Archive for October, 2007

… Tom Ford: the man’s man.

Posted in Tom Ford on October 19, 2007 by moderngatsby

Tom Ford didn’t intend to take his pants off, but the guy just can’t help himself. “When I saw how I looked in a dressing gown in the showers with the guys it didn’t look right,” recalls the designer of the cover shoot he did for Out. “It was like, Why would I be in the shower with those guys popping my towel in a dressing gown? so I just said, ‘We have to reshoot this and I have to get in there with them, because otherwise it’s not right.’” His lips purse into a small, compressed smile that suggests that it wouldn’t be the first time in his career that a shot needed sexing up. For years sex and Tom Ford have been synonymous, a combination of his blistering good looks, his notorious ad campaigns (his latest shows his new fragrance nestling in a woman’s shaved crotch), and the nonchalant ease with which he addresses it. “Sex is just second nature with me,” he explains. “It’s not like an obsession or anything.”

Maybe not an obsession, but definitely a guiding principle. He recalls strolling along the beach in St. Barts stark naked early in his career and sailing right past Vogue editor Anna Wintour. “I said, ‘Hey Anna,’ and then thought, Hmm, maybe I ought to start putting on my clothes. That was about the time his star was beginning to rise, and although he doesn’t do nude beaches any more (“As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized a tan line makes your butt look higher”) he clearly loves the human body, just not in a Diane Arbus kind of way. For Ford, the body is a canvas on which to project a fantasy: his. This can be disconcerting. You imagine that when he looks at you he is seeing not who you are, but who you could be, given the right nips and tucks. His story of meeting the artist Georgia O’Keeffe in Santa Fe, N.M., when he was 12 is instructive: “I was like, What’s wrong with her? She’s wrinkly; she doesn’t have any makeup on. Why doesn’t she paint her fingernails?”

Years later, the man who made over the American woman — painted fingernails, makeup, and all — returned to the O’Keeffe estate after her death to see if he could buy a sculpture by Alexander Calder that she’d owned and that he’d seen in a book as a 10-year-old. “Like everyone from my generation, when I made enough money to start buying art, I bought iconic things that meant something to me as a child,” he says. These days he’s grown bolder, willing to take bets on artists of his generation, but then it’s his generation that is now in the driving seat. At 46, Tom Ford is no longer using older, more established names—Yves Saint Laurent, Gucci — to help make his own. Having opened a luxury menswear store on New York’s Madison Avenue earlier this year, he plans a rapid expansion, with 14 more outlets around the world scheduled to begin opening in 2008. Does flying solo, after so many years as a copilot, give him sleepless nights? Of course, he says — but not that many. “I think sometimes I look so pulled together people think things are effortless for me, and they’re not,” he says. “I spend an enormous amount of energy and time thinking and worrying about all these things so they can appear effortless. It’s a constant fight to stay on top or get back on top, and I like to win, and I like to be successful, which is why I like the boxing motif for this story. Every day you go to work is a fight, and you have to be ready for it.”

For a fighter, he has impeccable control. He says a lot during our interview, but only as much as you feel he wants to give, mindful of how his words will read in print, or whether they’ll come back to haunt him. He likes to differentiate between Tom Ford “the product” and Tom Ford “the human,” about whom he says, “I’m extremely private.” His 20-year-plus relationship with former Vogue Hommes International editor Richard Buckley, 14 years his senior, suggests that his playboy demeanor is strictly for show. When he talks about their life together, it sounds as domestic and cozy as an episode of The Honeymooners: “He’s my family now — it’s different than it was when we first met, and why would I throw that away?” They’ve even designed sarcophagi in which to be buried “because we’re all going to die, so why not have fun with that? Why just be in a dull casket when you can be in a fabulous rosewood-and-granite sarcophagus in the middle of New Mexico?” Why, indeed.

Although not afraid of death — “I can totally imagine the world without me; I’m so unimportant” — Ford thinks a lot about the futility of life. He recently emerged from a midlife crisis that engulfed him on his 40th birthday. “All of a sudden I realized that 40 years had gone by and I had everything that I ever wanted, and yet I wasn’t completely, deeply inside, happy or satisfied. It was like, Is that all there is? I had success early, and I had someone I loved already in my life, and dogs and family and houses and things, and yet I felt a little empty and I’ve just recently come out of that. It’s a process. There’s a great quote comparing midlife to reaching the top of the ladder only to realize that you’ve had it against the wrong wall. It wasn’t so much about changing my outer life; it was a question of changing my inner life and living in the present.”

