CLIFF JOANNOU
My not quite Sex & The City life
PICTURE IT: Soho House, London, the summer of 2010. My friend was DJing. My besties sipped cosmopolitans. They were more innocent times when us gays had a thing for imagining we were all Samantha from Sex & The City.
Across a crowded room I locked eyes with one of the most handsome men I had ever seen: radiant green eyes, dark hair and an understated style. You could see the outline of an athletic toned physique, taut beneath his shirt. He was a vision of good taste in a sea of tasteless Energie vests.
We smiled at each other, looking away when our eyes engaged for too long. We caught each other looking again seconds later. Soon, the playful situation had us smiling, then laughing. The conversation was effortless. Usually, I’m a naff mess when it comes to hot guys, but the banter bounced between us. I felt so at ease. Former model turned dentist “Chris” was the perfect eligible bachelor.