Category Archives: Italy

Overall thoughts on Italy and things we do

I don’t know what to give as a title

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It was strange. The restaurant (Wok of Milan) was near his house and, therefore we went there. It was OK but, to my mind, nothing special. Again, I say, if you’re a Chinese restaurant be Chinese, if Japanese, be Japanese but don’t mix and match – it’s just not possible since the food is so different.

However, we chatted about crap. I told him that Rufus had not been so well and that, surprisingly for me, I thought that, perhaps, this was it for him. He wants to come round and see him.

We talked, tentatively at first, about the online thing and about Italian men, in general. Each saying we had ‘interesting’ experiences. He admitted that one should always read the manual (in this case profile) before one ventures forth. But, then, so should I it would seem. I seem to not be able to ‘see’ the photographs properly or, rather, I seem to look at them and think that the person can’t possible look like this and it’s just a bad photo.

But it is not, generally, a bad photo. In fact, if anything, it’s a good photo! So, I should take a look, imagine that they don’t look this good, and go from there.

Anyway, back to V & I.

So we’re chatting and, eventually, he admits that he’s rather smitten with someone. He says that the guy is short and nothing like me. I say that he should go for it and not hold back like he is doing.

It seems strange to me that, after all the time we were together, I don’t feel bad about this, nor like it’s a problem only, if I am honest, slightly jealous that I haven’t found someone before him. But I put that aside, and tell him (and I mean it) that he should not worry about how the guy looks but in how he feels and if he feels like this he shouldn’t waste the chance to be with someone who could be ‘the one’.

We continue this conversation in texts as I go home and as I take the dogs out for their walk.

I get a little fed up with him and, eventually say that he should stop being so stupid.

He accepts this in the way it was intended, i.e. He should just try and see. I hope it works for him (although, obviously, providing that I find someone also) :-) I also add that he shouldn’t be thinking about the fact that the guy isn’t like me and that, in fact, the guy shouldn’t be like me – otherwise it would be me……and we can’t go there again.

Still, it was all very relaxed although I can see myself being his agony aunt, which, given my free time right now (virtually none as you may be able to tell by the blog entries) may be more than a little difficult.

And, then, last night was the sweet guy from Varese.

It’s from a different site, one where they try to match you for compatibility rather than looks or whether you are Top or Bottom or somewhere in between. We are something like 75% compatible. But I should read the manual and, in this case, rather than the small-print, the pictures. OK so a little chubby, not pretty. But the photos have got to be bad ones.

Um, no. The photos were good

He is, actually, a nice guy but I have been with V for 20 odd years. I want the 40-year-old man with the 30-year-old body (and face) – something that Italy seems incapable of providing). We go for a walk along lake Lugano (on the Italian side), stop and have a drink and then go to a pizzeria that he knows.

OK so it is a nice evening but the whole thing is very one-sided in that he is thinking ‘Wow!’ and I am not. How do I know this? Well, a) it is the first thing he says when he meets me and b) I can just tell it doesn’t go away during the evening.

He looks like my M (my first partner of 10 years) only if he were now 60 (even though the guy is supposed to be in his 40s. Actually M won’t look like this. This guy looks like M’s father!

We do kiss but there is no Karl Spark – nor will there ever be. Friends, yes. More, no!

And then, because I had moaned at Gordon (via chat) about Italian men and how difficult it was for me to handle them, I am now preparing to go to his flat as I write this. Gordon has a beautiful body – a 30-year-old body and he’s 40. So far so good. Now, on my new PC (bought today), his face does not look so good but neither does it look so bad. He doesn’t look 40 for certain.

Now I read back, you won’t get the steps between moaning at him and ending up going to his flat but, briefly, it goes like this. I moan. He asks what is wrong with Italian men. I say there’s not enough room to write about it. He says he is listening. I ask are you sure. He says yes. I give him brief idea that these people don’t do what they say (see the previous post) and, anyway, they all carry too much baggage in their heads. He writes a serious response about all this chat stuff being fake but it makes me laugh and I tell him so. Then after a bit more chat I ask him what does it make our chat, real or fake?

He then says we can meet. I say that, for some reason (and I think it is because I am quite scared – he is too beautiful, too perfect) I am not pushing this and chatting is fine but, in any event, we arrange to meet Saturday.

And so, here we are. I am about to leave and go to his place for a glass of wine (having drunk half a bottle already and not really eaten anything). This one actually seems important but will, in all probability, end up like the rest.

