A Slice of Gay Pie: The End?

Published December 2011 issue:

By Juanne-Pierre de Abreu

So, it comes to an end.  It al began as a column trying to understand love and loss.  Trying to understand what it takes to ‘get over’ someone.  And most importantly, trying to get to the bottom of the idea behind this thing they call love.

I began writing this piece when a man I was so hopelessly in love with decided to break up with me.  We had by no means a stable relationship but we were in love with each other nonetheless.

We met at the end of 2009.  Started seeing each other early 2010 but since March 2011 we have been separating and trying again, breaking up and getting back together and we both adopted different tactics in order to help forget, or help move on.  Trying to make the other jealous, big displays of affection, public outbursts of disappointment were all used to get our loves attention.  The silly thing is we still had each other’s attention, affection and heart.

Was it all a pointless game?  Was I acting like a stubborn child?  Did I ask for more than I was giving?  Am I a bad boyfriend?  All of these questions ran through my brain as I tried to figure out a possible solution to our impossible situation.

So what have I learnt about love?  Is it real?  And do we deserve it?

I know three things for sure:

Firstly, We cannot help who we fall in love with and the idea of searching for love is really a pointless quest.  If we cannot control what our hearts want then in actual fact we do not know what we are looking for when we say we are looking for love.  Never try pin up an idea of love to the face of the man who actually loves you.  Never judge love that is knocking on your door because of your own preconceived notions.  And always be prepared for whatever love may turn out to be for you.

And with that, the idea of trying to ‘get over’ a man you are in love with is equally ridiculous if loving another being is so out of our control.  There are no 10 steps to forgetting the love of your life.  There is no quick fix remedy to encourage the process of closure.

Secondly, nothing lasts forever.  Things in life always come to an end, eventually.  Most things have an expiration date on them but that is not to say we should try look for the end date.  We should not focus on how long we have with a person but cherish having a person.  Enjoy it while it lasts and while it is still fresh.  Never take love that is given to you for granted.  Never believe it will always be there to hold your hand or wipe a tear.  So, if that love is but a moment in your life you need to take it and swirl it around until it turns into an amazing experience in a moment of your life.

Third, love unconditionally.  It is the hardest thing to understand and even harder to practice but if you are truly in love with someone, love all of them and not just the pieces.  We all have good and bad.  Made up of light and dark.  And somehow we all try get some sort of balance in life as we play our demons versus our angels.  So if you want him to love you completely be prepared to do the same.

Fire runs through my body with the pain of loving of you,

Pain runs through my body with the fires of my love for you

Pain like a boil about to burst with my love for you

Consumed by fire with my love for you

I remember what you said to me.

I am thinking of your love for me

I am torn for your love for me

Pain and more pain

Where are you going with my love?

I am told you will leave me here

I am told you will go from here.

My body is numb with grief

Remember what I said my love

Godbye my love goodbye.

So this is A Slice of Gay Pie signing out.

In Loving Memory of Mijo Skoro 7/11/1970 – 1/11/2011 

Florence and The Machine - Remain Nameless Lyrics on Screen (Ceremonial...

A Slice of Gay Pie: To Screw the Shrew out of You

Published in November 2011 issue.

It all came about in the most unlikely place, a Mac Donald’s fast food take out joint.  After a few glances over at each other, it was time for one of us to make the bold decision and say hello.  But was it a bunch of mix messages? 

Eventually one just needs to grab ones balls and say to the cute guy sitting across the restaurant, “Hello, my name is yada yada”. 

So I did.  My nerves were getting the better of me because, to be fair, I have not picked a man up in a “straight” area in such a long time.  I felt like a virgin again.  One awkward line lead to another before I found out that the chunky red head is not familiar to the area.  Being in Jozzie as a visitor, I decided to play the out of Towner role too.  Mainly because I did not know if I could trust him enough to just to go back to his place. 

In my luck he was actually searching for a cruising bar but gave up and opted for getting something to eat.  So I hollered at the opportunity, I mean after all the man is looking to hook up.  “You want to go somewhere private?” I asked. 

Fifteen minutes later we were somewhere more secluded. 

Twenty minutes later, it was denim pants on the floor.  That’s just the type of guy I am, going gaily forward for what I want.

Once my little feet landed back in the Mother City - my new home - leaving the flings behind in Jozzie town I wondered, in a city like Cape Town, how do you start the whole dating game over again?  Straight people seem to have a formula worked out that allows for a “market” to take place, where you look at what you want and order it.  The gay world, however, is far more perplexed than merely meeting a man and organizing to meet up again for a date. We are more like a market where you can have a taste before you order.  In fact you can have a few tastes before you decide to invest in what’s on the menu.

With the known cruising spots and easy hook up clubs, the idea of actually trying to talk to someone before we whip it out seems rather bleak. 

So all in the name of research, I stepped outside onto the streets of Cape Town with a head full of ideas on how to make dating a reality or at least try make it into something a little more fun than a mass pile up orgasm after orgasm.

