Yes, it’s OK, I know I’m crazy

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As I have dyed my hair since I was about 25, almost all the time, I make no secret of it. Hence, when I started getting grey hair, it was no problem to use the dyes that cover the grey. Since, when I met Victor, I used to dye it jet black, I tended to go for a darker colour than was natural and, should anyone ask me, I would confirm that I dyed it. Why not?

And so, every time I had my hair cut, I would also dye it.

F asked me on our first meeting if I dyed my hair and I confirmed that. He said I should leave it grey as that would be nice and he thought it was sexy. I promised that, the next time I had my hair cut I would let him see it before I dyed it, so he could understand why I dyed it!

And so, Friday night, I had the haircut. I have it cut short now as it is also getting so thin. He liked it both short and grey. He said it really looks good. So I haven’t dyed it this time. I was going to do it yesterday but ended up without time as we spent nearly all day together. Last night G came up and we went to the Brasserie Bruxelles. We were joined by A & F2 (and, of course, my F). G said that I looked younger (I’m sure it’s really that I look happier); F2 said it looked better without dye.

So, maybe, I shall leave it after all. It felt a bit strange until last night, really, not having it very dark brown. Let’s see what it’s like when I go into work.

After all, it’s a little thing, really, and if F likes it, then, maybe, I should just leave it as it is. I think it makes me look much older – but then the wrinkles and the lack of sleep don’t really help. In a strange way, I’m quite looking forward to next week……..but I’m sure that will change after one night without him!

And, of course, there will be the paranoia that will set in when I’m not with him. The one where I think that I’m too old for him; that we have nothing in common, etc.

Humph. Even as I don’t think this now, I know that’s what will happen after a day apart.

Yes, it’s OK, I know I’m crazy

I mentioned the blog

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It seems that S (F’s ex) wants to meet me.  I joked and said that he wanted to check me out, making sure I was ‘suitable’.  F said that he had only introduced one other guy to S and that was the someone that lasted 6 months.  So I guess F is trying to tell me something.

I mentioned that I had written, before I met him, that, for some reason, the meeting with F seemed more important than the rest [of the meetings] but that I had no idea why [it seemed more nor why I wrote that].  I mentioned the ‘blog’.  That is – this blog.

There was a look on his face that I couldn’t quite discern.  I was ready for the questioning, ready for some surprise or some interest or something.  There was nothing.  It is entirely possible, since this is Italy, that he has no real idea of what I was talking about.

I am sure it will come up again later.

Last night was an English night.  I explained to him, prior to going out that I would be speaking English all night; that I must speak English all night.  I said I would explain later.  I did.

We went to the Imperiale in Via Plinio.  N suggested it and as A wanted to go out too I suggested that he come, which he did.  Great night.  F was, as usual, in great form.  Whilst F & A were talking sometimes, N & I discussed various things.  I told her that I adore him.  Which I do.  Sometimes, when we’re out, I look at him and I am so pleased to be with him that I just want to hug him there and then.  Instead, as usual, I rest my arm on the back of his chair and stroke his back with my thumb; the touching of him being enough to satisfy my for that time, in that public place.  And although our backs were to the rest of the restaurant, I just didn’t care.  Even at one point where I realised this.

Actually, this is almost exactly how I felt when V & I were together and out.

Next week, he will be in Germany all week.  He leaves early on Monday morning.  I have offered to drive them to the airport, of course.  He comes back on Saturday either late afternoon or evening.

I know I will miss him already but, at least, I can try to catch up on my sleep!

…..it’s just too effing hard! (Tu sei un bastardo!)

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“But why aren’t you speaking Italian?”, he asks.  “Have you forgotten last night?”

“Oh no”, I wail, using my pathetic, feel-sorry-for-me voice, “but it’s too difficult on the phone”.

“No it isn’t” he states, adding “it’s easier.  So, are you going to do it or not?”

Of course, he is speaking in almost perfect English.  I want to say ‘but it isn’t fair’, but I don’t.  I can’t tell if he is slightly angry or frustrated with it or it’s just put on but I don’t want to take the risk.  I want him to come round tonight.  I miss him.  I want him badly enough that I say, albeit reluctantly and with a heavy voice, just in case he hasn’t got the message, “Va bene”.

