Colin's Long Walk - Part 1

Contrary to popular belief, the date is not dead among gay people.

Rest assured its existence is by no means safe, or common, but the date does exist. It is hard to maintain such a thing, in a community where sex on the first date is considered to be a norm, but there are those of us who still try to have a proper date, where you do romantic things and it’s not all just a big night of foreplay before getting into the bedroom.

Unfortunately, I chose to date someone who doesn’t subscribe to these same beliefs, and so my “date” with Xander turned out to be meeting him for the world’s quickest alcoholic beverage before having the world’s quickest walk drive back to his place followed by the world’s quickest sex. Those who maintain that romance isn’t dead need to take a look at Xander...as fun as the guy is, would it kill him to actually spend some time in conversation that isn’t just taking place on the way to and from the bedroom?

I know...I’m asking a lot. The fact that I put out at every turn doesn’t help me champion the cause of romance either does it? But hey everyone is human and unfortunately male hormones are something that are incredibly hard to overcome when faced with attractive men offering to do dirty, dirty things to you. At least I think about saying no...which counts for something?

Anyway, it was after the eggtimer went *ting* and Xander had finished the world’s quickest, least, satisfying sex ever had by people who weren’t lesbians or involving a man with a penis less than 4 inches big, I decided it was time for bed. It is a well used strategy of men in relationships to simply pretend to be asleep not long after sex, in order to avoid having conversations about the quality of the sex, or worse, other non-sex related topics. Contrary to what had happened while I wasn’t wearing any clothes, this was the point where I chose to be the man in the relationship.

Xander however, knowing this trick employed by many men, including him at least twice over the previous two weeks, decided this would be a good point to initiate at least three different types of conversation, the most exciting of which was.

“Colin, let’s break up?”

Here follows the world’s quickest breakup, the world’s quickest punch to the face, the world’s quickest “I hate you and never want to see you again” speech, the world’s quickest getting dressed, and the world’s quickest storming out of the house. The Guiness Records people must have been busy if they were following me around tonight.

So as I walked rather quickly along the street in the dark, turning corners at random intervals just in case Xander had decided following me in his car was an intelligent idea (it wasn’t, I’d picked up some rocks from his neighbour’s garden), I realised quite a few things.

Firstly, I was single again, and despite the many perks of the deal, I kind of hated being single.
Next came the sudden feeling of loneliness, despair and need for alcohol. This was followed by remembering I had left my jacket at Xander’s house, and a jacket is really handy when it’s freezing cold. Then came the wish that I had driven to Xander’s house in my car and not his, because I was actually quite a ways away from home, and walking the length of Chapel St at night can sometimes be a dangerous prospect.

I also really wished I had that jacket. It was a nice jacket. Went with everything. And was bloody warm too. A jacket like that is probably harder to get than a boyfriend.

About three or four blocks into my walk I calmed down. After all, it’s very hard to walk quickly in the freezing cold as an emotional wreck, where as a calm person is able to walk quickly and with purpose and contemplate the meaning of warms jackets in peace. So this is what I did.
Chapel St is one of those odd roads. While Commercial Road is hip and happening in fag-land,

Chapel St is a centre of straight “get drunk and/or laid” culture. From one end of apartments, through to paint shops and then cafes and then shops and then clubs and bars, it is one long stretch of entertainment pretty much non-stop. And while Commercial Rd is a fairly short street, quickly disappearing into Malvern Rd not long after it begins; Chapel St stretches either way far beyond where it is cool to be.

Of course the cool part of Chapel St is incredibly long, and just before midnight on a Thursday, not very much excitement is happening. What’s worse, is that there are so many food shops, all of which serve incredibly good food, and all of them are closed. Dinner was such a long time ago, and sex, anger and walking are all activities that use up quite a bit of energy. It is at times like this when a 24hr Hungry Jacks across the road from your house comes in handy.

With the thought of chips in mind, what was beginning to feel like an endlessly long walk becomes shorter and shorter as the glowing fast food sign can be seen in the distance. Plus, all the walking would have worked off whatever I was going to eat, so no matter how much I buy I’m still going to be healthy.

Oh, and I’d been dumped less than an hour earlier. If a boy needs an excuse for junk food, that is in the top ten.

Prologue - Part 3

By the time Colin had actually gotten himself ready, it was well past nine o’clock. You would think it would take a boy less than an hour to get ready when he’s just off to see his boyfriend wouldn’t you? Yet somehow Colin manages to stretch the process out for no apparent reason. I couldn’t help but wonder about the lateness of his visit to Xander’s house though, so I felt the need to ask the question.

