Daily Archives: 18 October, 2009

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.

The Impossible I can do – Miracles take one hour and come in the form of little blue, diamond-shaped pills

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I remember, almost, the reason for it happening.

V had put on a little weight. Not a lot but there were, surely, ‘love-handles’. Add to that, my parents (and that’s just too difficult to explain coherently) and it meant that my performance was, ahem, less than perfect.

In fact, it was embarrassing. It didn’t last more than a minute or two and, once gone, it never came back. Oh yeah, I made all sorts of excuses both to V and myself. I did actually think it was a combination of my age and the smoking for so many years. But, I was also aware that it could be just psychological. It was the fat – the ‘love-handles’ that did it.

So then there was Derek. Tall, dark, handsome. The first guy I dated. We realised on the second date that, quite possibly, there was nothing. But I went to his house, we talked, we went to bed.

I was worried. What if the problem hadn’t gone away. I didn’t know. I am Top; performance is everything and, you know, it’s kind of noticeable. It’s one thing for which I can see women have the advantage. They can, if they wish, fake it. I certainly can’t.

I was right to be worried – or because I was worried that caused it all. I couldn’t be sure. True, without clothes the shape was wrong; a little to much in places that shouldn’t be. It didn’t do anything for me.

He said it was OK. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t for me. I left his house with a sinking feeling. What if this was going to happen all the time? What if it was the smoking and the age? What if all that was left was desire?

And, at the end of the day, no partner was going to be satisfied with ‘half a man’, which is how it felt.

No, I needed some sort of magic to put it right.

Something that, maybe, I should have done a few years ago, had to be done. I found a place and made an appointment. It was going to cost me €100 just for the consultation but, hey, we’re talking about the rest of my life, a new partner – it was going to be worth it, I was sure.

I didn’t have a problem talking about it – just as I don’t have a problem writing about it here. I have a problem that needs to be fixed. I explained that, in spite of the fact that it could be the age and the smoking, I felt that, actually, it was just in my head – the first sign of NOT perfect meant a sudden deflation and THE END. I explained that I was Top and that performance was everything. She understood.

She suggested 4. I said, jokingly, that it gave me 4 opportunities to get over this thing in my head and that I would have to be careful when and where I used them. She said she would make it 8. I was happier. She said that if it wasn’t solved after 8 then I would need to go to a specialist.

I went to the chemist, handed over the prescription and paid nearly €100 for 8 of the tiny things.

They, would, she warned me, take about an hour to work. Then they would last for about 3 hours. They might make me feel ‘deflated’ in myself (but not where it mattered) (or, at least, I think that’s what she meant).

I divided them, since there were four in each foil. One, I put in my bag and the other in the drawer by my bed. I cut one from the four in the drawer. I would keep that one with me……just in case something unexpected happened.

Then there was Trevor. Not my type. Noooo. Definitely not my type. But, with the the little miracles in my bedside drawer, I had no problem. I was over the moon. He had fat in the wrong places, and extremely hairy chest, was not beautiful and yet, given all those things I COULD perform!

To be honest, I was somewhat amazed. There, I said to myself, it was all in my head. I just KNEW it.

And then there was Gordon. OK, he has a fantastic body but it’s not perfect. He has a little extra weight but only a little………but not that far from V. Even though I thought, you may remember, that there was going to be nothing, I took one of the little miracles, tucked in the front pocket of my jeans, just in case.

And then there was something and, again, the miracle remained in it’s foil. OK, I thought. Problem solved. €200 down the drain, you might say but, for me, €¬200 well spent. Just knowing the little miracle was there seemed to be enough. Without it and I might never have got here. And this was what it was for…..for Gordon….who might be ‘the one’.

But still, I’m not complacent about this and realise it may not quite be all solved. Henry proved that – but, maybe because it was all rushed and because I had forgotten about the miracles or maybe because he had a little too much extra…..don’t know.

And that, of course, gets me worried about the next time I see Gordon. But I shall take one along, just in case and, hopefully, I will prove once again that just having them to hand is the only miracle I need.

I still have eight chances, eight miracles…….I’m really hoping I never need any of them, as you can probably imagine.

This morning Gordon texted. I asked him what the first song was. It was this one below. I texted back that, of course, for me, you can :-)

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.