Well honey, you are much more than a hoot! After knowing each other for all of 5 minutes she, along with Mrs Woog, accompanied me on a Twitter-date with DillonPete and then kicked on with us at a fabulous Melbourne glitterati-party. After far too many double-vodka’s she then came back to the very un-glamorous apartment I was sharing with Woog, Eden, StylingYou and SawHole. Thankfully StylingYou and Eden were still up chatting otherwise we would have had to tell our drunken stories to a passed out Woog and SawHole. Yes, Smags, we are hilarious, there is no question about it.

And my last story from ProBlogger can only be told by one person and that is the divine SawHole. She tells it over at MadamBipolar with THIS POST. I so sincerely believe that SawHole is changing the world one post at a time with her incredibly sincere, open, insightful and groundbreaking blog. I am so proud to call her my friend, and a friend for the past 20 years. She inspires me!

Which is what some blogs can do. Me, a proud AmaBlogger, is just hoping that some people will laugh, others will back Gay Marriage and just quite possibly someone will want to shag me.

Sorry for no pics, so un-me but I forgot to take any. xoxoxo

Are you a Grindr or a Blendr???

I often feel sorry for the straights. They miss out on all fun stuff. I’ve often thought this while I’ve been tapping away on Grindr looking for the next boy to flirt with. It’s such a gay-boy thing to have a GPS-based messaging system on your phone to meet new people. It’s possibly the laziest app in the world.

But I can feel sorry no more. The straights now have their own little hook-up app! Its called Blendr. And I’m sure it is going revolutionise straight-dating just like it has gay.

I’d heard Blendr whispered about but wasn’t really sure what it was. Then last week this whisper became loud talking. It seems all of a sudden it was catching on. Then I caught up with a dear girlfriend – a sexy, sassy, smart, independent woman – and she was all over it! The straights have gone Blendr crazy.

About time! The gays have been at this for years you know. But then again we are known as ‘early adopters’.

I am a busy single-guy-on-the-go. I work kinda hard and irregular hours. I socialise a lot. I’ve have spent a lot of time the last few months in various queer establishments catching up with friends. I lose hours just tapping away on this laptop or watching Law & Order. The brilliant thing about Grindr is that all this activity just continues on as normal, and because your flirting takes place on your phone you can do it anywhere, anytime as you go about your life! Driving to work, on the couch at night, while your walking your dog, wandering the aisles of Coles.

It literally means you can be socialising every minute of the day. Now that’s revolutionary!

And if you hook-up amongst all of this socialising than it’s a WIN-WIN. Everyone can take home a prize.

It was fascinating talking to my girlfriend about Blendr. It seems the mating rituals of the gays and the straights aren’t as different as we thought. There is no doubting that two men looking to date is a much more direct and open discussion than when it’s a man and a woman. Gays can be harsh, blunt and far too honest. On Grindr it can be brutal! It seems that on Blendr the straights take better care of each others feelings while still having the same goal in mind.

On both apps you can be very clear about what you are looking for – dates, relationships, hook-ups, friendship, or just a simple chat. You can chat until your gums bleed or get straight to the point and send a nudie pic. You bump into people you know, you make new friends and you open yourself up to a whole new world of meeting new and interesting people.

And you can get laid!

I think social networking apps like this are truly brilliant. Dare I say it, I’m a little obsessed.

But a few little pieces of advice for my straight brothers and sisters cause I’ve learnt a few things in my time on Grindr:

1. Don’t drink and Grind! Or in your case Blend. Just like in a bar, alcohol can impair your judgement. It seems beer goggles effect you online as well. Oh dear, the amount of times I’ve embarrassed myself on Grindr after too many vodka’s. Or woken up the next morning to look back at some chats and just cringed in shame.

2. Never be embarrassed that you are on there. It’s human nature to want to meet people, date, have relationships. There is nothing shameful in putting yourself out there. I’ve chatted to boys to then find out we know each other or even work together. Some get real embarrassed by this. Unless you’ve been a real dirty little tart then what’s to be embarrassed about? I wear my flirting like a badge of honour.

3. Get your friends to help chose your pics. Its amazing how different those who know you well see you. My girlfriend and I both had completely opposing views as to what our best photos were. And she was right about me, and I think I was right about her. We’re now hotter online.