However, who’s to know?

Tomorrow is Boris. Coming down from Cantù, near the lakes. He wants to go to Borgo, a bit gay disco held on a Sunday night. I don’t. Other than it is full of gay people, it is Sunday night and I have customers in on Monday! Hmm, we shall see. So, Pietro, if I am less than awake on Monday, you will know why.

Oh, and by the way, another person at work now knows I am gay. It is about time that everyone knew and then I can stop pretending…….

Dreams should remain dreams; All mouth and no trousers; Categories from Top to Bottom

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I have Karl.  In my dreams he is the perfect man – funny, witty, beautiful, clever, etc……

If we were together the world would be perfect.  I wait for him to call me; to be the knight in shining armour, on the white horse, taking me away from all this – to a better life, a perfect life.

It will not happen.  And, even if he was the knight and took me away, it would not be the perfect life and nor, necessarily better.

And he is not the perfect man (he is Italian, after all and, worse, he has more hang-ups than a lot of the others, it seems).

He won’t call and, in a way, it is better like this.  The dream of him being the perfect man can remain forever.  Anyway, I am Top Only, which I will explain later.

And so, the friend I thought had a problem with the sweet guy (who is currently blowing me off, so it’s time for me to move on) did not.  Instead her dream was crashing with the dream being a million times better than the reality.  As I said, if he said ‘I love you’ and you didn’t feel that love that he didn’t mean it and it wasn’t true.  And it wasn’t true.  He said that he loved missing her.  And so, for him too, the dream was what he wanted – the reality being that he no longer had to miss her.

As I’m getting to start the meeting of people, I’m finding them all mouth and no substance (or, all mouth and no trousers as the English expression is).  Well, that’s not entirely true, of course, but a lot of them are like that.

The date for tonight (with Gordon) will, almost inevitably, be cancelled.  I can see it coming like the light of a train coming towards me through the darkest tunnel.  It is coming and unstoppable – or maybe I’m just too cynical.  Yesterday and last night we chatted through the site.  I even said ‘no’ to my piano player from Pavia for tonight on the basis that we would be going out!  Last night everything was fine.  This morning he is not well.  He has a headache!

I know, it may not seem much but now he has gone to work.  Later, sometime this afternoon, the chat will go something like this:-

Him:  My headache is even worse.
Me: I’m really sorry to hear that.
Him:  Yes, I have to go to work too but I will have to go home straight after work so cannot meet you tonight.  I’m sorry.
Me: You’re full of shit, you know that?

Obviously, that last line won’t happen.  Instead I will say something like, no problem, maybe next Wednesday…..

Of course, Friday night will happen.  I know that.  The guy phones me almost every day.  Tomorrow night, with V, will also happen – but, then, he’s not Italian.  If I wanted, the lawyer from Pavia would keep his word.  The tall, dark and handsome guy would keep his word.  Unfortunately, they can only be friends as there is no Karl Spark with them.

Last night, whilst talking to my friend with the shattered dream, I was explaining Top and Bottom.  She didn’t realise what this all meant and I was trying to explain that it wasn’t all about the sexual side but also about character and life choice, etc.

So, if you are interested, I will explain it here.  If you’re not interested, the post has finished.

As with most things in life, there are the extremes and then the shades in between.  In any couple there will be one who is more dominant than the other, the difference between the two being greater or lesser, depending upon the character of the people involved.  This is also true of the gay world too.  And so, not only in a sexual sense, a method has evolved to determine, easily, what role you wish to be.

So we have Top and Bottom.  Top Only, as I am, tends to be someone who wants to make all the decisions and is quite strong and dominant in the relationship.  Bottom Only is someone who doesn’t want to take any decisions and wants to be led through the relationship.  The shades are More Top, Versatile, More Bottom.

Being a Top Only means that, actually, the dream of having my knight in shining armour whisking me away is just that, a dream.  It can never be fulfilled because it is I, in fact, that will play the role of the knight……..which I do when the circumstances are just right……like with sweet guy, who I just want to take in my arms and fight off all the evil people who would harm him.  It is what he would want too (but, I guess, in spite of what he has said, he just doesn’t fancy me enough – ah well).

