Serial Pick-Up Hunter

jan25-1It has been a while since I last went to Oxford Street, especially to those gay venues as part of my social life. Pubs and clubs on Oxford Street used to be my Friday ‘to go to’s but it has been a while since I last went to them. Mainly because I do not have any reasons to and it’s getting a bit too repetitive anyways. But, once in a while, it ain’t bad. Especially on a week day night before a holiday.

Tomorrow being an Australian Day, I was more than excited to go out tonight since it has been a while since I have last gone out. Two of my close friends came with me and it felt great to be out with them once again. So, once again, we were all at Stonewall, my favorite gay pub in Sydney. Well, I do like the other ones too but I seem to go to Stonewall a lot more than the others.

So, it was a malebox night at Stonewall. If you do not know what a malebox is, it’s when people coming in the pub needs to take a sticker each, that has numbers on it ans stick it on them. There are empty papers around the pubs, with pen. What you can do is to write a message to your favorite number. There’s a “to”, which is the number of the guy you want to pass your message to and a “from”, which is your number. I am not so sure if anyone takes it seriously but my friend and I ended up writing really bad one liners to random numbers.

I met RBF (Resting Bitch Face) there at Stonewall. RBF and I go way back. During my uni years in Sydney, I would always see him in clubs or pubs. He’s around six years older than me and he and I would always flirt but we have never picked up before. With a resting bitch face, I would feel a bit scared to communicate with him. Upon coming back here, I bumped into him and I’ve chatted to him on Grindr. It so turned out that he was into me and we decided we should meet up for sex at some point. I thought tonight could have been the night but something really turned me off about him tonight.

As I’ve mentioned, I was there with two friends. One had 711 as his number and the other one had another number, which I’ve forgotten. The other friend and I started writing a message for 711 just to tease him. With a number like that, it was just too easy to come up with something cheeky. “Can your legs stay open twenty four hours a day?” Too easy!

Oh! I’ve forgotten to mention how these messages are retrieved. These messages are placed inside this red mailbox on the stage at the corner of the pub where drag queens usually perform. The staffs in the pub would take round collecting these messages and upon retrieving them, they would write down these numbers and these numbers will be shown on the huge TV screen in the middle of the pub. If you see your number, you can go take the messages addressed to you.

The number 711 appeared twice on the screen. My other friend and I were sure one of them was ours and we were really curious about the other message. Funnily and ironically enough, none of them was from us. One of them was from some number (my 711 friend was getting lucky tonight I guess) and the other one was from a number I know of and it was from RBF.

I do not have any jealous bones in my body and I do not own RBF to be able to stop him from perving at others. However, the whole night, RBF has been rubbing my ass and groping my crotch and pressing me towards him, to which I did not mind; there was even one point where I thought I would get lucky with him tonight. So, when I found out that one of these messages was from RBF, I felt a bit disgusted.

Correct me if I’m wrong but I do not want to go home with a guy who’s been groping me all night, only to find out he’s been simultaneously sending ‘pick up’ messages to the friend I came to the bar with. If he had not been groping me or giving me signals, I would not have minded if RBF has sent my 711 the message. But yeah, I lost interest and I did not want to go home with him anymore.

I lost RBF halfway through the night and he wrote to me on Grindr “Thanks” and “whatever”. I do not know what those two were for. I asked him if he was ok, to which he said yes. So, giving the benefit of the doubt, I dodged continuing the chat and just ignored him. Now, I’m not even too sure I would go home with RBF in the future.

The Goldfish, The Wolves, The Grays

Sometimes, the easiest question makes it so hard for us to give the correct answer. It would be just as simple as a question even a five year old would be able to answer but at often times, we find ourselves unprepared to answer these questions.

I caught up with a group of friends today, who I have not met for a long time. Two girl-friends, who used to work with me ten years ago, and their husbands, and one mutual friend of ours and her daughter. It was one of those decent warm meet ups where everything was just so at ease.

The mutual friend, the lovely girl from New Caledonia, was going on about her gay friends. Then, she looked at me and said “You look really good. You are gay. Why are you single?” This was a very good time to boost my ego but I am so used to answering this question that it does not really bother me anymore. I answered “I have not found the right one.” Then, she continued. “My gay friend. All these gay men. They are so good looking and nice. But why are they mostly single?”

Unprepared would be the first expression my face naturally showed. This friend of mine is someone I do cherish and someone I would never feel uncomfortable talking about anything to. I was not uncomfortable about the question but I was more uncomfortable with myself because I could not think of an answer.

Out of nowhere, I explained to her how gay men are naturally competitive. They would come into a pub and see each other and most of the time, the first thing they would think of is how some other gay men are dressing better than them or just looking better than them. But I hesitated. That’s not true. Then, I told her most gay men have huge egos. They hate to be rejected and they seldom show others their interests upon other men they are attracted to and they would stretch it until the point that the other would give up trying for them and that’s when they would give in, too late. Then, I hesitated again.

