Strippers, Country Weddings and City Realizations

One of the main reasons also that I’m back in Australia is that a great mate Nick is getting married to the beautiful Cyn and another friend of mine Scott and I are going to be the best men. Whether Nick is twice the man we are or we are but half men that together make one, I never asked.

So Scott and Nick and I spend a few days getting the biz together. There are suits to be tried on and altered, beers to be drunk, last-minute nerves to be overcome, many conversations to be mulled over.

And strippers.

It’s my opinion that if you are taking on the mantle of best man duties, you get strippers. Seriously, there is a law somewhere about this in the Book of Man, isn’t there?

This is officially the third time that I’ve been a best man. The first was when my friend Brian got married, but it was a small ceremony in Singapore at the registration office. Somehow ZZ Top’s, “She got Legs,” blaring over a portable stereo teamed with a breakaway outfit wasn’t really going to fit into the scale of the day. Probably would have got us all in jail.

Then, my brother got married and I wasn’t allowed to get a stripper. I mean, my own brother! But no, he just wanted a chilled out night, guys playing pool and drinking beer. Strike two.

But Nick is a commercials director, doesn’t mind getting his crazy on, this is my stripper moment. I’m gay and I still want strippers. I don’t want to go to my grave without a lapdance. I want to say the words, “Bada-Bing!” with a face full of nipple tassels.

But Nicky Boy declined. He just wanted a nice quiet, no mess, no fuss intro into life with a wonderful lass. Sorry ladies, Nicky is taken.

The wedding was a scream, the bride was beautiful, it all went off without a hitch out in Mittagong, we even had flies and dust in places where you least expect it.

For those who were there who have hazy memories of what happened after the ceremony, it’s better that way.

So then it was back to Sydney and waiting to go up to Singapore to start shooting my film, Snow. And waiting, and waiting, and waiting…

In the meantime, with not a lot else to do, I get to thinking about the hometown as I walk its streets. And I begin to remember all the great times that I’ve had here. And I come to the realization that there is nothing wrong with Sydney at all. The problem is me. You can’t be mad at somewhere for not being what you want it to be.

But it’s also true when people say, you can never go home. So in the end, I forgive Sydney and I think it forgives me too.

You also can’t be mad at people for not being who you want them to be. I’ve spent a lot of my life going out with people whose potential I saw, dating who I thought they could be rather than just who they were.

And I can’t really explain how this all happened, but I finished my spiritual connect-the-dots and then this huge wave of calm washed over me. I felt connected to something bigger, like I’d walked into a library of Universal Knowledge.

Cities, people, friends, lovers – you just have to take them all as they are, not what they were, or what they might be, or what you want them to be.

It’s amazing how the glib and twee stuff can be the truest stuff too.

So I finish in Sydney, knowing that I’ll probably never live there again, but there’ll be some great times to remember. Like an amicable break-up with an ex who says, “Hey, drop by anytime you feel like it. I’ll be here.”

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About Some Gay Guy

I'm getting divorced. So... yeah.
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