sydney's gay beach party cancelled

When Mardi Gras released this news 10,000 drag queens began a 10 day fast, Ariel the mermaid princess sang a haunting melody and Oxford Street's gay bars enforced a ban on speedos and football shorts. Yes, the Mardi Gras beach party has been cancelled due to new licensing laws at the Bondi Surf Bathers Life Savers Club (bit of a mouthful, no?).

This line in the statement (clearly written by a rather upset gay organiser) made me laugh:

This means the Beach Party is unable to go ahead. Mardi Gras regrets this change, as we were really looking forward to this event, but with the dramatically reduced capacity and no other venues in the area able to accommodate the Beach Party in the format we had planned, we have no other option but to cancel.

Then he walked out of the room.

Poor little thing. She couldn't throw the 900 person party she had planned. One hundred and fifty people just wouldn't have cut it.

Mardi Gras beach party RIP. Better luck next year, guys.

sydney's gay scene: an illustration

yummy things: sonoma bakery and cafe

I love Paddington: the tree lined streets, the pretty Victorian terraces, the ratio of three-wheeled 4x4 prams to cars, the absence of drug addicts when jogging at 8am on a Sunday morning. Yes, Paddington is heavenly and when I'm a bit richer it would most certainly be my neighbourhood of choice. It beats The Slurry (aka Surry Hills) hands down.

On my little Sunday morning jog last week I came across a cute little branch of the cafe chain Sonoma. Yes, I know we're all supposed to be anti anything that's a chain in the 21st century but I adore this little gem in Paddington.

I had a frothy latte and a delicious almond croissant. But what I love most is the immaculate presentation of their products. I have a healthy addiction to fresh, beautifully presented food and Sonoma does it perfectly. So head down to Paddington, buy yourself a good weekend paper, a latte, a little pastry and (if you're lucky enough) enjoy it all with someone you love. Happy weekend!

cardigan cunt: a little video for your enjoyment

I found this video by a Sydney dude going by the name of Tabloid Junk ridiculously funny. Yes, it's camp. Yes, it's hideously gay....but it's still funny. Nothing makes me laugh more than a slightly acidic gay man making fun of cardigan wearers, emos, hummus eaters and all the other minorities in our society. Hooray for Tabloid Junk!



Oh, and Tabloid Junk's rather comical blog is here.

four reasons why sydney men can't date

I've decided Sydney men can't date. I know it's a sweeping statement full of generalisations, but here are the reasons why:

1. Overexposure: Sydney is probably the second gayest city in the world (after San Francisco). There are pretty, muscled men everywhere always aiming to punch above their weight and the relentless beach culture exposes thousands of bulging Speedos on a daily basis. Sydney's gay population know what's out there and they know it's good. They are overexposed to men.

2. Culture of Sex: Sydney's gay scene seems to thrive on a culture of sex- not friendship or support. Sex clubs seem to be everywhere and the gay population is mostly driven by one thing: getting laid. Sex isn't the only thing gay men have in common.

3. Lack of Civil Rights: Perhaps I'm delusional, but I believe if society supports gay relationships, gay men will be more willing to have these relationships also. Australia is STILL lacking in gay marriage and civil partnership rights. Society won't embrace committed relationships so gay men won't either.

4. Fear of Monogamy: Although this is by no means a Sydney-specific issue, I believe the vast majority of Sydney's gay population have chronic monogamy-phobia. They don't want to have one partner when thousands of gay men are queuing around the block for sex. Most gay relationships I know here seem to be 'open' or their partners are sleeping around. Sad but true.

And, just for fun, here's a few sexy lifesavers in Speedos for your enjoyment.

yummy things: aesop's amazing face cleanser

Oh Aesop, what did I do to deserve you? You are one of the true, unconditional, forgiving loves in my life.

If you've got oily or combination skin like I do, Aesop's Amazing Facial Cleanser will make you happy on lots of levels. It uses a whole bunch of natural ingredients, it foams pretty lightly and it leaves your skin feeling just what it says on the bottle: amazing.

Aesop is a 100% Australian owned company (I guess Melbourne still counts as Australia) committed to sustainable practices and all that shit were supposed to be following right now. Of all the skin care products out there, Aesop really gets their branding right. Their products are immaculately (albeit simply) packaged and their products really work (and smell, without over-using the word, amazing).

Be a bit careful of this abrasive little powder you can buy separately to add into the cleanser. It works (that's not my beef) but the little rubber lid comes off easily. I got to my hotel room after a long flight only to find my luggage was covered in ground almond kernels. Not ideal.

