i had made up my mind. i was leaving Melbourne and moving back to Sydney. i tried… sort of…
so many things were just too miserable that i could no longer appreciate the great things going on around me. i should not subject my friends and flatmates to me moping around. the few clients i'd get would foolishly ask "so how are you doing?"
"well…." and they'd be surprised that i'm not raking in considering the performance i just gave in the last hour. unless you are prepared to see the same handful of clients week after week to the point you feel like you are in the most loveless relationship ever, then Melbourne may not be the city for you to whore your ass in
"how did your interview with VCA go?" one client asked and i told him how badly it went. "oh thank god!" he breathed a sigh of relief. . "i've known them for many years. and if you indeed did study there you might even see me around the campus now and then. i won't tell you why, but know that they are are a bunch of snooty self-important fools who haven't produced any good artists in many years."
odd. because that's exactly what my first impressions of him were. he's a little pompous in the way presents himself, and in the beginning i thought he was a totally self-important wanker. but he's since proved himself to have a dry humour and self awareness you wouldn't expect. "but you can't leave Melbourne. what would i do? i like you and i enjoy our time together. you enjoy what you do. that is every rare. you are great to chat to. other escorts can't even hold a conversation. i hope everything works out for you in Sydney"
my ass was quite full from all the smoke he blew up there. so full of hot air i almost floated to the ceiling, but i understood what he meant. then he went on to complain about his neighbours, Bert Newtown and the Minogues (Kylies' parents), who are sure to be bringing down the property value of his home. "very simple. tiresome people."
the last few weeks had been good though. knowing you're leaving forces you to appreciate many things you took for granted. i was seeing more of my friends. spending more time with my great flatmates that i barely spoke to for fear of boring the tits off them with my whinging. a little more urban exploration too
i will miss them. a lot
one great thing had been hanging out with the Irish Elk more. we were training just about every day at the gym beefing his tight little body back up. we'd ride his dirty old cruiser to the gym. Elk as pillion, his arms squeezing tight around me as we two fags ride up to our biker gym thing of thugs. (pictures on the Doherty's shooting here. there's also some lovely pictures published of the witnesses. seems a little irresponsible of a news source to do that).
the victim. this is what most of the thugs look like at my gym
the nasty old bitch who works in the fruit shop giving a cop the finger
i didn't like it at first. i don't really like to be touched. but after the second or third day, i loved having his meaty little arms around me. now and then i'd get him to hang around at my place. cook dinner. have a few beers. watch some tv. then "oh, it's late, you should stay here."
i knew how he felt about me. i know i was using him. i wanted someone in my bed. dammit, i needed cuddles just to get me through the last few weeks of my time here in this city i'd rather forget. if we'd fool around i couldn't look at him. i couldn't make eye contact because i knew i was using him - for cuddles, for sex, for a gym buddy, for having someone close to me - and i didn't want to lead him on thinking something more ever going to happen between us but i couldn't keep my hands off him. around his shoulders. around his waist. that faint scent of sweat that comes off the back his neck. his hairy muscled chest. that hot little ass…
i was using him. because i wasn't giving anything back. what could he possibly be getting out of this? i was just using him, right?
i packed up all my shit in a few boxes and vanished from this town as quickly i appeared. hopefully leaving less of a trail of destruction behind me that i have left in the past. but really, i couldn't give a fuck about this city right now. it's not the great city it was 5-10 years ago. it has changed.
when i told people i was leaving sydney over a year ago the general reaction was a sad face and: "that's great! take a risk! i'm sorry that you're leaving and hope it all works out. if it doesn't, we'll be happy to have you back."
when i told people in Melbourne i was leaving, expats were fine (some even a little jealous), but the general response of locals was a pursing of the lips followed by: "what's the matter? don't you like Melbourne? do you think Sydney is better or something!?!"
i had an argument in the laundry of my house with a friend's partner one night. i started diplomatic but then... "you know what. yes. i do. i do think Sydney is better than Melbourne and it's been cemented by your fucking insecure response!"
not everyone is like this. i had a great time here. i can't stress enough there are some fucking amazing people in Melbourne. i'm glad that i met them and know them and hope they won't be offended, but the arrogant pride, pretentious hipsters-in-denial and immaturity of this place can go to hell.
Burn - NIN
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