That was not really for all gay men as well. Then, I thought about how there are gay men out there who do not necessarily have to be bitchy, competitive or egoistic. But then, that reminds me of those desperate ones. Those who would rush into a relationship or think the first time the eyes meet would symbolize ‘love’ and gesticulate the best love story ever told in the universe. Those who are impatient to look for others but just stretch and accept anything they can get, despite whatever they truly feel.

Then, I realized that was the problem. I do not speak on behalf of all gay men but from experience, there is hardly a gray area for gay men. We have those egoistic gay men, who are too proud to give in. Some of them love themselves more than they could give other some time to even be interested in. Some of these men would be in a relationship, only to actually appreciate being wanted by another man, or just to enjoy the attention. Once they get sick of it, it’s over.

Then, there are those I have mentioned earlier, who are just so desperate to jump into the commitment wagon, way before they even get to know the other man.


It is quite true in my case since I have experienced from chats and dating apps how gay men would either rush into a relationship or just have this attention span of a goldfish. The goldfish will chat for a few minutes or days but they would never reach over the quota of a month. They would never make any effort to meet up. Maybe they are not sure. Maybe they cannot give time. But my point here is, why swipe right on tinder when they are not sure, or they cannot give time. They want to be impressed from the chat but how are we to impress them when they can’t even last a short while in a convo.

On the other hand, there are those hungry wolves, who are just major eager to date at first meet. Some of these people would get offended if you cancel a meet up. By cancellation, all I have done was to tell them I will let them know when I have time to hang out and not counting the weekdays, since we all work during weekdays, it would just take them two days to get impatient and start blaming the hell out of you for not showing efforts.

When can I meet that gray man of mine? Why can’t I have a consistent flow of good chats with some guy who will give me time to have a day off for a coffee. If they are too busy, why even bother coming on these apps? Fine! Maybe they want to just have a NSA play-around. But why would they take time deciding who to fuck with? I thought they don’t have time? Conflict much? And if they worship love, why not get to know someone to appreciate that person rather than rushing into something that is not even there.

I answered my friend with so much ‘umms’ and ‘errs’ she had to pretend she understood what I was saying. I do not know what she understood by my answer, when even I, myself, could not make head or tail of what I just responded to her.

Knowing love

I’ve been a little bit jaded lately when it comes to the word ‘love’, or to even fantasize the possibilities of love no matter how much I like a drop dead gorgeous guy. Maybe it’s a way to protect myself from hurting. Maybe it’s a way to avoid thinking something, that doesn’t actually exist there, exists. Maybe it’s just a way of growing thick skin, that often comes with a cynical side.

Don’t get me wrong. I do have my own certain goals when it comes to love. I want to find that someone. I want to be able to live with that someone through good and bad times. I want to be able to live and remember every minute and second of our lives together. I’m just more aware of reality more than before.

In fact, this realization of this so called reality makes me stronger and much more happier. Much more assured ironically as well, no matter how that thought of dying alone hangs by a thread. But at the same time, I have lost that faith in knowing how much I want to go with someone.

I used to be able to tell who I would want to live my life with. Maybe I have not found ‘the one’ lately but I have been pretty much not too enthusiastic whenever I spot a potential as I would normally be before. Maybe I’m sick of always having to be the first one to discover love. It’s just that having four failed relationships in my life always made me wonder what the point of feeling of having met someone was. Why did I feel so good when it always end up really bad?

So, these days, let alone opening up to someone I like about the way I feel, I have even lost that ability to know who I actually want. It’s pretty ironic how while I was feeling this way, I got a Faccebook message from somebody who has been stalking me. It’s a she, so it sure is going nowhere. She loves my smile and she has finally opened up to me this morning. The funny thing is we are not even Facebook friends.


Please don’t get me wrong. I am not making fun of this girl or shaming her. In fact, I envy her courage. Yes, it might not seem to be a wise idea to admit such strong feelings over someone you are not even Facebook friends with. But at the same time, the guts she has and the risk she took while writing this to me; it’s just so much more courageous than me going up to a hot guy at a gay bar to start a conversation. To make it worse, I rarely made it anyways to be able to reach out to strangers.

After reading what she wrote, a part of me wants to feel like that again. That feeling of love. That feeling of silly bravery. That strong gesture of really knowing what to do with who. I replied to her with an appreciative thanks and I told her I wish I was as brave as she was. I am sure she would know how I do not go for girls. Hopefully she does.

The question here is whether if I will have any guys who would want me that much or if I would ever find a guy who’s worth this much effort.

Testing for HIV

As someone who started to live an active gay life 14 years ago, I should be used to HIV tests. However, I woke up to this hottest day in Sydney on a Saturday morning, nervous as fuck. Despite the nerves kicking in my system for attention, I was pretty amused at how there was a lack of hangover this morning, especially after I had been out drinking last night.