Then we start the conversation again.  “How has your day been?” he asks.  He’s wrong, it really is difficult for reasons I will explain in a moment – and, so, he gets a one word answer “Male”.

“Why?” he asks.  I burst into laughter.  “Bastardo” I say through the laughter.  As I say it I realise it should have been “Tu sei un bastardo” but it’s not important, he knows what he’s doing and he knows that he is!

“I clienti” I add.  And then he says something in Italian that I didn’t catch.  He says he will phone me later.  I say OK.  I love that Italians use English words, thank goodness!

But it is difficult.  I have to really concentrate to speak Italian and there are too many distractions here.  Plus, there is no way that I want my colleagues to know I speak Italian.  I lose my advantage that way, even if some of them do know this (Pietro!) and I need all the advantage I can get!

But now, it seems, he wants me to speak Italian all the time?  I have to have some breaks from it…….it’s just too effing hard!

Speaking, of course, is a different thing; I feel quite stupid when I talk

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Speaking_of_course_is_a_different_thing_I_feel_quite_stupid_when_I_talk

We were on the phone for a while.  I rang because I needed some help which he was great about.  Then we talked about Ig and him.  And he was saying that he has very strong feeling for Ig and doesn’t want him to go but that he wants his freedom ‘cos he feels that he needs that more now.  I told him to be careful because he could lose Ig on the way and why doesn’t he try it first…..he can always split if it didn’t work out.

And then he was saying that, although they talk a lot and have the same sort of ideas, they have nothing in common and I reminded him that neither did we when we first got together but then we had lots of things in common by the end – the things in common happen because you either like to do the same things or you compromise and do the same things anyway, even if you don’t particularly like them or they do nothing for you.

I told him not to worry about that.

But then it got me to thinking (and I’ve already told him that he shouldn’t do too much thinking about it, lest he becomes Italian), we, that is F & I, don’t seem to have so much in common – and then I started to worry about that and worry about the fact that, maybe, there is nothing there other than the physical side and continue to thinking about how it would be in 6 months or a year when we run out of things to say……

And that’s exactly why I gave him the advice I did and why I must take the same advice.

And then I went round last night and all that worry disappeared for I was so glad to see him and hold him and kiss him again and just be with him.  And I knew that I was right in what I had said to V. These things in common become the things you have in common as you do things together.  And I knew it to be true.

For various reasons, he had not eaten at lunchtime and so he was hungry.  Anyway it was our meseversary (lol)!

And so we went to the Sardinian restaurant (Baia Chia on Via Bazzini), again.  This is because he goes there often, they know him, and he really likes the food and service.  And, I have to be honest, so do I and, in particular, their Mirto (after dinner liqueur) which is so much nicer than the stuff you can buy in the shops.

The waitress, who loved S (his ex) seems also quite taken with me.  She said that she likes that I ‘speak sweetly’ to him.  I chose an starter but she suggested something else.  I accepted her choice.  It was lovely.  We drank wine, we talked about Christmas about his work about us about many things.  The conversation was good.  He told me that I must speak Italian to him.  I am scared of this.  I cannot express myself very well in Italian since the words I know are limited in number.  My grammar is crap (but I’m not worried about that because I can learn that as we go along) – but it’s the lack of words that is the problem.

I talked about the first time we met and how I didn’t think anything would happen.

We drank the mirto at the end (they put the bottle on the table – something that would never happen in the UK (and, I guess, the USA) and we had several glasses.  F went to pay.  He gets a big discount.  A few moments after he came back, the waitress came up with a bottle of Mirto for me to take as a present.  They would not take payment for it.

They love him, of course.  What’s not to love?  And, after the comment about me talking sweetly to him, we discussed the fact that people must be able to ‘see’ how we feel about each other.

We walked home (well, to his home) and, after a couple of cigarettes, went to bed and I know that it is ‘right’ and good and that he is the man for me.

This morning, I am walking home and it is just about 6 a.m. so no metro or buses.  I am so happy in spite of the cold and that feeling remains even now.

