Fathering a Child

I have a female friend, LouLou, with who I have had a long standing agreement that if she doesn't meet a man by the time her eggs are ripe, then, I would donate the sperm, be the father, whatever you want to call it, to help her to become a mother.

Not uncommon between a straight girl and a gay man.

Well, guess what, she has just split up with the last straight candidate for the role. All over. No hope of a reconciliation. And she is rapidly approaching that age where she has to make a decision, as she is just about to turn 40, in a couple of years. So, we are rapidly approaching the time when this agreement becomes very (fucking) serious and, apparently, according to Mark, it is now, potentially, the time that LouLou may want to collect. Apparently, Mark and LouLou have been chatting, in a roundabout sort of way and we are now at that time where I, suddenly, have become very much "in focus."

You know, when I first agreed to this, I didn't think I'd care. I thought it was a nice thing to do, help out a friend. I could have as much, or as little input into the kid’s life, no problem, no skin off my nose. Easy as...

But, as the time (apparently) approaches, it seems, more and more, that this is not the decision to be made lightly that I had, somewhat unthinkingly, thought it was. It's not just a matter of coming in a cup and handing it over. There is an innocent person's life we would be dealing with. I reckon it would be much easier if I donated my stuff and she went away and I didn't see her again. That would be easy. But, that's not how it would work. LouLou is a part of my life, so any kid would be too, no matter what agreement LouLou and I had to begin with. This would be a kid, who one day, will, most likely, call me on my decision. Us on our decision. If we (it, feels like, it would have to be we) didn't do a good job, do our best for him/her. We'll be as accountable as any parents. 150% for what, twenty years, minimum?

This is a kid who, potentially, sometime down the track could say, to me, You have been a very great disappointment to me. I so don't want that to be the case.

If I agree to this – and, I kind of have already, a number of times, over time – I would be agreeing to be a dad. I'd have to, we'd be in each other's lives.

The funny thing is – funny, as I thought this would be one of the biggest problems - that I can afford to do it. But, do I have the time? Inclination? Patients? Selflessness?

There's a part of me who says, just do it and worry about the consequences later. I do get clucky, from time to time – even if I only ever imagine having a son. There is a part of me who thinks having a kid would be really fulfilling, more so than anything else. I can see that. And, there is a part of me who can see that empty part of my life created by not having a child.

It's weird, but if I was going to do this, I'd want to do it the best that I can.

I told my mum about the proposal, a few years ago, just to get a bit of sanity and experience on the subject. She thought for a minute and then looked at me and smiled.

"I think you should do it. You'd make a great father and your brother and sister have had beautiful children," she said. "I think you'd make a better father than your brother."

Worst case scenario, I guess, is that something happens to LouLou and I would become sole parent to a child, to raise, love, guide and nurture.

Could I do it?

Fuck me?

Would I (want to) do it?

I don't know.

The most likely scenario - I'd help raise him. I'd have to do dad things? The thought of that is appealing and terrifying, all at the same time.

The interesting thing is that LouLou has the same name as my ex-girlfriend, about who I used to have a recurring dream – although, I haven't had it for some time now – that we were the parents of a young boy named Sam. Over the years (perhaps, once a year) that I had that dream, Sam grew up from a toddler to a 10 year old. Maybe, I just had the wrong mother in the dream.

Weekend Football

The Boss Apologises?

So, Pope Benny is going to apologise for the sexual abuse perpetrated by catholic priests.

So, is that for past abuse, abuse that is continuing, as I type, or is that for the abuse that will occur in the future?

Sexual abuse perpetrated by the moral guardians of society? It's a strange concept, huh? Trouble with credibility?

It's the whole celibate thing. I was reading recently that the vast majority of catholic priests are not celibate - not only alter boys, but young men, girls, young women and, an apparent favourite, women who have been widowed/left alone in their parish, for whatever reason.

I've written about Father Patrick, most recently. He's sexy and sweet, don't get me wrong.

I'm sure I've written about my Auntie (through marriage) Ruth, the nun, who has had a thirty something year relationship with Father Murphy. They now live together in retirement and have had a relationship longer than most marriages.

The parish priest from Daylesford, who certainly wasn't celibate, or straight, who came to comfort my friend Philip when his boyfriend Steve died; who ended up comforting Philip physically right into bed.

And this is knowledge that comes from someone, me, who grew up Anglican.

How many Catholics get divorced? How many Catholics use contraception? How many Catholics have abortions? How many Catholics are gay? - other than the priests. After which, the Catholic message has disintegrated.