4. It may be an app on your phone but you still need to use and trust your instincts. A creep is a creep is a creep whether they are online or at the pub. And if someone is wearing a leather harness…

5. Don’t be afraid to ask for more information, especially pics. I don’t care what anyone says, attraction has to be physical as well. If you need to see more to make a decision you need to see more. Just be warned that at some point you are likely to end up with a nudie pic coming your way. Or maybe that’s just the gayers.

Ahhhhhh…. Such good times! You’re gonna love it.

There is another whole other story on this which is about how these apps have changed the club and pub scene. I have this theory that Grindr has made Oxford St less sleazy. But that will be for another time.

Go forth and Blend you beautiful straight people and one day you too can hope to grind like the gayers. 

I don't mix well with celebrities and alcohol.

I don’t have a very good track record of mixing celebrities and alcohol.

There was the incident at Mardi Gras quite a few years ago when I was the publicist for the broadcast. Spent the whole night working up the courage – and downing the vodka’s – to ask for a photo with Dannii Minogue and Lucy Lawless (Xena Warrior Princess) in the VIP area. Just as I was having a friend take the much-prized pic, out jumped a paparazzi and the resulting shot ran in the Sunday Telegraph and New Idea. I was mortified!

Found it on Google Image, too funny!

It was the first of many times that my boss hauled me into her office for the “the publicist is never the story” lecture.

It was also a dark night when I was chaperoning a very talented, very young, now international actor and I thought it was a good idea to take him to Arq. I lost him. There was another separate incident at Arq, in the DJ booth, but again that one will need to be legaled first and then only for my tell-all memoirs after I retire.

Then there was the time I ‘borrowed’ (some say stole) Delta Goodrem’s Logie and then danced around a Melbourne nightclub punching it in the air like it was mine. Congrats to me.

Yes, yes, its my very old Twitter pic.

This one doesn’t involve alcohol, but it is top of mind whenever I think of embarrassing celebrity moments. I accidentally bumped into/met Simon Baker one morning and I got so flustered by his sheer beauty that I dropped the stationary I was holding and then had this incredibly awkward moment as I stumbled around his knees to pick it up. 

Speaking of stumbling… Was once in a stairwell of some dirty Kings Cross nightclub staggering between floors with a double vodka in hand. I was able to open my eyes just enough to see Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman coming down the stairs. Freaked so much I tripped and almost spilt my drink! And trust me, I never spill my drink.

So you can imagine my fear when at a function this week my Plus 1 Lady Marmalade turned to me and said “I want my photo with him!”

She was referring to the breakout star of the brilliant new TV drama Killing Time, Richard Cawthorne. We were at cocktails after the premiere screening so we’d just been enthralled by this guy on the big screen for the last two hours. Now he was standing beside us - in the flesh. Too much! And too cute!

I tried to explain to Lady Marmalade that I wasn’t very good at this sort of thing, that it always leads to embarrassment. It’s the whole stopping of celebs and asking for a photo that makes me real uncomfortable. Lady Marmalade understood, I mean we are established career gals, confident, smart, we’ve got our shit together. We are well past being 14yo screaming schoolgirls at a Beiber concert.

But by now we were slightly socially lubricated, and Lady Marmalade started to share how she finds photo-bombing (or as she called it photo-blitzing) hilarious. Which gave us a brilliant idea. While we were too embarrassed to ask for a photo with him, there was nothing stopping us from getting a photo of Lady Marmalade and his back!

Can not tell you how funny we thought this was. We’d become fascinated by this actor so we loitered real close so that we could enjoy being in his presence without having to embarrass ourselves. Yes, slightly stalkerish! Then something weird happened that can only happen in a crowded room at a social function. The crowd just all of a sudden dispersed and left us standing face-to-face with said actor in an awkward silence.

Lady Marmalade covered well. “I just think you were fabulous! So fabulous. But I just heard that you get killed. Were your tattoo’s real? Can I have a photo?” I nearly choked. But hey, it’s a great shot. Certainly better than the one of his back.

Literally 20 seconds after this shot was taken he bolted. 

With such a great result we felt our confidence rise. Next on Lady Marmalade’s hit list was Vince Colosimo. Thankfully after a handful of canapés common sense and our dignity prevailed. So instead of asking for a fan shot with Vince we got one of his back instead.