He concedes that in the wake of leaving Gucci he floundered for a new purpose, anxious that his old friends would melt away and that he’d be seen as yesterday’s man. “My life had been Gucci, and Gucci had been my life. I was working 24 hours a day right to the last day, and then — boom — my calendar was blank, like, forever, and I thought, What the fuck am I going to do? What the fuck am I going to do? It was a very hard transition.” Though he’d never imagined himself doing his own thing, he now recognizes that it was a natural progression. A brief stint in Hollywood in between has led to a promising movie project — he wrote the script and will produce it — but he worries he may jinx it with too much loose talk “because God knows it may never get made, and someone will write in [the New York Post’s] Page Six, ‘Tom Ford’s movie career fails…’ ”

Living in the present also happens to be at the core of his business strategy. A pragmatic man, Ford is in menswear because it’s less fickle, more reliable, than women’s fashion. “I didn’t want to do it the same way again,” he says. “I’ve done 16 collections a year and eight runway shows a year, where you constantly have to reinvent the wheel: the new shoe, the new bag, the new thing, and it’s so disposable. This is a different business, it’s a slower business, it’s less about fashion and more about quality, so I can have silver hair and still be doing what I’m doing and have it all make sense.” Although he doesn’t rule out introducing women’s wear, it would have to be strictly on his terms. “I do think someone needs to reinvent the way that women’s fashion works, whether I choose to do that in two or three years or not. I’m just afraid that once I stick my toe in that pond I’ll be sucked up and the next 30 years will whiz by and I’ll just have a bunch of dresses hanging in a museum, and I won’t have had time to have really lived.”

Who is likely to shop at the Tom Ford store, where a money clip might set you back a few thou and a top hat sits in a display case without apparent irony? When I walked around the store’s elegant dressing rooms I couldn’t help thinking of Tyler Brûlé, the jet-setting founder of Wallpaper magazine and Monocle, who is forever searching for the perfect this, the ultimate that, and who might well want a shirt in all 340 colors the store offers. (Who knew there were so many?). Ford describes the typical buyer as a man much like himself, although one suspects his eye is really on the booming Asian market. “I was in Beijing and Hong Kong and Shanghai in April looking at store locations, and I wish every American could go and stand on the banks of the Yangtze River in Shanghai and look across at the skyline, which is something from a science fiction movie. You feel so humble: Whoa, this is where it’s happening; this is the future. You get a completely different perspective of America there than we do here.”

Although he got into trouble at the time of the Iraq invasion for telling an Italian newspaper he was embarrassed to be American, Ford doesn’t disguise his despair over the Bush administration. A donor to Barack Obama’s campaign, he says he’ll probably vote for Hillary Clinton when it comes down to it. “In order to get things done in our system, whether we like it or not, you need to know how to operate in the system, and I think she’s quite an expert at that, and I think her heart is in the right place, I think her values are the right ones, and the more I’ve watched and thought, for me, I think it’s Hillary.”Wary of identity politics — “I don’t feel defined or restricted by my sexuality” — he is nevertheless scathing about the political debate over same-sex marriage. He and Buckley even toyed with the idea of applying for British citizenship so they could register for a civil union there. “I love being an American, but it’s sick that if I died tomorrow, 50% of my property would go to the government and the leftovers would go to Richard, whereas if we were a heterosexual couple, that wouldn’t happen.”

Ford doesn’t take himself seriously enough to expect anyone else to, but his transgressive ad campaigns have a clear political subtext: We need to get over our sexual hang-ups. Like other designers of his generation, he extols the ’70s as a time of sexual license and liberation. “I remember when it was in vogue to have gay friends or to be at Studio 54 while two guys were fucking — fucking — right there in front of you, and there’s princess so-and-so smoking a cigarette and having a cocktail, and it was all, like, ‘I’m cool, I’m liberal, that’s OK, that’s great.’” He shrugs off critics who claim he objectifies women by pointing out that he’s an equal opportunity objectifier; he’d be the first to run more penises in his ads if he could get away with it. Certainly, the ease with which he interacted with the models for Out’s boxing-inspired shoot reflected a man who was supremely comfortable around other men’s bodies. “I complimented their cocks in the shower,” he recalls. “I told one guy, ‘Your cock is really good; mine is usually bigger than this,’ and he said, ‘Oh, it’s just the water — go stand under the shower.’”

