Saturday Night in St Kilda

Shane and Matt have gone to Byron for a ten day break. Lucky them. They are going to Tropical Fruits tonight.

My sister went to the Grand Final with her eldest daughter. She parked her car at my place, so she didn't have a problem with parking. She got back at 6pm, they both barracked for Geelong, they were waving blue and white flags at the door and cheering when I opened it.

So, I packed up my stuff and was heading to the country. Just as I was about to leave, I had a sense of, what am I doing? Is heading off to the country running away from my life, putting off heading out and meeting someone? What am I doing? What do I want to do? I didn't know. I was drawn to both scenarios. So I sat on the stairs and flossed - when in doubt procrastinate.

I was suddenly feeling lonely, which I never do normally. I realised I wanted a guy in my life, that I missed Manny... for the first time. Is that bad?

David came home and found me on the stairs with a huge length of dental floss - I had a dental floss malfunction, to be sure - saying that I looked like a little boy, sitting there.

I told him how I was feeling and he said that he was going out later, after he'd been out for dinner and we should go together. So he headed out to dinner and I hung at home, trying to get some work done on my script.

I found a packet of cigarettes in my bedroom and smoked them all. David was horrified when he came home, later, to find the house full of smoke. He was even more horrified when he caught me having one in the kitchen. "You look weird smoking now," he said.

I decided to go to the country, in the end. I was feeling tired and the thought of falling asleep under the trees suddenly seemed more appealing than a bar. I text David from the car, as I left and he called, before I had even got out of our street, with, "How dare you! I thought we had a date?"

He guilted me into staying. (which was good) I turned the car around and drove the 100 metres home.

So we went to the Greyhound for a drink. David wanted to go to MegaFist at 80, but somehow watching guys up to their elbow in some other guy's arses just didn't do it for me. David said I could just watch, be a guest, as he put it, but somehow that seemed to be a far worse proposition. It so gets David going. He loves it. Whatever happened to a kiss and a cuddle? I could have cruised upstairs, of course.

So we settled on the Greyhound, I haven't been there for ages, nothing has changed. We met up with some friends.

Some drunk chic, with great tits, tried to pick David up telling him he wasn't gay. Girls are funny how they do that. David's mate V was there. He has an identical twin brother, not that C was there. I've always thought V was cute, when I can tell him apart from C that is.

They were a friendly crowd. Cruisey. Chatty.

There was the mandatory tacky drag show. What is it with men dressing up as woman and lip-sinking badly, a la Britney Spears, to crap songs. Surely, in this day and age, if you want to be a drag queen, you should get up there and sing with your own voice. Lip-sinking is so 1970's, surely?