Of course, the friend wanted to put it into the man/woman role and I permitted her to do that, but it’s not really that easy to do.  We don’t do the man/woman role at all.  We have no rules like that.  It makes a gay man no less a man just because he is More Bottom or Bottom Only and doesn’t mean that he actually takes on a role that you could consider that of a woman – but, if it makes it easier for you to understand it, then so be it.

And so, being a Top Only, I am looking for Bottom Only or More Bottom.  At a push, I will look at Versatile – but the problem there is that we would probably clash too often and I wouldn’t be prepared to allow him to be Top from time to time.

OK, so that’s cleared that up.  Feel free to ask any questions you like.  I will try to answer them.

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?

Out on the scene again; is it the Karl Spark?

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I felt I should amend the previous post in case it gave the wrong impression……so I did.

Last night was the Mexican meal with the sweet (but far too effeminate) Stephen.  Nice kid though.  A shoe designer.  Interesting conversation, pretty and slim – just right for me in some ways but a little young and just a little to out-going.  After the meal he took me to some bars where we met many of his friends.

It was very nice for a change and his friends were nice.  I was, of course, new to the ‘scene’ so attracted interest but, although it was all very pleasant, I remembered why I don’t really like this way of spending your Friday and Saturday nights.  Still, I might go do it again with him as he is very popular and so, who knows who I might meet – except most of them aren’t ‘my sort’ at all.  I’m just such a ‘straight’ guy trapped in a gay world.  Must be the same sort of thing for effeminate but straight guys!  It makes me feel like I really don’t belong.

Still, tonight is the theatre with the nice guy from Pavia.  This, I know will be fun evening and then we shall go home (to our separate houses) as he is in for the long-term and is wooing me more than anyone else at the moment.

Of course, I haven’t really mentioned one guy that, perhaps I should.  He is very, very sweet.  Not effeminate, not my type  – but I find myself very attracted to him.  Not sure whether this is the Karl Spark but it’s pretty damned close.

Just a couple of things that are and, at the same time, are not important.  One is that he is definitely not the dominant type and, so, I’m not sure that he is strong enough – I mean to say, I sometimes need someone who is equal to me and will ‘fight’ with me.  He may be just too much of a pushover.

Oh, yes, and the other thing is that he is HIV+.  Now, before you go giving me advice and all that, bear in mind that I do know about this and I know we would have to be very careful but, really, it didn’t make any difference as to how I feel about him.  He was surprised at my reaction but I look at it this way, he’s nice, we are attracted to each other and, if I’m honest, the cigarettes are probably going to kill me first before anything else gets a look in.  And, if we’re careful, it shouldn’t be a problem.

He is a bit reticent though and I’m not sure why.  He’s also seriously Italian with all of the baggage that that entails (*sigh*).  And, he doesn’t smoke or drink, was a vegetarian (so is fussy about his food) – you know, all the things that would mean, oh, I don’t know…….

I need to see him again to see if I still feel the same way…..and if he does too, of course………

An almost full dance card

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Well, we’re moving forward and, I have to admit, this is great fun.  At the moment, I can’t take it too seriously and nor do I want to.  I know that it’s all about finding the next ‘partner’ but I know I must keep hold of myself and not just jump into the first relationship available.  This time it’s different.

And there are, at the end of it all, many, many men out there of all shapes and sizes.  None of them perfect but then, nor am I.  All of them (the ones I am in contact with) have something to offer – and the ones I have met are nice guys, some more than others, of course.

Last night it was the turn of Trevor (not Robert as I thought in my last post).  Nice guy about 8 years younger than me.  We had chatted a lot on the phone and on the chat.  He seemed funny, witty, intelligent and a great sense of humour, so similar to my own.

We met in town (he lives in a city about an hour away) and went for a pizza.  The talk was easy, interesting – we were finding out about each other – in the process we found many, many things in common.  It was comfortable, for certain.  We talked and talked.  He told me about his marriage (they are now divorced) and his young daughter and what happened and why he got married in the first place…….

It’s a strange place, Italy.  And the family thing (and particularly the mother attachment) is something that, quite frankly, no one comes close to understanding – and trust me, I know people who were/are really close to their mothers in the UK – but it ain’t nothing like this.

So Trevor goes to his parents for lunch every day.  When he was married and lived in the flat above his parents-in-law, they would have dinner with the parents-in-law.  When he stopped them doing that, his mother-in-law would, instead, prepare food and bring it up to their flat so they could have dinner on their own!

