1 April 2019


So anyway, I’m back. So sorry for the late reply, but I have been *bizzy*

Anyway I’m in a new city, a new country, a new chapter of my life. I’ve left London after twelve glorious years and headed for sunnier climes, specifically Melbourne, Australia.

And also, I turned 40. Ugh, I just sicked a little in my mouth. Remembering you're 40 is like when you remember Donald Trump is still the leader of the free world and you scream ‘why am I not more outraged by this?’ I guess there is an adjustment period, but just like Trump, I will never accept being 40.

So anyway, without becoming too bogged down in details, in the end I fucking hated London. Loved my friends - adored them - but the grind of London made me want to eat a plate of my own pooh instead of sticking it out another year, so probably best I got out before tucking into the faecal feast.

Plus I had completely lost my mojo: I hadn’t sucked dick for nearly twelve months. I mean, what the actual fuck? That’s not good. So many of my formative years spent training my epiglottis, I hope I haven’t forgotten. There has to be some sort of automatic muscle memory or reflex, right? Although it has been so long, perhaps the only reflex will be gagged.


So I have been on Tinder and Grindr in Melbourne. Ok...this is going to seem a little strange…when I was in London there was a guy I had been chatting to who seemed interested, but we just couldn’t get it together, to get together. In fact, apart from a few messages every now and then, we never actually met. But he was/is Australian and now lives in Melbourne *squeals* I know this because I favourited/starred him on Grindr so I will ALWAYS BE ABLE TO KNOW WHERE HE IS IN THE WORLD…hmmm, let me rephrase that…I favourited/starred him because...because...I don’t really have any other reason other than the aforementioned.



Anyway, we shall refer to him as The Favourite.

So I have already sussed out his possible location. Where I am staying, he is nine kilometres away. Then I was in another part of the city on the weekend and The Favourite was only two kilometres away, so I went home and put a pin in a map on my wall and drew a two kilometre radius to whe-

I’m kidding, I don’t have a map.


Maybe you’re wondering why I am being so batshit fucking crazy about The Favourite – believe me, it gets better. Let me take you back to a kinesiology sesh I had a year ago: I was told I would meet an Australian – a Melburnian, no less – in London before returning home. He would also be ready to leave London and then we would leave together or something wildly coincidental like that.

Well, that never happened. I met one guy who was from Melbourne. He was a composer, but had no desire to move back. He also wasn’t gay and harboured no erections for me, which I’m pretty sure is a red flag.

So it is super tenuous, but it has to be The Favourite, right? Or the kinesiologist is full of shit and I have been sold snake oil.

Anyway, I’m not entirely sure what the game plan is...move to his suburb and hope that he messages because I’m a lady and I never message first? I know, I know I just need to message him. I better do it soon because the gays are brutal: they treat those who have passed over into their forties like a boom town recently bypassed by the interstate. The only people to visit are lost or there to reminisce about the 20s and 30s.

Or you’re dragged kicking and screaming into a new sub group #daddy.

I have been very vocal in the past about my impending daddy-hood. It seems beyond a certain age you are no longer allowed to be anything other than "sane" and "sorted" (actual words used as markers of your personality in daddy dating profiles). My profile reads "Miss Vanjie" so, not sure I'm gonna cut it as a daddy.

Thankfully, I'm attracted to the older gay, but those same older gays who found the number next to my name attractive because it began with a three, now no longer find me attractive because there is a four in its place. It pains me to say that in some cases I'm actually too old for the older gays. Ugh. And I thought turning 30 was hard.

I have to say that turning 40 has focussed my mind on finding a boyfriend - this shit needs to be expedited. I feel more relaxed about meeting someone in Melbourne, though. I always wanted to meet an Australian for an LTR in London. I was worried I would meet someone, feel the pull of home and they wouldn’t follow or worse, they would follow and then realise it wasn’t for them and return to Europe, leaving me broken hearted - AND THIS WAS ALL BEFORE THE FIRST DATE. Anyway, my unrealised fears of abandonment aside, meeting an Australian just made sense. Now I'm in Australia there are so many Australians to choose from!

You wait, I’ll meet a Brit and be back in London within a year. Maybe that’s what the kinesiologist meant.

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