The Catholic Church is adhering to perception, which has very little to do with reality. They are trying to sell a story that is no longer true.

Just because... the Olympics are next Month

Friday Night

It was a cold night, in Melbourne town, but, not in Myer, no sir. I went there for a rare turn at retail therapy, to cheer myself up from quitting smoking. I thought a pick through the sales tables would distract me for a moment. But, it was one hundred degrees and I was sweating, seemingly, as soon as I stepped foot in the place. I had my eye on a dark blue Tommy jumper, but how could I get enthused to find the right size when my clothes were sticking to me. The sales girl said that it wasn't the first time she had heard that.

"If you hadn't been at this counter," I said. "I would have just dumped the t-shirt here and headed out that door."

"You are not the first person to say that."

So, I headed up Lonsdale Street and stopped in at the porn shop. But, there was, unusually, a couple of gay boys who were looking at the DVDs, who, kind of, pushed me out.

So, I headed home, I didn't want any, anyway. A psychologist would have a field day looking at the number of DVDs I have stuffed in my bedroom cupboard.

I was on my way past the fire station, heading towards Victoria Parade, when a cute, dark skinned boy, headed towards me. His eyes picked up on mine - round, handsome, face, big brown eyes, an adorable smile. He looked back, so did I. Keep walking, don't look back, I told myself, with one voice. Look back, be more involved, what is he doing, I said to myself with another voice.

I stopped, I was looking back too, apparently. He headed over to me.

"What’s going on?" he asked.

"I’m just heading home," I said. "What’s going on with you?"

"Just heading home, too." He smiled. He looked me up and down. "I can't do anything now, I have to go to a bbq."

Straight to the point, I thought. A newbie? I could see the excitement on his face.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"Fitzroy," I said. "Just up the road."

"Oh Fitzroy," he said. "Who do you live with? Do you live alone?"

"Two house mates," I said. "I live with two guys."

"Both gay?"

"Yes."

He smiled broadly. "Are they butch, or young guys?" he asked.

I wasn't exactly sure what he meant. "They are two normal gay boys in the 30's," I said.

"So if I came over to your place would I be walking into a um... er... sex den?"

"Ah, no," I said. "No, you wouldn’t."

"I suppose you go to the saunas?"

"Not so much now a days," I said. "Sometimes."

"I've never been to a sauna," he said.

"Really. I should take you." I think I was beginning to tease him, by this stage. Couldn't help myself. Momentarily, the thought of breaking in a newbie at a sauna appealed to me. Especially, one with such an engaging smile.

He laughed. "Yes. Maybe," he said. "Are you looking for a relationship?"

"Maybe," I said. "I guess. Whatever happens."

"I hear everyone has open relationships now a days."

"I used to," I said. "But now I'm not so sure. I kind of think someone special sounds more appealing."

He looked me up and down. "I can see you have an erection."

Not in this weather, buddy, I wanted to say. That's just wishful thinking. Too cold for a hard-on. He had on cream coloured pants, which seemed to bulge out in the right places. Some people wondered by, I wondered if they had any idea that two guys were picking each other up. I wondered how relaxed with it all, he was.

"Your bulge looks good enough to grab," I said. I watched the couple go. "Right here. Right now."

He laughed and took a step away from me.

I laughed. "I didn't say I was going to. Just that it looked good enough."

I gave him my number and told him to call some time.

His name was Neesha. He was originally from Sri Lanka, via NZ and Queensland.

He said he lived with his family, in the far outer eastern suburbs. When he told me that, I assumed he meant that he lived with his parents, or siblings, but as I left at Eastern Hill, heading down Victoria Parade, I wondered if he meant his wife and kids. Don't know, could be either. Now I'm just fantasising, I thought.

Got sozzled on red wine, with Shane, as the open fire crackled and Big Brother played. Went to Victoria Gardens to watch Get Smart with Shane and Matt. It seemed okay, but as I fell asleep for 1/2 an hour, near the beginning, maybe, I'm not the best judge. Oh, Friday night, end of the week, I was tired. It seemed to be more serious than the television series. And they seemed to make Max a rookie, where in the TV show he was a master spy, which was part of the irony. I liked the way they incorporated the cars he was famous for, the Sunbeam Tiger and the Karman Ghia and the shoe phone, for that matter, even if I missed what the significance of the, what seemed to be a, museum display was.