Most Italians phone their parents once per day.  He phones his parents (and, remember he has lunch with them during the week) 3 times a day!!!!

Anyway, I know this is what it’s like and if I do end up with an Italian, I have to accept this stuff.

But, I don’t know if Trevor and I will end up as anything or nothing or friends.  We are going to the theatre on Saturday night (he has season tickets) to see some comedy called ‘The Kitchen’ although it will be in Italian which means I will be lucky to get half of it.  Still, it’s nice and, again, like Dennis, it’s a proper date.

But, right now, it’s getting a little full.  My dance card is almost completely full between now and this time next week.  When I started this, I didn’t expect it to be like this but it’s good and fun and I get to meet some interesting people and, anyway, it’s really good practice!

Men are a problem – can’t live with them, can’t live without them!

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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………

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How to say ‘no’ and ‘My mate fancies you!!’

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The other night, with Dennis, was, almost, the perfect date.  We met and went for an aperitivo.  We talked.  A friend of his (well work colleague, who was incredibly beautiful – if I were straight…..) came over and chatted for a bit.  It was nice and, unlike last time, didn’t feel so strained.  OK, so he’s a bit camp but likeable.

Then we went for dinner.  The Brick Oven near Porta Venezia.  We both had bacon/cheeseburgers (I haven’t had one for ages) which were not bad.  I had beer – he doesn’t drink.

We talked about relationships.  I said I was really concerned that, should we have a relationship, the smoking would be a big problem for him.  Still, the most important thing was that we talked.

We agreed to meet again.  I teased him about how, I could come back tonight and that could he really wait until Saturday?

He phoned the next morning to say he had thought about it and that I was right, the smoking would become a problem, eventually.

I’m kinda glad and kinda sad in a way.  However, we are to remain friends – and the difference is that he thinks it was his decision, which is fine by me.  Maybe I’ll also get something else from it……we’ll see on Saturday!

I’m finding this new site interesting and, certainly, there are many more available people.  However, it being a site where most people are looking for sex, I thought that the chance of meeting anyone for a more long-term relationship was fairly slim.

However, and it’s early days yet, I’ve met Bruce.  Bruce is very good looking and, it seems, wants similar to me – i.e. someone to love – over and above the sex.  There’s a long way to go from here to something like that but, there’s a chance (again) and each one of these fills me with hope and gives me the certain knowledge that one day, one of these men, will just slot right in as if he was always meant to be.

One of my problems, I have found is that I may be too direct.  Most of the time I just shrug my shoulders as these people seem to do the blah, blah, blah without any substance and, to be honest, that’s not what I want.  Not only am I too direct but, worse than that, I want it NOW.  And I don’t mean the sex bit (although that is always welcome, of course).  What I mean is I want the long-term thing to start immediately.  This may strike of desperation but, I assure you, it’s not.  It’s more to do with the fact that I am impatient and because starting a relationship is so fraught with difficulties and misunderstandings, in addition to the extra stress that a gay relationship seems to impose, that I just want to get that bit over with.  You could say that that bit was all part of getting to know someone and, of course, you would be right.

However, the problem (in the past and so, for me it is the ‘norm’) is that then there are times of not speaking, of saying things one doesn’t really mean, of the slamming of doors and the ‘meaning to hurt’.  And that’s not what I want.

However, I suppose that it is inevitable and that, now, these days, there is less inclination to try and set up a life with someone, everyone having been bitten before, so, therefore, more wary, more circumspect and, from the other side, more suspect.

I’ve never really got into the ‘gay world’ and every time I get close to it is both shocking and intriguing at the same time.  So I was (still am) shocked by the amount of people willing to show you pictures of parts of their body that, they think, you may find appealing (although, sometimes, they are appealing).  I always thought that it was, partly, the element of surprise and imagination that made the whole thing sexier.  It seems not.

On this site, I don’t include a photo of my face.  However, if people ask I will send one.  To me it is quite a good picture (given my age and the fact that a good iron wouldn’t go amiss if applied to my face – that’s been the smoking and the not listening to V when he said I should have been using cream all this time) but I’m not for every one.  So, on sending my pic, if a good response isn’t forthcoming or the usual ‘you’re not my type’ is returned it can be a bit disappointing.  I won’t say gutting as, although it may seem that for a split second, I realise that I do the same.

However, when I get a good response, it makes me very happy.  So I put up with the ‘not so good’ responses for the responses that are good.

