Sunday, December 16, 2012

A new friend


I tend not to have many male friends.

Yes there are those partnered with my female friends and of course my (gay) friend Renato, but there aren’t too many straight guys I’ve befriended on my own terms.

I gravitate towards female friendship and usually subscribe to the ol’ chestnut: men and women can’t be friends without the sex part getting in the way. ‘When Harry met Sally’ being one of my favourite films.

I've been at my brother’s house when his friends have come around for their weekly Thursday night get together. The evening goes something like this:

William plays his guitar; drinks some wine; reads the label on the wine bottle. Dallas plays with his phone; drinks some wine; rolls a %$&. Scott drinks some wine; smokes a cigarette.

Milly (Hamish Mill) is the exception; he likes a good natter. So eventually Milly grows tired of talking to silence and ventures inside to find me and Rachel chatting about love, marriage, spirituality, children, parents, fitness, health & nutrition, travel.

People say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks and I would have thought me an ‘old dog’ in my strong-held beliefs that women serve me better in friendship.

But all this changed when I met Andrew (pictured).

I nicknamed Andrew ‘Boston’ (because that’s where he’s from) and we became friends when he began a two month internship at the organisation I work at in Melbourne.

Boston blended in well to corporate culture – he wore a dark suit and was quiet and courteous in the open-office environment.

One of my colleagues asked if I would give Andrew an overview of my role so I booked a meeting room and took him through what a PR professional does.

"I thought your job was like Peggy’s from Mad Men,” Andrew said.

Peggy, the character who is a copywriter and later promoted to account manager, in the HBO award-winning drama series based on a fictional ad agency in 1950s/60s New York.

I love Mad Men.

Andrew worked his social charms on other colleagues and before long we were all catching up for Friday night drinks.

He would constantly say: “I love Australians” and me: “Tell me about America.”

My (other) American friend Nicole also watches Mad Men and she invited me and Boston to a show at the Next Wave Festival where she is marketing manager. The theatre was irreverent and original and gave Boston and me happy fodder to discuss at post-show drinks.

My friend Renato (another Mad Men fan) happily agreed for Andrew to join us at his Mad Men and martinis season five end party.

We all liked Boston.

Andrew left Melbourne just before Nicole and Anson held their ‘Christmas in July’ party. I would have liked his company – the party was winter wonderland fabulousness (many guests wore woolly sweaters with Xmas motifs like reindeer and snowflakes; we decorated a homemade gingerbread house with smarties; drank fresh eggnog, got tipsy and danced in Nicole and Anson's lounge-room).

Boston and me have kept in touch. He introduced me to his flatmate Josiah who’s from Portland. Josiah has given me some fantastic tips and insights into Portland and Seattle. Both have helped me enormously in shaping my upcoming US plans (San Diego/Portland/Seattle).

Josiah intends to return to Portland after finishing his degree.  Hopefully this will prompt Andrew to visit us. Otherwise, I’ll go to Boston.

When an employee leaves an organisation, their farewell speech seldom focuses on the work alone: they usually mention the people as a highlight. My work contract ends in January and while the work’s been good – it’s where I met Boston. 

It may have taken someone from the other side of the world to change my beliefs about the dynamics of gender and friendship. The Quiet American. But perhaps it was just meant to be - Melbourne is afterall sister city to Boston.



In 1985, Melbourne’s international sister city relationship with Boston was established. As vibrant knowledge cities, Melbourne and Boston are connected by a common commitment to excellence in healthcare and medicine, information and biotechnology, education, the arts and culture.

See link: http://www.melbourne.vic.gov.au/enterprisemelbourne/BusinessSupport/international/Pages/SisterCityBoston.aspx



The pic: Andrew looking daper in his suit. He took influence from Mad Men’s Don Draper. He wanted to ‘look fantastic in a suit’ (see first link below for reference). Knowing my love for Mad Men and Game of Thrones, Andrew shared these clips - watch if you're a fan:

Don Draper’s guide to picking up women: http://www.videolog.tv/video.php?id=440339

Don Draper presents Facebook timeline: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wAcyJhsamcQ&list=FLkg7Jr2Omo_kNayGio4c1mA&index=50&feature=plpp_video

Game of Thrones: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xq6dez_snl-game-of-thrones_shortfilms

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Hello Mother

I’ve always loved the theatre and whenever I travel, I will see a play.

During my recent trip to San Francisco, friends had recommended the pastry shop, Tartine, so while I sipped my soy latte and munched on a fruit scone, I read over the Arts section of the San Francisco Chronicle to get a feel for the theatre around town.

I came across a preview for The Normal Heart.  

The Normal Heart focuses on the rise of the HIV-AIDS crisis in New York City between 1981 and 1984, as seen through the eyes of writer/activist Ned Weeks, the gay Jewish-American founder of a prominent HIV advocacy group.

As in all good theatre, this production touched me in ways I could relate my own life.  

One of the beloved characters had contracted HIV and in a following scene, his doctor tells him the grim news that the virus has progressed to full blown AIDS.

Facing the audience, the grown man cries: “I want my mother.”

The attending doctor casually enquires: “Can you call her?”

“She’s dead,” he replies.

My mother died when I was 21 – five days shy of my 22nd birthday.  Her own father died when she too was 21.  I remember asking her: “Do you miss your father?”  “No,” she had said. “It’s so long ago now.”

It’s been a difficult road without my mother.  I have a father and brother and their male influence in my 20s was undeniable. Essentially I became more like them dropping any hint of feminine.  I was male in a female form.   I chased the boys and usually got them - but never for long.  I was too strong and overt.

There were many happy times in my 20s, the young and heady lifestyle is undeniably intoxicating, but I transgressed many weekends in a haze of booze and cigarettes.

My father met his now wife when I was 26.  The subsequent years were some of my hardest.  I moved to Darwin before I was 30, and back again, via Sydney for a year, by the time I was 32.  I’ve been in Melbourne six years since.

There have been several occasions where I have wanted to yell to a listening audience: “I want my mother.”

I’ve certainly felt it.

I miss her humour and her being.  The fact I’ve put off having a child because she cannot be here to support me in the role of motherhood because it is just so damn hard child rearing without that maternal presence.

Very often I’ll signal my mother through prayer.  And she’ll throw me the occasional hottie.  I know it’s her doing – she liked a good looking man as much as I do.

As previous blogs will attest, the Top Gun fighter pilot; the irresistible Tristan; and later our Saint, Bede.

Mum appeared in a dream around the time I was reconciling the end with Tristan.  She and I were sitting at a table talking.  I had spoken the circumstances of our union and how its end had made me sad. 

My mother, who had been listening attentively, said in a casual manner: “Of biscuits and bread.”

“What does that mean?” I quizzed.

“Of biscuits and bread,” she repeated as the dream trailed off.

It’s neither here nor there; it’s just the way it goes.

I later relayed my dream to the wise and wonderful Peter, and he put a new spin on its interpretation:

Biscuits are sweet.  Bread is nourishing.  Do you think she was simply pointing out that Tristan was sweet - but not nourishing enough to be long lasting?

Maybe.  This explanation made sense.

I asked my mother once what her favourite food was. 

“Bread,” she had said.