That’s how we roll.

Lady Marmalade, I love you! You are fucking hilarious.

My Marriage Story

Today is a day of action for Australian Marriage Equality. This amazing organization is taking to Canberra 60 representatives from around Australia to meet with more than 40 MPs as part of the Real families, Real stories – Marriage Equality goes to Canberra campaign. To support their phenomenal work and commitment, today I wanted to tell my story of why marriage equality is so important to me.

Like a lot of gay men, especially older gay men, I grew up knowing I was different. I knew I was different to the other kids but was never sure why. I always inherently felt that my life would be different without ever knowing or understanding how.

When I came to know myself better as a young adult it all became a little clearer. I was different because I was gay. A minority. A minority that a lot of people in my community knew little about other than the Are You Being Served stereotype. The less accepting were even threatened and therefore vocal against people like me.

But as is the human way you learn to surround yourself with people who understand you, accept you and want you to be happy with who you are. You build your own community. For me, I took great comfort and strength from the acceptance I found in the later years of my university life and then my move to the ‘gay ghetto’ of inner Sydney. Here I was embraced by people who understood men like me.

I cruised along blissfully for a number of years, rejoicing in being surrounded by like-minded people and men who loved other men. It was one of the happiest times of my life. Then something really weird happened that, with the benefit of hindsight, proved to be the final piece in the St. Murphy puzzle.

My mum rang me one day so excited and happy that my beautiful cousin was engaged to the man of her dreams. I was ecstatic, screamed like a 12 year old girl. In the hours after the call I started crying like a baby and I didn’t stop for days. I really struggled with the conflicted feelings of being so happy for my cousin but so sad I couldn’t stop crying. I found it really hard to talk about and it was quite some time before I understood it myself.

It simply came down to this – I would never be able to share with my family the joy and happiness that comes from marrying the love of your life like my brother and cousins could. It was heartbreaking. I was shell-shocked that my reaction was so deep-seeded. I finally understood as clear as day how my life would be different. That intuitive feeling I’d had since a child was finally explained.

Marriage is a fundamental part of our society, there is no denying this. We are taught from a very young age, both directly and indirectly, that central to your adult life will be to find someone you love and make a life together. Marriage is a key component of these learnings. I believe that for those growing up knowing they are different there is also the subconscious understanding that the ideal of marriage will not be a part of their adult life. What makes them different, their homosexuality, makes marriage an impossibility.

Many years have passed for me since my first true grasping of how different my life will be. What was originally an emotional outpouring has now evolved into profound anger. And certainly an element of bitterness. I’m nearly 40 so I’m mature enough and with enough life experience to understand that my happiness does not and should not depend on finding a life partner. Also, that making my family happy is not at all dependant on being able to share a wedding with them. My anger and bitterness has absolutely nothing to do with the romantic notion of marriage.

At the core of my anger and bitterness is the inequality of marriage. My government does not recognize me or my relationships in the same way it does my brother, my cousins and most of society. I do not have the same rights. I do not have the same choices. I do not have the same options available to me to celebrate my love for my partner. In 2011 there are still laws that discriminate against me because of how I was born. This INFURIATES me.

This makes me crazy angry for the gay community. How dare the Australian government tell us we are less deserving. Surely the choice to marry should be an individual choice, not one made by your government.  This inequality also makes me incredibly sad for young kids growing up knowing they are different. In 2011 we are still saying to them ‘not only are you different, but you are also not equal’. Surely there is not a parent in the country who wants there child growing up feeling they are an outsider, that they don’t have every chance at happiness available to them, that they will be discriminated against.

This is why I’ve come to see marriage equality as so much more than a gay issue. Gay adults tend to be strong people. There is a certain amount of conditioning that comes from being a minority that gives you a tough skin. And we draw great strength from our community.  The young do not have this sense of camaraderie available to them yet. As a society we should be providing for all our young an environment where they can feel comfortable to be themselves and free to share their love. Our Government needs to lead the way.

People from all walks of life need to band together on this issue as it has the potential to affect everyone. Gays, lesbians, parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, friends and families. Basicly, anyone human. Yes, the gay community are central to the fight, but it is the wider community who can really help to bring about change. I want everyone to believe in this need for change so that future generations grow up knowing that no one is discriminated against in this country and that it doesn’t matter who you fall in love with.