A few uneventful evenings past by before I decided to hit the obvious dating sites.  Eventually I started chatting to a man that seemed somewhat promising.  The whole setting up a meeting time and place was kinda getting me a little hard.  Eventually a date was set.  A late lunch at a fairly quiet coffee shop, followed by a few light cocktails.  It seemed I might have hit the Gaydar jackpot; unfortunately my excitement was expressed far too soon. 

Once we got back to his place, his boyfriend was there to greet us.  Now, I am not a prude and do not shy away from experiences but in this particular situation I was blind-sided.  I was not aware that there was a boyfriend in the picture.  So I made the frame a little larger, and went with the opportunity presented in front of me.  The affair was just like a boiling kettle.  It slowly starts to boil until it reaches point and then it stops suddenly.  So once the sexual anxiety dissipated - for me - it was time to stop.

Almost ready to give up on the routes I have been taking to actually meet guys, I received a message from a man I had a brief interaction with a while back and then he found me on Facebook where we kept in contact.  Now he wants to meet up again, finding himself in the same city as me for the first time in a long time. 

Dressed in my cutest relaxed-first-date outfit, I grabbed a cab to the restaurant and waited patiently for him to arrive.  The night turned out to be a classic first date.  Sipping on the Vodka Martini’s and chatting about all things relevant, it was easy to write this date as one of the best dates ever.  And then something odd happened.  We did not go to bed together.  Now it all seemed very seductive, riding on the back of his scooter in the middle of the night and I thought it was a goodie, for both of us.  But a few mild messages back and forth, it all just disappeared. 

Maybe the point is not to jump the gun.  Maybe one should be patient.  Or maybe, just stop looking; have as much fun as you can and eventually that guy will come around that just makes you laugh.

Five Sex Terms You May Not Know...

You may have heard the term on a television show, a movie, a song or even a rowdy dinner party.  However, maybe you were like me and actually had to do the research to find out what the terms actually meant...
So here are a few of the words that have passed my ears that I went out to find out exactly what they were...


Reach Around - You and your lover stand up while fucking.  The one behind reaches around and grabs the others tool and proceeds to stroke it back and forth while moving the waist back and forth.

Snow Blow - So you are going down on your lover.  Once he ejaculates in your mouth, you come up to kiss him and the ever seductive sloshing of two tongues is mixed with slimy semen.   

Golden Bath - Not a shower but a bath.  This is when a partner pisses into the colon of a lover.  A sort of 'piss-enema'. 

Dirty Sanchez - basically, its leaving a mustache of crap around the lips.  The way, after screwing a lover in the ass, the penis is immediately put into the receivers mouth, sans a wipe down, and the back and forth sucking will leave a smear of shit across the - usually - top lip.




Cleveland Steamer - one person craps on another person's chest and (very important) then sits down and rocks back and forth like a steam roller.






I don't know if I was enlightened or grossed out...?  Probably both!

To Festival or not to Festival?

How many gay guys actually enjoy weekend festivals?  How many of us relish the opportunity to really go wild and let all our hair down, to break it out on an uneven, rough and rugged dance floor, kicking up dust and getting a little dirty?  This past weekend, I found myself jamming it out in a valley amongst vineyards and peach tree plantations at a trance festival called The Village out in Franschoek.

Standing in a sea of people dancing with a lover, we were approached by oodles of women that just wanted to hug and kiss us and try get involved.  One girl, and she really was a girl, even tried to proposition a threesome with us...?  At that point I thought that maybe we were the only gays in the Village.  But how can this be?  It's Franschoek.  This little town is run by homosexuals.  Every little twirling-creeper covered cottage, villa filled section of land and guesthouse surrounded with epic mountains is probably got a little gay stuffed in there.  Ok, so then maybe it was festival specific...?

As the night went on it became clearer that the gays there are part of a different league of homo's.  The new wave of young guys, slightly emo, slightly alternative and slightly hippie, very care free and totally under the radar, is all rather attractive.  But they are also not waiting to be picked up... they do all the work.  Something tells me that I am going to really like this new wave of men.  This "new" wave rehash of the 60's movement of free love is very prevalent at something like this.  And the men really are taking it to a new level with all the old school hippie ideals right there behind them.

So now we are left wondering, do we ditch the neat clothes and shiny shoes and adopt the care free flimsy clothing that flutters so effortlessly amongst all the luminescent lights and decorations?  Do we ditch the bar seats for a grassy patch of earth?  

And are we trading a trick in a bed for two tricks in a tent?  

I don't know if it is the tired scene of clubbing - the usual music, the same miserable faces and the same barmen.  Or if I am just in the mood to try something new... But I want to do it again!  Taking a weekend to party in the sun during the day and party under the stars at night seems to be scratching that itchy spot of... "I really need to party, yo"

But doing it with some really awesome people makes it even more of a goodie.

The ABC OF a P.A.R.T.Y Weekend!

