The little black Melways

There I was, I had just sold my car to a very straight, young middle eastern mechanic who worked for my mechanic, who I had been going to for years and years. I had given the young man the keys and said kindly (because I am a very generous man!), "Keep the Melways, it is current, I have no need of it"..... and then a day later I realised with embarrassment what I had left him with, was actually my little 'black' Melways!

***At this very early juncture, I should point out that 'Melways' is the brand of a Melbourne (where I live) street directory. The 'Mel' in Melways being for Melbourne. I did not realise this till a couple of years ago when I was interstate and asked someone if there was a Melways about so that we could work out how to get 'unlost. They they looked at me like I was an idiot .. "Umm this is Brisbane...Melways are for Melbourne!, here it is called Brisways!" they snorted. "Oh!", was my confused and embarrassed reply. Who knew?

Now, back to the main point of all of this!....Being a single modern man, I have been 'out there'. I don't mean in the garden doing some much needed weeding, but out there, on the dating scene. Dating is word that for me has wholesome connotations and I guess the modern scene is often anything but...but what is my point? A post lamenting the loss of more innocent times? No, something a little more sordid. Today's dating scene is more like a .. well, you meet online, you exchange 'vitals' and interests and then before you have finished saying hello and starting the small talk about the weather and contemporary art, 'Bob's your uncle!' ( a euphemism for: making hay while the sun shines (can you use a euphemism to explain the meaning of another euphemism?)).

So, being an 'out there' modern dating man, I have had my fair share of 'dates' and because I can be forgetful.. I would dot point important details of said dates .. name, address, phone number, 'vitals', 'interests' and important information like - 'nice guy but boring', 'bad breath' etc.... now, because I am practical.. I go that little bit further with all of this and just in case I want to go back on another 'date'.. I placed these little bits of paper, on the actual page of the Melways  (road directory) where they lived. This obviously makes it easier for me if I wanted to visit them again. With me being 'that way inclined'.. this also means these little bits of paper obviously had other men's details on them. 

Anyway ..So here I am, having sold my car and given away my little black Melways with all of it's dirty little secrets, names, addresses, numbers etc,  to a young and very straight  mechanic, who worked for my mechanic  etc.......which all means that obviously I can never go back to that most brilliant of brilliant mechanics.... but at the same time I cannot leave these other peoples personal details 'out there' in the greater world where they may be  used to hurt them in some way... can I?  

Maybe?

What a dilemma!.. what to do?
I mean, another option would be to have the young man sacked so that I can go back to my mechanics if I need to and then won't have to shamefully face him.

Before anyone gets all up in arms, of course I know what I 'must' do...which is the 'right thing' of course! Being of southern Italian blood, the 'right thing' would mean to have him 'removed' permanently. But, being a kind hearted man, I ignore the voice of Calabrese reason and
after much deep breathing and many slugs of hard liquor, I venture back to the mechanics (where I knew the car was waiting on some much needed repair work) and asked  my car's new young owner if I could grab an important document I think I left in the Melways..  He was polite enough and pointed out where the car was. Acting as calm as a cucumber I quickly nabbed all the dirty little bits of proof of the wicked life I had led ( a statement which incorrectly infers that I am now a model catholic!) and believe it or not.. In a panic I actually contemplated  eating the 'evidence' in case he came over and caught me red-handed with it.. but then thought about how I had no fluid/drink to wash the paper down with and my mouth would surely get all dry.. because it was probably like eating dry biscuits.. right?..and your mouth gets so dry that you can't actually swallow! So I took it all home and shredded it instead. I sighed a huge sigh of relief because not only was I amazingly clever and saved the day for millions of unsuspecting gay, bisexual and 'curious' Melbourne men, but now, no one would ever know about my shameful little black Melways.

