Category Archives: Friends and Inimies

Don’t have enemies. It’s not good for you. So, that’ll be just friends, then.

All the time in the world – and no time at all

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The metro is not full – at least not at the back end of the train.  I look at the people but don’t really see them.  They are not the ‘city types’ that will crowd the train later, with their suits, briefcases and shoes; perfectly styled hair and, because we are in Italy, sporting the latest style of sunglasses – even if the weather is dreadful and gloomy.

No, these are the people who work at more manual labour or in bars or cafés or restaurants.  But neither are they smartly dressed – but then, why would they be.  I, on the other hand, look like I’m just on my way for a night out, which, of course, when I dressed, I was.

It’s only three stops to my home – well, to the nearest metro stop to my home – and then a 10 minute walk to home.  The streets are fairly quiet.  Not as quiet as when I usually take the dogs out, since that’s a little earlier, but, still, quietish.

I ponder, it being so late, do I take the dogs out immediately or do I have coffee and shower first.  It starts to rain but not heavy rain (thank goodness) just that light, misty rain.  We don’t get that so often here, not like the UK.

I arrive home.  They are pleased to see me and I them.  They smell the smells of a strange place and seemingly can’t get enough of it.  Let’s be honest, these jeans spent most of the time on a chair and not with me inside them!

I take them out after preparing the moka for coffee.  I was offered coffee before I left but decided it would be better to come home and sort the dogs out, so, declined.  We do a shorter walk.  I am already late.  Well, I say late.  Of course, I will be in at the time I used to be….which also means that I will leave later.  But, right now, that’s OK.  Later is later and not now and nothing can change the way I feel or the humour I am in.

It had been busy last night.  Many emails to answer.  V wants to borrow the car to pick someone up from the airport.  He was supposed to go to Berlin but decided he couldn’t afford it.  Instead he wants to pick his friend up from the airport.  We arrange that he should call me on Sunday and we shall make arrangements.  He asks after F and explains a little about him and Ig.  He’s not ready for a relationship right now and so it is not going anywhere.  I say he is starting to sound like an Italian.

Of course, that’s not really fair.  Most people are like this.  Not me.  For me too much thinking is involved.  You either have the Karl Spark or not.  If not then there is nothing, if there is then that is all.  Perhaps it is me that is totally at odds with the world?  Perhaps the rest of the world is right and I am wrong?  Still, it will change nothing.

FfI wanted me to call her.  She calls my phone and immediately hangs up.  The signal that I should call her back.  I Skype her.  She answers and says she is upstairs and that I should call her on her mobile.  I say it’s too expensive for me to call her back.  She thought it was a company mobile!  Some people!!  I say, I shall speak to her tomorrow, unless, as partially planned, I go to F’s for the night.

I start a conversation with another friend.  He’s a new friend, from Saturday but I really like him.  We have funny email exchanges.  He makes me laugh. I shall call him NfM.  We converse by email, Facebook and Skype, at one point, all at the same time.  Which makes for interesting discussions.

He wanted to look at my blog.  Given Lola’s comments in the post below, I am slightly nervous about it.  I mention him and think that, perhaps, he won’t fully understand the way this works.  That anything I say here are only my thoughts at the time.  And may not even be all the thoughts but some partial thought, some nuance.  I briefly contemplate that I don’t give it to him but that seems stupid.  If I am frightened of what I say then I shouldn’t be doing this, this blogging.  I give him the link and try to explain (badly) that if he reads something about himself it’s not meant in a bad way.  After all I do like him.  You may ask what the hell am I doing putting it down here if he’s going to read it.  Well, first of all, I doubt that he will (it’s a little bit wordy for him) and secondly it helps to explain the problem that Lola mentioned.

So, he reads some stuff and finds himself mentioned and I feel bad that it doesn’t say wonderful things about him ‘cos I really do like him.

F suddenly arrives home.  He is earlier than I expected.  I thought he would be much later.  I am happy he is home though.  It means he can tidy his place and then he can be ready for tomorrow, when I may go round, if he wants it.

I don’t know this at the time but he reads my emails with the links to songs that I love or ones that explain me or ones that are for him.

We chat over Facebook for a bit.