Partying like a rock star is no new thing to me and being a bit of a wild child I have learnt the ways in which to party to the max and get the most out of the time spent busting and shaking so that one can take a break from partying for a good long while once the weekend is over.  With a beefcake of a friend coming for the weekend I new I had to pull a pink bunny out of the floral hat.  With his arrival, we immediately hit the beach to get into the groove of things to come.  Taking in the view of the awesome apostles really sets the tone for the fact that "I am in Cape Town".   Tetrahydrocannabinol , also known as delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol , or dronabinol, is the main psychoactive substance found in the cannabis plant.  In short it makes you feel good and allows sights such as the mountain envelope you from within.  Allowing the muscles to relax, picking up your heart rate and at making the skin sensitive to heat or cold, is all so very prevalent.  But the most important property is the psychedelic aspect that makes something as amazing as the mountain sort of enter you in a spiritual way.

Moving over to Clifton 3rd, we soaked up the sun's rays.  The body produces Vitamin D from sunlight and a lack of Vitamin D can leave one feeling rather depressed.  And although there is no real recommendation on how much sunlight to get on ones skin, due in large part to cancer, sun is still pretty damn important.  So slap on the SPF 50 and run around outside.  Naturally, before taking part in a festival, I like to get some sun on my skin so that when i am dancing around, completely unaware, all day in the sun I do not burn.  So get some sun before you hit a festival.  Do not think you can get a tan there, all you will get is sunstroke.  And don't forget to drink as much H2O as possible. 

Arriving at Rocking the Daisies, we get settled and move over to the dam for a cocktail before the Arrows are set to start the day off.  A sweet, rum-based cocktail made with rum, cream of coconut, and pineapple juice, usually served either blended or shaken with ice. It may be garnished with a pineapple wedge or a maraschino cherry or both. The piña colada has been the official beverage of Puerto Rico since 1978... and mine since 2008.

Two girls walk into a rehearsal room armed with nothing but a drum, a keyboard and a handbag full of devastatingly honest melodies… Enter the beat-riddled brilliance of The Arrows!  Filled with rum, I allowed the Arrows to enter me...

Later on was a democratically-elected kings of cool, Gazelle. I grooved to disco and electro synth-pop and, of course, an elaborate show fitting to the audience of a third-world dictator.

Ending my night of bands with Jack Parow.  The fresh prince of Bellville and surrounds.  With a cap that’s longer than yours and razor-sharp lyrics about all things zef.

By that time it was time set it off with a little rush of the dance variety.  

And a man by the name of Regan had me busting such a jam that I almost came in my pants right there on the dance floor.  The lyrics, the beat, the bass... it all wrapped around my spine, up towards my brain and with every pulsation, it pulsated through my nerves to the ends of every part of my body.  I almost came in my pants right there on the dance floor!  So I guess that man has a new groupie and he can be guaranteed to have me following him around wherever he goes.

 The following day is spent around the dam until the sun becomes too hot.  Admittedly I am that guy that falls asleep just about anywhere, however, this time when I woke up I was surrounded by other people that also decided that it was nap time before hitting a dance tent to pick it all up by nightfall.

And by night it all begins again... to the max... alc, THC, VIT D, LARK, Electro, Molly, fungi and a whole lot of H2O.  Eventually I found myself alone on one of the dance floors breaking down as if it were the first time I had ever danced.  You will be surprised at how often you get hit on when you are alone and jamming as if you just don't give a damn.  Add to that, by very forceful women.  As cocky as I may be, when i dance I generally do it alone.  Dancing is like masturbating, one can achieve maximum pleasure when one is primarily focused on oneself:-D

Back to the women... the women would just immediately grab my belt and pull me closer.  The men would slowly creep I closer, trying to get their legs in between mine.  On both levels I am totally thrown off, mainly because I was waiting for a certain gentleman to magically pop up and dance with me, but that fairtytale did not come true.  So one can get laid at a festival and more than once, I guess I am just waiting for butterflies again, I mean the whole sleeping around a campsite... it's so 2006.

My feet are dead, calves are wrecked and I can barely sit down let alone stand.  Where is my B.E.D?

Florence + The Machine - Shake It Out

I am Erin Brokovich...?

Reading butterflies--hurricanes.blogspot  this morning, I came across a line that stuck out: "In contrast to straight people, gays often want their own appearance to match what they like to see in a lover."  And this got me thinking, do we put ourselves together for ourselves or do we put certain things in place in order to attract what we actually want?


Now if it were a set in stone rule then I would maybe have to rethink some of the things I wear.  I mean, I can dress like a bit of a skater skank at times but I am actually not interested in dating a skater skank, just think that white trash look is kinda sexy.  But in all fairness I am interested more in the gentlemen.  Looking back, two thirds of the men I have been in love with were all... well... nerds.  The rest I guess were skanks - sexy but skanky nonetheless.  Looking at the man above here, does the impression change from business look to ready-for-sex look in terms of how you perceive him?