And one guy, today, said that, unfortunately, he was looking for someone who looked older, which, in a way, was a compliment.

Still, whichever way you look at it, even if it is a bit like school and going up and saying ‘I really fancy you’ only to get rebuffed with the girl turning to all her mates in fits of giggles, leaving you standing there like some sort of jerk, it isn’t quite like that and it does take some of the nerve-wracking ‘having to actually physically go over and then getting left and everyone seeing’ thing out of it, which, for me, is great. And, in any event, it’s better than getting one of your friends to go over and say (with a London type accent, of course) ‘My mate fancies you……..’

It doesn’t stop that tinge of disappointment though.  Ah well, right now, I seem to have enough on my plate, so maybe I’ll start to take it a bit easier and see who ‘comes’ to me!  (Actually, I have been doing that and I too give the standard ‘sorry, you’re not my type’ when they don’t look as I would like.  Hey, right now, in Milan alone, there’s over 900 guys online and looking to be hooked up in one way or another – so I think I’ll get other chances, don’t you?)

On that optimistic note, I’ll stop; there are men to be found…….

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? :-)

The difference between the idea and the reality

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No. of times out and about today – 1
No. of passes made at me – 1
No. of times ‘checked out’ by some guy – 1 (on the train on the way back)

We meet.  If we meet in a city or area that I don’t know, he will ask me what I would like to do but will have some suggestions.  There had better be food in a nice restaurant on offer (I mean, we should go dutch, of course) as well as, maybe, a visit to some things he has picked out as being noteworthy (a museum, a gallery, even a park!).

OK, so if not at a mealtime, then, a suggestion to stop at a café, maybe grab a beer (or, in the case of Dennis, a coffee) and then do something, even go for a walk.

We talk.  He is interesting, interested in me and we have a lot in common or, at least, he makes me think we have a lot in common.  He indicates (I’m not sure how) that he finds me very attractive but doesn’t push it, both of us exploring the boundaries.  The time passes quickly.

He might suggest dinner at his place but there will be candles, good wine, the food will be expertly cooked but made to look as if it was easy, without effort.  He is accomplished at all things; he puts me at ease immediately.

I want to be wooed; I want to be wined and dined; I want to be seen to be loved; I want it to be romantic or, if we are to be friends then interesting; have something in common; chat easily and freely.

If we are to be more than friends, then, maybe, later, if we both feel the same it may lead to something more……

Then, of course, there are the other sort of dates.  Not ones I know but am aware of.  For those, let’s not waste any time.  He will, of course, be considerably younger than me and have a great body.  That is an absolute must otherwise what’s the point.  But the other type of date will be obvious before we’ve even met.  We will ‘know’ something about what the other wants/is looking for.  Here I still want to be wooed but in a different way; here it’s all about looks and superficiality and that’s fine.

Then, there is, what I can only politely describe as the mix up.  This is where it’s not clear to one side or the other and so, as a result, it makes it awkward and difficult.

Making it more difficult, of course, would be the fact that neither of you were able to speak the other’s language and then there’s that feeling that one of you is out of their depth a little (or a lot) and just wishing to go home.

I meant to take a notebook yesterday but forgot.  The train was not crowded.  About halfway through, Fred phoned.  Could I meet him at the station stop before the one planned (i.e. not in the centre (more or less) of the city?  I knew what this meant and so texted FfI to call me during the day.  Just in case.

I came out of the station and Dennis texted.  We had a text conversation as he was going back to Milan after a weekend away.  We texted about next week and a pizza and so on.  I walked to the car that was waiting – some sporty black little BMW number.  The problem is that cars really don’t impress me that much (although I can say all the right words to make the owner feel good – but a car is just a car, after all – it gets you from A to B in greater or lesser comfort).

I get in.  True, when FfI and I had looked at his profile (with new pictures) the previous night, I did think, wow, I’ve made a mistake here – he looks so much older than the original photos suggested and, as I may have mentioned before, it’s a younger person that I really want.  I know I’ve been spoiled by V but I want someone equally as good.  Now, he looks a little better – in the flesh.  He has no style but, hey, not everyone can be perfect.  I notice his elbows (he’s wearing a T-shirt) – they are the elbows of someone who is 60, not 44 (as he is supposed to be) – but then he looks older than me anyway.

I see we’re not driving to the city but to his town, just outside.  I’m disappointed.  I wanted to go back to the city.  It would have been nice to have the offer so this was not as it should be.

