Author Archives: Andy

Governing by ‘The Lynch Mob’ rules

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The olde worlde Wilde Wilde West!  How great that must have been.  Unless, of course, you were either innocent and incorrectly suspected of some foul deed or stitched up by someone.

In those days the lynch mob ruled.

Nowadays we don’t have that, do we?  Of course not, you may say, huffing and puffing as well as saying it.  I mean, the lynch mob would get told or decide amongst themselves that someone was guilty and then go hounding them until they found them and then, well, lynched them.  Nowadays we are much more civilised, aren’t we?

And yet, reading the last few days about this (and, if you read it it’s almost at the end now) reminds me so much of the lynch mob mentality even if the person was guilty of something about 17 years ago.

So, there’s this child who did some really terrible thing when he was 10, so terrible that, in order for him to live a life, any sort of life, when he leaves prison, must take on a secret identity.  But what he has done and the time that he spent in prison would have an effect on the rest of his life forever, let alone having to live with a ‘secret identity’.

Unsurprisingly, in my view, he had a drug habit and, given that he was in prison at 11 or 12, was probably a bit of a hard-nut.  And now he has been taken back to prison for some breach of the conditions.  What shocked me was the daily (almost hourly) call for the public to know why.

The only thing I wonder is……………is this the public who ‘need’ to know or the media who ‘need’ to tell the public.

Either way, this was lynch mob mentality.

And, what worries me more is that now, according to the article I linked to, Jack Straw is considering what else he may tell ‘the public’.

You have just got to be joking, Mr Straw!  Jack Straw should stick to the original script and not say a word.  Those baying for blood should continue their baying.  Does Jack Straw think that, on giving further information, the baying will cease?

To be honest I’m not even sure it was necessary for the public to know that the guy was returned to prison but certainly there is no need to know why.  What purpose would it possibly serve?

Sure, there does need to be checks on the authorities to make sure they are doing their jobs correctly but this ‘baying for blood’ that seems to have invaded our lives is not acceptable.

The Government seem to have lost their way if they really think that bowing to the public (or is it media?) demands is the correct way to govern a country/nation.  I know I’ve said it before but, really, enough!

Going with the flow

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In my head, I am firm and resolute.

F hasn’t been sleeping well and I snore and when it gets too much he has to stop me.  He has tried many things.  If he snores I only have to kiss him for him to stop.  He’s tried that with me but, apparently, that and many other things, don’t work.  He has to wake me.

And I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather.  It’s like ‘flu but I think it’s down to not enough sleep.  From my whole life of going to bed about 10 or 10.30 or, at a push, 11 (since I get up at 5 something), I am now never in bed before 11 and, amongst other side effects, I think it’s making me look older.  Someone likened me to Tommy Lee Jones the other day, so you get what I mean (not that being likened to TLJ is a terrible thing, IMO).

And, so, after Tuesday night I resolved that I would sleep in my own bed.  But when we spoke and he asked if I was coming round I said ‘yes’, of course.  Wednesday, after feeling so grotty most of the day, I told myself that I would definitely sleep in my own bed.  And, I said to myself, whatever he says, say that you want to make sure he sleeps well and you don’t want to wake him or keep him awake.  But, again, as soon as he asked if I was going round the answer that came out was ‘yes’.

Last night we went to see Alice in Wonderland.  After, we are walking back to our area (about 10 minutes).  I didn’t mention anything.  He says that he hopes to sleep better tonight.  I sympathise and say that maybe I should stay at mine tonight.  He says that he can come

No, it’s better that you sleep on your own.

Those are the words that should have come out of my mouth.  Instead, I say “If you’re sure”.

Of course, earlier, he had phoned.  “Be at Arcobaleno [the cinema in Viale Tunisia] at 7.30.  We’re going to see Alice in Wonderland”.  I had, previously decided that, when he phoned or came on line I would tell him that I was going to bed very early tonight.  Of course, when he actually phones, I say “OK, I’ll be there”.

And I don’t regret that.  Nor am I sorry that he spent the night at mine last night and the several times I woke up with him spooning me, all warm and comfortable and nice and reassuring.  OK so I got to bed after 11 but I’m not seeing him tonight (he’s going to the theatre with some friends) and so I think that this will be almost the last night (before he goes away for a whole week) and I need to have him close to me.  It’s my need but I think it’s also his.  I mean, if I was really keeping him awake he wouldn’t come, right?  Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t.  Or, is his need to be with me the same as mine to be with him?  Hmmm.  Maybe.