I’m still chatting with NfM.  F calls.  He asks me what I am dong.  I say that I shall go and take the dogs out and then have a glass of wine.  He asks if I want to come over for a glass of wine there.  I don’t know why he asked.  It is totally unexpected but so what I want to do.  I say yes, I would love to.  He says to give him 10 minutes for a shower and stuff and the place is a mess.  It makes me laugh.  I tell him that I am sure his place will look immaculate to me.  I tell him that I will be about half an hour or so as I need to take the dogs out and have a shower myself – without adding that, obviously, I need to be dressed well, smell good, etc., etc.

It is, in a way, a little unfortunate as the conversation with NfM was good and now I have to blow him off quickly.  I don’t want to do this as, I feel, we are building quite a good rapport but this is life.  I tell NfM that I must go.  The next day he complains that I was rude and didn’t say goodnight.  He’s right.  It makes me feel bad.  Especially as now, he may have the wrong impression of me.  Relationships – a bloody minefield.  I haven’t had time to explain to him yet, for him to know who I am.  Damn.

Still the dogs go out.  It’s fast as it is raining so hard and they don’t like the rain, so they hurry too.  I am hurrying for a different reason.

I am worried – ‘cos that’s the way I am.  I worry that my old problem will come back – tonight.  I don’t know why that is.  But I worry anyway.  It seems that is what I do – worry.  It’s all in my head anyway, I know, but then the problem is in my head, I know that too.  And I worry that the worry of it will cause the problem.  Bah

I take a shower and leave.  It’s a 10 minute walk to the Metro and three stops away.  About 20 minutes in all.  I notice nothing, not even the rain.

I arrive and phone as I go through the gate, following some other people.  I arrive at his door as he opens it.  It is raining so much that I don’t do what I had thought in my head  I walk up the stairs, him following.  At the top of the stairs we stop and kiss.  It’s a needy kiss from both of us.  And long and deep.  He misses me, for which I am happy; I miss him too.

He says, as we sit on the chair with wine, we can be a couple, if you want.  I want to reply that, for me, we already are.  I want to say that, in spite of what he might say, I know that we are in his head too, even if he is scared that I will just disappear like all the rest.  He doesn’t need to worry.  I’m not going anywhere.  Instead I say that I would and that it would make me very happy.

I say that, if we are a couple, he will have to meet my friends.  He tells me that he cannot because it will be too embarrassing.  He will meet them only as a friend of mine.  This is a little ‘lost in translation’.  He really means that he will feel pressurised by this and, therefore, can only handle it if he is introduced as a friend.  Hmmm.  This means I have to explain this to my friends – but I know they will understand.  Even the newer ones have begun to understand me well enough.

I need not have worried about needing the miracles.  I have one but, really, it is not necessary.  Even during the night, I wake up, from time to time, and hug him or stroke him, even for a few moments before drifting back to sleep.  I think I hear him say that he loves me….but in his sleep.  Perhaps this is someone else, or perhaps this is me.  But I think it is me anyway.  It is enough.  We have all the time in the world – and no time at all.  That’s the bit he doesn’t get but I’m working on it.

He needs to feel secure with me, to trust me, to know that if I say something, it is true.

The alarm goes off at 6.30.  I want to hold him and kiss him and hug him.  He gets up because he has to let me out.  He will go back to sleep until 8.  That’s OK.  He needs his sleep and he needs to feel secure that I will not disrupt his routine too much and not treat him like shit and not take advantage of him.  I won’t but he does not actually know that…..yet!

I leave and catch the metro.

We have all the time in the world – and no time at all.

A good afternoon out; Gordon comes back tomorrow – yay!

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A phoned me. Would I like to go out for a spot of lunch and then a walk round some exhibition. Sure, why not?

He also wanted to go to Il Salvegente, either the oldest or one of the oldest outlet stores in Milan. But first, being A, it was lunch. Once again I find myself in the Corso Garibaldi area although, after walking down there we went back to Fabbrica in Viale Pasubio (No2, to be precise), just down from Corso Como.