In light of the actual blogs topic though, he was talking about tattoos, I thought about whether my inked body is a result of what I want a lover to be?  Or is it all me?  Personally it seems more of two ideas holding hands because I would not put something on my body I did not actually like purely to grab attention that I have a tattoo (ergo why I do not have a tribal tattoo or stars).  Nor would I put some of the things I dig on my body because it might detour men with its unsightliness or pure bad taste.  It needs to complement each other.  Attract what you want to attract and still please you for years to come.  


So what would my tattoo say about a lover I want:  He must be strong but know how to decorate a cake.  He must always be willing and able to grow.  He must be bright and bring colour to my life.  And he needs to know a good thing when it is in front of him... touching his toes:-D






Does it make a difference?  Between these two pics of Mr Beckham?  Does it change your opinion?

So in light of the title of this post I will you leave you with a quote from the film : "It just so happens that I think I look nice and as long as I have one ass instead of two, I will wear whatever I Goddamn like... If that's ok with you"

Love Movies or Movies for Lovers?

So, who exactly are love stories made for?  For the hopeless romantic sitting at home with a bowl of popcorn dreaming of something magical?  For two lovers to cling to each other when the romance in the film starts to over boil like rice that has been left too long?

The answer is C... all of the above.

In full-on film going mode, I drenched my viewing pleasure in some of the best love stories that I have not yet had the pleasure of watching.  And it was a lovely mix of Romantic comedy, an epic romance and the inevitable true life - love and loss - romance.  Is it a question of pertaining certain aspects to our own experiences or is it about dreaming of that love to come... and if so, would you choose one of the above genres to try fall into or would you try amalgamate all into one piece, to form your idea of love or the love you are living at the moment?  Do we have to relate in order to be engaged?

It has always been a popular understanding that forming characters with problems we can relate to transcends a movie on screen from that of just a movie, to art that touches your soul.  So this would be the ultimate achievement as a writer, to create someone that is completely relatable.  But when it comes to a love story, I very seldom find myself relating to either of the people caught up in the messy business of love and tend to rely more on their sub-plot as individuals to find something to relate to.

For example, in "No Strings Attached", we have two young adults who are out to simply satisfy the need for companionship without the complications of a commitment.  So who would be more relatable?   On one side, we have a young woman that is afraid of getting hurt.  A woman so guarded that she is unable to let the greatness that comes from a relationship to come into her life.  And on the other side we have a man with a broken heart, because of his father, that is lifted up in the air by the charismatic way about this woman.  I tend to lean towards the guarded woman.
The movie was a pleasure to watch albeit with a very predictable ending - which was actually great to watch, due in large part to the brilliance that is Natalie Portman's craft.

To off set the happy ending I put in "Blue Valentine" next.  It's one of those great, hard-hitting, love stories.  Wrapped up with a brilliant soundtrack and some magical cinematic moments.  It's a love story like no other.  their relationship is so layered and we slowly watch the dissipation of their love as the movie jumps between past and present.  Here we have a kind-hearted, carefree and lazy man that has fallen in love with a woman that has more baggage than he was initially expecting.  She in turn is a hard working, rigid and responsible woman.  Her love for him intensifies from that initial "honeymoon" phase to something rather serious in a short amount of time and her dependability on him is palpable.  By the end I could totally relate to him.  Nothing harder than leaving the one you love alone because they asked you to.

And to pick myself up, "Water for Elephants" was the last one on the menu.  It is truly a delight to watch in that old school kind of epic-love-story-that-stands-the-test-of-time way.  A man with a gift for animals meets a girl with a gift for animals and the only thing standing in their way is her husband.  But he is not just your normal jealous husband... he is wicked down to his black heart that is filled with greed.  She gives him a reason to strive for something and he gives her the possibility of a new life and freedom.

In love, not in love.  Relatable or not... who gives a shit.  Watch these three movies, they are all real goodies yo'.  And should leave you feeling something by the end of them.

Enjoy!

Just Sink Wash Your Junk!

"Imagine you went down on someone and their joint tastes like cheese and chives chips..." a friend said that to me one evening.

After some wine to fuel the mood, him and i got the giggles where we said some of the dumbest things to each other.  But along with the dumb comes the fun and the idea of taking second helpings or double dipping to another really fascinated us.

How would we respond?  How would you respond?  Say it was even a quick little hook up and the hottie standing in front of you just whips it out, as if he is presenting you with a prize, and once you pop it in your mouth all you can taste is the meal, that the person sucking before, was eating.  Gross... right?  Or completely hilarious?  At what point do you say "No, I will not suck that..." or rather should I say for who would we say no to.

How arrogant must a man be that he would not even sink wash his junk before the next man in line?  So do we perceive that arrogance as hot or not?

So prevent any chance of a second meal, here is a plan for you guys who love the odd blow job - run some water and stick your dick under it.  Give it a few jiggles then finally you have made an effort to keep it clean.  Etiquette for random and anonymous cock-sucking... who would have though? LOL

What is Home?

A Slice of Gay Pie: What is Home?