This seems so breathtakingly audacious — imagine it tripping off the tongue of any other designer — that you wait a split second for the punch line or the wink that says “just kidding,” only to realize that Tom Ford, human and product both, is at once completely serious and utterly blasé. “If you behave that way and you respect people, I think they get it,” he says. “They sense from me that I’m not going to give one of them a blow job.” He shrugs. “I just don’t do that.”



… if you reach the end of the earth you’ve gone too far.

Posted in Confession, Not-So-Foreign Cities, Passion with tags on October 19, 2007 by moderngatsby

As we left the boerewors curtain and headed out into deep cattle country of the Vaal Triangle, I have come to accept that the changes in my life are perhaps for the best, but as yet unrealised. I was off for 3-dys training on our most advanced CNC Milling and Turning machines as well as for a crash-course of the software management necessary for operating these kinds of machines. Leaving before dawn I witnessed something that I haven’t seen for a long, long time. The dawn rising like a melting ice-cream on a hot summer’s day as you stroll from Sea-Point to Green Point.


Vanderbijl Park is like a quant European country that you visit as a stop-over between the big tourist cities. The music is 10-yrs behind, people still smoke in restaurants and offices, and life is uncomplicated by things like iPod-envy or café-fatigue. Having arrived just as people were setting up their tools for the start of a full-day shift at our supplier’s premises I was like a fish out of water. Here men are men, the women have moustaches like their Dad’s and the kids don’t wear shoes to school. As far as a novelty holiday goes – I loved it. The question would neither be foam or cream – but what is a cappuccino?

With expectations such as these you can imagine my surprise that even the most hard-core of employees were not only courteous but went out of their way to help us in every possible way. While not the chivalrous gentleman that every girl, or guy, dreams of the basics were there and as every person worth their salt knows you can work with less to have more. But is this an environment that I could adapt to and even thrive within? You hear of people selling everything up after a lifetime of success and finding meaning in something foreign. But no baristas’ in a 50Km radius … hmmm …?

As the day progressed, I found myself sitting in the mild-spring sun eating my hamburger slightly enticed by one of the Brahman studs that sat next to me. I started to think about that eternal quest of ‘happily ever after’. As progressive as our society claims to be there are still certain life targets we are all supposed to hit: marriage, babies and a home to call your own. But what if instead of breaking out in a smile you break out in a rash at the thought of never achieving the impractical? Is something wrong with the system or with you? And do we really want these things or are we just programmed?

I blame Ogilvy and his ad for the Silver Cloud Rolls-Royce. They created the aspiration that wanting something more was okay. And while my capitalistic pursuit leaves me in marketing envy of a certain whore/genius who leveraged her amateur home made sex-tape with an ex into a big-budget horror flick, a self-titled perfume deal, and a reality TV show on Fox Network that was big in Japan. After all when you’re big in Japan you can make it anywhere as a brand. With apparently very little experience she has become a mini-economy and every plastic/porno-production gay’s hero.

But I guess it is the same with all recovering addicts – when you know better you try and do better. Whatever the previous vice, shedding it makes you a staunch advocate against it. So like Bono trying to get debt in third-world countries erased that is my new raison d’être – erase my burgeoning self-debt. Because when you think about it material consumption for the sake of cavalier amusement is becoming a dangerous thing. With a growing middle-class desperate to break in rather than stand out places like 24-Central, 44 Stanley Str. And the bistros and café’s in Parkhurst are perceived to be exclusive.

And from one extreme to the other: sushi with my editor, polo-gossip-pimp, and all round friend. It was a long overdue conversation about our converging interests and diverging aspirations. They say that nothing is certain in life – only death and taxes – but one thing is for sure: I always have a great time with her. Whether it’s drinking in some marquee while watching a boring game, falling from polo-ponies in some rural backwater, or understanding that we do what we go because we can. And because we’re good at it.

Everything else is choice.

… what I’ve done.

Posted in Confession, Self-Truth on October 19, 2007 by moderngatsby

In the darkness of the cavernous room, the smell of fresh paint and new leather took my very active and somewhat secret sex life to a new level of pursuit. And what started out as an innocent goof late one Friday night over drinks with a friend turned into contributing to the design of a perfect sex club. Here in this world of night where the daylight of reality never comes, and you can, without opening yourself up to yet another bad blind date and disappointing one night stand you get to live out dark fantasies of pleasure.

