So, this post may be a little shocking for some of you, in which case, please don’t read it – but this is the ‘gay scene’ and it is, shall we say, lacking in some morals. I know, this will probably go to confirm that we are all bad people – but, and this is my opinion, if you (that is the general populace) hadn’t made it all illegal for so long, I really believe it wouldn’t be like this………
Just to be clear. The ‘Karl Spark’ as I shall call it is something that I expect.
But, I worry that it won’t happen again. It happened recently, true, but I’m not so sure it happens so often. I worry that it will never happen again. I wonder if I should just take what I can get because, after all, my age is against me.
But I want the Karl Spark. To me, it’s almost like breathing. Without that, there seems no point in it all. Maybe, not everyone gets that? Maybe, it’s just me that can almost sense the crackle and lightening spark the moment that you touch or are touched by the person. It send shivers down my spine and sends my brain to mush but it’s a great feeling and for me, in my mind, it bodes well (in general) as it can lead to 20 years worth of fun, laughter and good times.
So, what to do. Accept what I can get or wait for the Karl Spark again? Decisions, always bloody decisions.
The other thing is the age thing. M was older than me. V, 8 years younger. I’m afraid, that with very few exceptions, I don’t find older men attractive. I think I should modify my criteria so that they’re all under 48 (and even that’s pushing it a bit). The problem is that I also want friends and for that I have no problem with them being a bit older; in fact, I would welcome it.
So, what I need, right now, is someone that is probably around 40 (give or take 5 years), has a great body and personality, is not too fat or too muscular and has the Karl Spark
Perhaps, just perhaps, I’m asking too much?
Someone should really do a film with that title.
Anyway, wrote a piece and then found I couldn’t post it as the website database was down.
So won’t say any more right now but will, hopefully, post tomorrow.
In the meantime, tall, dark and handsome. It’s true, he was all of these things.
And, that makes me feel good, thank you.
So, here goes. Tonight will be my first ‘live meeting’ with someone, whom I shall call Dennis. Dennis is a few years younger than V and looks quite cute in the photos he has put up. He speaks English (not brilliantly but serviceable). He seems quite up for this.
I have a couple of concerns which make me a little hesitant. He doesn’t smoke or drink, both of which I do in abundance (as you will know) and he likes ‘healthy living’ which, for me, means not having or doing many things that I find enjoyable.
Still, he knows this and still wants to meet me (quite badly, it seems). Also, as we have been chatting by email, something bad happened in April – I am intrigued as to what that may be but I’m guessing a break-up. We shall see.
Nicholas, the other guy from the same site, seems more hesitant to meet, which is fine. We can continue this email stuff for as long as he wants. His English is not so good but, suddenly, it seemed to improve. Then he sent an email where he had copied someone in his company (not a blind copy). So obviously, this other guy is helping him out with his English. I found it very amusing and have wanted to respond with a ‘Hi to Gianluca’ but fear that it may be taken the wrong way so, so far, I’ve resisted.
Then there is Fred. Fred and I chatted on the live chat facility for a bit. He doesn’t really speak English at all and he lives over near Venice. I mean to say, for the right man obviously distance is not a problem. Hell, I could always go back to English teaching if I had to move. He was very keen for me to come over for a weekend but I’m thinking a day, to start with, would be enough. Luckily, I have Rufus to ‘blame’ for not being able to go over for the weekend as I really don’t want to put him in kennels. However, I’m thinking, maybe, a day trip to Venice next Sunday would be a nice day out…..
I’ve also had to sign up to a different site – but I’m doing it just for the month as they had a special offer. This site is a little different in that it tries to match you according to your personality, as taking a personality test is the requirement to sign up in the first pace.
I’m not a great believer in this stuff but, today, one guy ‘released his photos’ to me and, in order for me to see them, I had to sign up. So I did. He’s about the same age as V but looks much younger. Maybe a little camp for me. Ah well, that’s a long way ahead anyway.
We shall see what tonight brings……………..
My plan was that I was going to document my testing of the online dating thing. This was all well and good but that was based on the fact that I wasn’t looking for ‘just sex’.
