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.

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

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 Bush we Grow... Number one.

So, above is a representation of how hair develops as we grow.  However not all of us are hairy and most of us, once we are men, will fit into a sort of category as above.  In other words, some of us have a sprinkle of hair in the middle of our chest and then others have a chest covered from nip to neck, and nip to nip.  Then some might have a dead end road of hair across our belly buttons and others will have a freeway from pubis to chest.  There are those with sporadic hair that pops up almost everywhere.  Do you have a preference?  I think we all have a preference when it comes to an appearance but i guess this is more for people who love a hairy chest, and what is it about that particular chest that gets you going?

So take this guy for example.  He has sprinkles on his belly and his chest and they do not connect.


On the right here there is a little bit more hair that does connect with the naval fur.

Take a look here though.  The way in which our hair grows can also add a certain texture in appearance.  The hair here flows up and fans out giving it a fairly soft sprayed effect across the chest.

Whereas some hair just sprawls out and curls forming clumps and looking rather dark in appearance with the image totally devoid of skin.

 -
I am pretty much a fan of it all.  Hair is fun.

Hairy but shaved down can be fun...

Furry tuffs

ALL GOOD YO'

Clumpy chunks

Perving Without Feeling Perverted.

 What sucked me in this weekend as i refused to leave the comfort of my bed... a television series called "Spartacus"
I have not heard of it before I just saw this beefy man on the cover and thought, hell why not.  and I am pleasantly surprised.
The first episode is nothing but a bad made for TV version of 300.  Even with the red cape swooping in the wind and it is very lame.  I thought I was in for something stupid but when the next episode rolled around and the first sauna scene, I was hooked.  As a gay man I was hooked on the beautiful nudity so unabashedly presented but as a story teller I was encapsulated by the dark world of the gladiators and magnificent Rome.

And here comes my new little television crush:

Manu Bennet, he is just up my street, early forties, bulky, beefy, dark hair, dark eyes, a scar on his face and totally upfront and comfortable with his nudity.  He starts off as the cocky nemesis of our protagonist but as his story unravels it becomes rich and sweet.  Which made me wonder something, do women enjoy nudity on screen?  Do they appreciate it the way I do?  And if not, who are they really displaying this nudity for?


Furthermore, there is a scene where one of the gladiators is fucking this girl in front of the high society.  A woman marvels at his thrusting and utters the words "bashing her like a bull", this is rather hot!

Throw in some very gory fight scenes, a dive into the underworld, a penis made of wax and some very beautiful costumes and I think we have something that is very rare to find, some Adult Television.  So now we can jump between the Vamps on True Blood and the Gladiators on Spartacus.  Have fun Late Night Viewers.

"In the C-Point" by Juanne-Pierre de Abreu

Here is a little story I wrote about a year ago.  Just went I started getting into writing shorts.  It never really impressed me so I kinda forgot about it.  A blog I follow reminded me of it.  He posted a post about a wedding speech and this story seems to be one of the many proposal moments that run through my head at the oddest of moments... albeit devoid of a happy ending.  Check his blog out :

lovelace-thegreyrainbow  this one is for you my little Grey Rainbow.

The sun has set behind the ocean and a soft mist rolls in over the land, as a final reminder that it is going into night.  Collecting a big black duffle bag from my boot I call to one of the car guards for assistance “ I have something very important to do and I have to lay it now.  If you help me I will give you R100?”  He eagerly agrees.  We walk to the large paved platform that overlooks the swimming pools and the sea.  I open the bag and start pulling out little lights.  “We have to arrange it like this. But most importantly I need you switch them on,” pointing to the switch, “in about twenty minutes?”, looking at him to make sure he understands.

The lights are arranged perfectly so I walk back to my car to put the duffle bag back in the boot.  Reaching in, I retrieve a medium sized box covered in black and white big goofy smiling pictures of myself.  I am a little embarrassed but I think some old school cheese might set the tone.  I close the boot, look left and right and cross the road to the apartment block on the other side.  I ring the buzzer for number 57.  Waiting nervously for the muffled voice through speaker, it finally comes through, “Hello?”