A change to the Marriage Act to recognize homosexuals is a message to all Australians, young and old, that all love is equal.

It will be a very clear message that discrimination against gays will not be tolerated in our society.

It’s a beautiful message to all who feel they have been born different that they have the same rights and opportunities as everyone else.

Bringing about Marriage Equality has the ability to change the lives of so many.

And for purely selfish reasons, I want everyone to help bring about change so that if I meet the man of my dreams one day I can invite my family and friends to celebrate our wedding.

I passionately believe I should have this choice available to me.

If you want to learn more about how you can help make a difference…

Read my post from a few weeks ago

Join with us on DEC 3 for CAAH Equality Rally

Spend some time on Australian Marriage Equality website

Share your marriage story in a show of support at mymarriagestory.com.au

Share the ‘I Do’ video message and sign their petition

What do you call a gay cougar? A PANTHER!

I’m not exactly a spring chicken. I often joke that I am a middle-aged queen and refer to myself as ‘a man of a certain age’. To be specific, I’m 39 and now only a matter of months away from the big 4-0. I can not wait for this massive celebration and as a general rule I don’t think I have a problem with growing old (Botox helps!).

I think this is because I don’t think or feel like a 40 year old. I’ve always struggled with ‘maturity’, it doesn’t sit well with me. I behave like a child, I socialise like a teenager and I date like I’m in my early 20’s. Now this has become even more apparent in the last few months when I’ve got myself back on the singles scene. I spent most of my 30’s in a beautiful relationship and now that this has ended I think I’ve regressed in age.

Leader of the Pack: Demi

I may be 39 but I am back acting like someone a decade younger. And it seems my tastes haven’t evolved in that time either. I’ve caught myself a number of times recently ‘engaging’ with those much younger than me. There was one moment at Daywash on Big Gay Weekend when I found myself all animated in the middle of a circle of 22 year olds. I swear some of them weren’t even shaving yet. What could I possibly have in common with these boys?

You are right, absolutely nothing. 3GreggyD and The Sculptor airlifted me out.

I'd do anything Madonna does

But this has been happening a lot. To the point where it’s started to make me uncomfortable. Then suddenly the penny dropped.

I’ve become a gay cougar!

The term cougar has become a synonymous with modern-day dating and often used to mock. But I completely understand now. It was a lightbulb moment – I am a cougar! But I struggled to see myself in the image of the traditional cougar – I wear pants but no make-up – so I put the call out on Twitter. What do you call a gay cougar? The response was quick, dramatic and unanimous. A gay cougar is a…

…PANTHER!

How fucking cool is that! I’m a Panther and I couldn’t be more proud. I love that there is even a term for it. I should have known the gays would be all over this one. Oh the fun I am going to have now that I can legitimately call myself a Panther. They have sleek black coats, can move incredibly fast and pounce on their unsuspecting prey with stealth like precision. Kudos to me!

Calvin Klein and boyfriend

Before I lose myself in a sea of Panther jokes, I have to admit there is a more philosophical debate to be had around the existence of cougars and panthers. If you had of tried to explain this to me even 6 months ago I wouldn’t have understood, but now after a while doing the pub/bar/Grindr circuit I completely get it.

The dating scene is entirely dominated by the young. And by young I mean under 35. Boys in their 20’s are literally swarming everywhere. You can not buy a vodka, lime & soda or turn on your Grindr without them popping up everywhere like cockroaches. Now this is a brilliant thing if you too are in your 20s, if you are ‘a man of a certain age’ it really does narrow your focus.

Elton John and boyfriend

There just aren’t that many men of my age out and about – on the scene or online. Maybe they are all shacked up by now? Maybe they lost interest in the scene a long time ago? Maybe they have secret places they go to that I don’t know about yet? But I’ve been on a 7 year hiatus so I’m playing catch-up. I’ve got my training wheels on for sure but I’m yet to find a way to meet people that isn’t dominated by the young.

I have no choice but to become a panther!

Without getting all sociological on you arse, I can imagine it would be very similar for the cougars. If you want to meet someone, have some company, have some fun; then your options to mix with people of your own age are very limited. They are all off choosing their new home furnishings or planning couples weekends away. They are having dinner parties with old friends and going to school concerts.