This morning I changed the writing language on my mobile phone to that of Italian and so, now, I write messages in Italian.  It’s a start, I know.  Speaking, of course, is a different thing; I feel quite stupid when I talk.

- and I quote -

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Before we actually met – the day of the meeting, actually (10/10/2009)…..

“This one actually seems important but will, in all probability, end up like the rest.”

“because I had moaned at F (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”

Taken from I don’t know what to give as a title

The day after we met (11/10/2009)…………..

“I cannot explain how different I feel about him”

“At one point, as he is refilling my glass, he comes over and kisses me”

Taken from What really counts….< And V and I were chatting last night…………..and, yes, this scares me too.  After all, it’s only been a month!

We’re all looking for the same thing really

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“OK, now I’ll put the animals in order”

Of course, as soon as he had said “I’ll”, he realised his ‘mistake’ and said “we’ll” but that was too late and I was already laughing, since it was my “farm” and not his that we were looking at. He then added “No, I don’t want to be bossy”.  This just made me laugh harder still.

But he is, in a particular way, that could be, of course, potentially annoying but now and for some time to come I expect, very endearing. And with me being a little laid back about this kind of thing, I can, happily, let him do it, without it being any sort of deal for me.  In fact, if he wants to come do that in my house, I really wouldn’t stop him!

And so that you might understand what it was all about, there is this game on Facebook called Farmville. I am playing it because he wanted me to play it. And he loves it. And, like everything else in his life, it is all in perfect order – well, everything in his life except me, of course.

I explained to someone over the weekend that he was not V and that, quite frankly, I didn’t want V. V was then; F is now. But there are some things that are the same or, at least, similar. He likes to spend money. I hope, very much, that that is not ‘over spend’ but it is too early to say that right now. We have not discovered that far. Also, I learnt, yesterday morning that, when he is playing games, he likes to win. I said that he was like V in that respect. But it isn’t just like to win…..it’s almost must win!

So, the dinner. I expect you may be slightly interested in how it went. You have to bear in mind that he is, essentially, superb at customer relations, remembers all sorts of things and can hold a conversation so well.

He admitted to me that he was very nervous about it, before we went. I do understand. These things are important. If you’re together, as a couple, it’s essential that you like the friends and even more, they like you. But I knew they would like him.

So, there was, in the end, FfI (of course, she was the host and did all the cooking), FfCC and CwS. V2 was coming later. So, three women to start with. He had made a CD for FfI. She was delighted. He was, as always, chatty and pleasant and attentive and, well, bloody perfect.  I think they liked him.  Probably, even if they didn’t, they wouldn’t tell me but, you know, obviously, I can’t see how they wouldn’t adore him.

The conversation flowed.  It was easy and pleasant.  V2 arrived.  He is gay and an airline steward with one of the airlines of this country.  He brought wine (even though he doesn’t drink) and chocolate.  Of course, people asked where F was from.  This place is quite famous in Tuscany – or, at least, famous in Italy.  Anyway, during the conversation, he turned to me and said that we will go there in the summer!  So, now we have ‘plans’ for next year!  As long as he is taking it all slowly, that is fine.

All in all a lovely evening.  FfI, when we Skyped the next day, was a little concerned that they were too much for him.  But, hell, he works in the fashion industry and I really doubt that he couldn’t have experienced worse!  The only thing is that he really does know some quite famous people.  It’s coming out, bit by bit.  But, for me it’s like, OK, wow, and that’s it.  I guess I may meet some from time to time but that’s no big deal, really.  After all, they are just people.  I doubt if it would be as important to me as something like meeting Maya Angelou.  That was more important a meeting for me than anything else.  And, anyway, apart from the clothes, I don’t know what these people are like.  It’s not like writers.

Anyway, back to the story.  So, it all went well.  FfI thought he was really sweet, which he is.

We spent, more or less, the whole weekend together.  Saturday we went to A’s place, really to meet F, who I shall now call Fr so as not to get confused with my F.  A had done fish as a main course, which was lovely.  He was nervous because it was his first time doing fish.  He was doing fish because F doesn’t like anything that looks like pieces of meat!  And then, F says, as he did the night before, that he eats everything!  Which he doesn’t but he will if people have done it for him.  But I love him for that too.

