So we’ll delve into Michael’s ‘early’ drug years…

 Lindsay and I broke up – I moved into a friend’s studio in a woolstore in Teneriffe  – I was house-sitting for him – it was the first woolstore conversion that had been done in Brisbane… I think you can kind of gather how I much I loved it… OMG like seriously… anyway before I get completely distracted.  Actually this doesn’t have anything to do with me and drugs…. Ah the link… so while I was living at the Woolstores I was on mIRC (we’re going THAT far back) and I was chatting to the guy who would become my best friend for a very long time (we’ve had a falling out and I get why though that’s a different series of issues).  This also got me to thinking I was with Lindsay from when I was 19 to 28 – so I didn’t do the “right of passage” for young gay men – the ‘clubbing” phase is probably the easiest to describe it -  it ties into the whole perception of gay men being promiscuous and being party animals.

 

Well child!!!!! Didn’t we make up for that… 

 

That in due course…   Lindsay and I didn’t go out much – so we didn’t go clubbing etc… and not long after I left Lindsay I got a temping gig that I thought paid pretty well – so I had a disposable income (YAY ME!!!!) – now you would think that I would start hitting the “gay scene” – I was going out more with people from work than I was with “gay” friends – so anyway as I had managed to estrange myself from my family and my BFF had chickenpox – I spent Christmas Day with him – we watched terrible movies, got drunk and had a blast.  His then flatmate was looking at moving out so I was asked to move in… the idea of living in the Valley was just too much I went giddy with excitement and I may have squealed more than once! I loved that apartment and I loved living with him – he probably deserves his own few chapters…

 

So basically the descent would go like this…
Bourbon & coke at the Beat – that’s when it was about the music – getting drunk and dancing.  I had so much fun – it was almost like I didn’t have to deal with the bullshit – gay clubbing can be brutal if you have very low self-confidence.  Alcohol bolstered mine – yay!

Every now my brother would sleep on our floor and his payment was by giving us some bud – I was still kind of traumatised by the worms crawling out of the wall episode… Anyway we’re at the Beat one night and I smoke a couple of joints – I was high as a fucking kite – I was bouncing off the walls – almost literally…   People were asking my BFF what I was on and where they could get some.

And then speed… ahh sweet speed.  I miss the old school speed – I really do – it was just fun – everyone’s experience on drugs is different and to be honest  I love the drugs – I am just not sure if the drugs love me.  They tend to lead me into strife… Here’s the one thing though I swore blind (HA!) that I would never inject drugs… HA! HA! HA!  and HA!  I ended up with a bit of a reputation (surprising noone) as a bit of a speed queen – a friend actually bought me a t-shirt with the speed queen (it’s a brand of industrial washers and dryers) logo on it…

There’s was a comment that a woman I worked with made after Lindsay and I broke up – “girls who wear glasses don’t get passes” – I asked her what she meant and she said that girls who wear glasses are always overlooked for girls who don’t.  Now I have worn reading glasses since I was 16.  This got me to thinking and she had tapped in my feelings of low self-worth at that point I was working at Roma Street in the office buildings that have been demolished – so I due to that and my fear of being alone (HA!) – I went to the YMCA gym around the corner from work and decided to join up – a cute man had NOTHING to do with my decision… NOTHING!  I was doing it purely for my health… yes… my health… And that started my relationship with gyms.  Out of all the gyms I’ve been a member of the YMCA in Brisbane was my favourite – they were really helpful and just nice.  So anyway I started working out (A LOT) – I’d work out during the week during my lunchbreaks and then work out on the weekends as it was walking distance from home.  Originally it was to prove the woman at work wrong and then it just came about the fact that I was getting a body and drawing attention – I am shallow enough to admit that I appreciated the attention, I’m tall and lean with (I would have said good) muscle memory from swimming when I was a kid.  It didn’t take long for me to start showing results.  

 

During this time I was also a vegetarian so I was way more conscious of what I was eating.  You have no idea of how much I missed bacon!!! And then the speed started – I dropped weight like you wouldn’t believe – I had abs, I had fingerling abs, I will admit even I thought I was hot.  I was originally working out 7 days a week… don’t work out on a comedown – it’s not healthy… so I would work out Monday through Saturday, go out on the Saturday night and do speed – then that ruled out the workout on Sunday.  I would occasionally go out with work friends or another one of my best friends on a Friday night – I’d be drinking (pretty much most of the time) so I’d go to the gym on Saturday even if I was hungover.  It’s easy too look at this period in my life and go – it just became another an addiction – which it did – narrowing down which addiction is interesting though – the attention? The sex? The endorphins from the exercise?  Or was it that for once in my life I didn’t have shitty self-esteem – I knew I looked good, I was handsome and had a body as well.  Unfortunately so much of the gay community is wrapped up in looks and appearance.  I guess it’s funny when you look at the bear community, which in so many ways is anti-appearance – they are still obsessed with appearance.  This is a side issue – I’ll bring it up now anyway, in so many ways I have struggled to find my place or niche in the gay community over the years – I’m too pretty, I’m not pretty enough, I’m too fat, I’m too skinny, I’m too muscly, I’m not fat enough. I’m too gay, I’m too straight, I’m too nice, I’m too bitchy, I’m not the relationship sort, I’m too much of the relationship sort, I’m a slut, I’m not slutty enough, I’m not kinky enough, I’m too kinky, I’m a junkie…