“Booty call or date?”

Colin just laughed. “Does it matter? Either way I’m getting laid?”

And with a cheeky grin Colin bounced out the door, leaving the house rather quiet. That’s the only problem with having housemates like Colin and Travis, they bring a lot of life to the house.

The downside to this is the life often comes with noise...whether it’s the Xbox or that repetitive banging against a wall or even just loud drunken phone conversations, my weekends often don’t involve a lot of sleep.

I walked through the lounge room, around the now clean armchair, and my gigantic brown leather couch which looked so dull compared to the rest of the room, yet I’ve been told is the comfiest couch to sleep on this side of the Equator, so I feel the colour co-ordination can suffer in lieu of comfort.

The other thing I love about my apartment, is the window. From the lounge room you can look out on Commercial Road. The tram line, Prahran market, if you squint you can even see all the clubs in the distance. You have no idea how much such a view costs, since every fag and his dog wants to live on Commercial Rd. It’s not the world’s busiest street, nor is it the biggest or brightest, but so much happens on that small stretch of road. Not all of it is important, most of it is really quite funny, especially because it’s happening to other people. But for quite a lot of the gay population of Melbourne...their lives revolve around Commercial Road.

After a noisy tram rattles past, I decided that I should try to end up comatosed before one of the boys gets home. I headed to my bedroom, gave the room one quick scan to make sure everything was clean and switched off, then I turn off the light and go to sleep...

Prologue - Part 2

Following dinner Colin and myself went on a cleaning spree, since Travis wasn’t home to mess things up or complain we were making too much noise and he couldn’t hear the TV over the vacuum. The pair of us tackled the dirt and dust of our household as efficiently as we could, with Colin attempting to be manly with the mop and vacuum as he tried to clean the floors, while I was given the feather duster and was cleaning ever shelf, table or mantelpiece I could find.

“So it’s Simon’s birthday this weekend? Have you got him a present yet?” Colin asked as we cleaned.

“I was planning to, but I’m not a talented present-chooser, so I was hoping that someone such as yourself would just buy something and then I’d give you money for it. His party is just down the road isn’t it?”

“How did I know you would try to foist present duty on to me? I’m so going to lie to you and make you pay more!”

“That’s fine, I can afford to, unlike some people in this house.”

“Ouch. But it’s true...daddy can pay for you to get a lot of things.” Colin said, quickly moving to avoid a swing of a feather duster aimed for his head. “And yes, the party is at the Commercial. Travis is working as per usual so guess who is on the door list and getting free drinks?”

“I’m not sure but I’m guessing a boy who is about to have dust in his hair?” I swung again with the feather duster, this time with a bit more success. Colin’s hair turned a shade greyer.

“Do you mind? I’m supposed to be seeing Xander later on! I don’t want him thinking I’m as old as you are!”

This comment served only to have the duster aimed at him one more time. Colin, thinking quickly, blocked the duster with the vacuum. What ensued was a miniature swordfight with cleaning implements, which only served to redistribute the dust and dirt back around the room.
This was especially the case when Colin got overzealous with his vacuum usage, and lifted the entire unit off the ground, opening it up and spraying dust and dirt all over the lounge.

This is the problem when you buy fancy, overpriced cleaning devices...they were never intended to be used for sword-fighting. If only manufacturers were more considerate.

Colin and I just stopped and stared as a cloud of dust covered not only us – ruining my pyjamas, but also half of our lounge suite. Travis’ favourite chair copped most of the grime, and Colin no longer looked like an old man, instead some sort of crazy dust bunny. We then looked at each other, and the state of one another’s clothes, and burst out laughing.

After what seemed like an hour of laughing, in which we both ended up sitting down – Colin in Travis’ now dirty armchair and myself on the coffee table, which was probably cleaner at the start of the night than it was at this point.

“By the way...I shotgun the shower and not cleaning this up! I have a date to attend to!” Colin said.

Before I could protest this...he had run out of the room. I would follow but he was aiming for the shower, which would mean nudity. I think seeing a housemate nude is something that doesn’t sit very high on my to do list, so I decided the safer option was attempting to salvage my lounge room from the mess we had created. At least my TV had remained safe from the dust attack...

Prologue - Part 1

You would think living across the road from a tram stop would indicate not needing an umbrella, wouldn’t you? But it’s winter, it’s pouring with rain, and as always I’m forced to dash across the road to the apartment whilst trying to minimise the damage to my suit...and my hair.