And the reason we went to Alice In Wonderland was because his colleague got us tickets.  F & I went for a beer first at one of the gay bars (Mono) nearby.  Then met up with his colleague and her husband and son in front of the cinema.  OK, it is a good film but Tim Burton is in danger of getting a bit ‘samey’.  But I need to see it in English as I missed some of the (probably) more subtle bits of the film.  The 3-D effects were good in parts (the smoke, falling leaves, flying things – where they really seemed to be coming out of the screen) but the rest was not really necessary and didn’t really add anything to the film.  I wonder if the cost of making the film in 3-D will outweigh the returns and it will have a short shelf-life?

Anyway, back to the purpose of this post, which is to say that, in spite of my logical, calculating side knowing that I should say no, when I speak to him or am with him, it’s impossible to do anything other than agree to whatever he suggests.  It kinda makes me angry (with myself) but then, again, I think- why not?  After all, we only get the one life and fighting against the tide is pointless when, in reality, you just want to go with the flow :-D

And, it’s not as if he is fighting against it that much either!

I am so fortunate

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“And we have to go to Vienna in April.  To party and for the funeral.”

“If you want to come”, he adds.

It may seem incongruous – party and funeral in the same sentence but I totally understand.  I question only why it is such a long time away.  He doesn’t know.  I try to explain that, perhaps, rather than a funeral it is a memorial service.  He says no but I think this is definitely lost in translation.  Surely you can’t have the funeral over a month after the death?

B had asked before that what we were intending to do for Easter.  Someone else had asked me before that, during the day.  I said, as I had said earlier, that we hadn’t talked about it.

“I might have to go to my parents'”, he says.

As I do, I said “OK”, not asking if I could come but wanting to.  I curb my tongue all the time.  My head say ‘Don’t Assume Anything’ and so I keep silent.

“You can come, if you like”, he adds.  Of course, what I want to say is something like ‘Of course I want to come.  Wild horses nor the devil himself couldn’t keep me from coming’.

“That would be nice”, I actually say, “but what about the dogs?  Can they come too?”.  He thinks about it.  “Yes, they can come too”.  It will be a family trip :-D

Of course, it may not happen.  I know that.  But it’s the thought that’s nice.  And, when I told a colleague this morning, she made the comment that I was going to be ‘introduced’ which, of course, I would be.  Not as his boyfriend or partner but just as his friend.  Just like his ex was, who, I found out when I met S the other week, still sends Christmas cards to them and they still ask after him.  But they don’t ‘know’.  He’s told me why and that’s OK.  I suspect they know but not asking directly means that nothing is confirmed and everyone lives in their cosy world without the need to ‘know’ everything.  Hey, this is his family and how he handles it is up to him just as how I handle mine is up to me.

“Was it love at first sight?”, B had asked, earlier still.  No, it wasn’t ‘love’.  He said that it wasn’t for him.  I didn’t think it was but when B had been asking about how we got together, it became a bit of a blur and I could only remember certain things.  And, so, I’m reading over the posts I wrote at that time.  This blogging thing is really useful :-D.

And, no, it wasn’t ‘love’ at first sight.  But it was something.  I had forgotten that he didn’t kiss other guys, generally, he had said, and certainly not on the first date.  And, yet, he had come over to me and kissed me.  He said, last night, that it was after several glasses of wine.  Well, a couple maybe.  But there must have been something, even for him.  I know I was confused as to how I felt (having read my entries) but it quickly developed into knowing the something; of having the Karl Spark.

He is sweet and I adore him.  I had texted him with B & my last minute plans for a meal and asked if he could come.  I said I would understand if he couldn’t.  He phoned me and we were already in the restaurant and on our starter.  He said he had just finished work and was tired.  I said that I understood and it was no problem but it would be nice if he could come.  He said he would come.

I know that he did it for me and for him.  For me because he knows how important B is to me and how I always am ready to meet the people he wants me to meet and also for him because I have spoken of B often and he wants to meet my friends.  He wants to see N&S before they leave too.  As soon as he finishes his trips (next week and the week after), perhaps?

