I was in Madrid for pride last weekend, and for the majority of gays that had come into the city it meant engaging in friends, sex, drugs and dance parties. I began the weekend pretty indifferent to my surroundings, I had a friend who actually wanted to leave the city because he was struggling with some personal issues that made him want to shy away from the social expectations and craziness that was about to sweep Madrid. I was happy to go somewhere else with him. I personally had had a rollercoaster of a time over the last year and half that has left me feeling displaced and figuring out what my plan B is after my plan A had severely crashed and burned.

As far as being in town for sex, I would describe sex during pride like a sushi-train.  You have a plethora of every kind of guy you could wish for coming around on an ever-turning conveyer-belt and if you don’t grab that guy right there and then, the likelihood of him coming back around was highly, to down-right unlikely.  Even trying to hook up with a guy had the potential of failing as the time between logging onto an App, swapping numbers, if you even bothered doing that, and getting him to you or you to where he was, had so many potential interfering factors that the hook up could never happen.

Then we’re left with the drugs and dance parties. As far as the drugs go – check out my long over-due VLOG on chem sex dropping next week at my social media and you will see that I have had no shortage of opportunities to use drugs during Covid which became one long extended chem-sex session for many gays, with substance abuse increasing exponentially. I personally am finally enjoying extended sobriety and trying not to use as much as I have been in the past so there was no real attraction for me going to group sessions and getting high and even less to going to one of the two dance parties which I couldn’t give two fucks about. So, I was ready to boycott pride…

But then my mate did a complete turn around and we decided to participate in Pride, so we stayed in Madrid. I had spent the week working non-stop (editing, website, world domination stuff, the usual) and come Friday night I stayed in and bonded with my house mate over one of my all time favourite films, Scott Pilgrim Vs the World. Come Saturday night I decided, we, me and my house mate, now that we had become new besties, should go out for drink in Chueca to get a slice of the Pride that was exploding in the city. It was everything I thought it would be – complete chaos. We walked around for a few hours and that was all I needed. It was fun just walking around the circus that was unfolding around us, alloying myself to get swept up in that ecstatic energy.

I had been talking to a pup on Grindr during the week and there was something about him that just made him stand out from all the other guys who had messaged me. I will always be attracted to anyone who stands out in the crowd because of the way he looks, he presents himself, his attitude or the way he interacts with me. Besides being unbelievably handsome/sexy/cute he seemed absolutely content in simply meeting with me and not playing games. And was really easy to talk too. So I told him Iets meet that night. But he was at the WE Party and wouldn’t be back in town till 3, 4am or even after. He was eager to meet then but I knew not to hold him to that, as the number of possible things that could interfere with this said plan was infinite. So, I went online to see if there was anyone around that I could go play with to fill in the time to see if I would eventually meet the pup later or not.

I ended up at a guy’s Airbnb and though we had a shaky start due to him taking a little too much G (I think) because he was anxious to meet me, as he was, which I didn’t know at the time or before getting there, a fan of mine. Anyway, he finally settled down and we ended up fucking and it was quite gentle. Slightly nurturing even, I guess because I was conscious of him just being sick and also because there was a slightly effeminate nature to him. Which brings out a gentler side to me, as if I was fucking a girl. Also, I could tell he struggled a little taking my huge cock which kind of turned me on more but also made me ease myself into him, slowly opening him up before allowing myself to drill into him deep and hard. He came and the timing was perfect as the pup had just messaged saying he was heading back to town from the party. I started putting my clothes back on. We had spoken during fucking, so I now knew that he was a fan but what he did next was very unexpected.

As I was putting my shoes on, he knelt down in front of me and started placing a necklace around my neck. I asked him what he was doing? And he explained he came from a place he couldn’t be openly gay but that I had played a part in him accepting who he was even though he had to hide it to those around him, I had played a part in helping him accepting it within himself. He described it as finding his wings to fly free, or some shit like that. On the chain he placed around my neck was one single wing pendant. Of course, I repeatedly asked him if he was sure he wanted to give me his chain and each and every time he was adamant that he wanted me to have it.

It was normally not a piece of jewellery I would wear but I was pretty FKIN moved by what it represented and that he wanted me to have it. I straight away fell in love with what it represented. And this moment that I shared with a complete stranger that I knew I most likely would never see or talk to again. We hadn’t swapped numbers or even exchanged names. (Though he obviously knew my name.) I have always been greatly inspired and moved by the positive effect of what I do or who I am when it has a positive effect on others. I’m not going to say it’s not great to be globally adored and worshipped but 1000 guys telling me how hot I am and how much they would love my cock in them would never compare to a single guy who tells me I inspired him to accept his sexuality or a certain fetish or not be ashamed of being different to the normal stock standard gay stereotype.

If I ever played any kind of part however small or big in some one finding pride in themselves that is FKIN priceless and makes everything I have fought for or tried to represent worth it. It is the greatest inspiration for me to continue being me and doing what I do, and I couldn’t be more pride full. In that one small gesture I was shown what pride meant to me.