I also woke with a tickle in my throat, which I couldn't clear, which must have been a treat for the punters sitting around me, as I coughed for ten minutes. Damn cigarettes!

Day 3 though and feeling okay.

Big Brother - Ben Would Make a Great Gay Boy

He is just the perfect template for a gay guy. That's how we want our gay boys to be, just like him. He should be gay. If we had gay conversion therapy, we'd convert him, no questions asked. He'd be taking it up the arse, before he even realised he'd been str*pped and set down on all fours, already lub*d.

Okay, Attempt #?

Okay. Second day of not smoking - oh here he goes again, I hear you all sigh! Seventh day of no pot - not that pot has ever been my addiction. No, I can take it or leave it. Tobacco is my downfall.

I feel kind of warm and buzzy. Warm hands, warm feet, comfortingly so. I feel edgy, but calm. It's like slipping straight into the eye of the hurricane; while it, actually, feels calm, I feel like it could all come apart at any moment. Something is raging far away. There is the ever present threat of destruction.

I've had a cough for a week - you know that means a month, if he's admitting to a week - so, I decided something had to give. So, I gave my cigarettes to David on Wednesday night, so I couldn't wake up and light one straight off. If I just delay that first cigarette in the mornings, I can stop.

I gave up New Years Day, or around about. A few days later, as a belated New Year's Resolution. I had my last puff on a joint Jan 20th, or thereabouts, with Luke.

I started again with the bride, at that wedding, when she wanted a joint, at Easter. With Catholic priest Father Patrick, who wanted to get into my pants. "You should come and sleep over, one weekend, my son," he said, as he ogled me." He used to touch me, inappropriately, on the arse. Not that I minded, I used to play up to him, just a touch. It kind of turned me on in a perverse way, watching his vows unravel.

So, Easter was early, so that's 3 months off, 4 months on; so that's, actually, not so great.

Okay, day at a time. Let's see how long I can stay off them now?

World Youth Day

My favourite quote for World Youth Day - It is supposed to result in 100 new priest entering the seminary, but it will probably, actually, result in 1000 unplanned pregnancies.

 

Green Days

Finite growth,

Finite planet,

I saw graffiti'd on a billboard, from the light rail, on my way back from St Kilda, from the dentist, last week. One second to midnight, all but done.

Environmental issues? Who cares? I think we are screwed! It is simply too late.

We're going down! Hang on!

The last hurrah.

The ice caps are melting, as is the perma-frost in Siberia and we are still pumping more carbon into the atmosphere every year. We're screwed because to save the planet we have to come between man and money, which has never been successful in the past.

I told one of the women at work that I couldn't care less about environmental issues, as I didn't have children. Oh, she raged about it being my responsibility for mankind. Blah, blah...

Why? I asked. Which one of your daughters is going to look after me when I'm old?

She looked holier than thou.

You'd better trade in your Landcruiser, in which you drive your 2 tiny little daughters around, if you are serious, I said. Not to mention the air-conditioning you had installed last summer.

I need that car, she said. It's the only one I feel safe in.

Which you drive to work on your own, I said.

And the summers have been so hot, she said.

Yes, that is, actually, the point, I said... for not having air-conditioning.

I walk to work and I drive my four cylinder car infrequently. I don't consume just for the sake of it. I've switched to renewable energy to power my house, I said. And, I don't have children, which is most of the problem. The government pays a baby bonus for political reasons when, in fact, the biggest threat to the planet is that there is simply too many human beings for the planet to sustain, now.

I say, let the breeders save the planet. Let us gays party like it's 1999... er... 2009?

Luke in Cambodia

Luke says he can't wait to get out of Cambodia. Sure, the work he is doing is rewarding, helping build villages for locals who have been thrown off their land by the government who wants to build resorts in the place of their villages, resorts, the main developer for which seems to be the minister of tourism. He says it's very sad and the people are very poor in the wreck of a country.

However, he goes back to Penong Peng where he stays in a hotel in between working with the villagers. It is there that makes his skin crawl. The paedophiles bring their 10, 11, 12 year old conquests to the breakfast table, showing them off as a badge of honour. Fat, old, ugly, drooling, Aussies, Germans and Americans, he says the place is rife with them. He can't sit with them and eat his cereal, or whatever, he has to get up and leave. He prefers to eat on his own, otherwise his stomach churns at the sight.

"You want a 5 year old to give you a head job Chris, he says to me. No problem. A couple of dollars."

The poor people are so poor, they send their children out to earn money for the family. He says it is so pitiful, it is unbelievable. Surreal.