And, yes, it curtailed our (B and my) conversation a bit.  But I did so want them to meet.

And then he came back to mine  He went to bed and was asleep before I got to bed, as he hasn’t slept well in the last couple of nights.  He got up late (10.30) but at least he slept a bit last night even if he did wake up in the night.  I woke up at 4 because my alarm went off.  Actually, it didn’t go off, messages came through and I had forgotten to change the phone to phone only.  And so, partly because of that and partly because the phone light was flashing, warning me that it was on a very low battery, and I always worry about not being woken up by the alarm, I found it difficult to return to sleep and, instead, I watched him and listened to his snoring and loved him even if, because he was too hot and so was I, we didn’t touch.  So, because of the snoring, I knew he slept some.

And, this morning, as I left him, he was asleep again, and I kissed him on his forehead and, unusually, he didn’t wake and, instead, we chatted through Facebook when he got up.

And I said that B had said he was lovely and asked about us going to Rome and he was all for it (in the same way that he was all for going to Pallanza) and I said that we would go after Carrara and Vienna and he said OK, that would be good.

And, reading back on my blog entries I realise that, although maybe not love at first sight, it was certainly something and almost at first sight and I realise again that I am so fortunate to have found him.

Explanation not required nor desired?

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Well, what was I supposed to do?

He was complaining about last night.  I didn’t give him the support.  WTF?  I mean, I couldn’t hug him (his shoulder was so bad and he wouldn’t let me hug him), I couldn’t really say anything (what is there to say with news like he had).  What the hell did he want?

“But you had a bad shoulder”, I replied.  “How the hell could I comfort you?”, I asked.

He hadn’t phoned me because he had been annoyed with me.  But, really.  There was nothing I could do.

Of course, after a little while I had started to get a bit worried.

“And, anyway, I can’t see into your brain; can’t know what you’re thinking”.  It almost sounded like whining.  I kicked myself but I wasn’t going to give in on this one.  He wants support (which I’ve been doing) and then, when I don’t do something that he thinks I should, he complains.  I mean, we haven’t been together that long that I can just work everything out.

It’s more like being with a woman!

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Actually, of course, almost none of that happened.  It just went through my head.  Soon after it went through my head, I did what I usually do which is worry about him and be concerned about how he was feeling whilst resisting the almost unbelievable urge to call him.

Then he texted and I was sooooooo relieved that we didn’t have any of that conversation at all.  And he wasn’t angry with me.  And he didn’t think that I didn’t support him.  And I hadn’t done anything ‘wrong’ nor misunderstood anything.

All was well, apart from his shoulder and the fact that he had had no sleep.  We slept apart last night.  He explained that, if he stayed awake like the night before, he might want to put the television on or go and sit at the computer and he wouldn’t be able to do that if I were there because I ‘need your rest as you have to get up so early’.  He thinks about me too and considers my needs.

As I say often (to him), there’s no need to explain.  I usually add that there’s no need to say sorry, either.

But, of course, there is.  But it’s just for confirmation, of course.  And to stop the things in my head becoming real – to stop me giving voice to them.  So, my biggest problem here is myself.

I have no words.

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It’s the way of things.

You miss, most, those things when they are irretrievable; when they are lost forever.

I say ‘those things’ but I also mean ‘those people’.

Worse, still, is when those people disappear from our lives unexpectedly, without warning, without the chance to say goodbye.  And, yet worse, is when those people take their own lives.

I don’t know about you but haven’t we all had moments in our lives when, for a brief few minutes or hours or days, it seemed that the solution to it all, all the problems and the hurt and the terribleness of life, the solution seemed to be to end this life; to not be?

The first funeral I remember attending was for St.  St was 21 or so and had been with D for a couple of years and we (M & I) were close friends with them.  We didn’t understand why.  Well, I say that.  In fact, unknown to me at the time, M had spoken to him that very day but I only found out about that later.

St got in the car with their dog in the garage and used a hose from the exhaust.

Later (but much later) D explained that the worst time was, actually, some time after the funeral when people stopped calling, stopped coming, stopped including him.

But still, I couldn’t quite grasp why St had done this.  I think M had a better idea but if he did, I don’t believe he ever told me.  I don’t know that D ever really knew or understood.