However, last night, after several emails and a phone call, ‘just sex’ might be on the cards – this, rather cute, guy has a particular fetish which, although I am aware of it, I have never seen ‘in action’ so to speak. It was irresistible and so, unless he just prefers thinking about it in his head (which may be possible and I am also aware that does happen – a promise of something that ends up being just a tease), we are due to meet tonight.
I don’t understand it nor would it turn me on in any way – but if it turns him on then, this, I just have to see for myself.
Now, this, I really can’t blog about here and so, I’m thinking of starting another blog just for this purpose. What d’yall think? >Answers on a postcard (or in the comments section).
I promise that, when it involves lurve I shall post here as that’s about romance and learning about one another in many ways.
A ‘great’ post here although not one for the squeamish.
However, I highly recommend it as it is very informative and, I suspect, accurate. It is also a little amusing in places, for instance, this bit:
…..after any on-screen death, the deceased is looking as clean and sanitised as a made-up corpse in a funeral home. They do not poo in their pants of fill their mouths with Kraft-Cheesey-Pasta-Esque strings of phlegm.
They definitely don’t leave one eye steadfastly stuck open no matter how many times you demurely pass your hands over their face, leaving you with the dilemma of “I wish I could close that lid, it looks bad, but the only way to do it is to poke this dead man in the eye…I’m pretty certain I’m not supposed to do that.”
I was never really a fan of gay bars, discos or clubs. When I was younger I was (now that I look back) quite a ‘pretty’ boy. Unfortunately, I never fully appreciated the significance of this, struggling as I was to a) fully come to terms with who I was and b) being fairly crap at meeting people and forming some sort of lasting relationship (I have been very, very fortunate in my life, I do know this).
The problem with the ‘gay scene’ is that it is, more or less, like a meat market. The young(er) guys waltz around showing off their wares’ whilst the older guys stand to the side and eye them up. Then, if they are really attracted, they may make a move – but, let’s be honest, it’s nearly always purely for the sex; the good looking guys, generally, airheads (as it is in the straight world, I guess) and the more intelligent guys looking, well, more geeky and, certainly less attractive.
Since I had a little intelligence, I always thought of myself as one of the geeky ones.
I know, I know, this is all generalisation. Not everyone is like that. But it did ‘put me off’ the scene quite a lot and, apart from a few years at the start with M and then at the end of M and I, I didn’t really do the scene.
And, now that I am exactly one of the older guys, I certainly do not want to be doing it again.
And so, given that there must be other guys my age who think the same (although that may not be true, of course), I thought I might try the on line stuff.
So far, I’ve signed up to two sites. I have a small problem here. I don’t actually have any ‘gay’ friends (here, anyway) and, therefore, don’t know the etiquette involved.
On one of the sites, there are opportunities to ‘wink’ at one another. Now, for me, this means that you think the other guy is attractive (in a variety of senses since my photo hasn’t been ‘approved’ yet so no one can ‘see’ me – only what I like, am like, etc.).
But does this, on the gay on line dating scene, mean something else? If so, why the hell is someone from New York winking at me? What possible purpose could it serve? Should I wink back or not? I mean to say, I am not going to be travelling there to see if we ‘get on’, stuff that for a lark! So what was the point? I am certainly NOT looking for pen friends (I have enough problems keeping in touch with people that I know well, as some of you may know – what with me being a typical English bloke and all). So I don’t really get it at all.
As a result of the ‘winking’ thing, I’m now a little concerned that, given the sexual promiscuity on the scene in general, that, should I meet someone, they will expect sex that moment, which is certainly not what I want (hell, for that I can just go down the road)
So, do I make that plain from the start? If we get on and I am sexually attracted to them then maybe but not immediately I clap eyes on them!
My worry is that this is just another facet of the same scene – another meat market. One of the sites I purposely did not go on is, more or less, used for one-night stands (so to speak), apart from other reasons which I won’t go into here.
So, here I am, already invited down to the southern(ish) part of Italy; being winked at every five seconds; emailed; looked at; scrutinized – I’m not at all sure that I like this much. However, there’s a life to get on with so it has to be. At least, on these sites, I can be certain that they are men looking for men, which is a huge step forward, I suppose.
