Hush up

Hush up, don't tell Mama

Hush up
My journey back to Brisbane on the bus was a lot easier than the previous trip to Mooloolaba. They had my booking details down correctly so I didn’t have to spend the journey being called “Christine” by the driver and I knew how to pronounce “Brisbane” so it was easy to make sure I was on the right bus. I arrived early afternoon and found myself a coffee shop where I could have some lunch and get internet access while I waited for Bec to finish work. I was a little nervous about staying with Bec but more for her sake than mine. This was a new feeling for me on my trip despite staying with a number of hosts I had never met before. I wondered if it was because Bec was female? I had messaged her a couple of times during the week to make sure she was still ok to host me and give her an opportunity to change her mind. I had stayed with people I had only met on my trip before but there had been a couple of months between me meeting them and them hosting me. I had only met Bec six days before but there had been an instant connection.

Bec arrived early evening, finding me in the coffee shop and giving me a big hug. I finished my coffee, packed my laptop away and we headed for the bus to her place. I was about to see the Gaypex, her apartment, so called because it formed a neat triangle with two of Brisbane’s gay venues.  On the way to hers Bec told me that she was cooking dinner and that several of her friends would be joining us. It would be a mix of people too – gays, lesbians, a bisexual, straight men and straight women. She also explained that most of the friends who would be joining us were coming to make sure she was ok and that the random gay guy she had invited to stay (me) was not a nutter. I felt reassured that her and her friends were taking some precautions, lovely though that I am. Having dropped off my luggage we headed across the road to the bottle shop so that I could pick up some wine to have with dinner. As I scanned the bottles in the fridge I spotted some wine from one of the vineyards I had visited a couple of weeks before with my friend Claire. They had a Semillon and I started laughing as I picked a couple of bottles out of the fridge. Bec looked at me puzzled and I explained the story. Thankfully she found it amusing and told me that we were going to get on well this weekend. Purchases made we headed back to hers. I went to freshen up while Bec made a start on dinner.

Bec cooked her signature dish, pork tenderloin wrapped in Parma ham, a creation she called Pork Schlong. It certainly lived up to the hype that she had given it and it allowed numerous double entendres to be made over dinner. We polished off every inch of her schlong. Dinner felt a little like a panel interview at times and I think I passed the scrutiny of her friends. Dinner also came with the realisation that of the eight people sat at the table I was the oldest, which at the age of 34, was something novel for me. I could not remember the last time I was the oldest person at a dinner party. Conversation turned to what people had planned for Australia Day the following week. After everyone had discussed the various plans they had I asked, “What does Australia Day actually commemorate?” as I didn’t know and I figured I probably should find out. There was a slight pause before any of the Australians ventured an answer. A couple of people admitted that they had no idea what it actually commemorated, all they knew is they got the day off work. There was a deferral to Wikipedia for a definitive answer (it commemorates the arrival of the First Fleet into Sydney Cove in 1788 in case you were wondering).  I think the advent of mobile devices where something can be Googled instantly has altered the art of dinner conversation somewhat. Things no longer need to be discussed and argued when someone can simply look up who is correct.

After dinner there was suggestion of heading to Sporties for some karaoke. We decided to open another bottle of wine while we finalised a plan for the evening. Two hours later, plans for the remainder of the evening had still not been agreed but because of the lateness of the hour Sporties was no longer a viable karaoke spot as there would be a long list of would-be pop stars already signed up waiting for their turn to sing. I couldn’t see the problem in that as it meant I wouldn’t have to sing.  Instead we headed over to Paul’s as he had what we needed to continue our evening – wine and Singstar. His place was about a ten-minute walk and the route we took saw us head down a street that was lined with straight pubs and clubs. It was late Friday night and the street was very busy. I had been warned before we left that the place would be “full of bogans”. Having looked around at some of the bogans I introduced Bec to the phrase greyhound skirt, pointing out several great examples. Once at Paul’s we had a few drinks and sat out on the patio before finally calling it a night around 3am. Thankfully the Singstar never made an appearance.

Don't tell Mama

The following morning Bec and I went to get some coffee before getting the bus over to Hamilton. She had suggested a walk along the river and then lunch in one of her favourite restaurants, Byblos. The food was great and we ended up getting a few different dishes to share. I love that style of dining, it feels much friendlier and you get to try more dishes than you would otherwise. One of the topics of conversation over lunch was dating, and in particular, the point at which you tell certain friends and family you are seeing someone. For me there were two or three friends who knew pretty much everything from the start. They are told when I met someone, when I have a first date and how it all went. As I have got older, the length of time between me starting to see someone and me telling Mother about them has increased. I am probably at the point where I would now only tell her about someone if they made it to about the six-month mark. This hadn’t happened in quite a few years and she had stopped asking if I am seeing anyone. There had been a run of four successive boyfriends I had introduced to Mother over the space of a couple of years and within a month of boyfriend and Mother meeting I would be single again. I am sure that it is purely coincidence and no reflection on Mother but it became a standing joke with my friends that if I was dating someone and it wasn’t going that well they would ask “So when are they meeting your mother?”.

“Hush up, don't tell Mama” 
Lyrics from Don’t Tell Mama from the musical Cabaret