With a little apprehension I reply “Hi…its me…. surprise?” 

“Who?”. 

Even more nervous now my throat starts to croak, “Ummmm, babe, its me”.  It is just silent.  Then the door buzz’s.  I go in. 

Standing at the elevator waiting for it to come down I try rearrange my hair in the frosted mirror.  Bing!  The lift arrives at the ground floor. In the elevator and I push 5.  Every slow turn of the motor makes my heart beat faster and faster. The elevator comes to a sudden halt.  I push the door open and turn to the left.  I knock on the door and wait patiently for him to answer the door.  He opens the door with a huge grin.  I walk in and without saying a word I push my lips against his.  He pulls me inside and closes the door.  He pushes me up against the door and removes my pants with effortless ease.  In an instant I am rock hard and before I know it, he is on his knees working my knob to a throbbing swell.  He flips me around and plunges his tongue in between my pert cheeks.  With every slash of his tongue, I begin to bend more and more at the knees, he stands up and sticks his hard cock inside of me.  I clutch the door from the sheer force.  He holds it for a while before slowly thrusting.  He builds up speed until he is banging me like a ball against a wall, back and forth.  We cum.

Flopping down to the floor, we sit side by side.  He lights a cigarette, has a few drags and passes it to me.   He points to the box, “What’s in the box?  Are those pictures of you all over it?”   He grins the way I had hoped he would.  With a huge smile back at him I reply, “It’s a surprise my lover.  I made a few purchases on my little cruise trip for you.  I guess I just wanted you with me.” 

I lift the lid off the box and pass the lid to him. “Oh my word, look at you all over this box.  It is so cute lover.”

“Wait till you see the little things inside”, I begin to take the odd little gifts and give them to him, part two in my plan, to shower him with gifts; a sparkling watch, a range of perfumes, a pure cotton shirt and something gold to decorate his long neck.

Once we calm down he sees the photo of myself in the bottom of the box.  “That’s a beautiful picture my love…” 

“I was a little drunk and I passed the guys that take photos on my way to have upper and I thought I should have one done just for you… I wrote on the back but before you read it I want some… do you have some wine… lets have some wine and stand on the balcony, there is something I need to tell you.”   He grabs two slender wine glasses and a bottle of Pinotage.  I insist on opening the wine and pouring, “You can read it while I pour”

“The man on the other side of this letter is in love with you.  He is naïve in many ways and is prone to making monumental fuck ups. And he is in love with you.  He can be self involved and completely unrealistic.  But he loves you.  He has the biggest heart in the world.  He will always have your back.  He will always strive to make you laugh.  He will always help you when help is needed.  He will never stop loving you, unconditionally and in whatever capacity you need… he is devoted to you.  He needs you more than you need him.”

My heart races as he reads it.  I feel completely exposed.  Maybe it is too much? What if he just does not feel the same way?  The silence is not so much a silence but a deafening roar from the crashing ocean in the background and it relentlessly smashes over and over for what seems to be hours.  Then he looks up at me.  “This is the sweetest thing I have ever read, thank you… ummmmm… just need to run to the bathroom quick.”

This makes me nervous.  I take a big swig of my wine.  Pacing up and down in the apartment I wonder if this is the right decision.  Loving this man is so easy.  He is an amazing person but am I amazing for him.  I feel inadequate, like a swimmer just falling short of the A-team, am I out of my league?  Sure I am giving it a good try but is this trying too hard?  He comes out the bathroom and walks straight to me and gives me a big hug, “You are a really loving person and I am smitten by your fresh and untainted take on love.  I keep thinking you are just going to leave me for someone younger, but I love you too.  I just think that you will trade me in sooner rather than later…umm… I kinda have to meet someone somewhere real quick, I am going to have a smoke then I am gonna go.” I am a little surprised at his response.  Is he telling me that he loves me but can’t trust me? That he is with me but not banking on it turning into something real?  Am I living a life in love on my own? 