So, Friday night was my place, Saturday his which meant that we had breakfast downstairs again.  “Our thing”, remember?  Although, really only ‘our thing’ for me, of course, since he is Italian and it’s quite normal for him.

Over the weekend we watched some films and generally had a lazy time.  I introduced him to Wallace and Gromit, which he instantly loved  We watched some more on Sunday when I brought the other DVD over from my place.

Then Sunday evening we were invited out with his friends, R&Al, who were going to a pizzeria with some other friends.  In fact, it was to celebrate one of the guy’s birthday.  So, there were 9 of us in the end. F turned to me and said this was why he didn’t want to come out like this.  Gay people are really not his cup of tea (and, yes, he used those exact words).  I agree with him.  R&Al are really nice though.  Then, later in the conversation, they were all talking about relationships and whether they should be ‘open’ or not.  And faithfulness and whether that was important or not.  F has very strong views on this, as I knew from the very first time I met him.  Luckily they completely correspond with my views.  That was one of the reasons that I liked him, even that first hour (although I had liked him before, anyway).

I must point out that, this pizzeria sucked. It is Donnarumma.  I had Diavola.  I think I have only tasted one other so bad in all the time I have been in Italy.  It was as if they had used the oldest salami in existence and it almost tasted off.  F had warned me that it wasn’t so good and he was right!  We both agreed that we shouldn’t go there again – but it is one of R&Al’s favourite as it is near their house and they like the food.  Boh!

During the evening he mentioned ‘we’ several times.  R&Al took the pith a little but softly and in a friendly way.  When R & I went out for a cigarette at one point, R was asking me how it was going.  I told him that it was going very well and that F really did make me so happy and that I understood F’s reasons for wanting to take it slowly, even if it is not really slowly.  I also explained to R that I didn’t have the experience that F has had and so, for me, it’s like ‘do it now’.  I think R understood my reasoning.  I hope so.  R did say ‘but you’re seeing each other almost every day!’.  Which is true, of course.  I hope they can see how much I love him.  Still, the ‘trust thing’ takes time and I still have to prove that.

And I know that you may think it’s not so slow, but it is.  There are many things we have yet to discuss and, like on Saturday night, he learnt that I make deserts and, of course, real English Trifle (not the Zuppa Inglese that Italians think is English Trifle – a bit like Roast Beef Inglese which any English person would be, quite frankly shocked to see, since, other than it being beef and roasted, is absolutely nothing like we would consider as Roast Beef).

And this morning, we both had to get up early.  So we were up at 6.  F made me coffee whilst I did Farmville.  It’s nice.  It’s domestic.

>On Friday night, after we left, V2 apparently said that what we appeared to have was exactly what he wanted and was asking why he wasn’t able to find it.  And the making of the coffee in the morning is what we are really talking about.  The little things that you do for each other.  The things that you do because you love the person (even if F hasn’t said that yet – I know it’s the same for him – it’s like he doesn’t want to take the risk of breaking the spell and me walking away); the little things that make a relationship.

But as FfI was explaining this to me, I said yes, but it’s like F had said to me on the chat, before we met, ‘we’re all looking for the same thing, really’

What one does

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It seems that many people want to come to the dinner.  It’s like F is in a zoo or something!  I suppose it’s understandable.  It’s been almost a month and, so far, only A has met him.  However, it seemed a bit freaky that so many people wanted to come.

It scares me a little in that, I do love him (there, I said it, finally, to you) but I don’t want him to become, like, something exotic for others to stare at, if you see what I mean.

A said ‘you seem very easy with him’.  I’m not sure what that meant exactly.  Perhaps it meant you seem very at ease with him.  Which would be true.  It’s not ‘difficult’ but cool and very laid back.

Last night, the intention was to have an early night.  And I nearly did that – except that, when I got to bed it was cold and there was no one to snuggle up to and keep me warm.  I heard, on the radio, this morning, that it will be 0° tonight.  Brrr!  And I also found that, probably, the radiators (or some of them) are turned off so I need to fix that tomorrow.  And, I’ve been thinking of getting at least one portable heater.  I just can’t do the cold!