By: Juanne-Pierre de Abreu

Published October 2011

In Cape Town, the city with oodles of possibilities, however lacking any real sense of urgency, I find myself wondering if it has become my home yet?  And not to say that I am wondering if I am a Cape Tonian yet or not, but how comfortable am I really in a city filled with strangers?  It is the saying we have all heard before “Home is where the heart is”.  So when do we know we are home?  When do we know for sure that which our heart deems home sweet home is in actual fact home sweet home? 

Packing a bag and heading back to Johannesburg for work, I decided it was time to put myself to the test and see whether I ran away from Johannesburg or if I ran towards Cape Town.  Where does my heart lie?

I land in OR Tambo and the land is dusty and brown.  The crisp air reminds me of early hours waking up for school time.  A memory I care not to remember because lets face it, coming out is really when I felt my life began and I only did so in my Matric year.  So with miserable memories flushing back into the foreground of my mind I am already very unimpressed to be back… ‘home’. 

So would it be fair of me to totally throw all that Johannesburg is made up of, down the sink merely because it is bitterly cold, unattractive and dry?  Of course not, because what makes Jozzie town an amazing city are the people, the many different faces and smiles that have all seemed to find themselves crammed into this, albeit very large, landmass.  Working hard and socializing even harder.  It’s the city of cool people.  So why have I left?  Why have I abandoned all these very amazing South African people for another city.

The sea is a biggie, the mountain too, the foreign men are a bonus but it all boils down to the fact that I can walk the streets… and no I do not mean work the streets.  In Cape Town, it is possible to walk the streets of the city at night.  Yes, one should always be vigilant but the walking of the streets has more to do with the fact that it is pedestrian friendly than because it is not as riddled with crime as the City of gold.  If one has to walk around in Jozzie you mainly just walk past high wall after high wall, security complex after security complex.  This is hardly pleasing to any of the senses when one wants to take a stroll just around their block.

Hardly half way through my project and I am missing Cape Town, missing the moisture in the air that the cool sea breeze brings in and missing the sidewalk shops that I pass on my way to the grocery shop - sans the mall.  However, Jozzie is my little sin city now.  The men are so delicious with their inviting attitude and friendly demur.  One cannot help but to dive off the top high board towards the deep, swirling pool of men… all waiting to swim with you.  

With all the back stabbing that goes on in the Mother City it was good to be back amongst men who understand what it means to be a community.  It took me a while to drop the whole “Don’t touch me” attitude I adopted from that little Mountainous Seaside Village but eventually I swam.  I dived down so deep I almost did not come up for air.  Almost.

But Like any good Sin City, there is always a time when we have to leave.  And I will say it again: There comes a time we HAVE to leave.  This time of year shows us exactly how amazing change can be.  Spring is in full force up here on the Highveld.  The first thunderstorm has raged over our heads, flashing its bright lights and cracking some pretty fierce thunder.  And the flowers are in full bloom, which fills the morning and evening air with some of the sweetest smells.  Now I prepare to get my overworked ass back home.  Leaving Jozzie town to return to my lazy little Village by the sea and next to the mountain.  It has become my home even though it seems I am going home to nobody… but like spring from winter, we learn that something will come from nothing and with the best treatment it can blossom.

The Releasing Demon: Fairtytales... Child's Play?

Have you ever reached a point where you knew exactly what you want but did not know how to get it? When the perfect life is but only an arm reach away and the only thing holding you back is you? What else is there to do but keep fighting, keep trying, keep reaching for it?

But what happens when you have a split second thought that maybe it's actually now what you want? Should one sit back and asses exactly the direction one's own particular choices might take one? Is it really a case of opening my mouth and saying?

So, although I am filled with more hope than I have felt in ages - and hope is a goodie, it always has the possibility of achievement - I am still left in two minds over whether or not I am leaning towards a more realistic/pessimistic perspective of looking at love or am I growing up?

It seems all too evident that nothing in this world lasts forever. Sure. But does that mean I should foresee an end before the crossing line is even in plain view? Of course not. It is most definitely a point of taking in what you can while it is up for grabs. And although this may seem like such a harsh way of interpreting love, the evidence stacked against love, that love is in fact bitter and sweet, is far more prevalent thus believable than a cheesy 'nineties' Gloria Estefan hit of Everlasting Love.

The point is not the disillusion of love but how to turn that love into something that can survive. Like a plant, through harsh winters and bitter breezes, once spring rolls on in it begins to grow again, bigger, faster and with more vigor. So should a relationship not be nurtured by those in it? I mean the plant in question is that of two hearts that slowly begin to beat together and not necessarily amalgamate with each other.

As a wise man once said: "I am not young enough to know everything" and the older I get the more I understand the point. It's the disillusionment of the notions we have as young people that in turn makes us real living adults. But when do we start becoming tainted from the abysmal failures in our quest for love that it in fact leaves any idea of a relationship to come drenched in disdain and ill content? When we allow it too!