I like Fabbrica although the one in the Navigli is the best one (for atmosphere and pizzas, in my opinion). However, they’re good pizzas and I was able to tell him all about Gordon. To be honest (and I don’t know why), by the time he came round I felt in such a good mood. Maybe it’s because Gordon is back in Milan tomorrow night and, if I have my way, I shall be picking him up from the airport as I have mentioned.

After the pizza we looked in a shoe shop and, rashly, I bought some (quite nice) shoes for €30. They will do as ordinary going-out shoes and stop me ruining my really good shoes. They may only last for a year but, hey, at €30 I can’t really complain.

Then we went to 10 Corso Como. This is a strange mix of shop, gallery, bookshop and café. A nice atmosphere. We walked round the photo exhibition, which, to be frank, was boring, then round the roof garden which was open and then the bookshop. Then we had a coffee in the café area. It was a lovely day, the sun shining brightly although a tad too cold for me. Still, it’s October, so what can I expect!

Then we went to Il Salvegente. This was a mistake, really. Before, with V, to help curb the expenses, I would rarely, if ever buy anything on trips out like this. First I saw quite a nice top with some nice detail and only €18 – so a bargain. Then I saw a Dolce and Gabbana jacket, light grey, excellent with jeans, for €170 (reduced from €429) and it was just my size and really looked good.

I said to A that we really needed to get out of there as I would only see something else. In fact, I went out today with absolutely no intention of buying anything…….and now I have a pair of shoes, a top and a nice new jacket.

There are times when being without V is really nice. Now I can do what I want without worrying about him spending money we didn’t have. And I end up with some nice things for myself!

Finally, we had a quick coffee and then home. I finished off the web site check and sent off the document for corrections and enhancements and, therefore, feel that I achieved quite a lot today.

And, during our trip, Gordon gave in and is going to let me pick him up from the airport. I am so very happy about that. I will see him again and we shall have a little time alone.

Strange Days Indeed

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The world is a new, brighter, more interesting world. It’s a strange thing. There is this whole new life out there that I have only just begun to explore. There was a song, by the Weather Girls – It’s Raining Men – a great gay anthem when I used to go to clubs in Manchester – and it seems so appropriate.

But, in general, it seems I’ve lost interest. Not in life or work (although, right now, work is NOT the most important thing in my life) but in trawling the sites. The new world exists outside the sites where now, every man I see becomes a potential gay man – and so many are.

But, the loss of interest in the sites worries me. As I was explaining to FfI last night. What if Gordon is not ‘the one’ and I’m making a big mistake? Today, I am meeting Othello. Othello I found through the first site I signed up on. We’re a 70% match, so they say. These sites are full of shit.

OK, I’m shallow, maybe, but crucial to anything happening between me and a guy is how he looks (and there’s still a post in draft waiting to be posted on that one). I know I’ve been spoilt – V was/is, after all, stunningly beautiful – but I can’t go for something less.

Add to this that all I can think about is Gordon, I am less than interested. Gone, out of the window, is the idea that I needed more friends who are gay; that I would have loads of sex before I got far too old – just because I never did that, really and part of me feels that I somehow missed out on all that; and that I need to keep looking for ‘Mr Right’.

But, do I have that wrong? What if Gordon is NOT the one?

So, this, being written later (this post will take 2 days to write, I feel it), I have now met Othello. We meet in the park. Othello is OK. His English is excellent – he lived in London for 5 years. He has a wicked sense of humour – very like mine. We stay in the park until he gets too cold, then go for lunch at my Saturday lunchtime café (Free Time, just off Corso Buenos Aires) which he is really impressed with; and that makes me happy. We see some guy walk past to his table. I say to Othello ‘He’s gay, isn’t he?’ (and by implication, so is the guy he’s sitting with). Othello confirms this. My gaydar seems to be getting better.

We had talked in the park. Well, mostly I did the talking. He said his life wasn’t that interesting but I did get some blood from that stone, so that was good. It seems he has never had a relationship but ‘dated’ men who already had partners. Apart from that, we have much in common, well a sense of humour, anyway.

After lunch, we take the dogs to the nearest dog area and we continue to talk and take the piss (or is it pith?) out of each other. It’s good. He would make a fine friend. And I hope he is….we shall see.