I wonder still, having never quite been there, how everything can look so bad that ending it all seems the only way out?  I see, this morning, the lady tramp, who sleeps on the benches where I take the dogs.  She, if anyone can, has reason to think that life is not really worth living.  And yet she is still there.  So why doesn’t she think that life is over and yet St felt that he couldn’t go on?

But we can never see inside someone else’s head, can we?  And we can never be that person or, even, put ourselves in their shoes.  Not really.

And you may wonder why I write this post.  Not enough that a very dear friend from the past did this nor that a very dear friend from the present attempted this but, last night, a dear friend of F succeeded in ending his life.

I had no words.  I didn’t know the guy but F had spoken of him a few times and he was a close friend.  He had texted him that very morning.  They called each other ‘sister’ and that was the word that he texted.  I couldn’t really give F the comfort he wanted or needed, not least because his shoulder was so bad I couldn’t hug him and hold him close.  He stayed awake all night.  I’m not sure that was all about the shoulder.

And it led me to thinking about a dear friend who may not have been here now – but is and for that I am grateful.

Someone said to F that G (the guy that committed suicide yesterday) was courageous (he jumped out of a 6th floor window).  And I see her point although there is also a selfishness about committing suicide and, unfortunately, a cowardice about it too.  Of course, the selfishness and cowardice are for the living to bear and not the dead.

But bear it we must.  And there was a song that some of you may remember.  But the title is not true, at least not for those left behind.

But last night made me think of St, all that time ago and the other dear, dear friend who is still with us and how things might be different (in both cases). And I want to scream at them that suicide is not painless. Not for those left behind and there is always someone left behind.

And, through all the thoughts my stomach churns for it makes me scared.  Of what, I am not sure.  Perhaps the recent incident with my dear, dear friend makes me realise how close it was and how it could have been and I wonder how I would be about it.  And it brings me close to tears.  Tears for St, tears for G (even if I didn’t know him), tears for D, tears for F (who has the last text) and tears for my dear, dear friend.

Tears because it is so hard to understand how anything could possibly be so bad that ending your life seems the solution and more for the people left behind, who will never quite comprehend what has been done.

And so I text my dear, dear friend as I don’t want the last text to be a single word.

I will stop this post now.  As I said to F, last night, I have no words………..

A boring post about work

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There’s no doubt, I am good at my job.  The problem is always the other people.

Last week was a little wearing.  First we had an audit by a new customer.  It was important in that, without getting ‘sign off’ from the auditor, we could not supply the goods.  On the other hand, without us and the parts we will be supplying, the customer is, to put it mildly, fucked.

For some reason, that escaped me, our MD (who now, according to the latest and greatest organisation chart is, in fact, our CEO whilst our previously designated Technical Director is now the MD) seemed more like a headless chicken than the cobra (as designated by one of my colleagues).  I would say headless cobra except, probably, for everyone else in the organisation, she still has the ‘bite’ associated with the cobra and, therefore couldn’t possibly be headless and, anyway, a snake without a head hardly runs around like a headless chicken does.

I have no idea why she seemed so nervous about the auditor being there.  OK, so we may not be perfect but we do have things in place, more or less and, gradually, eventually, we are getting there.

Still, it is tiring having to be pleasant to someone with the personality of a slug as, I’m afraid to say, most auditors are, in my experience.  I suppose it has something to do with the job they do.  I guess I am more of an ‘overview’ person rather than a ‘detail’ person.  Once I have the overview, I’m happy, the details just bore the hell out of me.

Tiring further was the meeting we had following that, with another customer.  This customer was accompanied by their customer and by their customer’s customer (the ‘ultimate’ customer, sort of).

They had wanted an audit.  For various reasons we were unable to comply with their request and I made it clear that they were not going to be able to audit.  It would be a general commercial meeting with the focus on our documentation and our processes, so that they (the ultimate customer) better understood that we were not some cowboy outfit as they may have been led to believe.

And, why on earth would they have come to the conclusion that we would be a cowboy outfit, you may well ask?

The problem was that, our customer, in order to safeguard themselves, as people are wont to do, blamed us for many of the problems with the equipment that they were providing; blaming our equipment for the problems.