We spoke on the phone a couple of times.  He was so tired and it does make me feel a bit guilty – but, he has to be aware that I get up early and, as a consequence, need to go to bed earlier – although the night before was, to be fair, mostly my fault.

So, I got in bed and it was cold.  And I missed him.  And then I just kept thinking about him.  Worrying (as that seems to be my normal state of mind and is soooo annoying) that tonight would be difficult for him, even though he is well able to take care of himself.  He had said on the phone that I could go over.  He even offered to come over to mine!  That is really something as I know that would have been a great effort for him.  I told him to stay there, in the warm and get some good sleep.  Wow!  I can’t believe I said that!  That’s about the most sensible thing I’ve done since the start of my crazy period in April/May!

Of course, I really did want to see him, want to hold him, want to be with him but I had already decided, during the day, that I would not – and I was determined to stick to it.

But the offer from him to come over was really something.  It’s not like we live far away from each other but it’s still 10 minutes by taxi.

He wanted me to give a big kiss to Rufus after I explained that, unfortunately, I got in last night to find that Rufus had not been well.  I am surprised how fast he seems to be deteriorating and a little sad but that is the deal if you have dogs!  I am reminded of how wonderful a dog he has been.  You can actually leave open chocolates or biscuits on a table (or, within reach) and he won’t touch them!

I suppose I should tell V about it but I don’t want to tell him too early – and, right now it seems too early.

F wanted to give a smaller kiss to Dino – who, although a bit calmer now with F, is still maniacal! I hope he stops soon although, to be honest, F was playing with him for a while.

I like that he likes my dogs, obviously!  I like that he is comfortable to come and stay at the flat even if, the night before last, he did put the ashtray from the kitchen, outside on the windowsill – which is his thing!  It makes me smile.  I note that, already, I have started to change some things to accommodate him better.  They’re not a big deal for me but not things I would normally do.  I know he will do the same.

It’s what one does.

Walking away from me but not out of my life

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OK.  Now it’s my turn.  The ‘meeting of friends’.

I told FfI that we were ‘on’ for dinner.  She suggested Friday or Saturday.  F agreed to either.  Now, all we have to do is fix it up.  With any luck FfC will be there too as I would love him to meet her as well.

I decided during the day that I really should be home with the dogs – at least for one night or, even better, every other night.  I thought that, as the cleaner would be in and the place would be reasonable, I should invite him over.

And then I thought about A and whether I would invite A to come too.

About 4 p.m. I sent F a text to ask if he would like to come over and stay at mine so that I could spend time with the dogs.  I promised him a cheap pizza (at Time Out 2 (Via Eustachi)).

Just after 5, I sent another text to say that I was leaving work.  I had had no reply.  As I was driving back I checked my phone regularly.  Nothing.  I started to worry.  Perhaps he didn’t want to stay at my place?  Perhaps he was just being kind and now working out a way to say ‘no’?  In my mind I went through the conversation (another one of those ‘serious’ ones about how he should always tell me the truth – even if he thinks it would hurt me because the truth was so much better than lies or half-truths).  The conversation that, probably, would never happen, like most that go through my mind.  Like the other conversations.

I got out of the car and walked the short distance home.  Because of my problems with 3 (who have got to be almost the worst telephone company in the world, now close to beating Telecom Italia), I texted V to see if he was receiving my texts.  At least, then, I would know if F had got my texts.  V replied that, yes, he got it OK.

I got into the flat and said hello to the dogs and the cleaner.  Offered the cleaner tea, as usual but he said he was in a hurry.

Then, F phoned me.  I was so relieved to see it was him calling but also there was a tinge of fear as to what he would say.  Instead, he asked what he should do – go home first or come straight to me!  I said he could come straight to me but he would need shower gel and a toothbrush.  He said OK.  He said it would be better because if he went home and had a shower, he would not want to come out later.  If the cleaner had not been there I think I would have shouted ‘YES!!!!’.  The cleaner was there.  Inside I shouted, at the top of my internal voice, ‘YES!!!!!’.

I decided that I would not phone A after all.  This time would be for us.