Later, Henry, who has been saying he would come (he lives out of Milan) says he will come again (this would make it about the 5th time he says he is going to come – “going to” being the operative words and “coming” not actually happening – and HE’S the reason that, on that particular day I moaned at Gordon and why Gordon and I are, possibly, maybe, perhaps, something – I do think it is a strange world full of strange coincidences). I do not think he is coming. He arrives. I am really surprised! OK so I had made an effort to make the place a little less untidy – but not really going out of my way!

He only has about 20 minutes before he must go to the party. So all the things he said he wanted to happen are simply not going to happen. But, you know, whilst Gordon and I are not yet something, I was, kind of thinking that, perhaps, maybe, I should take the opportunity….my last chance and all that………….I’m not sure if I turned him on or he was just desperate or that’s the way he is……….in about 10 minutes it was all over for him. I may need a little more time amongst other things. Anyway, he didn’t actually come to see me but was coming to a party, for which he was late. Too rushed for me. Next time, perhaps….unless Gordon becomes ‘the one’ in which case – not ever. Shame really. Cute kid (and when I say kid – I’m talking about over 20 years my junior) and he seems nice…..but, let me see…….someone who’s 40 in a full-time job with a 30-year-old body or someone who’s actually 30 and no real job and not such a body!

Hmmm. Let’s see what happens.

Later still. I am out with friends for a pizza. Again I find they have Ham and Pineapple pizza – which I have. The place is Pizza OK in Piazza 8 Novembre, near my house (i.e Porta Venezia). It’s a new selection. Still the Italians don’t go for it but it is different than the ones we used to have in the UK (and, I guess, the USA would be the same). It’s not cubed ham but slices of fresh boiled ham and not cubed pineapple from a tin but slices of very fresh, very sweet pineapple. Delicious. Oh, yes, and if you like really thin pizza base, then this pizzeria is the best I have found in Milan for that.

During the meal, Gordon phones. He is in the concert of the Diva. He wants me to listen to a song but it’s just noisy and I can’t make it out. He phones later as I walk L home. This time I recognise the song. It’s a song for me. This is sweet and lovely and, given my day, a little scary.

(Diana Ross with Ain’t No Mountain High Enough)

I have said that, if he would like, I will pick him up from the airport on Monday night. He is with one of his colleagues. I said we would take her home and, at least, I would get to spend some time with him and get a kiss or something. We both have early starts on Tuesday so that will be all – but, to me, that is important. He said he would let me know – but I explained that it would get them home faster. I hope he takes me up on it. I really do want to see him.

It’s all very confusing and they are strange days indeed for me.

Some little things?

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I already bought a bottle of white wine.  It is in the fridge – just in case.  Next time I’m at his house, I will check which shower gel he uses, just in case.  There will be other things.

I write an email.  I try to explain the Karl Spark and the fact that, actually, after expressing my doubts yesterday, here, I feel there is that Karl Spark and that I don’t want it to frighten him away.  I compare him to the best chocolate cake in the world, ever.  I know he will understand as this is a simile he has used.

I think he probably won’t get it until he is home.  We text during the day and speak whilst he is on the train, on his way home.  I tell him that, if he didn’t have so much to do, I would meet him from the train.  But I am trying to play it cool.

I go to see A.  It seems weeks since I saw him.  He wants to find out what is going on but, also, to talk about his own shit.  My doubts are all gone now.  At least, for the moment.  The things that worry me are insignificant and nothing to worry about.

I walk back home (the tram will be a long time).  I check my messages on my phone as I walk.  Gordon has sent me an email.  I ask if this is good or bad.  He says he thinks it is good.  I ask if I can phone him when I read it, in about 5 minutes.  He says that he is going to bed but that, of course, I can.

I read the email.  It’s so sweet.  He compares me to a volcano.  I’m not sure I’ve ever been compared to that before?  He explains that he doesn’t want to get hurt, nor cause someone else hurt and so, he needs to be sure of his feelings.  He promises a meeting soon.  A meeting where we can kiss and hug and more.  I know that is true.  The building of trust is important.  And he needs to trust me and so I will make sure he can.

He says he doesn’t write so well (and although his English is good, it must be difficult).  He would prefer to speak to me face-to-face.  Me too.  But I also write.  A lot.