 

Hi my name is Michael and I’m an addict… this is an aside to the aside.  There’s a definite schism and has been for YEARS about the gays that do drugs and the gays that don’t do drugs (even then some of them do…).  As soon as some people find out you are on ice – yep thank you I’m done… yet they are perfectly happy to do post or frank or E’s.  

 

When I first started doing drugs back in 2000 or 2001 – there was the schism then and we were doing E’s and snorting speed.  There’s a couple of stories I’ll recount.  I went to Mardi Gras in 2000 – I saw Kylie like for a brief nano-second – I had no idea of what was going on and I was bored by it.  I was on E at the time… anyway I was having fun dancing away to Victor Calderone – anyway I had to pee at some stage and the son of troughman was laying in the trough – he started talking to me and he completely freaked me the fuck out.  I’ve never told the full version of this story – he was such lovely man – I sat on the step part of the urinal near his head and chatted to him for about half an hour, he was actually helping me to calm down – he literally scared the bejesus out of me,  I explained it was my first time doing drugs – he was just really nice to talk to.  So anyway here’s me in a pair of see through white shorts with holographic dots and a man in leather that’s still getting pissed on why I talk to him… my life has always been a bit strange.

 

So I took my second pill and went back into the crowd.  I guess that’s one of the things – drugs and myself have never been about sex – which for a lot of gay men they are – I’ll admit I can get as horny as all get up and go – there’s no doubt about that.  I was always just as happy to do some speed or whatever and dance around the apartment.  A lot depended on my mood.

 

Did I have sex?  Yes… a lot.  See one of the proceeding bits – sex for me is replacing something else I didn’t have in my life and I have been thinking a lot about this especially when I started writing this – there is something in me that is fundamentally broken – I have sex with people assuming that I will be starting a relationship with them.  Which rationally I know it’s total bullshit, men are pretty easy to figure out – they want to get their rocks off.  And I suppose the people that I choose to have sex with are (mostly) unavailable – they’re already in a relationship, they’re already married, they’re bisexual.  I am honestly setting myself up to fail from the get-go.  I have fun though!  So I guess there’s a slight pay-off.

I think I just worked out something major in my life… 

I’m chasing a relationship…

Yet I keep putting myself in situations where it’s not going to happen

I’m a dickhead

And those relationships I had I pretty much sabotaged

I’m still a dickhead

The Holy Shit I’m Gay!!!

This will probably be reasonably short… anyway when I worked out I was gay I got quite involved with the Queensland AIDS council.  They used to run a support group for 18 to 25 gay guys who were coming out and to be honest that was a bit of a feeder into some of the support/volunteer work.  Once I did I’m the “I’m gay, I’m here, I’m queer” which seems to be a rite of passage that a lot of young gay men went through.  Keep in mind this was during an era where technically being gay was still illegal.

 

It was an interesting period in my life – I became “super” gay – everything became about gay rights, safe sex (which REALLY seems ironic now)… It’s funny I look at this and go… I’m not which bit to include first that I was taught how to walk in stilettos or that I participated in the rights march to get the law changed in Queensland – which is the only march I’ve participated in – there was no hell I was doing that sucker in heels!!!  There was a guy I was interested that used to do his housework in heels – he and I had the same size feet so he taught me how to walk in heels….

 

The only thing I will give Dad is that he was actually really cool with me being gay…  he took me out for a beer one day and he said “this is my baby boy and he’s gay.”   We were at Indooroopilly Shoppinngtown one day and Dad is pointing people out to me “he’s cute – you should go say hello to him.”  Yes… my Dad was trying to set me up with randoms.  I could have died!

 

To be honest because I started covering my walls in HIV campaign posters – I think Dad had a few issues.  I’m not sure he was comfortable with the more militant me.  I don’t think I (to be honest) was comfortable with the militant me.  To be honest I thought it was a right of passage – obviously this is not that case…. However I can walk in 6 inch heels like it’s no one’s fucking business.  I have actually taught other people how to walk in heels.

