I am like porcelain

Of course, I don’t really think about it. The background for my computer is a picture of F, taken 20 years ago but hardly different from now. Or maybe I really should take my rose-coloured spectacles off?

We had couple of teleconference meetings. Pietro came to me after the first one. As I closed some application, for a moment, F’s face, full on the screen, came up. Apparently A, who was with us at the meeting, asked Pietro who it was as they walked back to their office.  I’m not sure why he didn’t ask me directly.  People are funny.

I’m pretty sure that A wouldn’t have a problem. And, anyway, as time goes on, just like when I was in my early 20s, I get less bothered about it all. I mean, it doesn’t change who I am and people either like me or not, as they wish, unless, like recently, I fuck it up, but I can’t do much about that after the event. Anyway, Pietro thought he looked nice as did B who asked me to send a photo. I explained it was 20 years old but that he really did look much the same.

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Breakfast was at the nice café. I offered that, if he would like, he could come with me to the tailors and then walk the dogs and then lunch. He thought about it but decided not.

We would meet later. Maybe for lunch, maybe not.

But, later for certain.

I had arrived just before 1 in the morning. We were both tired. This morning I awoke about 8. He said good morning to me and then that he needed more sleep. I got up and had a cigarette and then went back to bed. I dozed for a bit but the problem of being close to him is that I want to touch him and stroke him and be closer to him, even if our bodies are touching.

This is true even as we had breakfast at the bar. It’s as if by touching him I can be closer still. It doesn’t matter how much; it has to be all the time. The urge to touch him has to be kept in check. About 9 he woke up. I started to touch him, to stroke him and then he made me laugh, even if what he means is that it has to be slow, to take time, to allow him to awake properly.

“Don’t touch me. I am like porcelain in the morning”