I call him.  I don’t remember what I say – it’s enough (although not enough) to hear his voice.  I cut it short as he is tired.

We text this morning.  Him first (again), which bugs me and makes me happy at the same time.  We will speak later before he flies off to see the Diva on Saturday.  Already I am looking forward to next week.  I don’t know when but am hoping for Tuesday.  Even if it is a school night, I don’t care.

And, just to show you what this all means I am seriously thinking that I should start speaking Italian to him……….it’s my way of being able to show trust and a willingness to ‘fit in’ to his world.  What do you think?

Defence strategies and other things

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I feel I need to explain.  Not to you, dear reader, but to Gordon.  I don’t want to fuck this up but, maybe being out of practice, or maybe because it was ever so, I’m not very good at this dating lark.

When I had Spillaine’s Syndrome, I was in incredible pain and yet I would joke about it, all the time.  When I had my knee operation, and, afterwards, when I shouldn’t really have been in work, I joked about it.

It’s my defence.  It’s the way I cope with something serious.  It’s how I am.  I don’t try and defend it as there is not a lot I can do about it.

But I feel the need to explain it to Gordon because he sends nice text message; I reply with one that is jokey and not serious.  I try to be serious but, always, there has to be a twist, at the end, to lighten it all up.

I know why.  This is a just-in-case-I-have-it-all-wrong thing.  In case it becomes too serious and to try and stop the other person being frightened off.  I tried to tell him on Saturday night/Sunday morning.  I get a bit intense.

He didn’t understand.  I know he didn’t.  But I can stop myself (to some extent) getting intense if I joke about it; lighten it up a bit.

So, this morning I text him asking when I can phone.  I phone him.  He doesn’t really get it (I think) but he says OK.  I hope he understands.  I tell him that I don’t want to fuck it up.  I think he might get that bit.

We shall speak later……..phone calls are difficult for me.  It’s always better face-to-face.

Oh, yes, and I wore my new contact lenses for the first time Saturday.  I wonder if that was what did it.  It’s my eyes, you see.  They are striking, apparently.  Obviously, I’ve had them all my life so, for me they are just my eyes.  But women find them amazing and will tell me.  So I wore the contact lenses on Saturday night to see Gordon.  And then, I didn’t take them out when I went over to FfI on Sunday night (for some take-away pizza and red wine).

She said that I should always wear contact lenses when I go out on the pull (English phrase to mean going out looking for a partner or on a date – just in case it’s not used in the States).  It means, apparently, that my eyes aren’t hidden.

So I show her Gordon’s profile.  I show her Sweet Guy but explain that that is over as I tried 3 times to get some sort of second date and 3 times is enough.  We look at some others that are online.  I explain more things about the gay scene.

We laugh about her emails to the Dream Guy.  Not least when she told him that he had a small member.  It seemed to elicit some response from him.  I couldn’t believe that she had done that in the first place but, a woman scorned….etc., etc.

Sweet Guy had seen that I visited his profile and sends me a message, wishing me a sweet night and golden dreams.  I am confused.  I thought he wasn’t interested.  Just in case I have it wrong with Gordon, I message Sweet Guy asking how he is, etc.

Other people have messaged me as we looked at their profiles.  I’m not really bothered.  I wonder if Gordon is or is not the guy for me (before he texts me) or whether the feeling is mutual.  After he texts me it’s all OK.  I emailed him photos of my dogs on Sunday, after I got home.  He says he loves them.  The text I receive on Sunday night sends love to me, Rufus and Dino.  He may not like them so much when he meets them but that is such a sweet thing to do.  My email to him did say that I don’t think I have emotional baggage but I have these….and we come as a package.  I think he understood.

As opposed to Sweet Guy who has met them and is scared of them!

But Gordon doesn’t drink red wine and doesn’t like heat but prefers it when it is cold.

This is a confused posting.  Sorry guys.  It’s how my mind is right now.

The meaning of X; why do I put myself in these situations?

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When I was a kid, we used to write cards (birthday cards and the like) to grandparents, sisters, brothers, etc.  Always it ended with ‘Lots of love X’.  If you were really generous it would be even more ‘x’s.

I had always assumed, like one does, that everyone did this.  Here, quite often, people end with ‘baci’.