He picks up his box of smokes and walks to the balcony.  I totally forgot about the guy down stairs with the lights we set up on the floor.  And there he sees it ‘Marry Me”

He ignores the lights from below and continues to smoke.  I remain inside the apartment with fear of admitting that the light display is for him.  His cigarette seemed to last forever as we stood in silence.  I could hear the crackle of the tobacco burning with every drag he takes and the red tip burns bright with the backdrop of the moonlit ocean behind him.  He stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray.  “I’m off lover.  Make yourself comfortable…have you eaten?  Why don’t you go down to the restaurant for dinner and I should be back by the time you are done eating.” 

He looks at me waiting for a response so I say, “ummm, yeah, sure… that should pass the time.”  He kisses me on the forehead and leaves.

Like a shy child on a playground who sat sharing his sweets with a potential friend only to have that said friend leave once the sweets are over, I felt completely stupid and used.  This was not at all how I had planned it.  This was not the way it is suppose to be.  Am I just hoping for something that probably wont come true, a far off fantasy that’s hard to reach?  Instead of going to the restaurant I decide to stay and clean up his home.  I start running the hot water in the sink and gently place the dirty glasses in it.  As I wipe each glass till its crystal clear I realize that there are plenty of champagne glasses.  Who was celebrating and what were they celebrating?

I immediately stopped washing.  I do not fit in here and as hard as I try its not going to fit.  I dry my hands and leave the apartment.  It’s the c-point, I am at commitment central and I am unsure if my decision is the correct one.  I am stuck in a conundrum, leave because I should go or stay because I want to stay.  I’ll love him, carry it with me and hopefully he will come after me, hopefully.  My knight…I will wait for you.

And I waited.

When is it too much?

I love hair.  I am totally into hairy guys but when is it too much?  When does it go from a preference to a kinky obsession?  And how ill I know I am going overboard?

I guess I sort of have a pattern (of hair) I like... hairy chest, down the stomach to the pubes without anything on the back, sides or shoulders.
Is this asking too much or is it just oddly specific about something that might never really come my way?  And what is it about hair that turns me on... is it purely aesthetic? Is it the way it looks?  I mean you cant exactly run your tongue around a body covered in hair.
I think it is twirling my fingers through black swirls of curling hair that gets me going.  The feel of the tickle on the palm of my hand and the scratching sound it makes when I rub it up and down just warms the cockles of my cockle.

Its just something I am into... you know...

Something I am not into, Golden Showers.
So you see, I was invited to the house of this very wealthy man.  He had a great body, very shy so he did not really make too much eye contact but one drink after the other and I was back at his place.  He had this huge house that I was just not expecting and for the first time I felt like a real estate whore, meaning I did not care who I was having sex with so long as it was up against those windows with that view in the foreground.  Not even a kiss and I had whipped off most of my clothes, standing in a pair of jeans - I figured I should be forward and aggressive to keep the upper hand - unfortunately my dominance opened up the door to a whole other game.  After a clever little sentence I was suddenly pissing in the face of this, what I thought was a, gentleman.  Damn how the dark comes out!

After that I realized I was so totally not into Golden Showers, not my thing at all, and granted I did not judge the man, after all I was standing there doing the pissing for fuck sake... I just thought why the fuck am I doing this?  It is not turning me on, in fact I want to laugh... at myself, for putting myself in a position where I can judge myself... Ridiculous!  So I excused my drunk ass and went home.  My embarrassed stupid drunk ass.

(I just need to say how funny it was to try find a good pic, typing up all the pissing things I could.  Imagine my surprise when Kim Kardashian comes up when you type sexy man pissing, hahaha)

So I think saying I dig hairy guys is starting to seem a whole lot more ordinary and less kinky when you take into consideration what is actually out there. Haha

Each to their own I guess...
Happy hunting!!! (I have not said that in a while)

Does it hurt to look?

