Security.

I think the biggest perk of being the reigning door bitch in Sydney (Are you gonna argue with me ? Yeah,that’s what I thought… ) besides all my beloved super-talented freaky-deek,technicolor, gay infants -of -the -night custom making me the most unbelievable and  fabulous clothes and jewelry, is my boys.

The three headed hydra that makes up  my security detail.Not only do they protect me from the unwashed masses,more importantly they protect the unwashed masses from me.

But its the shoulders to cry,or should I say whine on and the secret boy information that they provide to this sore hearted goddess that I am most grateful for.

Chris and James are brothers and wildly different. James is a rottweiler on a choke chain but also one of the kindest and most blunt people I know. He has also given me great tips on how to do the most damage to another person without having to do jail time or community service. Sharp as a tack with laser eyes. Then we have his baby brother Chris who sees all.When the door is slow I get my elbow into the knots on the back of his neck and shoulders which he loves,the great pillow.Nothing gets past this kid.Tends to be quiet but he’s dumb like a fox ,a watcher,Not one to underestimate.

Then last but not least is Adam.Turns out that he served in the same battalion as my gung-ho bat-shit insane youngest uncle,doing water jumps out of low flying Huey’s in the pitch dark and other such crazy shit that makes my sphincter clench with fear.Not the kind of dude you want to make angry. I am not sure if its the military connection or what but he understands me to a T. I start training mixed martial arts with him in the new year about which I am so excited.

All three of my boys,whom I fuss and cluck over like some kind of demented  Jewish mother, are utterly devoted to their children whose names sweetly decorate their necks and forearms in swirling  ink reminiscent of the gangsters I used to see  menacing the corners back in the LBC.

I don’t faze them.You have no idea how novel and cool that is for me.Its a total gift considering that civilian men tend to be utterly petrified of me. Its like hanging out with my brothers and cousins growing up all over again.I ask them about all the sacred workings of the male psyche and they set me straight with no fanfare or bullshit on even my stupidest inquiries.

And believe me when I tell you that I have some absolute clangers.My ex went through my hot pink heart like a dick driven natural disaster.These guys are like the emotional Red Cross to me.Patching up the war zone that I have become.I am some lucky cowgirl to have them,I can tell you that for nix.

Between the three of them and my poor,poor shrink I have come to understand so fucking much about how and why my hollow heart got stomped.Like that immortal line in Spinal Tap “A bit too much fucking perspective”.

And they always notice when I have lost more weight.

My boys,not my shrink.

There are more platonic angelic men in my life that you could poke and e-z-bar at right now.

Joe and Steve.The nut brown,body shaven queens at the gym who give me a tight botox smirk as I yell at the cage fighting while pumping away on my favorite bike cranked up to level 20 for a solid hour.I must look utterly deranged .On top of this I am doing shoulder presses with ten kg free weights at the same time.”You call THAT a kimora you pussy!??!!” I bellow from beneath my towel wrapped neck and sodden grey Everlast hoodie.

“Choke him OUT you useless FUCK!!! ARGHHH!!!!!”

Cue weights being flung to the ground in disgust.

Charming,I know.

They elegantly spot each other and roll their eyes.Joe told me that I was butch enough for all of them at that hour of the morning .He squealed like a girl and jumped as I smacked him hard on his Lycra clad ass and growled “You got that right Nancy!” and we cracked up.

Although his boyfriend Steve is a bit weird around me now.

They know the gist  of my travails and fucked up fables as I frequent their brilliant coffee shop.They love,love,love me.They also claim that they and their butt loving brethren basically dreamt me into existence. This would actually not surprise me at this point but then again,I think that very little would.

Moi,hatched from the collective mardi gras mooching, rainbow wrapped minds of the gay universe. Duh,of course.I am imagining a Crisco conducted delivery to the dulcet tones of Donna Summer,complete with Jimmy Choo platforms and glitter afterbirth.It make sense. Steve, Joe’s better half tells me that I am the woman they all want to be.

Which is sweet and explains my false eyelash addiction.

Joe then schools me as only a man who wears MAC concealer and a devastating smokey eye during business hours can.Drinking me in from beneath his perfect eyebrows with a discerning diamond eye.I blush under the scrutiny and he clucks his sharp tongue and pushes my wild witchy hair back from my face with a fluid and great gentleness .

“You are way too finely tuned and well put together for some hetero pig to dig angel-baby.” he harrumphs.

I smirk and the moment is broken.We then bitch about all the people we don’t like.This is a long list….

At least pole-smokers get my wit.I find myself cranked up to eleven and free as a profanity fueled bird of prey around them.Real boys shy away from my mind which,of course, leads me to verbally annihilate them in mixed company.My dance card remains empty.

“So I am bound for masturbation and Sex in the city marathons with you lot for the rest of my foxy existence?” I ask Joe.

“There are worse things!” he pouts and flounces off  pretending to be offended.I watch as he  serves  three fat chicks tottering on bargain shopping swollen cankles with much sighing and eye rolling. I smile,my tongue toying with the scar inside my lip. Naturally they order skim lattes and bollocking great artery clogging slabs of chocolate mud cake with cream.

“Swine” hisses Steve on the way past and I snort into genteelly into my bucket of free chai tea.

Elvis love them though.They make me feel like a cross between Raquel Welsh and the Terminator.

Security guards and Fags.

And I fucking adore them.