4-mnths later, I was at the opening to this invitation only meat-market where inhibitions are left at the door in the discreet suburbs north of Sandton but way before Fourways. Not my first time to something like this, it was my first time in what was described on the invitation as an ‘upmarket venue where strangers can meet’ and ‘be comfortable with no strings expectations’. A sex club by any other name is still a place where married men, committed men or men in denial frequent to get their rocks off before heading home to their real world of respectability and restraint.

And as I turned the corner trying to get through the crowded passageway without being groped I saw him. My ex standing there talking to some whip-thin queen wearing baggy jeans and a grin that unnerved me. Even though it has been almost 2 years since we parted ways, and I can pretty confidently say that I’m over him, every now and again I go somewhere, meet someone, or see something and I am reminded of him. I am haunted not by the way that he treated me by cheating but by the way that I tarnished his memory afterwards.

In the past few weeks as I’ve had to strip away layers of pretence that have built up over time and with people I’ve come to realise that turning 30-yrs old was a good thing. The angst of my twenties has been replaced by a sense of growth or maturity if you will that leaves me comfortable with who I am and where I’m going. And the mistakes of my past that I can learn from and not be bound to repeat the same relationship mistakes over and over again. It was the memory of hope rather than the man that made my chest tighten.

As I turned away from them and walked as quickly as I could, I felt the bile rising up in my throat and I realised that it was my fault entirely. For some reason I just couldn’t let go even though I had let him go. It was then that I realised that I was in an S&M relationship with the Squirrel. Sometime later I plucked up the courage to venture back to that particular area and in the darkness of the place I saw this young boy strapped into a sling and being fucked by the Squirrel amongst other men in a group.

But this pain was something different. I remember the pleasure of being in love with him rather than the pleasure his sex gave. In love-relationships there is a fine line between pleasure and pain. In fact it is a common belief that a relationship without pain is one not worth having. To some pain implies growth but how do we know when the growing pains stop and the pain pains take over? Are we masochists or optimists if we continue to walk that fine line? When it comes to relationships how do you know when enough is enough?

I think that when you get to the point that you’re asking the question you might have reached or passed it even. At that point you have to look beyond what you feel and more what you know. What I do know is that even though I’ve moved on … he is a part of me like the memories of a certain teacher telling me I wouldn’t amount to much in life. That stranger that you met at a friends’ place that you wanted in your heart but no matter how hard you tried you somehow fell short of your expectations. Or making a relationship work that shouldn’t have been started in the first place when your head was screaming ‘No!’ but your heart was crying ‘Yes!’

The city can become such a lonely place when you’re single, but when you have friends to fall back on, you realise that having
that someone special in your life is great but sometimes they come with too high a price.

… starlight, starbright, first star I see tonight.

Posted in Uncategorized on October 15, 2007 by moderngatsby

As the house had been plunged into darkness a few hours earlier I had the forethought that years of having a Mother such as mine brought me up to always be prepared. And so by laying out rows upon rows of candles throughout the townhouse the dusk turned to darkness and I wouldn’t be in the dark. To the untrained heart it would have been the perfect setting for the perfect third date. The only thing short in this fairytale would have been a superb Chianti open on the table, a tender Osso Bucco using my Nonna’s recipe, and of course that investment banker that I met while waiting for my coffee mid-week on a rare sunny afternoon.

There I sat on my comfy Wellington reading chair, curled up with the two Danes at my feet under a blanket, straining my eyes trying to finish the small print of a certain pale-pink weekend newspaper when I started to drift off into an early evening doze. Since dinner would be some lamb chops cooked earlier for lunch, some potato salad and an eating plan busting vanilla ice-cream and mulberry sauce. Suffering through not having a kettle to boil water for my coffee plunger I made do with iced-water.

I was still working off my binge of chocolate, popcorn and diet-coke last night at the movies while watching Michelle Pfeiffer as she just gets better and better with age. The irony of the movie wasn’t lost as we all went for coffee and catch-up afterwards. Since I hadn’t seen most of them since our Christmas in July party we were ever the cynics of true love, as one of the girls had since gotten back with her ex and lived through an engagement only to have been dumped again when uncertainty kicked in. She seemed to be taking it very well despite the smoking, caffeine habit and problems at work.

What is it about believing that always manages to get us into trouble? It was said that Zeus created women, a beautiful evil as he described her, as a punishment for man’s conspiracy with Prometheus and that whole returning fire to man saga. But when she unleashed the evils contained in the jar, just like Eve in the Garden of Eden, the only thing that remained was hope. You see it is both a blessing and a curse. Hope is what drives all our modern fairytales, dreams and ultimately our relationships too. Otherwise there wouldn’t be dating now would there?