And, who knows, maybe I’ll meet some really nice people (they can’t all be camp, screaming, psychotic, axe-murdering, weirdos, can they?) and make some friends? And, maybe it’ll be fun finding out.
I have to be honest and say that my limited experience indicates that the French and Spanish seem more into this on line thing and, looking at the photos, maybe I should be moving to one of those countries for they are hot’ – see there’s my gay superficiality coming out again. Damn.
I felt a little like Frodo.
It seemed to weigh me down; it was certainly irritating – but only after the moment when V came in.
V has changed and, yet, still the same. He remains, probably, one of the best looking guys I have ever known. I am sure (no, I know) that in some ways, I held him back all these years and I am happy that he is starting to live the life he wants.
I did wonder how I would react on receipt of the information (much earlier that day) but, strangely, or not, as the case may be, the reaction was one that took me a whole day to work out. I just couldn’t seem to get my head around how I felt, how I really felt, inside, underneath it all.
What I mean to say is that there was a certain amount of shock (although it was entirely to be expected) which lasted a few moments and then….. well, then, nothing really. After 20 years, did it really only take 6 months or so for it to be, finally, over; for the feelings to change so much or, looking back, was this actually ‘in the making’ for the last few years.
Of course, just like an old pair of slippers, being with him was so comfortable, in so many ways. Being apart is certainly hard in other ways.
And then, finally, yesterday, we met again, on mutual ground, to ‘swap sofas’ and other things – except none of that worked out quite as either of us had hoped – but he was a changed man, superficially but substantially enough for me, at sight, new things, still thin (too thin), too there but still beautiful – tall, dark and handsome – but not for me, I’m afraid.
And then I saw and then it started to feel heavy and itchy and, although I only had it on for two days (two because he was supposed to have come round the day before), it had to come off as soon as possible. And so it did. Now to be put away with other things, forgotten until that ‘one day’ when you open up the box and have a sudden pang, a sudden flashback, to better times.
And, although it meant a sleepless night (or, at least until 3) it was only because I couldn’t work out how I felt. I thought it might be something different than how it was, somehow.
All strange. Not expected.
At one point, I thought of Willow and realised that is what I want us to be like for (in) the future.
And, this morning, I am so positive for no real reason that I can fathom. Even, I could say, a little excited, again for no real reason. But I really want it to continue, to be on-going. Still set-backs will come from time to time I expect.
Is that someone waving or just a shadow or a strand of hair on the lens?
The chasm is made up of many things; separateness in things done; an ‘unknown’ part of life – that can never be recovered, reclaimed. Friends are not friends but pawns in the whole game and, like wounded animals, they fail to understand the reasons for the hurt which is not even really intentional.
And my heart bleeds for the chosen road; with the emptiness; for the chasm that has become so big. My heart bleeds and yet there is nothing to stop the flow for the heart must keep beating, pumping, working until it may burst, just to give life to the body that remains.
And if, but it is a big if, things should change in the future and things become something similar to how it was once, before the drifting, these things will not be discussed – or if discussed then only in a very superficial way as if, by discussing them thus, it minimises the impact, minimises the importance. It certainly, as we know from experience, reduces the suffering.
I know he knows. I hope he knows. I hope he doesn’t know. I don’t know if he knows. I don’t know anything.
I have already told him. Sort of. Kind of. In a roundabout way. In an obvious way. In a subtle way. In a way (of any kind). Not really told him at all.
I know that what I know is nothing and I want to know everything unless, of course, it is better to know nothing, in which case, I need to know everything so that I can take the informed decision of whether I should know anything or not. At which point, it is, certainly, too late to know nothing.
And yet, in spite of that, I want to scratch it and I don’t want to forget and I want this pain as if, by this pain, I can tell that I’m alive and that there is hope for me even if there is none.
I hold the torch aloft as if my life depends upon it but unsure if anyone can see the flame.
Even the acrid smell of the dog piss, not there in the cooler morning, but now, with the heat of the day and the many dogs that will have been there, especially now, later in the afternoon, when people come home from work and take their dogs to enjoy (?) the dog areas and do their thing, even that, which reaches into the back of my throat and makes me want to retch, cannot take away my happiness, although I do hurry by, perhaps a little faster than I would or should in this heat, which, now I have reached Milan proper, has fallen to 35.5°.