Us panthers and cougars, well, we are out to get some action!

Karl Lagerfield and boyfriend

And the only other people out doing the same are the young. Age does have its advantages for the cougars and the panthers though. We’ve had many more years to fine-tune our wit, charm and intellect for the sole purpose of luring in our prey. They are putty in our hands when they come across our specilaised skill-set. Well, sometimes.

So today I’m all about empowering the panther and the cougar. Now that I understand this social group and recognize that I am part of it, I can completely appreciate and encourage our existence.

Besides, someone needs to be teaching the young how to do things properly.

No reason for this photo, just that its my favourite from the weekend!

Big Gay Weekend!

To the uninitiated, Big Gay Weekend is a fabulous series of parties and events co-ordinated as a fundraiser for the wonderful people at New Mardi Gras. Some of you may remember Sleaze Ball, well that has been replaced by a 3 day extravanganza. The Gays must be increasing in their stamina.

Before I get dirty with the party details I need to address my Manscaping issues I wrote about last week – the contradiction of the full beard needed for one function with the clippered torso required for another. I may have had the beard but it did nothing to help my fit in at gathering of Bears. Clippered my torso for dance party but because of my flabby gut there was no way my singlet was coming off. Note to self: hair is neither here nor nair.

The Sculptor (who purposely does that in photos), 3GreggyD and McDimples

So who are the key player on this Big Gay Weekend? It was a gathering of Twitterati that’s for sure. We had visiting Melbourne Gay Royalty 3GreggyD who as it seems knows more about socializing in Sydney than I do, sad but true. He’s also more connected. He planned our whole weekend god love him. Staying at Man Pit with me (Little Sammy and I make him sleep on the floor) is ex-ex-boyfriend-come-beautiful-friend The Sculptor. The three of us were a posse the whole weekend.

The Sculptor and Little Sammy

Playing very important Special Guest Appearance roles were McDimples, Lucky Paulie and Murdoch. McDimples put in some hard, fast yards over Friday and Saturday night and left me breathless with his flirting abilities. Lucky Paulie had to work over the weekend as he is changing the face of Australian television so he couldn’t misbehave. Murdoch is a new Twitter friend, he came from nowhere on Sunday and BAM! he was all over it!

As you can see from the shot above, 3GreggyD, The Sculptor and McDimples enjoy a certain crowd so they dragged Princess St. Murphy to the Oxford to kickstart BGW. Yep, still don’t fit in! It smells. It’s overcrowded. It’s a fucking nightmare to get a drink. If there hadn’t been porn playing on the TV’s I would’ve wanted to leave much earlier. I didn’t even get felt up and I was wearing my best Japanese-butt jeans. But both my Melbourne visitors knew of another party we could go to – Commando.

Now this had me intrigued as I am sure one of them told me it meant you had to go Commando, as in no underwear. I held high hopes I was gonna be undie-checked at the door cause at least I could interpret that as some action in my lonely head. But alas, we got a bum-steer. No one checked my Kenneth Cole briefs as I handed over my cover charge. Commando that night started two trends that went for the entire weekend – 3GreggyD and The Sculptor know more people in Sydney than I do and gay men do not like wearing shirts. Especially in a 400m radius of a dance floor.

Commando was cool, the music was brilliant. But the best bit was the Ball Pit. It brought out the inner child in us all. Frollicking in the Ball Pit is just like you would imagine, hilarious. That is until I thought I thought I lost my wallet. Luckily my jeans were so tight nothing was coming out of those pockets and it was a false alarm. Phew! How could I rack up more debt if I didn’t have atleast 2 credit cards with me?

Suitably drunk and super-confident we strutted our way up Oxford and hit the Shift. The first gay bar I ever went to was the Shift in 1995. I think some of the same crowd is still there. If ever you want a snapshot of the sheer diversity of the gay community step into the Shift one day. You can say a lot of things about this place but ‘dull’ is not one of them. I love and adore it, but I think maybe for all the wrong reasons.

