Boy-blasts from the past.

I've spoken to a few boys that I've-- well-- formerly been involved with, lately. I don't really know why, it all seems out of the blue. Maybe it's that time of the year or something, I don't know. Some I haven't seen for a long, long time. It just makes me think, you know? Remembering what it was like to be a naive, fresh faced queer in a predominantly straight suburban world - not even old enough to experience the scene. Oh, the nostalgia.


Dave.

Flyboy Dave got rid of his car; apparently now he's got a motorbike. He pranged the Commodore (I think it was a Commodore, if memory serves me - nonetheless, it was a beast) and couldn't be stuffed getting a new one. Oh the memories of that car: being tailgated on Richmond Road and Dave stomping on the brakes, skidding the tyres and giving Mr Tailgater the shits.

Dave was a guy I saw a couple of times after I finished the HSC, way back in 2003. He wasn't the type of guy I normally would have been involved with, but I'd just finished with school and I had all this untested freedom at my disposal. So I met Dave; I was seventeen, he was twenty-three and an aircraftman with the RAAF. He was a pretty sweet boy; spunky and nicely built too. I'm not sure what I liked most about him: maybe the way he'd effortlessly lift me and lay me down, or that adorable look he'd give me while he was driving and I was in the passenger seat - but then again that could've just been an 'I-need-to-get-my-rocks-off' kind of look, I can never be too sure.

He was different to everyone else I'd been with up until then. I guess the major difference was that he was older. He was a gentleman, as opposed to a fickle, drama-queen teenager, and a blokey kind of bloke. He seemed a bit aloof at times though - a bit mysterious. I wish we talked more.

He took me to his place on the Airbase at Richmond once - I think I've still got the visitors pass somewhere. He'd been bumming around for a few days; he didn't have a plane to work on - his 707 (his 'seven-oh', as he referred to it) was out somewhere and wouldn't be back on the Base for a few days. Instead, an army Blackhawk helicopter was in his hangar and he told me that he'd scabbed a rollercoaster kind of ride on it to Holsworthy and back during a defence family Open Day a few days earlier.

I remember his water bed. That was-- difficult to say the least. It was all squishy and it was tough to get any sort of solid footing on it. But it was fun. Took a lot of effort though.

And he took me to the drive-in movies too - I really enjoyed that. We got there a little early and there was a bit of a storm brewing - not quite the best weather to see a movie outside. In the mean time, we entertained ourselves. Outside, the raindrops pitterpattered on the metal roof, the thunder rumbled and the lightning flashed. We were there in the backseat, skin on bare skin, fogging up the windows. And I fitted snugly, dare I say perfectly, in his big strong arms. Sometimes I wish that we meant more to each other; the moment was really quite romantic and it seemed wasted on us. Sigh.


I saw him again last Anzac Day. I was with my best friend Adam near the KFC on the corner of George and Bathurst Streets in the City; Adam had his pipe band gear on - a kilt and a huge bass drum, and we waited for the massed pipe-band to form and march up George Street to the Martin Place Cenotaph. Dave and his Air Force buddies walked past (on their way to the RSL, I later learnt), resplendent in their light blue dress uniforms. He looked positively sexy. But I didn't talk to him; I didn't know what to say. Or if he'd want me to say 'hello' at all, especially with those burly military type friends of his around.



More boy-related reminiscing later...

Listening to:
Title: Everything's Alright (Reprise)/I Don't Know How To Love Him
Artist: Kate Ceberano
Album/station: Jesus Christ Superstar [Australian Cast Recording]
Length: 4.23