After the smell of dog urine, it should be a pleasure to be away from it but the smell is replaced by that of humans. It seems like deodorant and perfume sales are down as there are no perfumed smells to be had in this hot city only stale and fresh body odour, as sharp as the dog piss and just as hateful.
She’s a cantankerous old biddy and, I think, slightly crazy as she also seems to beg although I cannot understand her Italian which could be dialect. They (the assistants) all know her in the shop and, undoubtedly, she knows them all by name. She hollers after them and some try to help whilst others try to ignore her.
I remember, because of updating the last post, which is to go live in about 10 minutes, to put the ring on, which is good, I think.
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.
Although you had been there before, some years ago now, that was only for a period. It was expected and you stayed for a while. Then you went missing although I didn’t really miss you.
It’s the mornings that are the best or worst depending upon what has happened. They’re the times when my head seems to be straighter, less complicated and when, sometimes, everything seems to be ordered and I am able to see, in retrospect, the things that happened in a different light.
And so it was this morning.
To put it mildly, I have been a right chump. Worse, still, I have not been ‘listening’ to my friends, old and new, and all I’ve thought about is myself. Well, as Best Mate said about herself, it’s time to get my life back.
For some, it will certainly mean an apology, for others, just letting it be and for some others – well, I don’t really know the right path but I’ll do one or the other.
The difficulty, of course, is a) to see things from the outside, as others do and b) it doesn’t mean that just because it was all obvious this morning it will mean that tomorrow it will be the same. This road to some sort of sanity will have setbacks, stumbling and, for certain, falling flat on my face – but this morning is a start anyway.
For those of you who know me in real life and read this blog (the few of you), I can apologise here first – although, for most, I will also have to do it in person. Don’t think that this means I won’t be as bad next time you see me but, at least, I may be able to keep it all in check better than previously.
One of the side effects of this morning’s new ‘revelation’ was that I thought about relationships and got quite sad at the fact that, in the end, I would settle for so much less. That doesn’t mean I would be unhappy with it but that the settling for something means that it will be so much less than I really want or need.
The other night, A & I were out. I intimated that I had almost given up trying for what I want. A was surprised and said I should still go for it – but there is a great risk involved, of course. As with anything in life, you have to choose whether you would rather have a little something (far less than you want) or go for the big prize and risk getting absolutely nothing at all.
To be honest, in this case, I am still in two minds. This morning, I just thought how stupid it was to go for the big prize and then, a few hours later, I am still wondering if the big prize is actually, possibly, available and by settling for the thing I could get, I will miss out on the prize.
Sounds like some crappy game show, doesn’t it? One at which I am the only contestant. The difference is that, as with all these things (perhaps even game shows), the getting of the big prize or the settling for something much less, the risk-taking for what could be all or nothing would have, possibly, such an effect of my future path in life that it becomes all important.
Here I am with (maybe, unless I have already fucked it up completely) a possible £1000 which I can walk away with or a possibility of £1 million if I play the next round. Imagine then that, in my mind at least, I have a 50/50 chance? That’s got to be worth the risk, surely?
But what if the chance is actually zero? I should, of course, take the money and run.
And, whereas in the game show, there are odds that can be worked out, in real life, the odds are more difficult to predict unless you already know all the answers, which I, quite clearly, don’t – else there would be no show as I would do the thing that would give me the most and be satisfied with that.
The thing about a ‘real’ game show, of course is that, at the very worst, you walk away with nothing – that is, nothing extra. The reason why we are (I am) so undecided as to which way to play is that the ‘real life’ game show can mean walking away with less than you came with – and that’s where the actual risk comes in to play.
So, to play or not? I feel I should play, on the basis that one never got anything by sitting on one’s hands and, at the end of it all, the possible loss, although it would sadden me, would not kill me. However, the playing, if it is to be done, has to be done very, very carefully to stand any chance of the big prize (if, in fact, the odds are not zero, which they may be anyway).
You are the audience and I am being asked if I wish to take the £1000 or play for the big prize. Bear with me while I think about it, please………..