Sydney, Pt 8

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Woke up crazy early, because drinking. Chip was going on a tour of the Blue Mountains, whatever those were, so I had the morning to myself. I briefly hopped online, but no one was sober enough to make it happen. One guy I'd been chatting with was available in the late morning, but I fell asleep. I did manage to finally look up and find the shop I was looking for, and successfully resisted the urge to eat Chip's leftovers from Mother Chu's, and refrain from getting tofu snacks from the Asian market (they're more deep fried dough than tofu). At least part of this was because I was expecting a long day and late night, but it works for a larger purpose as well (the purpose of not making me larger).

Chris had invited me to a party being thrown by his vegetarian friend in the afternoon. I was keen to meet the friend, and very very keen to see Chris again. He was supposed to call me around 2, and wanted to be at the party around 3. When I hadn't heard from him by 3:15, I figured something had come up. John was home, roughly 2km from me. I asked if he could come here, but his schedule was such that he could only host. Whatever. I got lost several times on the way there. Couldn't find the first turn, so kept walking. Found one of the streets several points in the directions later, couldn't find the next one. Found a street a couple points earlier, couldn't find the next one. Lather, rinse, repeat. Considered going back several times, but kept pushing on. What was I going to do back at the hotel anyway? What was supposed to be a 22 min walk again became an hour as walked up and down streets looking for the next turn.

Somehow, I managed to find his place, and just in time because it started pouring rain while I waited at his door. He had a cute kitten named Puck, and was drinking wine but didn't want to open another bottle for me. We had odd chemistry together. For having chatted all week, neither of us really thought we were going to get together. From my conversations with Jack, I guess it's very common for tourists to come to town and not hook up. Given that most tourists are there to be tourists, and hooking up is secondary, I can understand this.

We finally did start fucking. I noticed a warming sensation, and thought he might've used the baby oil on the nightstand instead of the lube. He asked if I happened to notice the heat...well, yeah. He'd been making guacamole, which meant chopping chili peppers. The capsaicin had gotten onto his hands, and then his dick. Lordy. He kept losing his hard on, so I rode him. He called me a "sex machine." Neither of us was going to cum, so we showered off instead. His partner was in the other room, and I said hi as we walked past. I'd asked him previously about making it a 3 way, but his partner completely gave up sex years ago. Their relationship, their rules.

Chatting with them after, they asked about my screen name, and I told them about Rocky. Rocky, you say? Well, you see that house right there? That's Brian Thomson's house; would you care to meet him? Yes. Yes I would. We knocked on his door, and there was no answer. He recently did the set design for the Priscilla musical, so maybe he was out of town, oh well.....and then he answered the door. He's a lovely man. Very balanced attitude towards Rocky, and we swapped stories about audience members, drunken Pat Quinn, etc. He was thrilled that I'd played Columbia, that my first husband had recently had his 500th show, and even agreed to take a picture with me after.

John had to get to his party, and I had to get home to meet Chip. Chris had called while I was away, around 4:30. If I hadn't just met Brian freaking Thomson, I would have been irritated that I didn't turn back when I was crazy lost. Instead, I felt like an Ashley or a Ken - someone who crazy things happen around. Chip hadn't enjoyed his tour. It was raining, the bus driver was rude, the "best local eatery" they went to was even overpriced for Sydney and awful. He mentioned he'd have to pick up more money before we left, but there was no reason for that, as I still had a couple hundred dollars.

We made our way to the gallery for the parade viewing, the sounds of the Dykes on Bikes calling us and heralding the start of the parade. Sydney has a Gay Pride festival, but no parade, so Gay Mardi Gras is it for them. Kevin & Randy were already at the gallery when we arrived. There was some bread and hummus, and dolmas, but nothing else was vegan. That's fine, I'm really there for the wine and dogs. The owner had a Weimaraner, and one of the guests had a well-fed Jack Russel. Actually, a lot of the art in the gallery was centered around Weimaranars, which was nice. I did a lot of chatting with the Jack Russel's owner, and met a costume designer from London (she appreciated my apt use of a rainbow kerchief), and a couple of fabulous young ladies from Brisbane. Jack was supposed to be in the Ending HIV contingent, but I didn't see him. This was the first year the military were to be allowed to march in uniform, and I thought back to Tim watching our troops march last year.

Ross got drunk early on, mentioned to one girl that if I lived there, he'd marry me, and mentioned to me that he didn't like Chip. Previously during the week, he'd mentioned that he wanted me to come back to Sydney, and when I mentioned that Chip and I were probably going to Sitges next, replied "Well, I guess Chip has your life planned out for you." This is a minor, slightly bitter comment to make after meeting someone once. But I finally got some insight to where women are coming from when they don't want to be hit on. It's not the hitting on itself that's a problem, it's that it's so frequently accompanied by a refusal to take "no" for an answer. Anyway, I mentioned this to Chip, they made up, and I saw Ross making out with him later in the night.

The later part of the night is a blur for me, but I guess we got back to the hotel around 2:30 or so.