I am certain that there is a lesson there in all of this... but I'll be buggered if I can find it ;-)

The good, the bad and the ugly- November 2011

The good:

Recently, a dear friend and I saw Woody Allen’s ‘Midnight in Paris’. This film had a lovely understated quality about it. Yes, Woody Allen still writes for Woody Allen, leaving his male leads to imitate him, but Owen Wilson does get away with it better than most who have come before. One thing I like about Owen Wilson is that he is adept at using the space in between words to communicate, via a look, a movement etc…where Allen is sometimes too verbose and his wit, while still charming, is often too mature for these younger actors… still enough of these minor quibbles.. An important point is that the morning after watching this film, I awoke still feeling it's warm glow within me!

This film is Allen's love note to Paris and watching it, made me fall in love with the city as well. A huge feat given that my one and only visit to Paris in 2010, did not leave me  impressed. But after watching Allen’s opening montage….Paris and I seem to have now made up. The long glances we exchange, communicates the shared forgiveness for our past folly, as well as our hope for a brighter future together…ahhhh… Do you see what Allen has done to me??? The Parisian tourism board need to put him on their books! 'Midnight in Paris', the title itself is captivatingly romantic, as is the thought of walking it's streets in the rain... I shan't bore you by talking about the plot or the themes of denial, self-trust, honesty and one’s search for meaning and happiness (a regular theme for Allen), I will say that it was a delightful and in some ways a subtle film, which is well worth watching. Now, through the magic of the internet, allow me to present to you the opening sequence to 'Midnight in Paris' and prepare to fall in love!

The bad:

Having to choose between ideals and paying the bills.

Recently in one of my paid roles, I was presented with a situation where I began to question if my ideals are in-line with my employer. This led me to do much soul searching. I realise that no role will be exactly in-line with our ideals, or if it is at the start, the lines can shift over time. So here I sit pondering, if I am being stubborn, idealistic or am I simply being ‘true to myself’... perhaps I am being all three. But alongside that thought is the concern of how do I also ensure that I can pay the mortgage and eat. I ask you, do we change the world, or does the world change us?

So this month’s ‘The bad’… is dedicated to the uncomfortable struggle we face in our ongoing quest for congruence in our lives, between our actions and our ideals.. and the tightrope we walk between staying true to these ideals, finding a compromise and betraying ourselves and selling out.

The ugly:

Media personality Helen Razor once talked very openly about Mr Buzzy, her intimate ‘self-help’ friend… Which reminds me of a sad and in some ways an ugly tale. This is a tale of a man I had recently been seeing and how I inadvertently put myself out of a job.  You see, I was helping out at ‘that store’ again and this guy I was seeing, decided to visit me there. We talked about the products, pointed, giggled, made some jokes and then before you could say ‘batteries included’ I was selling a ‘self-help friend’ to this guy.. to my guy!
After this purchase, I have to say that it was a long time in-between hearing from him and now it seems that I have put myself out of a job! (if I can describe it that way).. Last I heard, he and the 'self-help' friend were very, very happy! So word to the wise.. if you are ‘involved’ with someone, try to avoid selling them ‘self help’ intimacy aides that will only make you obsolete…

Everything in its right place

I walk the streets. I am on my way home. Radiohead’s Lp ‘Kid A’ plays out and the chill of Autumn is felt. This chill is bearable, I am happy that it is not yet Winter. Skipping the main street with its 5pm traffic and noise, I walk down back lanes and alleys. Apartments tower above and to the sides, I navigate the broken bottles. God this is a bleak place. Not surprisingly, thoughts of ‘us’ fill my head, and ‘Everything in its right place’ fills my ears. Things suddenly make sense. I write in my journal….

Extracts from an unsent letter to my lover dated April 2011

“I realised, surrounded by this bleakness, the concrete lanes strewn with broken glass, boxed apartments stacked high and wide…Frightened people within the boxes look out expectantly as if something is going to happen, they wait for some dramatic and beautiful change, but it never comes… the knowledge seems to creep up on them, creep up on all of us- ‘this is it’…. Gone is expectation, in its place, unhappiness. It makes perfect sense, this was all that could follow, this is what was meant to be and is…everything is in its right place.”