Parramatta, the ‘burb I live in, is well known to be a city away from a city out in the west of New South Wales. But this has never stopped it from having a few dodgy weekends in a month where train schedules are cancelled and replacement bus rides are given. I do not have an issue with bus rides but having to catch a bus, then a train, would only take more time than just a simple one way trip to the city via a train.

As predicted, after the bus had taken me suburbs closer to the city to Granville, I discovered I would have to wait for a train for 14 more minutes. I had no choice but to uber myself out of this mess. Call me a superficial bitch but I like to see how my uber driver is going to look like and if I have time, I would actually pick the good looking ones and cancel the fugly ones. I do not have anything against people I am not attracted to; I just think it’s only fair that I get a good something to feast my eyes on, especially for services I am charged for.

I chose this uber driver called Adam. For the sake of privacy, I will not share the plate number on this site. For some reason, Adam has this peace sign on his Uber Avatar and although I had no time to pick or delete the Uber drivers, I still wanted to check out who was driving me to the clinic.

Finally, Adam showed up and dayuum he was fine. Call me crazy but I have always fantasized about a great “how did you guys meet” story on my wedding day and at times like this, I would wonder if Adam would be my husband one day, even though I was so dead sure he does not play for my team. But then again, my friends had described my gaydar as super-rusty.

Adam was fun to converse with. He seems mature for his age. Half Persian and half Turkish at the age of 24, he was a fine young man with a sense of humor. He has this really annoying high pitched laugh, that almost sounds like a donkey, whose leg has been caught in a bear trap. But I find that laugh pretty cute. Maybe it was just his sense of humor that got me all moist as well.

I played it cool, I guess. I hinted him two times about my gender preference. He also hinted by conversing about two gay clubs he had been to and a few others he had heard of. It was a nice ride with Adam but nothing came out of it but just a mighty fine 35 minutes uber ride with a great view and a genuinely fun conversation. (HaveĀ  I mentioned how he was wearing a tight shorts and how he had those sexy chunky thighs?)

Image result for drop crotch shorts mensI was greeted by a very hot guy at the clinic. I believe it’s one of those clinics set up by this Acon in Australia, where they provide free HIV or STD tests for anybody but it’s just super gay friendlier. This hot guy was wearing a tight black polo and one of those annoying Drake-crotched blue jeans shorts. In case you are wondering what I meant by Drake-crotched shorts, it’s those ones that have too much space in the crotch area, which is pretty much not bulge-siters-friendy. I believe they call these drop crotch pants.

The hot guy turned out to be my doctor. He seems pretty good at his job as this warm communicable hot doctor. I guess he was Italian since he called me “Bello”. Now, the last time I had an HIV test in Sydney, I had to bend down doggy style and wait for the doctor to put a cotton-head stick in my butt hole. I think it was some old guy but even then I was nervous as fuck. I broke into cold sweat while Dr Hot was talking to me and this was not entirely because I was about to check if I was HIV positive or negative but the reason was more because I would not want to expose my hairy butt to Dr Hot.

As he inserted his needle, and I mean a real one, into my finger, he looked up to me and said “You have not been drinking a lot of water, have you?” I chuckled. I like it when hot men try to be cheeky and funny while taking blood tests. I was never a big fan of needles so I did think that treatment was quite necessary. Dr Hot then took out this kit and he took out this stick that looked like something you would put into a rabbit’s ear. He then instructed me to go to the toilet to take a urine test and to put the cotton head stick inside my ass. He also took the shorter one out to use it for throat swab. Thank God he did not have to do my ass swab and I was asked to do it on my own.

If there was something I do not like about people, it’s how they are so quick at assuming things. So, Dr Hot asked me what I have planned for the day, to which I said ‘possibly staying at home. When I asked him back the question, he answered quite the same but the answer was followed by a sentence that has the phrase ‘husband’ in it. “Oh. You should try to contact the clinics for PREP and PEP. My husband is one of the doctors there.” Yes, Dr Hot, I get it. I was not making a pass on you and you are way out of my league.

Thank technology for rapid tests but I got my result out a few minutes later. To be honest, I was already naturally calm after a ride with the uber hottie and after a short convo about butt swabs and husband promotions with Dr Hot.

No matter how nerve wrecking it is to go for HIV tests, I find it more nerve wrecking if I build it up to longer periods in between tests. It has been two years and I could not sleep most of last week, in hope that I would come out not infected with HIV. An uber ride with my half Persian/half Turkish dream husband, a visit to a hot doctor and a “negative” test result later, I was relieved.

I thought about celebrating my negative HIV result by getting a bootie call but I guess just by these two gentlemen this morning, I was pretty much satisfied. The weather was too hot anyways…