A called.  ‘What are you doing tonight?’, he asked.  I explained that F would arrive in about 10 minutes but that we intended to go out for a pizza and he could come too, if he would like.  It would mean that he could meet F.  He said OK and he would call shortly to confirm it would be OK, after I had told F.

F arrived.  It is so difficult to explain in words how happy I am to see him, every time.  I look at his face, his eyes.  I want to hold him.  We hug and kiss almost before he has got in through the door!  I tell him about A calling.  He says OK.

A calls and I tell him to come here and we can have a quick drink before going for a pizza.  I so want A to like F and vice versa.

We have a glass of wine and sit in the lounge.  Dino is over excited.  First there is F and he hasn’t really got used to him yet.  Then there is A and so, two new people.  I sit on the footstool and try and give Dino enough affection to ensure he doesn’t bother the other two.  They talk almost exclusively in Italian.  I understand some of it.  I think: I wonder if they will talk about me or talk about what F thinks of me?  But, F thinks that I understand more than I do, so maybe not.

They seem to get on.  F is charming and they have a long (I also hope good) conversation.  We go for a pizza.

F orders beers, even if A doesn’t really want beer.  Well, it’s not that he doesn’t want beer, really, and so, I think he is quite pleased, secretly.

F starts to translate the menu.  I’m not sure that it’s for me really, but more to check his English.  For me, of course, it is not necessary.  I translate some of the words for him.  I have explained that food translation is, generally not a problem, as it is my favourite subject!

F says that he knows which pizza I will have.  I am surprised that he thinks he knows.  But then he correctly guesses – Diavola – with salame piccante – ‘hot’ salame although for you English and Americans you wouldn’t really notice it was ‘hot’!  I am surprised and then think that, actually, I almost always choose this pizza.  I choose to have Volcano (Diavola with an egg).

Sometimes F can be quite ‘strong’.  As usual, he orders everyone’s food.  I find this endearing – as if he needs to order for me because I can’t speak Italian. But I also find it strange that he should order for A.  Normally this is A’s job.  But I quite like that F is strong enough that he just does it and A doesn’t complain.

They do a lot of talking in Italian.  I notice (notice being a strange thing to say but, just for a moment it seems like it is ‘just notice’, like for the first time, even if this is not true) F’s hands.  I want to hold them.  They seem small and delicate and lovely and sweet and I want to grab his hand and kiss it and kiss the palm, like I do when we’re alone.  And as I write this I realise I didn’t do that last night and know that I should have.  He likes it.

But, I notice the hands; his hands; his beautiful hands.  I look at his face as he speaks to A.  It’s true, he is not the most beautiful man in the world but, to me, he is.  I am sitting next to him and listening to him talk to A and thinking that we are not close enough; we can never be close enough or, at least, not right now.

We finish the pizzas.  I stretch my arm over the back of F’s chair, resting my hand on the back but now being able to stroke his back with my thumb.  It will do but even this act makes me want more!  I notice that there is a mirror by the side of him so that all the other people in the restaurant can see what I am doing, if they were to look; I find that I really don’t care.  I am proud to be with him; to have him here at my side; to let everyone know that I adore him.

A is hungry – which is not really a surprise.  F wants a sweet.  They bring the sweet menu.  A doesn’t normally have a sweet but will in this case.  He would prefer another pizza.  The sweets arrive.  I leave some of mine, partly because I am not really hungry and partly because I know that F will eat it – but only if I say I don’t want any more.  It’s what A’s F does with A.  I wonder if she does it for the same reason?

A is still hungry.  Again F is very strong – and how I love this!  He insists that A has another pizza.  A fights this – but not too hard and, anyway, F makes it like ‘fun’ and tells the waitress that A lost a bet and now has to eat another pizza.  F and I have another beer.  Then F & I have a mirto – this is nowhere near as good as the Sardinian restaurant of Friday night but still……

A doesn’t want a mirto – until we have ours.  So a third is ordered.  F complains that he hates the glasses (tall and thin) because it is difficult to drink with his nose the way it is.  He does have a large, Italian nose.  I see how it is difficult.  I think: even his nose is beautiful.