So the objective is to always, but i mean always, scrutinize what we may have done wrong and better that. I keep my mouth shut far too often for fear of abandonment however the ironic thing is that I am abandoned for the fact that I keep my mouth shut. A vicious cat and mouse game i am playing all on my own.

So stop the fairytale of the perfect relationship and try create a real one... everlasting or not!

The Releasing Demon: Fairtytales... childs play?

Just lov ethis pic so much that I thought I would share it with you all...

Good Fridays Yo"

The Ditching Demon - Stop running Fool

So, those who know will undoubtedly be familiar with my disappearing acts.  From the immediate ones - leaving a club without a word that i am leaving.  To the large - skipping town, the province and sometimes the country.

The odd thing is just before I am about to ditch whatever I feel needs to be ditched, I think about what exactly the problem is and in my final assessment it is largely viewed as uncomfortable or unsafe therefore to leave would be the most logical thought... Correct?

Should our feeling of safety ever really be compromised for another's comfort?  Can forgoing dependability on ourselves really make any situation better?  In my experience I have learnt that as soon as I feel even slightly uneasy, in any given situation, I will run.  In theory this may seem very practical but in context of the world and the people in it, it actually removes one from the rest of the world.

In other words, in the wild if an antelope senses danger he will run because more often than not the antelope is correct in thinking that there is a crouching lion getting ready to devour.  But with people the scenario is very different due in large part to emotions and the depth we as humans can go into our emotions therefore the complexities behind our "safety" is far more perplexed than that of the antelopes.  People are far less likely to jump on our back and rip open our necks with their teeth.


I am tired of running away, so two things happened - one directly and the other indirectly - that would assist in Ditching the Ditching Demon.
One - I remained working on a project I was not thrilled at all to be part of.
Two - My family packed up house and left Johannesburg before my contract had even come near to the end.  So in essence I was left behind this time.

So what is the moral of the story here?  It is far easier to run away from our problems than it is to face them and see it through till the end.  The funny thing is when we run our problems undoubtedly chase so the time spent running is ten times longer than what the time would be if we just turned and faced them.

"It's the sparkle you become...
    When you conquer anxiety" - Bjork

Björk-Mutual Core

In Short with Andrew Mons : Jack Parow

The Cathartic Demon - Touching Home Base and Breaking the Silence

Finally, I am home sweet home - funny I say this with regards to my up coming column due next month.

It has been two months of so much personal development and I have been rattling my brain around a way to put all I experienced forward in a way that will relate to all.
So with that said I am going to start with the dark and work my way up because in high insight I am so super happy at the moment, today, this very moment.  So happy that nothing will be getting me down.

It all began exactly nine years ago.  One tiny little incident that has managed to quite literally mess my little mind and heart up to such a degree that I just could not manage to climb out of the hole that I had actually been digging for myself and by myself.  It took a revisit to unlock the demons I have been trying to bury in this hole I have been digging but I could never really dig deep enough.  The true gem was realizing that burying is more about the sand that goes on top than the depth of the hole.  So I reached down into that hole and pulled out the demon from the depth.

                                I was unlucky enough to be one of those gay boys to experience a first time that is hard to forget.  The young and impressionable nineteen year old Juanne-Pierre de Abreu went to work at a game farm after a brief course in hotel management.  There I was met with a man that had a hidden agenda for wanting or needing me at this particular lodge.  When I first met him, I'll be honest, I really liked him.  I thought I had scored a jackpot having a boss that is pretty cool and easy to talk to.

Drink after drink on my first night and I was sufficiently plastered.  Being on a game farm I was encouraged to take a lift back to my room which i accepted but once the car came to a halt I quickly realised I was not at my room... I was at his.

My initial idea was to run but seeing how this was my first real job I decided that it might be best to wade through the mixed messages until i can come up with something a little more concrete.  He picked up on my resistance and said "I just want to give you something to drink so that you do not wake up with a hangover"

OK - that sounded fair.  So I thought I would down it and go but sadly after that tall glass of mirky water, very little is actually remembered.  what I remember next is waking up in his bed sans clothing.  I pulled my pants on and just left his place.  Staggering through the bush, no shirt or shoes, I realised that the feeling of getting away was bigger than the fear of the wild animals that roamed so freely between my room and his.
Running a bath once I was back in the safety of my own walls I sobbed like a little girl.  Pulling myself together long enough to get into the scorching water to wash away the filthy feeling I was left with in hopes that the water would be the cure.  Once all the blood was gone I got out of the bath and continued to sob on the bathroom floor until work was set to start.

Now why would I just go back to work?  Because, I initially blamed myself for drinking too much and not having all my bearings fresh to make proper decisions.  I figured I made a mistake and I should just live with it.  Bite the bullet!
It was his berating the next day that made a light go on in my head.  He would come into the store room I was so busy working in and say some of the worst things I had ever heard.  At that point I knew what it was about - he wanted to keep me quiet.  That was cue for me to go.

I did not want him  to be held accountable, I just wanted to run as fast as I possibly could... and I did.