Scope them out at the gym, in the mall or at work.  Hell if it is on show I will take a peek.

Here is a blog filled with giant packages on delivery for you...


http://www.locker-room-jocks.com

Check it out yo'...
...just because it's there.

The Hour Glass Lover

You know him, you have had him, that illusive man that comes into your life and flips it around causing the sand to flow in another direction.  He captivates your mind with his thoughts of the grandeur of love.  His ideals appeal and it is near impossible to resist him.

Oh, Durban boys.

They flip my world around and always have.  They are so cool and relaxed.  A little repressed with the lack of activities in the area but that in turn makes them interesting, new and fairly untouched.  My Durban boy flipped my hour glass around, climbed inside the glass and let the sand granules - that is my life - pour all over him and at the same time stealing a few granules for himself.  He changed the pace of my life and made me re-asses what I was doing and where exactly I was heading.  It is almost like he forced me to sign a new lease on life that encouraged me to live life and not just allowing the day to day flow of it to become the norm.

It was not the inertia alone that made me feel that my life was an endless stream of nothingness but the idea that I had resided to living a life alone in quiet desperation for something else that made me feel unfulfilled and dead.  Are we just looking for ways to feel alive?  Is a routine the beginning of an end?  And can one man really come in to our lives and re-arrange the furniture that the flow is better and the view extraordinary?

It happened to me.  After our tornado of a relationship was gone I was left in complete disparagement.  Was it that the excitement had ended or is it just a case of another boyfriend down the pipe line?  Did I loose a soul mate, or did a mate just take a piece of my soul?  And if the latter is true how does one begin to replace that piece that was so carelessly taken?

I went on a sexual deviant rampage.  The empty piece in my heart made way for a very personal method of self destruction, it is almost as though I was half the man I was suppose to be and the caring loving side was no more.  I went out bar jumping and bed hoping with hopes of replacing it.  Was it satisfying?  It was more of an expression of self hate and I would impose that hate onto any man willing to take it.  Surprisingly enough there are many men out there eager for a little bit of salacious degradation from a sexual partner.  And this was by no means my proudest moment in life.

In the end my life was more of a vase with water and he was the flowers.  Once the flowers were gone it took time to clean out the vase and replace it with clean water for the next florist to come along and decorate it. so lets always try keep our vases clean and half full.

Animal Sex Totem (Number 4)

Meerkat:


He stands up tall and proud.
He exudes a higher knowledge.

Alert of his lovers needs.
Watchful of his lovers needs.
Discreet of his lovers needs.
Generous of his lovers needs.

This animal represents the need to be aware of our surroundings and to second guess anyone who boldly approaches.  Never letting his guard down.
The tall, looking from side to side, meerkat also teaches us to return to the earths energies for respite and rejuvenation just as he returns to his burrow when the time calls.

are you a Meerkat?

Sex Pigs, Speedos and the Perfect Fit.

Stretched out on the hot sand, I stare out at all the men in their different speedos.  The cut of the tight brief swimming shorts frames an ass to perfection and then there are times when it is less than desirable.  This got me thinking about relationships.  How would Lycra be a comparison for relationships?  When it’s not a perfect fit then it’s a complete disaster. 

Spending some time outside my usual box I was invited, by Greg, to join him at a pig party.  Now my impression of a Pig Party was a party where you paid a cover charge and then drank till you were slaughtered.  I had misgivings purely based on that fact, but I was somewhat mollified when I was informed that it was not what was expected.  Goodie!  I enjoy something new; it’s like the first time in a lecture hall, so enthusiastic, ready to take in everything.  So, ready with my pen in my hand I accompanied Greg to the Pig Party.

I wanted to know what to wear but apparently a kit is required not really an outfit.  Nude bar!  Damn, I forgot about those.  So clothes off and in we go.

It’s a very dark bar and for some time I was very disorientated.  Did we come up stairs?  Which way is the street?  Ok, then where is the mountain?  I could not get my bearings but I assume that was part of the appeal.