More recently, I have stopped using baci but have been putting ‘x’.  It seems that things are not (and it has taken me about 45 years to find this out) quite as I thought and that not everyone uses an x in place of baci.

Not only don’t they use it but they don’t recognise it!  Who knew?

So last night, on the phone, I was asked why the ‘x’ and was it like a signature or something.  So I explained and, in the process, learnt yet another thing that separates us from the Italians, culturally.

So, catching up with friends, as I was last night.  Telling them of the guys and why I was dropping some of them and why others were working (maybe….early days yet).  Now, I spoke to Best Mate the other night.  Told her about the sweet guy.  She was fine.  Another friend was fine…..one friend was not….

It got me to thinking, this is my problem really.  I put myself in situations that other people find hard to take.  But, and here is where the real problem lies, it is my opinion that it is their problem and not mine.  I don’t do the compromise very well.

And so, should I take up with the sweet guy, then I am sure to lose some friends along the way; people who remain ignorant; people who, because it does not seem to have touched them, still think of HIV as something that is a gay plague and that it is the fault of the person who has it and that it can be transferred just by touching, or something equally preposterous!

That’s a shame because, other than this one thing, they are nice people – but I know that I won’t compromise on it.  And that bit is my problem too.

In the meantime, my date for tomorrow (Gordon) returned to Milan from a weekend away.  He is feeling tired.  Hmmm.  This could be the prelude to bailing out for tomorrow night………shame because I found that I had missed our chats online.  Still, it will all be for the best, whatever.  Also, my piano player from Pavia is saying that Sunday will be difficult.  Hmmm.

Still, I still have Varese on Friday night.  And, tonight, hopefully I will see my friend A who I have not seen for a little while…..which will be nice.

A meeting with V

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We have arranged to meet on Thursday for a pizza.

Last night was the theatre.  Actually it was nowhere near as bad as I thought it might be – only being bad because I thought I would not be able to follow the play at all.  In fact it was well done, although I would have preferred it in English since I didn’t get all the sense of it.  However, I did understand some of the jokes and that was good.

We met first for an aperitivo in the theatre.  Nice food and we talked.  It became clear to me that, although he is a nice guy, he is not for me, in terms of a relationship.  He has too many other people in his life that would take precedence……..and, if I’m going to have a relationship with someone then I want to be No. 1 – not further down the list behind a 9 year-old daughter, an ex ‘love of his life’, etc.

Anyway, he’s not really so attractive even if he is rich.  Rich is not everything – in fact, although it would be very nice, it’s decidedly nothing at all – for me, anyway.  Not all my friends think like this but everyone must choose what is important for them.

Beforehand I had rung the piano-player, who also lives in Pavia.  I was due to be there, rather than writing this from home.  The conversation was all Italian.  But he thinks (as a lot of people seem to) that I can understand it perfectly.  Boh!  Anyway, he has the ‘flu so it was cancelled.

I contacted my sweet guy but he was busy today.  I still can’t get him out of my head.

Later……he is online.  Against his name it has the status of ‘Date’ which should mean he is looking for a date.  I send him a message saying that he should know that I would go on a date with him.

He tells me he is working, which I know.  I reply that, if he would like, we could go to a Tuscan restaurant that I have been told is good, nearby.

He says yes, with a grin.  Maybe, perhaps, this will be good.  He wants to be romanced and seduced and I am good at that.  My problem will be holding back and not pushing it too far.

I am just browsing the people online.  I see one profile.  It is V.  He is lying about his age, shaving over 5 years off his age.  I don’t blame him since everyone is so hung up about the age of the person (including me).  I wouldn’t look at anyone my age…even if they did look good.  After all, I want someone younger and, as I was explaining the other night, the perfect man would be in his early forties with the body of a 30-year-old!

I then see that V has looked at my profile.  So, I think, it would be rude not to send a message.

I say hello and ask him how he is.  He tells me he’s fine and asks how I am.  I say I am good. He asks what I am doing.  Am I browsing.  I say that I was supposed to be in Pavia but it was cancelled and then start my normal complaints about Italian men.  He agrees and say that if they weren’t so good looking they’d all be single.  I say they aren’t all so good looking, etc.  I also mention that an ex-colleague is coming to Milan on such-and-such date and would he like to meet up with him.