He kisses me in front of A – not something I would normally do but F is less frightened of showing affection than me and, anyway, I like it and not only let him do it but reciprocate willingly.

It’s not a long, lingering kiss – that will come later when we’re on our own.  But it’s still there.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see A, a little uncomfortable and think: well, you need to get used to it because this is what F does and why not?

We leave.  I think A likes him.  F does ask me, at one point, if he is being ‘too much’.  I tell him that no, I don’t believe so.

I know I am biased, but I loved him for being so wonderful with A and told him so.  I hope that he feels the same about me with his friends and think that, probably, he does.  As he has said from the beginning, really, we all want the same thing – and both of us are working hard to fit into each others lives – and it is such a pleasure; it gives us such pleasure to do so.

This morning, I do my new plan, allowing him to sleep for over an hour more.  It’s not enough for him but it’s better than nothing.

I drive him home this morning.

As I drive down the road to work, I watch him in the rear-view mirror, walking away from me but not out of my life.  No, no, not at all.

So much to explain

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I keep meaning to have this serious conversation.  But it would be better in bed.  It would be better when I am holding him, loving him, looking into his eyes, so that he can see that I am ‘true’.

And then, when I am not with him, I think about how I can talk about it.  How I can start it.  It’s not easy.

“I want to have a serious conversation about x”.  That seems easy but far too direct.  I need to be more subtle, I know.  But, as V reminded me the other day, I’m not always so good at being subtle.

Of course, there is more than one of these conversations to have.  And there will be more to come, I guess.  I am procrastinating for sure but also because I don’t want to spoil the mood.  When I’m with him, we kiss (often), cuddle (often) and generally just like to touch each other.  I don’t want something I say to make him pull away.

As I’ve said before, as if, by touching we can get closer still, as if the closeness that we feel is not enough, as if it might go away if we do not touch.

He made dinner.  He doesn’t cook often, he says.  It was lovely, of course.  It would have been lovely whatever it was.  We drank wine.  We talked about his ex and what used to happen and about how, now we are older, we are both more set in our ways but how it will be important to ‘close one’s eyes’ or compromise.  We aren’t stupid.  It’s like a ‘grown-up’ relationship and I like that.

He wanted me to get up at the normal time I do as I had told him that I was getting up later when I stayed with him.

“But it’s OK”, I said, “I can get in later”.

“Yes, but I don’t want you to finish late” he said.

I wonder if that’s because the time I get home, if I go in early, suits the timing for him too.  I smile at that, pretty sure that it’s partly selfish on his part that I get up earlier.

Still, let’s not run, shall we?

“I’ll cook Christmas Dinner”, he says during our conversation.  I’m finding it difficult to react in the right way.  I’m staying impassive.  It’s not a good thing either but I’m frightened of scaring him, wanting everything.  It’s another of those ‘serious conversations’ that we must have.

Later still I say the three words again.  I don’t think he’s so scared by them now.  I’m still here, the next day – unlike the last time they were said to him.  I understand why he’s scared.  He doesn’t trust me yet.  He doesn’t know me, of course.

But, there’s just so much to explain!

A Close Run Thing

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It was a close run thing.

I don’t know why but there was a photo of this other guy that kept on appearing on the screen saver.  I need to change that when I get home tonight!  Luckily, that had gone by the time we had got back home.

Then of course, there was the blog.  But I’m not stupid.  I remembered that!

Whilst I had a shower, I thought it would be nice if he could do his Facebook Farm (isn’t everyone doing that, now?).  ‘You can use the computer’, I said.

As I went to open it up, I remembered to close the blog.

A few moments later, whilst I was changing into my bath robe for the shower, I saw he had managed to open up the document I keep open and, in which, I write my posts!  Bugger.  But then I could hardly turn round and say, excuse me please, whilst closing it down.

And, so, I wondered if he had read any – or gone back to look when I was in the shower?  And then I got to thinking – what if one of his colleagues reads the blog and then recognises him or other people in the blog and then tells him.

I can only hope that, if they do find it, it gives the name of the organisation so I can phone him first!!!!!

Perhaps I should just tell him about it and get it over with?