"It's just awful," says Luke. "Really awful!"

He leaves in a few weeks for the relative civilisation of Vietnam, to meet Mark and he says he can hardly wait.

That's My Boy

Pornography or art? What would you say if I told you he was 15?

Lazy Days

I spent the weekend with Mark. We went for walks, gazed at the stars, cooked a roast and a bread and butter pudding, chatted lots, baked a banana cake, watched some of the DVD, Rome (which was okay, watchable) and watched Sunday Arts, before watching Big Brother. It was a lazy, carefree couple of days. Mark heads to Vietnam, in a few weeks, to meet Luke, who is still in Cambodia.

I did call Manny, on my way back from Bolago, he was pleased that I had remembered his birthday. He asked me if I wanted to meet his new boyfriend Vinnie. I said, May be one day. He said he would invite me to the wedding. I said I'd come, meet Vinnie then. 

That Beautiful Greek Boy

Manny's birthday, today.

Should I call him?

Should I?

Someone I once loved. Still love. (You've got to say those things) Went out with for 4 years. His big heart. His eyes just for me. His soft lips. That blush to his face when he was turned on. His sexy nipples, the direct way to his complete attention. His beautiful soul.

But what did we talk about? His gym, his health issues, his phobias, his money problems.

I miss him physically; holding him, hugging him, sitting on the couch with him, resting my head on his shoulder, holding him in front of me with my arms around him.

I guess, I got back what I gave him, no commitment. A fuck buddy who morphed. We could have renegotiated, but, I just could never see it.

Sweetest boy I ever met, though.

I don't think I'll call.

Andy Lee - Legends Game. Nice Buns, Andy!

After the Work Party

I was pissed off my brain, after the work party.

Charlie and I left the work party together. As we approached Swanston Street, he said, "Which way are you going?"

"Straight ahead," I said.

"Will you be all right?" he said, looking up Lonsdale Street and then looking at me. "You won't come to any harm?"

"No," I said. "But, you can come with me, you know, if you are concerned."

"No," he said. "That would be too dangerous."

Too dangerous? What did that mean? Shrug. "Okay," I said, as he gave me a big hug. "See you Monday."

"Yes, see you Monday."

And I left him on the corner of Swanston and Lonsdale. It was a long walk home from there, you know, staggering. 

Lunch With Charlie

I went out for lunch with Charlie. He's nice. He smiles and his eyes sparkle at me, whenever we chat.

He asked if I was coming to Friday nights EOFY firm party, big piss up. He said good and smiled when I said yes.

Later in the afternoon, he said he enjoyed lunch, as we made coffee, in the kitchen.

That's good, I said. It must have been with someone nice.

He smiled and said, "Yes, with someone nice."

"So did I," I said. "Had lunch with some one nice."

He blushed and smiled and headed back to his desk, looking back and smiling.

But the couple of times I've suggested going out for a drink together, he just smiles and doesn't answer.

It's just nice to have a gay friend at work.

Whose Morally Disordered?

The Pope – homosexuality is an intrinsic moral evil and gay people have an objective moral disorder.

This is something that demands a rational response.

Fuck off, dick head!

What Free Speech?

It is outrageous that laws have been passed that anyone caught wearing a T-shirt that is deemed offensive to the Pope, or Catholics, will now be charged and fined.

Did you want any more evidence that the conservatives are in charge?

Did you want any more evidence that free speech is dead in this, once great, country?

I, personally, wouldn't wear such a t-shirt, and I am not really sure why someone would. Live and let live, that is my motto, even if it doesn't seem to be the churches.

Tuesday Night

I went to Club 80 and had a shag. I’d been feeling apprehensive, don’t know why, guess... um... er, I was feeling out of practise. But as Tom used to always say, they are not going to come knocking on your door. There weren’t many people there, but it would seem I could have had my pick of them. I had four of them after me, as soon as I was in the door. And I like to get a lay of the land first, stand back and observe for a half hour, or so.

I hooked up with Lionel, Leon, how quickly they forget. He was sexy. Blokey. Nice voice. Muscley. Good kisser. Fat cock. Nice nipples. Hairy chest.

Two guys in the dimmed light, kissing.

Afterwards, he asked me if I went there regularly? He asked me if I, usually, went on a week night. I walked straight out. I'm slow, (sometimes) I don't always pick up on the signs. I guess, I should have stayed and chatted. That's how you get to know someone, hey? Didn't think. I was done.