“We argue again. I make my point like a crazy European, righteous, loud and angry. You brood silently. Even now, minutes later, I forget what we argued about, it’s never about factual things, strange isn’t it? Perhaps not, for I have come to realise that there is no room for ‘truth’ in our relationship. How can there be?, we are based on a lie. He thinks you are at work, not here with me. He thinks you are the faithful and monogamous partner, but here we are again, fucking. He doesn’t even know I exist and I love him for that. I could not stand to face him and take responsibility for my part in this. I am as much a coward as you are, as much a traitor…”

“I think about the unhappiness that follows. Isn’t that what comes after deceit? I deluded myself for so long that we were in love, how childish of me. How blind and desperate. All you ever gave me were the scraps that He would not notice gone. I can’t help but think that everything is in its right place. I got what I asked for. I sit in the lane, on a plastic milk-crate amongst the debris. Staring up at the boxes filled with frightened people, I snarl at them ‘what did you expect?!!’ My voice echo’s off the concrete. There is no response, except for the movement of curtains being drawn.”

The good the bad and the ugly - Feb 2011

The Good: Friends disclosing personal and hilarious information over dinner.

Recently I was at dinner with a couple of friends and as we paused for air during a now unmemorable conversation, one of the friends casually said, “I lost my virginity when I was 14 to a 16 year old amputee”. Not only did this have absolutely nothing to do with the topic of conversation, but my friend carried on as if she had just casually mentioned that she needed to pick up milk on her way home. My eyes bulged out of my head and I had to backtrack- “WOAH!!! Hang on a minute, did you just say….???”. Obviously the other friend and I then asked a million questions, including- ‘wasn’t this illegal?’ (the age difference, not the ‘having sex with an amputee’ bit). Anyway, the thing that makes this hilarious is that the amputee is missing a hand (I think she said that he has the whole arm down to the wrist), and she didn’t realise this until SOMEONE ELSE pointed it out AFTER the deed was done. My friends excuse for not noticing was that the amputee was wearing a long sleeve t-shirt so ‘it was hard to tell’. Ummm.. yeah. 

I asked her ‘how could you not tell that he was only using one hand to touch you?’ (where I then began to manically demonstrate this at the restaurant- the other diners must have thought that we were insane), anyway, her answer was ‘no’, she didn’t notice. I did wonder if she thought him marvellously skilled at undoing a bra with only one hand (maybe she thought he was showing off?)… but as he was wearing a long sleeve t shirt, they probably didn’t bother going to the effort of taking all their clothes off to do it. Does that make it lazy sex?. Or is that when you can't be bothered putting the effort in? Or is that when you start and stop and take your time?

So dear reader if you are ever at dinner with me, feel free to disclose anything personal and hilarious, just be prepared for a "that’s FANTASTIC!!!!” and then for me to ask a million questions (p.s. thank you to my de-flowered friend for graciously letting me share this story!).

The Bad: The work toilet.

I work in small-ish office and we have two unisex toilets (YAY!!!). One thing I hate and that freaks me out is seeing who has come out of the toilet just before I am about to use it, or worse, someone seeing me leave and going in straight after me !!!!!

I don’t want to smell what my boss has done in the toilet, or see any signs of his visit that may have been left behind (ladies you know what I am talking about, the fella’s seem oblivious to this, as I always seem to be cleaning up after my male colleagues for fear a female colleague seeing me come out of the toilet and then going straight in, will think that I made that mess!). 

See, the problem for me is that anything I know that Joe Bloggs has done in the toilet is just going to stay in my brain. What’s worse is that if I am in a mood and my boss leaves a reminder of his ‘visit’ behind, I can see myself pulling him up on that. Alternatively, if I am in a particularly caring mood that day and there is a considerable odour left behind, I am likely to strike up a conversation about it with the person in question and ask if they are ok,what did they eat and do they need to a) see a Dr, or b) change their diet.

