When memories of you flood back into my mind

I still remember all the times when I lie down on your lap reading my books and you casually comb your hands through my hair absently, all while you're reading your own book.

Or that time when you gave me a back rub and say "I love you" while I was cooking in the kitchen.

And I still remember those mornings when I woke up with you by my side and I just can't stop smiling. You'll open your eyes, all drowsy from your deep sleep, and  say "Good morning, love."

Yes, I am getting all emotional with all of you reading this right now.

"What happened?" you ask. First was that one post someone shared on my Facebook talking about how you know that the person you are dating is the one.

Then there was that new web series from China that my friend recommended. It is a glorious 15-episode web drama series (go watch it. It's so sweet and cheesy that it made me feel lonely and depressed, all while giggling about it.)

The series is called "Addicted", a gay romance drama set in a high school in Beijing. You can watch it on YouTube (here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkMVtBVoXzE)

Watching it made me all giddy with love and brought back so many memories about my ex-boyfriend.

So I've decided to write about the first time we met and how we got into our first date.

Now, back to my emotionally charged post.

His name is... let's just call him the Irish. No, he's not from Ireland but he is Australian and of Irish descendant.

He is a pure-born-and-bred Australian who lived his whole life in Melbourne (can I hear a "Oy, Oy, Oy" from you?).

I met you one fine autumn day on my way back from shopping. I spotted you walking around the mall by himself. He was a sight to behold.

Casually dressed in a cotton shirt and chinos paired with a black pair of glasses, you were walking towards the bus stop.

I was too and decided to follow you from behind (yes, I was stalking him). In my defense, I was walking in the same direction.

As if some higher gay being heard my prayer, you boarded on the same bus as me. We made brief eye contact and you smiled.

I was pretty sure I made some sort of face when I tried to smile, but you weren't bothered by it. You continued reading your book.

I sat opposite of you and kept stealing glances at you. You just kept on reading – clearly transported elsewhere.

When we reached the train station, I got down the bus thinking that I probably won't see you again, but you were right behind me.

Our roads forked as you walked into the university campus next to the station and I walked towards the train platform.

I kept thinking, "Damn, he was hot! I wonder if he studies at that TAFE. Maybe I should drop by this area more often."

As I was daydreaming all about you, you appeared in the corner of my eye. I turned and you smiled again. I returned the smile and am pretty sure I was flushing in red.

When the train arrived, you walk into the carriage in front of you, while I got into mine, which was a few down yours.

And I thought to myself, "Well, it's not like he's going to come sit in your carriage. Damn it! I should've sneaked to the spot near his side, so that I get into his carriage and stare at him more."

(Stop judging. When you see a hot guy, you'd do that too. No. Don't try and say otherwise. I know.)

Then it happened. By the graces of god (or whoever that did it. Cher, was that you?), you walked into my carriage and boldly sat a few seats opposite of me.

You caught me gawking (possibly with my mouth opened), but I took the initiative and smiled at you first.

I didn't expect you to say anything but you said, "Nice weather today huh? Cool but with just enough amount of sun."

Then the conversation continued, you were funny and so charming. I was in heavens as I try to make more conversation with you.

Looking back, any guy would've thought I'm a little crazy. I was yapping on and on about everything, but you didn't.

You thought I was incredibly cheerful and rather 'cute'. I still didn't believe you when you told me that on our second date (but that's for later).

The train ride was 40 minutes long but it felt like 5 instead. When we reached the city, I was sure that this would be where we part ways. I thought you kept on to my flow of conversation because you're being nice.

When we tagged out of the gates and I walked off. You asked, "You don't have anything on now right? Wanna grab a coffee while you wait for your friend?"

I said "yes!" immediately and we headed off together. That became our first unofficial date and till now, I still remember it.

You'll always be the love of my life and even though we are in different continents and we never kept in touch anymore, nothing will change that.

I Love You Irish.


So... that's how I met him. More to come soon I hope. I'll try and update more.

Love you fags and hags out there. Have a good weekend.
Yours Queerly xoxo

Me and Scruffy: From best friends to bed buddies (Part 1)

The wheels started turning on the day that I came out to him. It was one of the funniest experiences I've ever had.

Who was he? He is Scruffy, one of my two best friends and housemates in Melbourne.

There was also Chef, the straight guy who was studying culinary, but that's not important.

So back to the story, Scruffy and I were very close. We had a lot in common and we would always turn to each other for advice and guidance in every single thing.

It was all very brotherly and innocent until I fell for him. It was about that time that I decided to come out to him.

Funniest thing was when I did, he also confessed that he had done some experiment for the past few months, exploring the possibility with men.

Both of us was afraid of what the other might think.  We had a long chat about all our experiences and how it felt. It was liberating.

After the long heart to heart session, things were back to normal or so I hoped.

I realised there were occasional flirting and traction going on between the two of us, but nothing came to fruition because I think that both of us didn't want things to change.

Then came that night when me, Chef and Scruffy decided to have a few drinks (I only had a few sips because I am horrible with alcohol) at home.

We were in Scruffy's room, All three of us were on his bed drinking and talking about absolutely nothing. We do that very often – random topics that have no point whatsoever.

Before we know it, we all passed out on his bed but after a while, Chef felt awkward and stumbled back to his room.

I really did fall asleep and only realised that Chef was gone at about 3 in the morning. By then I was too tired to go back to mine and I liked sleeping next to Scruffy.

Scruffy was rather drunk that night. So, I did not think that anything would happened. Sometime through the night, I didn't know what happened but I found myself in a position where he was spooning me.

He was grinding my back, which woke me up, but I thought he was just having a horny ass dream, but then, I heard some very heavy breathing and he started nibbling my ear.

I shifted and then he stopped. When I turned over, he was wide awake and staring at me. He was blushing.

My heart was racing and I didn't know what to do. We continued to stare at one another for what felt like an eternity.

His hands reaches to caress my face and then he pulled me closer. We were breathing quite heavily and then it happened.

We kissed....

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Let's end it here for now. I apologise for stopping so abruptly but I feel that this post is going on for too long!

So, let's continue another time and I promise that it will be soon!

Love you fags and hags out there. Have a good weekend.
Yours Queerly xoxo

PS: Is it just me or has this somehow transformed into a gay erotic story?