On Friday night I went to the Pound. I’m a regular there now. I turn up and they’re all like “Drew!” and we high five and do the secret handshake *groans*. Uncharacteristically, there were actually four real hotties at the club, all with shaggy hair and sideburns. I did a bit of research and found that they were from the cast of Saturday Night Fever, an Australian production that had just rolled into town. Not wasting a beat I introduce myself. After we’ve made the preliminary hellos, one of them turns to me and asks me if I know a guy called Chris (Last Name Here). I tell him that, yes, I lost my virginity to a Chris (Last Name Here). Behind him, his friend smiles at me. And then I recognise who it is. It’s Chris (Last Name Here) with 70’s hair and sideburns.

I guess we need some back-story *turns on PowerPoint and dims lights*. It’s 1995 and I head off to the National Youth Drama School. It is a turning point in my teens because I am surrounded my young, enthusiastic thespian types and it encourages me to come out to a few of them. This is the first time I have ever REVEALED THE SECRET. The selected few are all very good about it – a trend that continues all my life, bless the Beasts and Children. Especially understanding is this guy called Chris, who’s actually quite cute, come to think of it. Fast forward 24 hours and he and I are kissing in the vineyard next-door to the place we’re staying at. It’s getting racy when we’re interrupted – by a sheep (insert sheep joke here) and, as we’re terrified we might be discovered, we flee back to the hostel to have a very uncomfortable nights sleep in separate beds.

Drama School finishes and we all go back to our respective homes - my virginity still firmly intact. A week later I turn sixteen and decide to invite Chris over where there will be no sheep and only a mild risk of my Mother bursting into my room to ask if we’d like a cup of tea and maybe a Tim Tam. With mission accomplished Chris goes home and we promise to write every few days to keep our flame of passion alive. I soon realise I am not quite cut out to do the whole long distance thing and I break up with Chris in my last letter to him.

Youth is cruel y’all.

I didn’t see Chris for another five years when I bumped into him in Wellington. On seeing him again I realised one important thing – he was now much, much hotter.

*turns off PowerPoint, brings up lights*

Which is exactly the same thought I had when I was saw him on Friday night. He is actually a quite a hunk – a far cry from the greasy teenagers we once were (my braces, with the rubber bands that would go the colour of whatever I’d just eaten, were particularly fetching). I bought Chris a drink and we stood at the bar talking for most of the night. It had been ten whole years. He told me I hadn’t changed. I asked him if that was a compliment and he laughed. No, really, I wanted to know. He laughed again. We kissed. It was much easier this time, what without the braces. Then we said our goodbyes, but not before I’d wangled an opening night ticket out of him for Saturday Night Fever.

The show was much better than I’d expected. I love disco, but hate the Bee Gees. I’m more of a Donna Summer, Diana Ross kind of guy, but the cast was stellar and it was very slick. I didn’t even mind it when they made us all stand up for the reprise (I have an aversion to clapping in time to anything).

Chris had also organised me an after party pass, so I happily tucked into the free champagne while I waited for him to get changed.

“You were wonderful tonight,” said a woman in a shawl.
“Um, thanks?” I said.

Now if you want to really impress someone, invite them to the opening night of your show, and then turn up to the party (which is all about you) looking and smelling nice, surrounded by family and friends and fans who all tell you, truthfully, how amazing your performance was. Yeah, that’ll do it. Chris kicked me out of bed this morning at seven because he was having breakfast with his parents. He also has a matinee and an evening show. But he has the whole day off on Monday. And as it happens, so do I.

Yeah, yeah, email me

09/2003 / 10/2003 / 11/2003 / 12/2003 / 01/2004 / 02/2004 / 03/2004 / 04/2004 / 05/2004 / 06/2004 / 07/2004 / 08/2004 / 09/2004 / 10/2004 / 11/2004 / 12/2004 / 01/2005 / 02/2005 / 03/2005 / 04/2005 / 05/2005 / 06/2005 / 07/2005 / 08/2005 / 09/2005 / 10/2005 / 11/2005 / 12/2005 / 01/2006 /

sites what I write on:

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sex, lies & videotape
diamond geezer
vivid blurry
raw youth
secret simon
learn swedish
the rob log
why god why
a beautiful revolution


belle de jour
jems web


timmy ray
link bunnies
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