Now, nine years later, I find myself back at the very same lodge where it all happened and I have to stop running and face my demons.  I have allowed this one incident to dictate so many years that followed it.  I started doing drugs and got hooked like a demon on coke.  I started shagging married men to avoid any real connection with another man.  I neglected my family and my friends.  And slowly I started to become a varsity drop out, loosing interest in anything I tried to gain interest in.  Life did not seem worth living however suicide was never an option.

I faced that demon and I am a better man for doing it.  I stayed on that lodge till the end and replaced it with different memories - GREAT ones!

So now it is not living with what that man did but trying to get the young guys out there to know it can happen to you.  Don't blame yourself, don't be afraid to talk about it.  Once you can do this then you will be able to take the power back and being a victim ceases to exist.  I am Juanne and I was raped - very difficult to say and surprisingly even harder to write.

No matter your age, sex, creed or race no person deserves to be sexually exploited in any way and it's up to us to stand up and say "This is wrong!"

Lets make South Africa a rape free country instead of the rape capital of the world.

Last two weeks.

So I have been out in the bush filming a film for the last 6 weeks.
Soon I will be home and with so much to write about...

So, I will return - watch this space, Yo'
Peace, love and happiness
Juanne

A Slice of Gay Pie: “Repentance Says What?”



Bless me Father for I have sinned.  It has been far too long since my last confession. I have solicited my body for the solicitation of another mans body.  I beseech man on top of man to satisfy my search for the love that dare not speak its name…

In Cape Town, you can’t walk down a street without passing a church or some place of worship.  It is hard to miss the sheer force of spirituality that the mountain evokes and it is obvious why so many places of praise and solace exist.  Visiting the library in town I pulled out the big book, the Bible.  Going back into my roots as an unaware little Catholic boy in hopes that the book might provide a surprising perspective on relationships and love albeit with another man.  Then it hit me in the face, the idea of Repenting.

 How many of us walking around on the earth actually believe to “repent” is to say you are sorry therefore seeking forgiveness? In the broadest sense of the word, maybe on some level, it is correct to term repentance like this however this definition is mostly wrong. Knowing the true definition of "repent" could be a matter of life and death… or so the hectic bible bashers would have you believe.  But is there any truth to their madness? 

Now if I take out the whole sinner or saint charade.  Just egg lift the entire if-you-are-bad-you-will-burn-in-hell fiasco right out of the pan.  And look at the idea of repentance, as closely related to the bible as what I can understand and deduce an idea that will help all human beings - regardless of our affiliation towards God or the ridiculous rapture - the idea of repenting is far more beneficial to us growing as individual human beings towards an idea of personal fulfillment, enrichment and enlightenment.  Even as gay men in same sex relationships.

So, if we are to look at repentance as asking for forgiveness, does this mean that which we are seeking forgiveness for is something we should in turn regret?  Or is it a lesson that should be learnt?  Therefore maybe repenting is more a form of admitting that we are actually on the wrong path and not merely needing forgiveness for our missteps. 

And with that said I think we reach step one – and really the most important part - in understanding Repenting:  Admitting our faults.  To admit what we are doing is wrong, and by doing so, changing the actions to come.  No point in saying or admitting you’re failing and still you continue to do it.  That sort of discourse is more like flailing in the water for help, when you can help yourself.  Is the whole idea behind repenting not about seeking change?  And change for the better no less? 

Keeping in mind this is all in saying that the current path you maybe on is not necessarily a bad one.  And change will be good.  Therefore the change I speak of is more about choosing something right over something that seems a little wrong.  Like dating a good man even though the relationship is not good.  He will always be a good man and he will always be wrong for you.  Does this mean someone is to blame? 

Step two in understanding Repenting has more to do with having the grace to forgive.  No matter how big or how small, hate begets hate and the power of forgiveness is probably the most awe-inspiring emotion out of all the emotions we as human beings all possess, yet why is it we see so little forgiveness from one another?  We all have the capacity to do so yet we very rarely act on it.  Since when did forgiveness and apologizing become a power play of right and wrong?  Who is good and who is bad?

 

And this brings us to number three: humble yourself.   As we make the untoward life journey, in the direction of a complete human being, we will find that allowing the bullshit of fault and blame to fall to the background and looking towards tomorrow together, is surprisingly easier than one might imagine.  Forgiveness is love and love is a beautiful thing…?

The book speaks to you if you allow it to but I am still not going to let someone preach to me out of it.  I will, however, leave you with a quote affiliated with love that really transcends past religious protocol.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.”

Mr Gay SA 2011

I have entered however I am one of 13 guys in the running for the 15th spot in the competition.
So I need some help from the public:
If you Could sms "GSA  C" to 34008 as much as possible and share the news I would appreciate it.

I would relish the opportunity to be an ambassador for every Gay south African.

Peace, love and happiness

Juanne-Pierre de Abreu

A Slice of Gay Pie: Are we sexual tour guides?