Oh… and I did end up meeting that pup and spending an awesome weekend with him.

The other day my mate was HIV shammed. This was made extremely worse cause it was his family which is going to hurt regardless of the facts. But the facts are if someone is HIV shamming you they are ignorant, stupid or vicious. You have nothing to be ashamed about. You might think it is easy for a negative person to say this, but trust me I have been HIV shammed, regardless of my status, constantly since I allowed myself to be judged on a public arena. And though I don’t know what it is like to have HIV I know many people who do and I know all too well what shame feels like. I have been made to feel ashamed of my skin colour, my voice, my dick size (this one seems so stupid now, especially cause it was self caused!) and my sexuality.

Remember NO ONE CAN SHAME YOU UNLESS YOU ARE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF! Life isn’t easy and the truth can be harder. But I believe to truly live is to find your truth, accept it, live it and love it. We are conditioned to feel bad about loving ourselves which is ridiculous and if more people love themselves they wouldn’t be hating on others. So please find love for yourself and STOP SELF SHAMMING!

image was a photograph I made for the Thorne Harbour Health (formerly Victorian AIDS Council) exhibition feat my mate Dingo.

I always get uneasy when I post something quite personal on my social media. Like it’s in bad taste. But in a world where we now communicate via these platforms where do you draw the line of personal or public. Is there a line anymore? When the person I am and the life I live are a character and show I created. But the character and show have actually become who and what I actually am. It’s been the hardest thing some of my friends have had understanding and respecting. It really hurts when your family and friends think you’re a circus show. It’s a constant battle to be who you are and what you want to be. What keeps you “on brand” or has commercial value when your life is for sale. Literally every part of me is on display, as a sex worker there’s no such thing as private. As a social figure there’s no such thing as discreción. So when someone dies and all your love and strength goes out to his family and loved ones left behind. It’s a stark reality that strips away the illusions you usually hide between. When death has been something you’ve had to deal with multiple times unexpectedly and for no reason or lesson learned other than you can’t count on seeing anyone again tomorrow. It makes all this social media superficial BS trivial, and makes you stop and think what and who is important. If you die tomorrow who and what will you be remembered as? A big cock, stinky pits, a spokesman for self love and gay acceptance, a husband, a father, a friendly stranger in a gym who you start a conversation with. Marty was just one of those really decent blokes. I didn’t know him well enough to know his demons or faults, I was closer to his beautiful wife. Who also knows the hurt of loss more than anyone should. So I proclaim my love for her on social media cause that’s what we do these days. I guess Instagram is my therapist. I lost a father a brother a dog and now a mate. Maybe posting this helps me move on cause you know what they say, the show must go on! RIP Marty. ❤️ u Kristy.

I had two opportunities to go back to India and visit the country my parents were born from. The first was when I was 15. My dad was going back for a visit and asked me to go with him. I said no because I wanted to stay home for the summer holiday and had no interest at that time in India, growing up I had no strong affiliations with India even though it was right there in every curry, jalebi, art work, lounge room ornaments. But at the same time I had my cousin’s Iron Maiden posters, my He Man and Transformers, Star Wars and a tornado of western culture that I was swept up in. India was where my parents came from, not me. There are two regrets I have when it comes to my father and this was the first. That I never went with him on this trip. The second opportunity I had was to take his ashes back to where he grew up. At the time we had a family dog Jessie, which if you have been a fan of mine from the beginning, you would have noticed I used to wear a blue dog tag, this was Jessie’s tag that I would wear after he died. Needless to say I was very close to that dog and neither my mum or I wanted to put him in a shelter so when she and my brother went back to India with dad’s ashes I stayed back to look after the dog.

I have yet to visit the birth country of my parents and now being older I am really excited and eager to go to India and travel the country. Even more so now that I know I have such a strong presence there withen the gay and bodybuilding community that support and follow me.

Covid has taken a lot from me and the people I love. Careers, homes, work, money, self worth and purpose. It has replaced those with despair, depression, need, self doubt and worthlessness, substance abuse and mental illness.

If Covid has had any affect on me it is to make me feel the importance of home. Belonging to somewhere. I was living out of a suitcase when Covid struck and because of that I was forced to lockdown with friends and lovers, both of whom I lost due to the un-natural living conditions. I have never felt so unsettled and desperate for a home. A place to call my own. And in turn I can appreciate the importance of where I came from, my history and my family’s history.

Now Covid is raping India without mercy. As I person with Indian blood in me I have to speak out and help these people I donated to the Hope Foundation as it helps people in Kolkata where my family is from. But there are many foundations that you can donate. I have listed two below.

HELP INDIA

Aid India

The Hope Foundation

The pictures I have attached are paintings my father did. He was a copy artist. He could draw ANYTHING! But he would need to copy an existing image or combine existing images. If you know me or the artist you will recognise Frank Frazetta in those paintings. Me, my brother and mum and dads legacy. As for the 2nd regret…