An honest look at parents, dating, gay conversion schools and a dad who insists on setting you up with the oriental waitresses at Chinese restaurants even though he knows you have an inclination.

When coming out to parents, most people set themselves up in the emergency brace position in anticipation that anything could happen. My family, being obsessed with Christianity had me skipping that phase and jumping directly to breathing through the emergency oxygen mask that had already dropped from the ceiling. When I told my Dad I was gay he kind of flipped out and he asked me not to go out to any gay clubs at least until we could discuss my sexuality further.

Despite Dad's request and without telling him, I went out with this guy who was definitely not the inconspicuous type I guess my parents were hoping I would socialize with while they took their time adapting and "talking" about my sexuality. In fact my first boyfriend was only one step away from riding on the top of a bus in drag through a dessert. That night I had arranged to meet him at the train station where he rocked up wearing bright green leggings, a tight, hot-pink top and, despite the fact it was night, a huge pair of sunglasses that took up half his head. Despite being genuinely amazed that his neck could support the weight of those ridiculously huge sunnies and wondering if he was perhaps planning on welding something later that night, I really liked him, so we hit the Perth club scene and partied the night away.

The next day I got home in the PM hours and Dad was waiting for me. He was seated at the head of the table. He had a photo in his fingers and he said to me, "I thought I asked you not to go out gay clubbing". I delicately explained that he would have to take his own time dealing with my sexuality but that I didn’t want to put my life on hold while he did. He then announced that by his arrangements I had been followed by a private detective and he showed me a photo of my new little friend and me that must have been taken in the night club the night before. I was very angry and mouthed off a mountain of expletives - although... it was nice to have a photo of the night without having to pay one of those annoying flower guys to take it.

In reflection I actually feel sorry for the detective. What a crap assignment - following a gay boy! Imagine the look on his face when he rocked up to work to get his next assignment. All the detectives in the queue in front of him could have been getting exciting jobs following gangsters for the federal police or following rich mens' wives in the hope of unearthing some scandalous affair; he gets to the assignments desk, "We’ve got one question for you Johnny. Can you dance?"

I would have loved to have known he was there, and watched the situation from a third person point of view. I mean, I have so many questions. Did he dress gay to fit in? Did he act gay? And if he did dress gay did he overdo it? Like, did he rock up in overalls with the arse cheeks cut out and a feather boa? Or did he just stay himself? While I was in the middle of the dance floor screaming, "Pay me attention! I’m single and topless!" was he under the bar burrowing into the floor in the hope that he’d find some sort of Being John Malkovich portal into another life?

Basically I had a strange man following me around in a gay club all night, asking random people questions about me and taking photos of me. In the gay world, that's what you call a relationship. I could probably pursue him for alimony.

As for the detective and what he’s doing now, I'd like to think he had such a great time gay clubbing that he's since turned gay and was last seen on a parade float at Mardi Gras with a tight, hot-pink T-shirt saying "Private Dick"!

If you're out there Mr Detective, please find me. We need to talk. I would give you my number but given your profession I think you should be able to find me. Here's a clue: Try under "Men" in the phone book.

For Menchetti of course…