Buy it, try it and inundate me with 'thank you' cards.

Date: The natural networker

Venue: The Beresford Hotel, Surrey Hills

Spark: 7/10

Intellectual connection: 9/10

Physical appeal: 8/10

Date rating: 8/10

Some people are just natural networkers: they walk into a room and within about 20 minutes they know everyone by their first names and exactly what favours and connections they can obtain through their new-found contacts. Yes, it's a rare skill but in my opinion it is one of the only life skills worth developing. Jack, my Sunday afternoon date, was a star networker who put me to shame. Sydney's gay population seem to have networking down-pat. LA is the only city I can think of that rivals Sydney in its networking abilities.

Predictably, I first met Jack on Grindr. We hit it off instantly on our iPhone chat and, both being marketing professionals, we seemed to have quite a bit in common. Jack and I agreed to meet after I looked at a hideous little terrace in Surry Hills (yes, I'm moving). He suggested we meet at The Beresford for a drink. Beer was (naturally) the beverage of choice.

When I first saw Jack in the bar at The Beresford I have to confess to being pleasantly surprised. He had a warm smile and floppy sandy-coloured hair that covered his forehead. Perhaps the nicest thing about him, however, was his incredible ability to make conversation. It was nice to finally go on a date with someone and not flounder in desperation to make talk. He had this remarkable ability of coming across as deeply interested in everything that came out of my mouth (even though it's unlikely he was interested in the slightest).

We chatted at The Beresford for about two or three hours. We talked marketing, food, bars, Sydney, foreign cinema- we seemed to connect on lots of levels. He stole several of my cigarettes and we briefly chatted to a hideously tall drag queen dressed in a rather unflattering pink bikini. It was a fun afternoon. We both laughed a lot.

Jack had organised dinner with his parents that evening. Both slightly drunk, we stumbled out of the hotel, gave each other a quick hug goodbye and made our ways home.

Whether it would turn into a friendship or something more, I wasn't sure. What I did know is that I would most certainly see Jack again.

RULE #28: When your date wants to be in control of the conversation, relax and enjoy it.

Date: The honest cheater

Venue: Stonewall, Oxford Street

Spark: 7/10

Intellectual connection: 4/10

Physical appeal: 6/10

Date rating: 6/10

I headed into town with some old friends on a Thursday night. Stonewall was their venue of choice for the evening. My friends, two gay couples, were deeply engrossed in their respective partners pretty much leaving me standing at the bar by myself.

I looked over to find a boy winking rather obviously at me from the other end of the bar. I smiled and ordered myself another drink. He wasn't unattractive, I just wasn't really in the mood to have yet another superficial connection with someone who would probably be hideously inappropriate anyway. After getting my drink, he handed the barman $10 and said, "now that I've bought your drink, do I get to talk to you?"

"A drink and I'm all yours, I guess," he didn't pick up on my slight sarcasm. It was possibly the corniest line ever, but pickings were slim and being bought a drink in the midst of a mild recession is always flattering.

We chatted for some time about the same pointless things you talk about when you first meet people. He turned out to be a South American university student studying a masters in business. He was bright and sparky and had that somewhat charming over-confidence typical of South Americans. After about an hour, I had warmed to him slightly. He was genuine, straightforward and, I'm not going to lie, sexy to boot.

I was tired, and wanted an early night. He gave me a quick kiss and I wrote down my Facebook address as requested.

The next day, Andreas added me to Facebook and, only moments later, I received an extremely long-winded message. The first three quarters of the message went on about how nice it was to meet me the night before. The last part of the message, however, read something like this, "by the way, I've been seeing someone for a couple of years but it's not serious. I hope I can still see you again." The nicer (and more straightforward) way of telling me this would have been, "I have a long-term boyfriend, but can still fuck sometime?"

I instantly replied saying that it was refreshing that he was so honest with me but I thought a purely plutonic friendship would be best. On one hand, I felt pleased with how I had responded: I really don't want to get involved with someone who is already in a relationship. But on the other hand, what will he learn from my response? My guess is he will just lie to the next boy he wants to sleep with out of fear of rejection. It was a Catch 22 and one I couldn't really win.

RULE #27: Stay away from boys in relationships. If you're straight forward and available, they should be too.

Date: The rebound hunter

Venue: David Jones Food Court, Bondi Junction

Spark: 6/10

Intellectual connection: 5/10

Physical appeal: 7/10

Date rating: 6.5/10

Jeremy was 20 years old and studying Journalism at university. We had spoken for a while on Grindr and I eventually met him in the David Jones Food Court. He was a quiet, nervous little thing. He had short dark hair, was about my height (read: short) and had trouble with eye contact. I guess the nervousness was something that came with being an angsty 20-something.