As I sat there, wondering about the most famous fairytale of them all I had to ask myself: what if Prince Charming had never shown up? Would Snow White have slept in that glass coffin forever? Or would she have eventually woken up, spat out the apple, gotten a job with a health care package and a baby from her local neighbourhood sperm bank? I couldn’t help but wonder inside every confident single person is there a delicate fragile princess just waiting to be saved? When it comes to relationships could it be that we all just want to be rescued?

I remember wanting to find that special someone who would somehow magically transport me away to a place where relationships were forever, Danish aesthetics would become the international standard, and iTunes wouldn’t charge for music downloads. But I did a few times and we all know how those fairytales ended … and yet I’m hopeful still. While the raging storm outside would be perfect for Igor to find a life, this perfect weather is best shared by cuddling with someone that will be there in the morning.

But that story is for another time and place in a kingdom far, far away where everyone has washboard abs; listens to Massive Attack on their iPods; and by following a calorie-controlled diet live happily ever after.

… get real.

Posted in Uncategorized on October 10, 2007 by moderngatsby

As I watched the movie again it felt like it was just yesterday that I skipped a GCIS legkotla and headed off to the art-house cinema in Rosebank to take in one of themed films that were running in conjunction with a certain parade taking part at the weekend. While I prefer to play polo on the weekends and didn’t think that marching in some parade would get me that tall, dark and handsome investment banker the movie did take me away from it all for a few hours and was just what my soul needed.

The movie, ‘Get Real’, was my first gay film. With sweaty palms, deafening heart beat and a stomach full of butterflies I bought my ticket to a noticeably empty theatre and sat down to watch the film that I hoped would be worth the time and effort. It was a typical formula film: boy meets boy. Boy loses boy. Boy gets cute boy back. But there was something more to it than that. In the darkness of the cinema, with freshly popped popcorn, watery coke and whispers I started to come to terms with who I am and what I want.

And now almost three years down the line, two major relationships under my belt and one burning question. They say if you stay single in Jo’burg long enough you’re supposed to get wiser about dating. What men to pick … where to meet them but what really make any of us experts? Wasn’t our single status a neon sign that we couldn’t get it right? What if all these years in Jo’burg have only made us older, more confused or dead? As I sat watching the film again on DVD I had to ask myself: are we getting wiser, or just older?

While so much has changed everything has stayed the same. I still want the same things now that I wanted then but somehow they seem different almost like a Harry Potter book. All hype but little substance. Turning to your friends for advice doesn’t help because for the most part it’s like the blind leading the blind. Gay or straight no one seems to have any of the answers figured out. So we all meet for drinks in sub-terrain bars where all the young and beautiful people are in an attempt to rub Buddha’s tummy for luck.

But is it that simple? The right place at the right time? In the film the two characters meet of all places in a public toilet in a park. They slowly get to know each other and then fall in love. But fate, parents and a busy-body girl get in the way of their happiness and everything falls apart. Seldom does life end like in the movies and while I’ve heard of last relationships formed online, at nightclubs or on blind dates never have I heard turning tricks as the lucky charm to finding the man of your dreams.

But what if you did find that someone and somehow they were further along the learning curve in life’s experiences than you? Were they the one lost or a catalyst to get you where you need to be eventually? As life gets more complicated as we get older, we yearn for a time when things were simpler, so that we all can just be you and me. And just like the child inside I’ve started asking questions again. Not to be annoying but curiosity is getting the better of me. After all someone has to have the answers, right?

… easy come, easy go.

Posted in Lyrics - Rihanna, Not-So-Foreign Cities on October 7, 2007 by moderngatsby

Goes from 0-to-60 in three-point-five. Baby you got the keys …” sang the song on the radio as I eased my car into the early Saturday afternoon traffic of the N1 south and headed back towards my city. “… now shut and drive” I sang back at the top of my voice in the empty car. Then suddenly the mood overcame me and I cranked the volume higher; put my foot down on the accelerator and took the light-hearted lyrics to heart. Today was not a day for seriousness. Today was a day of new discoveries. 