And so, the ultimate customer and their supplier must have thought we were, to put it mildly again, crap.

It was important, therefore, to present a company that was on the ball, fully up to speed with everything and with processes that were top notch.  I knew that we had certain failings and, therefore, needed to be careful how we presented the company and the personnel we used to do this.  We needed people present who could be relied upon and who could show the company in the best light.  Also, as it was not going to be an audit (and I didn’t want it to become one) I wanted to keep Quality out of it a much as possible.

And so I picked the best people to be with the customer.  Apart from briefly, this did not include Production people.  So there was me (I’m good with the schmooze) and three Engineers – all of whom give a good account of themselves and have the skills and knowledge to present things in the right way.  They also speak the best English, which is important for not ending up misleading the customer or causing confusion with them.

The whole day went so well.  The ultimate customer was really impressed with our facilities, with the people I chose to have in the meeting, with our production and test facilities, etc.

The problem came afterwards.  Unfortunately, not everyone fully understood what we (I) were trying to do.  Firstly, during the time the customers were there, whilst we were on the shop floor, our Engineering Manager (apparently) blasted some of the people who, by rights, should have been there.  But he shouldn’t have ‘cos they hadn’t been asked and, to be honest, wouldn’t have helped my (our) cause.

Worse still, the Production Manager, the next day, came to the Engineering Office and started being all big-headed about how everything had been good the day before.  BIG MISTAKE.  I hadn’t included the Production Manager, not only for the fact that he doesn’t speak English so well.  And I had had some Production people involved, briefly, but when we went to the shop floor, for me, it would have been far better if there had been no one from Production or Quality around.  Probably we should have visited it at lunchtime when no one from that area was there at all!

Of course, the guy who does the assembly had to be there but he speaks no English and had to be there because I needed him to do things when the customers wanted to see things.  If it weren’t for that I wouldn’t have had him there either.

But not everyone sees what I do and now the CEO has asked me to explain it all to engineering because they are angry with Production and other areas for not pulling their weight.  Of course, the Engineers have a good point.  But to have done anything else would have been a potential disaster or, at least, certainly not made it as good as it was.

And it is difficult because my job relies on the fact that I have a reasonable relationship with everyone and I don’t want to piss off Engineering nor Production nor anyone else.  But at the end of it all, people have different strengths and, I’m afraid, Production don’t have the strengths to be in front of the customer, it’s as simple as that whereas Engineering (well, most of them and certainly the ones I chose) do.

Just like when you have visitors to your house and show them round, you don’t show them the cupboard under the stairs for a really good reason.

Of course, the problem is also that, in my opinion, the CEO doesn’t really value the Engineers quite as highly as I think they should be valued.  But I’m not the CEO so I can’t do much about that.

Sorry for the boring post but I was, partly, trying to decide how I go about trying to smooth things over with Engineering as I have been asked to do that by the CEO (who also doesn’t really understand what I do either!!!!!).

Adrift

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I’m not sure how I feel.  I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to feel.  My head tells me I shouldn’t feel anything but my heart is beating fast, almost as if I’m scared.

I don’t feel sad or that I’ve missed something.  I don’t feel angry or unhappy.  Nor do I feel happy.  And, somehow, at some time, that’s how I thought I would feel – not this ‘nothingness’ with a beating heart.

I read the stuff again to make sure I understood.  Yes, I cannot be wrong.  So much stuff on the internet these days but still cannot find anything about the actual event.  But then it goes and makes me look for other things.  Most things are just confirmation of things I already knew.  A few photos, a few discussions.

And still I can’t get this thing out of my head.  Why?

And then I think about the date.  No, it’s all wrong, somehow.  I mean, 2003.  I was still in the UK.  Not only in the UK but also still at the original address – the one she knew.  No.  I must have made a mistake.  A different anniversary then?  Ah yes, she was going for a walk.  And, at that time, I seem to remember, the talk of new knees.  Perhaps that’s the one she talks about?  Perhaps it was her AND him, celebrating the 7th anniversary of him being able to walk again?  That’s why the walk and why it’s worth the post.

And, yet, there was the comment about “he would be so proud of you”.  Surely you only say that of someone who’s gone?  Otherwise you’d say ‘he must be so proud of you’ or something similar.  But, perhaps there is a mixture here.  The walking being different from the dying.  The anniversary being the walking; the dying taking place at some other time.