 

I was still struggling with what “gay” was… I had made friends with this guy through the AIDS Council support group and he wanted to go to the Queens Ball in drag.  There was a part of me though – why the fuck not?  I did quasi-drag, my friend went in full drag.  If you’ve ever seen a massive group of gay men and a drag queen go to a buffet restaurant.  It was one of more surreal experiences in my life – one of the waitresses hated that I had better legs than she did.  I suppose terrorising a sizzler with a drag queen was one way to kill a Saturday night.  It was actually through the drag queen that I met my first boyfriend – The “drag queen” knew I wasn’t attracted to him so he was hoping that introducing me to my first boyfriend would lead to “magic’.  So we’re all stoned, the “drag queen” puts on some porn and all I can see is mosquitoes (watch porn and tell me you don’t see a mosquitoes face) I start really getting the giggles – obviously “drag queen” didn’t get what he wanted….  I least got a shit load of entertainment as payback for shaving my legs and having my eyebrows waxed (hello someone could have told me how this hurt!!!).

 

So we move onto Lindsay – serious boyfriend #1

I’d say there’s so much I could say, I don’t know what to say.
Lindsay and I were together for 8 and a half years.  I think at the end of the day we both made mistakes and I will own a fair amount of them – I tend to shut down when I can’t deal.  Lindsay and I have done the this was your fault/this was my fault… We broke up for a reason and that was actually a complicated reason – I actually hold no ill will.  It took me a very long time to get that stage though – I hated him for a very long time, not so much because he broke my heart, which he did, not so much because he had sex with my best friend, which I caught in the act of and thereby is the reason we broke-up… I think that’s the first time in my life I got well and truly angry.  People down the street heard me screaming at them.  Yeah… me and anger issues huh?  Because we had a lease on the townhouse we were staying in – I felt that we were stuck… so I moved into the second bedroom.  Now Lindsay and I hadn’t sex in a VERY long time (6 years maybe) so one thing led to another and we start having sex again.  I think I told a friend that I felt kind of trapped and that I was having sex with the ex.  He told another friend who offered to let me stay at his studio in Teneriffe.

 

Just taking a slight segue – I ran into him just before I went to prison at Toowong Village.  I hadn’t seen this man in nearly 20 years – he looked good and there was no resentment over our break-up.

And another segue – people have pretty much always called me bad with money and entitled.  I’m the first person to admit that I don’t budget – I don’t think I have ever budgeted – that’s a completely different side issue and part of that is a hangover from my time with Lindsay.  We were so poor – for the first 2 years we were together we living on his Austudy grant and my Austudy loan.  So I think he got $350 and I was getting $80 a fortnight – we were budgeting to every single cent.  Things got a bit easier when I got the full Austudy grant and then again they got easier when I started working at a restaurant.  At the time he worked for one night and gave up – I was fuming!  We literally had been so poor for so long and here was a way out of it and he didn’t want to do it – I get it now as I suffer from social anxiety – I get that he didn’t want to be around people and a buffet restaurant is not really the sort of place where you want to be around people!  Mind you I did enjoy my job there.  Does this justify why I’m as bad as money as I am?  No – I have always just let other people take care of it – if there’s no one – then that’s when things tend to get pear-shaped.
In a lot of ways I got lucky – I have heard horror stories of people coming out.  My family for the most part was accepting.  Dad was ok with obviously, at the end of the day my brother didn’t give a rats.  Mother had issues with it as she was expecting grandchildren….  And obviously the gay child can’t produce grandchildren.  Obviously… yes obviously!

 

While Lindsay and I were seeing each other he took me to see one of the psychologists at UQ – the “crystal” lady – I sat in her office talking about my mother for about 90 minutes holding a piece of rose quartz.  I’m not going to have a go about the healing qualities of crystals – it just seemed a bit much for me.  So I saw her a couple of times and this will become a recurring theme too – I wouldn’t talk about my mother.  I really had no interest in discussing it and I think a large part of that was that I was purely in denial about the amount of damage that I had gone through – I think in part I wouldn’t acknowledge it because it was putting Mum forward as this evil bitch, on the other hand if I did acknowledge it I’d have to accept that my Mother was an evil bitch.  This actually became my baseline trauma – I have been diagnosed with C-PTSD – which obviously has a lot to do with my upbringing – the divorce, my brother and I being pitted against other, the sexual abuse from Dad, the alcoholism – I guess just the general dysfunction.  We were a massively fucked up family.  For some reason in therapy I always viewed Mother as out of bounds and to be honest looking at it now – I think it’s to do with the C-PTSD, I just didn’t want to deal with it… so at the end of the day what does all this have to do with anything – self-medication…

 

Self-medication with me is a funny thing – it’s a double-edge sword on the one had I would drink copiously to numb myself (you’d think I’d use pot but Lindsay and I smoked pot laced with something I saw worms/maggots coming out of the walls – YAY HALLUCINATIONS!!!!) and then I’d use speed, base, E’s, meth/ice to feel something.  So one the one hand I’m trying to not feel anything and then on the other hand I’m trying to feel something.  I still struggle with how fucked up this is and this was a cycle I went through for YEARS…  And it’s funny after having been to the prison the number of people who said that they missed old school speed or GAK.  I’m hearing them there.  Hi – I’m Michael and I’m a drug addict.