Several times he puts his hand on my leg.  For sure there is no electricity, no spark.  I want to get the next train back but, I made my bed and I should lie in it – actually what I’m thinking is that I need to make it clearer in future and that, anyway, being only my second ‘date’ I should use this as practice both for the date thing and for the Italian as he speaks no English.

We make conversation.  The drive is uneventful (apart from the touching).

We arrive at his flat.  It’s not that nice – OK but not so good.  The style of furniture looks as if it is rented even though he says it isn’t.  There are no books and a lot can be derived from the books on show.  It is a faceless flat; no character; not a home.

He offers me coffee.  We sit in the kitchen to have the coffee.  He gets up and take the cups away and then makes the pass.  I tell him no, that I am looking for friendship and, maybe, that special someone.

He does back off but I am ready for anything to ensure that nothing happens.

We talk.  I keep making the conversation, asking questions, making observations.  I didn’t think my Italian (although dreadful, especially in the conjugation of verbs and the grammar in general) was this good.  Well, I suppose, needs must.

We move back to the lounge.  We talk some more.  Or, rather, I ask more questions, make more observations.

He offers lunch – what we would call stew – with pollenta.  It’s OK.  I say it’s lovely, of course.  We talk about English, the English, the Italians, politics, hobbies, what he does in his spare time, etc.

He is boring.  I mean to say, his life is boring.  I don’t want to be partying all the time and like to put my feet up at home but…..

Again, I think how spoiled I have been spending 20 years with V.  We wanted the same things, both the stay-at-home bit AND the going out and having fun – although latterly, not clubbing for me.

I’m not looking for a V replacement, I know that much, but I want someone that is equally as fun; that will stretch me as much as I would stretch him. Fred is not this nor even close.  I dread to think I would end up with someone like this.

We have another coffee.  We had wine with the meal but he doesn’t know wine.  Nor do I but I want someone who, at least, tries to impress me, just a bit.  There is no effort being made here.  He just thought I would buy a train ticket and come all this way for sex.  He is much mistaken.  As I pointed out above, for this kind of date he would have to look 10 years younger than me (in his case 20 years younger).

I can see that we’re going to be sitting in the house forever.  I suggest we take a walk, by the canal.  He agrees but it’s soon obvious that he never does this.  I suppose that’s the beauty of having dogs – as you have to walk them you find the nicest places to do so.

The town we are in are having their end-of-summer festival.  It is the usual crap with the usual crap stalls and the usual crap local dancers, singers, etc.  I feign interest because that’s what you do.  He’s lived here all his life and never been!  Enough said.

We walk by the canal but he obviously doesn’t know a good route nor are we actually going anywhere.

We turn back and end up back at his house.  The conversation falters now, me exhausted by the lack of interest or interests that this guy has.

He takes me back to the train station – I will catch a much earlier train.  I am grateful to be going and still disappointed that I’m not seeing the beautiful city that is 10 minutes away by train but, at least, I will be back in Milan at a reasonable time.

I think of Dennis and, suddenly, Dennis seems so much nicer – he’s interesting and, more important, interested in me as a person, as a lover, as a friend and as a would-be partner.  I know he’s not right but he’s a million times better than what I have just experienced.

I arrive home and go online on the new site I’ve found.  This is the other type of site for, in the main, even if the people say otherwise, is for the other type of date.  I only put pictures up on Saturday.  I have decided that, after 20 years, I need the practice.  It’s been busy (people viewing my profile, etc. – I am wanted, apparently) but, through this I’ve ‘met’ Gordon. Gordon is about 10 years younger than I am with a great body and is quite beautiful.  We had arranged that we should ‘meet’ later this week.  We shall see; no rush.

Gordon has sent me messages and we spend the next couple of hours chatting.  He is sweet and is wooing me, not for a long-term relationship even if that is on his profile, but for short term satisfaction.  He knows this and I know this.  There is some flirting and that will, with any luck lead to sex and that is fine because we are working within the rules.

I send an email to Norman, who is sweet and is wooing me for either friendship or long-term.  He is going on holiday for this week.  I like him a lot although he is not so beautiful but, then, for a long-term relationship, that is not crucial – we have already both agreed that, when we meet there will either be the electricity between us (mutual) or we shall just be friends.  Either way we will be happy with that.

I go to sleep and dream of Gordon.