No G.A.M.S.

A friend of mine said to me today, You couldn't have an Asian boyfriend, could you? I was a bit taken a back.

I stumbled a bit, Well, I'm not looking for one. Okay, bad start. I don't think I have a type. Even I knew that was ridiculous, as I said it, as I'm famous for loving wogboys... thank you Laurie, I loved him more than life itself, thank you Maurice, thank you Carmine, two sexy fuck buddies, thank you Manny - I guess I don't have to explain Manny.

He just looked at me.

Shake of the head, get my brain around that one of my friends would even be saying this to me. Of course I could, why?

He looked at me blankly, so I assumed he wasn't going to explain himself any time soon.

Couldn't you?

They are just not my thing, he said.

A whole race of men?

Well, you've never had...

I saw that boy Christian - yes, I know, too, too cutesy - when I was working in Sydney. And while I wouldn't classify him as a boyfriend, naturally, he was a hot boy and we had a great time together. He wanted me to meet his parents, they had a restaurant in Paramatta, I think, but I'm not, necessarily, the meet the parents kind of boy.

Tim - another wogboy connoisseur - said once that if you put a pillow over the backs of their heads, while you are pumping their arses, they look like Italians. I remember, I laughed at the time, more for the ridiculousness of what he had said than anything else.

But you know, it got me thinking about it today and it really is awful, isn't it? Imagine being subject to that kind of subtle racisim every time you go out to get laid.

Just so there is no confusion, yes, of course, I could have an Asian boyfriend.