Masters and slaves and a sex pig roaming around.  Was this entertainment?  Is this a thrill to some people?  Have we evolved to this, degradation and humiliation as ways of stimulation?  And then, just when I was about to cast myself into the barrel of prudes, it happened.  A slave had accidentally been stepped on - well what did he expect rolling on the floor - nonetheless, he was stepped on and his master tended to him.  I could here him speak softly…”Lover, can I take you home?”  “No, I am fine.” “I’m taking you home, you are hurt my baby…” and he picked him up off of the floor and took him home.

Was I being too judgemental?  Did I miss the whole point?  Hidden amongst the dark, the smell of lube, the taste of leather and the loud music was a couple.  Was this a catalyst for their foreplay or were they just bored one night and decided this would be fun?  In the end I could see two people that fit, like a speedo.  It may not have been my cut and it was a little dark but it fit perfectly for them, and that my dear readers is a beautiful thing.

True... Ball and all.

If you have not been watching it you have been missing out on yet another Alan Ball masterpiece.

Alan Ball is an acclaimed writer.  Written two films, the forever classic 'American Beauty' and 'Towelhead', furthermore he was hugely involved in the very dark and funny TV series, 'Six Feet Under'.

Now, he is responsible for 'True Blood'.

Sex, love, life, death, humor and sadness - the ingredients for a rich soup that only Mr Ball can create.

I appreciate his work and look up to him and thats not only because he is a Gay Writer, but a lover of birds too.

The Ass Man

 I am just an ass guy.  To see it wrapped up real tight in a pair of cargo's, really gets me going.
Passing a hot cop on the street, gets my blood flowing.

To see his crack, ever so lightly, peaking out the top of a belt, inviting my tongue, to slide down the spine and wet that crack... it's a tease beyond teasing.


and finally, to see his ass all bare.

It drives me wild...





 I want to play with it.

or play with myself and watch it?

I am just an ass guy!

Low balling.

One way to play poker is the Lowball game, in which hand values are reversed so that the lowest-valued hand wins... a tactic we can use in life? Can we reverse, say a table of people, so that the one with lowest valued opinion is revered in the end? I think not, there is no way of telling a situation like that up.

For instance, a few nights ago I attending a wonderful night with some friends at a restaurant. My honey was in a cheery mood, and I was enjoying listening to him so much. the odd thing about living with someone, is that we know that person knows pretty much all the 'what I have been up to lately' speech, so I guess in that regard he chose to look at everyone else at the table but me. understandable. Eventually the conversation became very opinionated and of course everyone with a very strong opinion naturally thinks that they are right in thinking that way. However, are things ever really right and wrong? Or maybe it's just a case of right and left.

At one point I noticed one of my friends, who really had no opinion on the topic at hand, looking very sleepy, so I asked if he wanted to go with me to the shop. Naturally I did not actually need anything from the shop, I just thought if I went with him for a little walk, he would liven up, and I also did not want to make it obvious that I noticed his boredom. He did liven up. He actually suggested we have a drink at a bar for a bit. The break revived the man and we went straight back to our original party, but really because I was nervous about being gone so long.

We got back to the table and there was naturally a vibe that settled. I mean, what else could I expect?

The minute I sat down I was thrown a lowball, straight at my nuts, with an odd question about Germans. Now, I have always loved the company of Germans. They are fairly rigid people, with an odd outlook on love but they have one super sense of humor. So, naturally I threw that low ball right back, and that was the end of that evening.

Next time, just pass me a high ball drink with some ice. I would rather be on the highball happy train than playing the lowball idiot game.

The United States Of America.... and Men

So, I have never been to the great US of A, but I can't wait to go. Have I had the pleasure of getting more than close with an American hottie? The answer is YES, and gladly so.

No matter what age he is at, an American honey always seems to be the most naive of all the men around the world and in the most admirable kind of way.