I had just finished breakfast with a recently published author of a truly thought-provoking book that had gripped me this past week. It was one of those grown-up conversations that kinda confirms everything you’ve thought all along but wasn’t quite sure if that was a voice of reason or paranoia. As we walked towards the exit and said our good-byes we both promised to keep in touch which is something that I’m looking forward to. Time will tell but I have a feeling that it will be around for a while yet. 

And from a new friend to an old one with a less certain view of the world around him. At lunch yesterday I realised every time we meet we end up debating whether or not he will eventually propose to his long time – and long suffering I might add – girlfriend. To be honest she’s everything you could want in a potential partner: beautiful, intelligent, has a good job that requires frequent overseas travel guaranteeing a steady supply of Sprüngli and knows how to make a mean minestrone soup and proper German sour-dough bread. This is a no brainer as far as I’m concerned. The problem comes in when you can’t reconcile the ‘what-if’ with the ‘right now’. That age old question of settling down versus pleasurable torments and distractions that every bar, restaurant or Camps Bay hotel holds for us and the exhilaration of a beating heart.

It was then that I had to raise a question that I had recently heard and resonated somewhere inside of me. “If you don’t propose and she leaves, sure you could find someone else and lead a different life, but will you look back someday and regret it? “Yes” was his quick reply. And with that we turned in momentary silence to our penne-bolognaise, chopped chilli and sweep basil pesto and personal thoughts. 

In life it’s a pretty common belief that women tend to use the left or more emotional side of their brain and men the right more logical side. But is it really that cut and dry? It seems that when it comes to affairs of the heart there’s a battle between what we know and what we feel. So what do you do when you find yourself in a situation that leaps back and forth between the left and right side? It was then that I had to ask myself: when it comes to relationships, is it smarter to follow your heart or your head? 

When I think back on the many missed opportunities my few failed relationships presented in hindsight I realise that the majority were emotionally charged. In a false-sense of bravado you mask the real reason why your last relationship failed by blaming a 3rd person that had made it a little crowded but the reality was the fear of intimacy that a opening up your heart yet again brings and the change that comes as a result. The insecurities feed the fear and a downward spiral of self-doubt and cynicism consumes you and leads you down a road towards break-up. But in knowing better you ultimately strive to do better the next time around.

Because every step you take forward, guided by your romantic heart or your cautious head, you find yourself one step closer to that seemingly elusive person that will love you unconditionally. And that has got to be worth waiting around for isn’t it? 

… what goes around comes around.

Posted in Confession, Self-Truth on October 4, 2007 by moderngatsby

It started out as one of those uneventful days that just seemed as if it was going no where. Fast. With a few errands to run in and around Rosebank I thought I’d stop at one of my favourite cafés in Parktown North for a morning latte and verboten-espresso/choc-chip muffin. As I looked up from my pale-pink newspaper there he stood in the daylight: the ex-boyfriend that I can’t seem to let go. I think that it has more to do with being haunted by some of the things that I’ve said publicly about the break-up. And about him in particular that I wish I could take back. Not because I believe that we could become friends through forgiveness but because they weren’t particularly nice.

He was the one who first enlightened my consciousness with the concept of Karma, and in recent weeks, converts of The Secret have expanded on it exponentially. While I always ascribe thoughts about Karma to the cookie-fortune school of psychology I wondered back to my relationships and if a string of bad dates really entitled me to one good one. And will treating someone badly in one relationship ensure that you will be treated badly in the next? Does everything that really goes around come around and if so will it come around to bite you in the ass? As I shook off the random sighting of my past indiscretion I had to ask if there is such a thing as relationship karma?

Having taken the time to sit down and write him a letter apologising for my words and actions some years ago I think that my words have fallen on indifferent ears. But somehow that doesn’t seem to take-away the emptiness I feel inside. Sure I can argue that it was eventually balanced out by his cheating on me but somehow two wrongs haven’t made Mr. Right. But learning from your mistakes is never an easy thing especially when you try to be something more than you are and a lapse in judgement causes you to re-examine where your life’s direction is taking you and ultimately how you are not just perceived by others but how you see yourself.

But as I try and wipe away the slate of my irresponsible past I realise that my actions had set in motion a karmic chain of events that put someone like him back on the singles’ market. To do to me what he has done to so many other hopeful men that thought he was the one. As if single, unassuming gay men in Jo’burg that aren’t from the plastic-production line of Melrose Arch Virgin Active didn’t have it hard enough already. And somewhere out there I know that he’s alone again. As am I. Searching for someone like you who’s looking for someone like me in a universe that may not always play fair … but has a hellava sense of humour.