I own and umbrella. In fact between the three of us we own four umbrellas. But they all sit next to the door in the umbrella stand. None of us are really sure why we even have an umbrella stand; it was probably obtained in a frivolous trip to Ikea, and it, like the coat rack next to it, sit there more for decoration than for actual use.

Of course on days like today, the thought of an umbrella is comforting. But carrying an umbrella around with me all day is annoying, and half the time I would leave the umbrella at work in my haste to get to the tram.

Plus it doesn’t match my suit.

As always, the mail hasn’t been checked. I’m the last one home for the day, yet somehow the mailbox always seems to remain ignored as everyone else makes their way home. Anyone would think I live with lazy people. Or at least people who don’t care about thinks like bills and speeding fines.

Speaking of bills, included in today’s batch is an internet bill – second notice. Colin was supposed to pay this about a month ago. Clearly he saw better things to do with his time. At least climbing the stairs to the apartment allows me to take out some of my frustration.

As I get into the apartment though, everything is almost forgiven. Either pre-empting my anger or simply because he was motivated for a change, Colin is cooking. I have no idea what it is but the smell is to die for. I just hope that he’s made enough for two...

EDIT 8/9
“Before you start nagging...it’s been paid already.” Colin shouted from the kitchen. “And if you can de-business yourself in ten minutes dinner will be ready.”

Colin is unfortunately perceptive. It’s a frustrating when I’ve prepared a rant, only to have it cut off before I can even begin.

Colin then dashes into the living room to get something from the fridge and looks at me, standing in the doorway, dripping wet still, with an expression on my face that I feel is somewhere between confused and angry. He just pokes out his tongue and returns to the kitchen.

“I wasn’t going to nag!” I shout out at him. “By the way...”

“The rent is on your bed. With a towel. You’re dripping on the floor and it’s my turn to clean the floors this week. So if you wouldn’t mind making less of a muddy mess on our doorstep it would be appreciated.”

Sometimes you can’t win. Although I can’t help but smile; it’s probably the one day a month when Colin is actually being thoughtful, so it’s often best to go with it, laugh, and then enjoy the moment. Of course enjoying the moment requires walking very slowly through the lounge room, taking care to drip as much as possible as I do.

After drying my hair, re-doing my hair twice, then deciding that no one important is going to see my hair and giving up on it, I return to the lounge room. By this point more than ten minutes has passed and Colin is sitting at the dining table with a bowl in front of him. I stop at the fridge on the way for a beer and join Colin.

Having the fridge in the lounge room is both a curse and a blessing. The reason for such an occurrence is a combination of my father going ‘here...take the credit card and buy a fridge’, and my choice of a huge double-door fridge that unfortunately doesn’t fit into the alcove in the kitchen. The end result is a fridge in the lounge room (great for getting drinks while watching tv, a pain to run to while cooking), and an empty alcove in the kitchen which is used to house a plant, and a stolen standee of Orlando Bloom. Needless to say, Pirates of the Caribbean and a house plant makes for an interesting feature, and a lounge room with a fridge in it breaks new ground for interior decorating.

“Let me guess, Travis won’t be joining us for dinner tonight?” I ask as I join Colin at the dinner table.

“Well since you’re eating his dinner, no. He ran out of the house for a date about ten minutes before you left. I think it was another Ben this time...or maybe a Brad.”

So that explained the dinner. I always suspected that Colin being prepared was too good to be true. But dinner is dinner and it’s best not to complain about such things until after the meal.

“This is where my ‘don’t even bother trying to remember their name until the third date’ rule comes in handy. It’s best just to call them all Steve and be done with it.” I replied.
“Why Steve?”
“Well I figure it’s generic enough, and it’s more polite than giving them numbers or basing their identifications on the article of clothing they leave behind.”
“But I always through blue g-string was a nice guy...”
“I think the less said about that incident the better. I’m sure blue g-string was a nice guy, although hearing him all night every night for a week wasn’t as exciting as it sounds.”
“It’s not my fault you want Travis in the bedroom next to you!”
“I wanted him in the bedroom furthest from the bathroom. At least I know you don’t spend half an hour in there every morning waxing, plucking and straightening.”
“Says the man who just spent fifteen minutes trying to resurrect his hair following it getting rained upon?”

At this point I felt that the English language had failed me in terms of witty repartee, and so I responded by throwing a convenient piece of stir-fry at Colin. Who said maturity was my strong point?