Mr Gay Hong Kong is my drug of choice. It's a pill that sends me on an exhilarating rollercoaster of peaks and dips. It doesn't last mere hours; months.
The first big hit comes from every candidate that submits an application. It's an unrivalled high - an affirmation that the title has value, after all. Hong Kong is a tough pageant market. Even competitions for girls like Ms Hong Kong, with the lure of a TVB contract for the winner, sometimes needs to scrape the bottom of the proverbial barrel during off years. Multiply that twentyfold, and you get how difficult it is to recruit worthy candidates for Mr Gay Hong Kong who might have even a whit of a chance at Mr Gay World.
The second hit creeps upon me as candidates arrive one by one for the official pictorial. This is it. It's happening, now. And the photos - they are beautiful.
The third hit is a powerful wallop. It is not discreet. It is immediate and loud. It is an explosion of images and colours and words. Covers. Pages. Column inches. Blogs. It's the media circus.
The final hit is the Grand Finale, of course - a delicious caress of feathers and velvet and world peace. Finally, you've felt it all.
Excitement.
Emancipation.
Exhaustion.
But, really.
It's only just begun.
With Affection,
James
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