Something very strange came over McDimples at the Shift – he got his sex-face on! He was like a MAGNET!!! He was being showered with love and affection from someone different every time I turned around. It was some phenomenal flirt-work, the likes you rarely see. Now if he was putting notches in his bedhead….???? Me, I’m still finding my feet. There was one (far too) young boy from Mississippi who I gave a whole new meaning for Mississippi Burning due to my facial hair. Weirdest part of night was towards the end when our Melbourne brothers turned to us and say “We’re going for burgers”. What the…? Is that code for something? Apparently not, they went for burgers. McDimples and I kept drinking, that’s how we role in Syd-er-ney!

Saturday is a blur. 3GreggyD and The Sculptor dragged me out of bed for lunch where we told our war-stories from the night before, quickly organized a dinner for that night and then they put me back to bed. Satyrday night, Una’s for a schnitzel is a life-changing experience. It is my favourite meal in Sydney. It is heaven on a plate with gravy. Although we kept choking on our food cause we had some funny stories to share. Lucky Paulie was finally able to join us and thank god he is as Twitter/Grindr/Scruff obsessed as the rest of us – we love our phones (RIP Steve Jobs!). I hurt from laughing!

McDimples, Lucky Paulie, St. Murphy & 3GreggyD

My beautiful Schnit

Una’s was followed by gay-casual drinks at the Green Park. Everyone was still mocking me for my diarrhea story from dinner. We were now sitting on stools. I can’t help my bowel condition! Had one of those moments when the pendulum could have swung either way – home now or out till lunchtime tomorrow. Commonsense and the return of daylight saving prevailed and we tucked ourselves into bed at a respectable hour. Such good boys, almost angelic.

Sunday was the big one! Daywash.

I love a crowd of any sort, always have. Make it a gay crowd and I’m even happier. Make it a gorgeous gay crowd heaving to the dance-version of Adele with no shirts on and I am in absolute HEAVEN!!!! I hadn’t realized how much I missed dance parties until the moment the first bare, incredibly toned, torso took to the podium. Papa was home!!! It’d been 4 years since I’d been to one and that will not happen again. Just unbelievable fun. Fun fun fun!

3GreggyD and The Sculptor were in brilliant form. Again, they knew more people than I did. At one point I was completely surrounded by boys from Melbourne and Brisbane. It started at noon so no excuse for anyone to have a shirt on (except me of course!). My $2 Thai singlet worked a treat at this quasi-summer event. A prominent Melbourne gayer gave me a corsage of a body-loofer from the overhanging clothes line and I also acquired a hot pink tutu to complete my spectacular dance outfit. And dance we did. Lost count of the amount of times I heard Adele on steroids.

The spunky and hilarious Murdoch was backing up from the night before, left his friends at home on the couch and came and played with us all day. See, Twitter does good things.  We’d become friends online and had only met so briefly only the week before. He is now my dance-party buddy and we’re planning for the next. He’s very tall and can see everything so he was like my own personal telescope.

3GreggyD, The Sculptor and Murdoch

We all moved from room to room doing our best So You Think You Can Dance impressions, we’d wander off and then come back to the group, we socialized with strangers and caught up with old friends. It was truly joyous. I literally loved every second. EVERY GODDAMN SECOND! My little heart sank when it finally ended.

We shuffled our way back across Hyde Park for a much-needed costume change before the after-party, Splash. I forgot to feed Little Sammy which I didn’t realize until lunchtime the next day. But I did remember a Yves Saint Laurent spritz, a new singlet and a fresh pack of B&H. Splash was v. cool but yes, everyone was starting to get a little messy. Perhaps even me. I did think at one point I’d never seen a hotter group of men than the crowd on the dancefloor but that could have been the double-vodka’s talking. And I’m out of training, four years out. So my little meaty thighs were starting to get tired. Positioned myself provocatively on a vast leather couch and chatted and giggled with some old and dear friends.

Oh dear.

Then suddenly the lights came on! Oh dear, warts and all. There was talk of a new venue but for fucks sake I’m 39! I needed to curl up in bed before serious injury/possible heart attack. A quick check of my compact and I looked 105. Yes, time for this tired old queen to punch some Z’s. Waved goodbye to 3GreggyD who still had some fight left in him and stumbled, staggered, pretended to strut my way down the hill (thank god!) to Man Pit. A very hungry Little Sammy needed some cuddles.

But a better weekend is hard to recall! This was one of the great ones!

Had an absolute fucking ball!