But it tires me.  It’s boring crap and, after an initial interest, the whole thing starts to become pathetic.  I mean that I become pathetic to me.

And then, I wonder, should I make contact now?  What would it take?  And, anyway, she’s already in New Zealand or Australia or something.  With ‘her Ruthie’ on their yacht or her yacht or something.

But then that exposes me again and I don’t want to be exposed.  The rest of them come too.  It comes with a package (and a price) and the package I don’t want to open (and the price I don’t want to pay).  And, it’s strange really because only a day or so ago I found myself thinking about being adrift and that I was adrift and had almost always been adrift and, most of the time, I like being adrift and not anchored but that sometimes, for those brief moments, when being adrift seems less exciting but rather more scary, that’s the time that you have families for.

And I don’t have that.  And now, after V, I have less of even the little bit I thought I had.

And, maybe that’s why my heart raced when I read (and, probably, misunderstood) the thing on the screen.

It’s a very good feeling

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No, I was wrong.  This wasn’t Bunch but, most definitely Brunch.

Her husband (I presume) was from American stock and so there was bacon, scrambled eggs (with, because the husband was American, Heinz Tomato Sauce) and pancakes with maple syrup.  She also baked – blueberry muffins, carrot cake that was almost like ginger cake, a fruit cake (that reminded me of my mother’s rock cake) and raspberry jam tart!  Mmmmmm!  Delicious.

Most of the conversation was in Italian but it wasn’t too bad.  As I’ve recently said to Man of Roma in the post On Being British, my understanding of Italian improves.  The hostess was particularly kind when she found out that I didn’t understand perfectly saying that the few words I had spoken were perfectly pronounced and so she thought I spoke Italian.  It made me smile.

As did F, who, when we are together, doesn’t show affection so often but when we are out, touches me more (rubs my knee, strokes my leg, holds my hand, kisses me (although not today)) and in such a way that it is genuinely affectionate.  I know he loves me.

I was introduced as his findanzata.  I like that.

I watched him during the conversations.  He has such a way about him, such style, such a good conversationist, so friendly, so instantly likeable.  I got the small pastries that we were taking and went round to his flat before we went for brunch.  He was getting dressed.  At that stage he wore a white shirt and underpants.  So very sexy.

We walked back to his house with his colleague who had also been at the brunch.  I followed behind them sometimes, when the pavement was too narrow for three abreast, and noticed the back of his neck or, rather, the nape where his hair fanned out (though it is short) almost like an upside down peacock’s tail.  So sweet.  And I wanted to kiss it there and then.

But that’s for later when he comes round.  Now I should be making the bed, washing up the few things, putting the house in order.  His idea to come round.  He misses the babies (the dogs to you and I).  Especially Dino who loves him, probably, only slightly less than he loves Dino.

Yep, I like being his findanzata.  It’s a very good feeling.

Brunch or Bunch

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I was chatting with a colleague who was complaining about the cost of Brunch at this particular place in Milan.

The problem, we worked out, was that Italians have taken the word ‘Brunch’ and applied it (and an increased price) to a meal that can only be described as a buffet lunch rather than a (very) late breakfast, which was what Brunch devolved from.

F had told me, last week, that he was going to brunch with his landlady. It will be an all-Italian affair and, therefore, best described as a buffet lunch or Bunch. He told me that this Bunch would be Sunday (tomorrow).

Then, a few days later, he asked me to come. I’m not entirely sure why. I hesitate to say it’s because he wants me there but it does seem like that. I am going as his friend or findanzato – I’m not sure which. But I’m going anyway – and pleased to go because, in spite of my hesitation, I think it is because he wants me there; he wants us to do things together. It’s just that he doesn’t explain that very well.

It’s like now, as I write this. He had a headache earlier and went to bed. He rang because, although he feels better, he still feels a bit rotten. I don’t know whether he wants me there or not. So I said I would come round – if he would like. Eventually he said that he would like and so, when I’ve finished this, I will have a shower and go round, returning to do the dogs later.

And then we shall stay at his place. We went to IKEA this morning and he was looking for pillows as we need to be higher to watch the television. As he was buying some special pillows he asked me if this was what I wanted – ‘because one of them is mine and the other is yours’.

