(Column: The Pink Tongue, May 2008) Me and the gay men in my life, we have a lot in common. We sing along to 80s power ballads. We can identify the colour taupe. We don’t think it’s ridiculous to spend R280 on a bottle of shampoo. We have fraught relationships with our mothers. We like beautiful men. Most of the time, the rules are clear (“You be George Michael, I’ll be Aretha Franklin,” he says as the cheesy keyboard intro...

(Column: SL magazine, June 2003) I need new Nikes. I mean, the last time I bought sneakers was three years ago. Cute little soccer-style Converse takkies. But a few climbing walls, several seasons and a puppy later… I need new Nikes. But unfortunately this month I needed to fix my car and buy a heater more. Okay, so maybe I don’t need new Nikes. I want new Nikes. Nikes would be nice. But how am I going to get them? Have you heard about...

(Column: Men’s Health, June 2001) ‘Wha’ choo do-in?’ my housemate’s three-year-old sister sing-songed. ‘I’m taking this paint off the drawers and then I’m going to paint them again.’ ‘You can’t do that,’ she said with the dumb bluntness reserved for toddlers and Mark Gilman. ‘Why?’ ‘Because you’re a girl.’ Strange child. My gender had never come into the question as to whether I could do DIY. My mother...