He asks if the message was meant for him.  I realise that, perhaps, he doesn’t know who he is talking to.

I give the guy’s last name.

He asks if I am me (if you see what I mean).

I reply that yes, I am me and thought he would recognise the jeans!  (Since there is no face picture).

From there we have quite a funny conversation.  At one point he tells me that he was about to ask me out on a date.  Now that would have been funny.  I tell him that, if he had done that, I would have suggested Thursday.  Then we started talking about domestic stuff……Could I have some sunglasses, he has some cushion covers to give me, etc., etc.

I don’t know why, but it was a really pleasant conversation that we had.  It seemed so much easier over the chat and no pressure or crap.

Of course, I thought that, sooner or late, we would meet up online and I was a little worried.  However, it was very nice in the end.  I wonder too if, at some point, I will meet other people that I know……?

I wonder, if V hadn’t been my partner for all those years and I had found him here now, would I be going out on a date on Thursday as John (my onscreen name)?  Interesting thought, isn’t it?

I forgot to make you ugly

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I forgot to make you ugly

[I wrote this some time ago but didn’t post it for various reasons, not least of which, I was slightly crazy at the time.  However, it’s still true, even if the craziness has all but gone now and, anyway, I like what I wrote.  Enjoy or not, as you will]

I looked it up and it is a number of years ago that we met.  Or, rather, that we didn’t meet.  We both half-tried.  I don’t know why you didn’t push it.  I know why I didn’t.

Then, at that time, I made you ugly.  That was important.  You had to have some ugliness.  You had to have something that was not attractive.

In my state of mind more recently, I had forgotten how it was then.  I had forgotten to make you ugly.  Then, that time ago, I knew the danger and, rather than face it, knowing myself as I do, I avoided it.  If I had have faced it, even making you ugly, it would have been as it was in the end, only worse because of my situation at the time.  But, back then, I wanted it so badly, even if I didn’t know why.

This time I forgot.  I wasn’t thinking straight.  I wasn’t ‘in my right mind’.

Sure, I was a little nervous but only because I had never done this thing before.  But I still forgot to make you ugly.

And then you weren’t as I expected, so for some (very little) time I had to readjust my thinking.

And then, after some days, because of communication problems, I didn’t say what I had planned and, in those few days, I added to what I said and said I loved you.  And saying it made it all come back.  And then I couldn’t make you ugly in any way, even if you had been, which you weren’t.

And some would say that it wasn’t love but something else.  But what do they know?

And, having said the word ‘love’, I think you understood (although I think you knew from the beginning, probably even before me) and then it became stupid and now I wish that I had remembered to make you ugly beforehand and then, maybe, all this wouldn’t have happened as I could have focused on the ugliness that I could find – and I would have found something and I would have made that important and overriding and essential even if there was nothing really (and there was/is none) – and then it would have been alright.  It wouldn’t have stopped us being friends but it would have been enough to stop the word ‘love’ from passing my lips or, even, being in my mind.

Maybe.

And, now I wish I could take the time back and start again and see it for what it really is or, rather, what it really should have been (even if I still desire it to be as I would really want).  But now, maybe, you are scared of what you see , or, at least, disappointed, and that is understandable and I don’t blame you for I think I would be the same.

And, yesterday, I tried to make you ugly.  I called you a bastard and not for the first time.  I came up with a new word – dislove – which is what I tried to do; am trying to do.  Like disassemble, I tried to dislove you.  I thought it had worked or started to work.  Now I’m not so sure but I shall keep on trying to dislove you but I won’t dislike you.

And I’m sorry that I fucked it up, that I was pathetic, that I made you wary, that I made you think that I am mad; for that is not what I want.

And so, I send you this.  I know you will know and I hope that you are true to your word and can be ‘disgustingly understanding’.  I hope you will understand that I really wanted to tell you face-to-face but I lack the courage of a true man and am frightened that the words that will come out of my mouth will not clearly state how it is.  I also fear that you will not permit another visit for fear that this rabid animal will be in control and, therefore, I will not be able to explain, even if I wanted to.

