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. 

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!

My First Wife

I got married once.

It was in a bar.

My first wife was Mrs Woog.

It was a sultry Bathurst eve at The Eddie Hotel in 1995 when Mrs Woog and I , fuelled by a 1000 vodka’s, decided to marry. I do believe it was Sawhole who performed the ceremony and I do believe we had shots to celebrate.

The harsh reality of my homosexuality meant it ended by last drinks as I went off to find boys to pash and Mrs Woog passed out in a cab (I’m guessing).

Now 16 years later after our love for each other was re-ignited over Twitter my first wife is more a part of my life than ever. I am her hag fag, she is my fag hag. Now Mrs Woog is Sydney and blogging royalty and I am completely riding on her coattails. I am her Plus 1 cause I am never invited anywhere and Mr Woog can obviously trust me with his wife.

That is until our third Stoli cocktail. The third means there is a steady downhill slide to number 10 and the next thing you know you’ve got a kebab in your hand and staggering home with a broken belt (self-inflicted unrinating injury).

I was Mrs Woog’s Plus 1 at a Stoli Vodka party. You can imagine my joy. Mrs Woog understands that if I had to choose between her and vodka I’d choose voddie everytime. I was the perfect date.

Plus’s: free vodka, lamb chop finger food, schmoozing the boss of Stoli, laughing at each other cause we think we are real funny.

Minus’s: Oldest in the room, choked on signature cocktail, bartender wouldn’t sleep with me.

Eventually we realised we were the drunkest in the room so carted our tired old asses out the door, in a cab and up the road for a bar opening, The Standard, cause obviously we needed another drink on a school night. It was a who’s who of cool people. I should have worn my sunnies. We had a little gang there so heaps of fun.

Mrs Woog eventually bailed on me cause she thought I’d fallen in love. Truth is, I did very briefly, but once again St. Murphy strikes out. The muso-type had no interest in this tired old queen. Stoli made me think I looked hot so I broke another one of Mrs Woog’s rules and tried for a third venue, the smells-like-vomit Stonewall.

And this time I did fall in love. Well, as much as you can while you are swaying side to side with one hand on a table to hold my bodyweight upright. This boy kept my interest long enough for it to even cross my mind that we should go on a date. Now that breaks one of my key rules – no dating. But I’m toying with the idea. After all it has been well over 6 months since ‘the break-up’.

But its gonna be real tough for a boy to be a better date than Mrs Woog. I just don’t think its possible.

Yes, yes, I know all you regular readers of Woogsworld will have heard this tale yesterday, but my recovery has been so slow that to come up with anything new or creative was just too difficult. Sorry. It's Mrs Woogs fault.