With the Majestic Mountain, sun scorched summer days and white sandy beaches, Cape Town is a city that begs visitors to visit.  And they do.  It takes some time before us new cummers learn how much folk love to visit us.  And as a resident we will always finds ourselves with guests popping up and popping in throughout the year.  And lets not forget that the guests expect to be shown a good time.  Sho’ sho’ sho… Summer visitors are always easier to work with however the rainy days prove a dilemma.  This all asks the very important question: Do I love the visitors and do I really want to be a tour guide?

Recently, a couple of queers came to crash at my place for a little bit of a boy’s weekend.  With Mother Nature pulling a grey blanket over our heads for the weekend the entertainment highlights would have to rely heavily on nighttime extramural activities.  The weekend was one full of prowling but very little attacking.  So on their last night I decided to take them to a bathhouse and let them run a little free.  This was the first time I felt like the tour guide, due in large part to the fact that I chose not to get involved, rather let them have their fun.  And I was completely content doing so.

So what is a gay boy to do when he finds himself with his two brothers (Straight brothers of course) visiting him, a few weeks later? How is this boy’s weekend going to be different from the last?  Yet at the same time how will I match it in terms of them having a blast similar to the one a group of gaggling gay guys just experienced?  And how can I make it something great albeit as far removed from my own personal comfort zone?

The weather played her part.  A night of grooving to some dub step and a few great restaurants seemed to wrap the experience up.  But what would be the straight equivalent to a bathhouse be?  Strippers club! 

Women – crawling on tables, grinding on men’s laps and spinning round on polls.  So when exactly did I feel like the tourist guide in this scenario?  The moment one stripper lay on the table with her legs spread and proceeded to flick a bright silver round rod that pieced through her labia, and she refused to stop until I gave her some attention.  I lick my lips and give a naughty grin and she moves on to perform her “magic trick” to my brother on my right.

One finds it hard not to compare the two.  In one establishment we have a group of men all objectifying women or one particular girl.  And in the other we have a group of men objectifying each other.  Is either one really a reflection of depravity in our society or is it just adult entertainment?  Should there be a place for adult entertainment?  Or is it a gateway into a dark world of lust where lines of right and wrong are blurred with what just feels good?  When do we go from allowing our sexuality to empower us, to sexual hedonism? 

Children orientated entertainment, or family friendly atmospheres, dominate in terms of variety when it comes to our choices for fun.  Restaurants with their kiddie corners and tea gardens with mini jungle gyms are almost synonymous with eating out, so where are the family-unfriendly spaces… probably near the smoking section?

When I was a young teen, movies were released with a “2-21” age restriction.  It was an elite selection of films that I could not wait to be part of.  By the time I was sixteen, movies could only receive an 18-age restriction and worse yet, more and more films where being made with the idea that the age restriction plays apart in telling the story.  So fewer films were made aimed directly to people in their twenties.  Now any film with an R rating gets my money and believe me they are actually few and far between.

I say yes to adult entertainment.  I say yes to the visitors.  And I say yes to boy’s weekends.  The freedom to choose is what is so sweet about having establishments that may post moral issues for the community.  And is South Africa not a country that has slowly been building itself on the idea of freedom for the last seventeen years?

Bring on the visitors, yo’.

The Tea-Bag Quickie

It’s early in the morning and naturally the cold and wet weather has finally caught up with Cape Town.  Starting out with a cup of tea.  Dabbing the bag in and out of the boiling hot water inevitably brings us to dabbing some balls in and out of a mouth.  How many of us actually dabble in tea-bagging, how many don’t go there and how many of us see it as “tea-bagging is my bag… baby”?

So just in case you are unfamiliar with the term that is probably more familiar to you in practice, I will give you the quick run down.  It is not merely sucking on someone’s balls but rather having a pair of balls dangling in front of your face.  And with every dip those balls take, you warm the cockle of its… well… cockle and give a little suck. 

Now when do we know we are going from tea-bagging to ass-o-lingus?  Does the groaning play apart in letting us know?  And do we continue either way?  Sometimes we find the excitement of sexual foreplay so entrancing that ones tongue may slip - in and out - of a part we did not initially expect to be slip and sliding on at all.  Do we have a preference for what we are lapping up, balls or ass?  And more importantly, are we sucking balls for our pleasure or for theirs?  Now if we were licking and sucking for our lovers pleasure then surely any part that brings that said lover pleasure should be fair game.  And similarly, if we are sucking for ourselves then should we not be sucking exactly the part of the body that is giving us so much pleasure.

Getting back to my hot tea on the cold morning, I toss the used bag in the bin and raise one last question… is it intimate or peversive?  Can you tea-bag one and toss the used ‘bag’ in the bin when you are done, ready for a fresh ‘bag’ tomorrow?  Or are you happy reusing the bag you love?

It’s more a case of the type of tea, maybe even brand loyalty.  I am a rooibos kinda guy and stick to it religiously.  Using a new tea-bag in relation to sex is like someone sink washing his junk before climbing on top of me.  It just needs to be done everytime.