As for me, I don’t want people to know the details of my ‘visit’ to the bathroom. It’s just too intimate (well close friends know all about my bowl movement dramas and joys) and please don’t go all Freud on me either and mention the stages of psychosexual development, in particular- the anal stage, (I am not a fan of Freudian analysis).. This is about privacy, not issues that I may or may not have with ‘giving and receiving pleasure’ (which my counsellor and I may or may not be currently working through).

The ugly- The no carb diet.

In an attempt to reclaim my wardrobe, I have embarked on a two week no-carb diet. I have been given lots of support and advice from D & R and if I don’t loose enough weight by the end of the fortnight (which is ok if it doesn’t happen), I know that at least there is the likelihood that I will be up on some form of assault charge. Not being able to eat bread, pasta, rice or MUESLI!!!! (which I sometimes have twice a day!! YUM!!) has lead me to being cranky all day and wanting to attack people.. and I mean anyone and everyone!!! 

Day 1 saw me on the verge of going mental and biting people in the street, because I was so damn hungry for carbs!!!!! (I am serious here).

Day 2 saw me wanting to punch out anyone eating a sandwich in front of me

Day 3 saw me stay indoors for safety’s sake

Day 4 I am at work again...so god help any customer snacking on carbs in my presence, because I will jump this counter and either kick them out and give them a life time ban from the store, or wrestle them and their carbs to the ground, possibly biting them in the process, because god knows I can’t bite into a yummy sough dough sandwich at the moment!!!

Grrrrrr !!!!

Porn, acquaintances and awkwardness

I am a man and am not ashamed to say that I have watched porn. Well.. ok, not ashamed to say this to anyone that isn’t my; mum, dad, a family member, anyone over sixty years of age, nun, priest, neighbor or current and/or potential employer. I am also a person who has been described on occasion as being ‘careful’ with money. So it should come as no surprise that I would not want to pay to watch porn. I am not buying, renting or paying –per-view.  This means that the porn I have seen is free, online and usually dodgy. Dodgy because it is either someone video recording porn playing on a television set and then posting it online, or dodgy because it is homemade and just bad. Why would I bother?.. err….hello.. it is free! So, here is where the awkwardness comes in. Recently I was browsing through some free online homemade porn ( how often do you get to say that phrase?), randomly came across a clip and quickly realized that the guy in the clip was an acquaintance. At this point in time that voice that speaks to you inside your head..you know the one,  some call it reason, others call it sense.. well what ever it is called,  it screamed out to me - ‘OMG!!!!  STOP WATCHING THIS!’ But I was in a state of shock, as if I was at an accident scene, frozen and couldn’t look away from what was happening.. and then for a moment I unfroze, just long enough to do something really, really, really dumb…. I don’t know why I did it.. but I did…. I fast forwarded the clip.. because…. I was curious, I wanted to know what his facial expression looked like…. when… well you know when!!! Wrong on so many levels.

This guy is an acquaintance I kind of worked with a long time back and see socially a few times a year. The problem is that I now can’t get his ‘happy face’ out of my memory, It is like god has punished me, and punished me hard… this is for watching bad free porn you cheapskate- BOOM!!!! 

I have to ask, why would anyone post their ‘happy face' online??, which by the way looks like anything but a happy face (as we all know from experience.. and let me share with you I once thought my partner (at the time), was having a heart attack/stroke and dying, he looked like he was in such pain, his face was all twisted, he couldn’t speak, he was kind of stuttering or stuck on a vowel- ‘guh guh guh guh guh!!’. I had a freaking panic attack thinking OMG, OMG!!!  I need to call an ambulance!!! Since that day I have usually reminded my partner to warn me when his ‘happy face’ is about to appear so that I can avert my gaze).  So yeah.. getting back to my point, why would anyone post their ‘happy face’ on the internet and most importantly- why oh why dear sweet Jesus, did I hit the fast forward button???