Jeremy and I sat down at a cute little cafe in Bondi Junction called Chocolat. He had a latte and I had some organic, blood orange calorie-laden soft drink. I did most of the talking in an effort to conceal the awkward silences that were inevitable if I stopped making conversation. In saying that, we were having a nice time right up until he brought up those four painful letters one never wants to hear on a first date: my ex.

There's nothing more upsetting when a nice date continually brings up an ex. Once is tolerable, twice is pushing it, but the second a date has brought up his ex three times, I know deep down they are not in a position (at least for now) to be anything more than friends. I believe the only way you can ever learn to love another person wholly and fully is to be completely resolved about your past relationships- and that can take a long time for some. It's nobody's fault, but when somebody is not emotionally available there's not much point in pursuing it any further.

Jeremy and I walked from Bondi Junction all the way to Bondi Beach and sat in the park for an hour or so. We chatted about Sydney, bars, weekends and, naturally, his ex. It was rather a shame as I was much more interested in him that his ex, but when someone is heartbroken they are pretty oblivious to the world that's going on around them. He was only a few weeks out of his two year relationship and I felt sorry for him- we've all been there. I listened patiently to his ex stories, gave him advice when he asked for it then eventually said I needed to make my way home.

I gave him a hug, told him it would be OK and caught a cab home.

About an hour later, I received a text message, "I had a really nice time. I hope to see you again sometime. X"

I had definitely made a new friend.

RULE #26: Create an emotional clearing and get happy about your past relationships.

Date: The Spanish playboy

Venue: The Palace, Coogee

Spark: 9/10

Intellectual connection: 8/10

Physical appeal: 8/10

Date rating: 8/10

I first spoke to Carlos on that little iPhone app called Grindr. Carlos was 28, Spanish, tall, dark, handsome and seemed reasonably bright given the short conversations we had had through Grindr's chat. He was just 254 metres away (if you believe Grindr's unreliable GPS positioning) so, after a few days of brainless conversation, we decided to meet.

We met at The Palace in Coogee. He liked the roof terrace so we headed upstairs, grabbed a small, two-person table on the balcony and got ourselves two schooners of Pure Blonde. Carlos was incredibly easy to talk to: relaxed, confident, genuine. He had no problems in making conversation- there was never an awkward moment of silence. His English was perfectly spoken with a barely-noticeable Spanish twang that occasionally came through his strong, almost fabricated, Australian accent.

The nicest thing about Carlos was his smile. When he smiled, his whole face lit up to show a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. "I had braces," he said after I complimented him. It wasn't difficult to make Carlos smile. He was a happy chap. He loved Sydney and Australia and said about six times throughout the conversation that he could never see himself going back to Spain.

A drunk 21 year old girl stumbled up to us- her beer sloshing against the rim of her glass, "having a good night guys?" The girl's speech slurred slightly and her eyes rolled up beneath her heavily made-up eyes.

"Great thanks," said Carlos, "how's your night going?"

"Yea, really great thanks. It's my boyfriend's birthday. I spent $200 on his birthday present," she said proudly as if the amount she had spent was a direct indicator of just how much she loved him.

"That's quite a lot of money. You must really love him," Carlos said.

"Yea, I do. Have you been in love?" She asked Carlos. I was thinking how ridiculous her question was. Who hadn't been in love by the age of 28?

"No, I haven't," Carlos said, "I guess I've just never found the right person."

The drunk girl looked slightly horrified then stumbled into the horizon, her heels getting caught in the gaps between the wooden decking.

Carlos had this self-fulfillment you don't often find in gay men. There was no clinginess, no desperation, no neediness, and he had zero expectations as to where the night was going. I found it both endearing and frustrating. It was difficult to figure out whether he was interested- for the vast majority of the night he seemed to want little more than friendship.

At the end of the evening, after several schooners of Blonde, the two of us decided to head home. He asked me back to his place for more drinks, but unfortunately I had a 7am flight to catch the following morning. I declined, headed home, drank about four gallons of water and went to bed. I slept well that night. For once, even if he wasn't as interested in me as I'd like him to be, there was a little spark I hadn't had with anyone for a long time. It was just nice to know that spark could still exist.

RULE #25: Don't go on dates and drink so much when you have a flight the next morning. Flying with a hangover is never pleasant.