And, so, for something so important, I send you only words, without emotion, without the true explanation in my voice.

I hope, with all my heart, that you can forgive this fool as I cannot.  I hope that you are more grown-up than me, for I am clearly not.  I hope you are disgustingly understanding.  I hope that you will be able to tell me that I am forgiven and that we can ‘start this thing again’ and that, this time round, I am just a little wiser.  It has worked this way before, for me, so I know this is possible.

And, in spite of what you may think about yourself, I may be able to dislove you in time but I don’t think I can ever make you ugly now; if only I had not forgotten.

With love.

The side-effects could be tiring….

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There are side-effects to this dating/sex thing which was not entirely expected by me (although, if I had really thought about it, it would have been obvious).

One thing is that the house must be clean for I don’t know who may be coming round at short notice.  I can make the excuse that the house is a mess once or, maybe, twice – but not always.

So, as a result, I now have cleaners coming in tomorrow to fix the place up.  And then they’re (hopefully) going to come in twice a week to keep it that way.  It should be every day but there’s no way I can afford that.  It’s the dogs, you see.  To keep it really clean, the hoover should come out and the floors then mopped, as I did when I was off when we first had Dino.

So that’s one thing.  The other being that I really need to get my act into gear and get some storage .  I cannot have ‘people’ here with the place looking as if I moved in yesterday.  For me, of course, it’s OK but from an outside eye it’s not!

Anyway, next weekend, I’ve agreed with my mate S, we’ll go and get the table (so, at least I can do dinners) and, maybe, we can call in at an IKEA on the way to look at a wardrobe and some other cupboards.  Then I shall speak to my other mate, A, about using his workmen to get it all fixed up and, maybe a bit of painting and so on.

So, suddenly this thing that I thought was all about how I look (as that’s what attracts people first, whatever anyone may say) and then what my character is like (if we get to the point of a meeting) is now about my whole bloody life and everything about the way I live!

*sigh*

In the meantime, I’m getting quite addicted to the online thing.  Real life stuff starts again tomorrow and really gets going next week, probably.

I need more sleep, for certain.

And it continues…..

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No. of times out and about today – 1
No. of checkouts/flirts made at me – 2
No. of flirts by me in return – 1

The exhibition was, quite frankly almost nothing – and that nothing was crap.  However, I met with lots of friends and had a really nice time.  Martin was there.  He’s nice enough but he is far too camp for me and tends to ‘paw’, which makes me want to move away from him.  However, he introduced me to Robert.

Robert was really nice, a photographer, with, what he called a magazine but was, in fact, more like a book.  He called it ‘serious and boring’ which I found amusing as it was hardly a big sell on his part.

However, I did recognise he was gay, even if he wasn’t camp – greying hair, pretty, probably mid forties.

I flirted with him and he with me.  It was cool.  Nothing happened but, who knows for the future.  Cool job, cool guy.

Dennis has booked some restaurant for tonight; he is sweet and it’s all very touching – at least this is how the dating thing is supposed to go.  My problem is that I feel, somewhat, guilty about the fact that, on my part, this may be going nowhere.  But let’s see what tonight brings.

Gordon, whom I text to ask if Thursday is still on, suggests that it probably is but that, as it’s Fashion Week (one can tell, if only by the amount of bloody traffic and the difficulty with parking), he can’t be certain.  My heart sinks a bit.  I’m kind of fed up with everyone being ‘something’ in fashion – even though I know that being one of the fashion cities of the world and fashion seemingly having a larger ‘gay population’ than most industries, this is almost inevitable.  Still I text him back to say that good things are always worth waiting for, which he obviously likes – but then being charming I can do, when I want.

I don’t want you to get the wrong impression about this whole thing.  I am seriously looking for the ‘Mr Right’ and I know that only by getting out there will I find him.  This all may seem rather cold to you but this is the way I work and the way that I can focus on it all.  However, I suppose it does seem more like I’m looking for a new apartment rather than looking for a human being.  Still, logic and method is me and I can’t change that.  In fact, for me, this is far better than trying to go to some club and much less haphazard.

Oh, yes, and I keep coming across foot-fetish people.  It seems there are a lot of them about………who would have known? :-)