My first experience with and US honey was like six years ago.

He was apparently a football player on a bit of a vacation in Cape Town. I managed to get him out of the hotel he was staying in and got him to a restaurant.

He was so apprehensive in the beginning, probably because he came here for a little bit of sex and not an odd dinner date with a South African boy he probably won't see again.

But my smoldering charm and wild looks had him hooked and before the clock struck twelve I was wrestled to the floor by a man that wanted to show me all about the bright RED, WHITE AND BLUE.

Here is to the charming men of America!

Mr Gay SA and a Cruise Ship

So, I found myself on the MSC Sinfonia on route into the middle of the coastline of Mozambique, Imhambane, along with a bunch of gay men and the 12 finalists for the Mr Gay SA competition. And before I get into the details of my own experience on this floating hotel in the sea I thought I might share what I thought of all the contestants. For anyone who is really interested in if the guys representing are in fact representatives and role models or is it just a question of how hot you are? Being part of the cruise and going alone and being so painfully observant of people, I took in what they were saying (the administrators) of how the contestants are judged on the trip as it apparently counts 50% of their total score. I am not a judge, a coordinator or in away in control or have anything to do with this competition. I feel I represent most of the gay guys out there who feel that maybe a beauty pageant should be left up to women? So I represent you and I set out to try find someone I would want to represent me...us!

So, I tried to talk to each one of them

Errol Stroebel, did not speak two words to the man. I think I said hi at the bar but there was no conversation so I dont know what he is like at all. Pretty eyes, sincere when he talks (publicly) but thats as far as I can judge.






Tshepo Chuenyane, lovely man, very shy but extremely polite. I mean painfully shy but once he started to warm up he would try break out of his shell and crack a conversation. I think a competition like this might actually help make this man into a fine role model for South African Gay Guys.




Karl-Heinz Michel, not a word. I did notice him as he has this larger than life smile and is pretty tall but I did not get to talk to him besides a random hello as we passed one another.





Francois Nel, I actually did not even notice this guy until the last night which is very surprising because he is one seriously beautiful man. Hottest body by far. But like green in a garden he just blended in with the surroundings. I mean green is the best part of a garden but the flowers are what really get noticed... personally I love green.



Barry Meyer, very determined guy. He has his head screwed on exactly the way he wants it. I think he is a very strong person and has the ability to surprise but at times I thought his whole persona might just be a show seeing that he is a very clever young man and perhaps very shy, yet hidden well. I always say fake it till you can make it.



Prince Mkhize, he was actually completely dismissive the first time I met him and then continued to play it shy which I found completely odd, his whole demur screams of cocky self confidence.





Ernest M Gravett, this one is a real real cutie. In my opinion he has the most beautiful face I have ever seen. Love his doe eyes, love the stubble, cute grin, it all works for him. He is very polite. Sharp with his wit so here again I doubt his sincerity with how he talks to people as I know he has the intuition to play a table, bending any conversation to his advantage.







Jared Lee Smit, very beautiful boy but the operative word being boy. I think maybe if he were just 4 years older he would cream this competition but he's not and his nativity shines very bright.





Shannon Masilo Rex, did not get the chance to meet him.

Dustin Carr, he has a personality that is absolutely amazing. Friendly to the max with this delightful chuckle every once and a while as talks to you. Very confident but with a great self esteem which feels like he isn't hiding anything. If he were a little bit taller he would walk home with the title but lets face it, short guys just don't stand out on a stage as well as tall guys. But I am totally shouting for the short guy!


André Lammers I feel I had an instant connection with him. I would totally hang out with him, invite him to dinner parties and go on a vacation... he is someone I would want to call my friend, totally awesome guy. His conversation was less that of wit and more of insight. He held my attention when he spoke and when I asked him question some of the other boys dared not answer he gave me a very frank answer. He is one to be admired.



I guess I liked the guys that tried to talk to me more than the ones I had to make the effort to talk to.
I wish them all good luck though.

Till next time!