But, in spite of all the signals he gives, I remain unsure and, as a result, don’t push. In fact, I rather ‘hold back’. I don’t know. Is it right or should I be more forceful with what I want? Am I just being a pushover? And will that turn him away?

Ah well, tomorrow is brunch (or bunch). Either way, we shall be together and, whatever the signals, I like it a lot that we’re together.

The same thing with the right person

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To be honest, I’m just a little apprehensive.

I knew it was coming, I just expected a little more notice.  And it’s not as if it’s anything to worry about, really.  But, you know…….?

F phones.  He is at Liù, near my flat.  He’s not IN Liù since it’s only 6.30 p.m. and I know they don’t open until 7.30.  He’s there because he has to get some stuff.  He needs a cable for the TV so that it can be moved to the correct place in the bedroom.

“Would you like to go for a pizza later?”, he asks me.  “We can go to Liù”

“Sure”, I reply.  He’s going to phone me later.

He does.

“We’re going to Basillico”, he states, “for 8.30.  We’re meeting S”.

He uses the nickname so it takes me a moment to understand what he means.  “Is that OK?”, he adds, maybe misunderstanding my initial silence.

“Sure but are you sure you want me to come?” I ask him.

Now, you should know that this is only me being polite.  S and F haven’t met up since S got back into town.  And, I’m not really jealous but there’s something.  I mean, he was with S for 11 years and, you know, maybe with S coming back, F thinks there may be a ‘getting back together’.  I don’t really think so but…….

And, I think, perhaps it would be better for them to have an evening together, catching up on old times or stuff like that and I would just be in the way.  Anyway, S’s boyfriend is still in the States.  It will be weird with me being there but S not being able to bring his boyfriend too.

Of course, the question, just like the thoughts are all crap.  What I want is that F would not possibly meet S without me being there.  But one can’t actually say that, right?

But there is also the thing that I am not S.  I am not as good as S.  That my not being good enough will become obvious to F when he sees us together.  Still, I want him to say that he wants me there too.

And he does.  He calls a little later to say he is having an aperitivo at Bar Basso, which is in the same piazza.  I have just come out of the shower.  I can’t meet S without making the best of myself, obviously.  I expect him to be somewhat glamorous.

I say I will be another 10 minutes.  As I am leaving he calls to say he will meet me at the pizzeria.  I walk up.

I see them.  S with his back to me, talking to F.

We meet.  He shakes my hand.  I shake his and we kiss on both cheeks, as one does, instigated by me.  Why not, I think to myself?  He is the same height as F.  Thin but not as thin as I thought.  An old-fashioned haircut, a short beard, not over-fashionable nor quirky as he might be, being a designer and all.

We sit in the restaurant.  Afterwards I think about how strangely F acted.  Like he was over-excited.  It strikes me that he was excited about introducing me to S.  I think that either he so wanted S to meet me or that he wanted to show S that he had someone else.  I thought the former last night and the latter this morning – so, obviously, I have no idea.

He and S always spoke Italian to each other in the past, F not speaking any English when they first met but, several times when S spoke Italian last night he asked him to speak English.  He finds it difficult to understand S so well, what with his heavier Mancunian accent.

Anyway, I liked him.  S, that is.  He’s not me and I am not him.  We are very different.  He asked a lot about me and I asked a lot about him.  He told me that when I meet F’s family I will like them.  He asked how long we had been together.  F replied that it was four months to which I added that it wasn’t so long.  However, S seemed to think that it was and seemed genuinely pleased that F had ‘found’ someone – as did F.

At the end he said that it was really nice to meet me after all the good things he had heard about me.  And since he would only have heard those things from F, it made me smile as perhaps this IS the real thing?  Apparently he texted F afterwards to say I was simpatico – our equivalent of nice, I think.

I don’t know, really.  Should I feel jealous (or whatever this is)?  Do I, in fact, feel jealous?  I’m not even sure about that.  Whatever I feel, I feel less now that I’ve met him.  He’s more ‘gay’ than F, for certain and more ‘gay’ than me too, for that matter.  I think that’s what F likes about me and it’s certainly one of the things I like about him.

And, after all, F said that we’re all looking for the same thing really.  The same thing with the ‘right person’, of course.