Tag Archives: Online Dating

I don’t often comment but just a couple of things……

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It’s not often I mention anything from the UK but this is outrageous.  And not for the reasons that you might, at first, think.  My first thought on reading the headline was how bad it was that these guys, defending their family, their property from cruel and vile people, should be sent to jail……………….until you read that the thief that they caught, they subsequently beat so hard that he has suffered permanent brain damage.  Perhaps the headline should have read ‘Vicious Thugs jailed for beating the crap out of man – the UK goes back to the Dark Ages’ or something like that.

And then there’s this.  I find it astonishing that in this, the 21st century, a country that is almost a continent in its own right, should not be looking after its people in a proper and civilised way.  And if any of you Americans (sorry Gail) think that this is ‘commie’ thinking, you are completely fucking crazy!  Our Health Care systems may not be perfect but everyone does have the right to be ‘looked after’ and to have help to get better or have an operation or whatever.  It is inconceivable to me that a civilised country doesn’t already have this.  And I just don’t understand how it can even be open for debate!  There!  That’s all I have to say on the matter.

Oh yes, and today, a few minutes ago, I cancelled one of my subscriptions to one of the web sites. Here’s hoping I don’t need it again?

- 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!

Neck Height and still digging!

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Sooner or later I really should tell F about this blog.  I mean, it’s not good to keep secrets from each other, is it?  And this is a big part of who I am, possibly, probably.  Which makes this post more dangerous than others because, not only is this blog not known to him but neither is this other problem – which wasn’t a problem – until last night!

And I ummmed and ahhhed about this and whether I should post this but, since I had decided this blog would detail all of the ups and downs of life after V, I feel I owe it to you, dear reader, to tell all – well, almost all.

The question is – how to post this without sounding a bad person when really, it’s not because I’m bad, it’s because I am too soft.  And I know that you will have opinions and have advice over this.  Don’t think, for a moment, that I haven’t already been through all this in my head already.  I know what I should do.  I know what is the right thing to do but………

The problem came only last night.  Before that it was controlled and controllable and no problem, since it was only chat and nothing else.  And the problem with last night was that the three magic words were uttered and now I feel a cad – and, yet, it’s really not my fault, even as it is entirely my fault.

I am a bastard but a kind and loving bastard, albeit a bastard all the same.

And so, you need to know the story.  On this one site, where I was meeting some men, there was this kid (and I say kid though he is 30 and at that age I had a company and a new boyfriend (V) and the start of a 20-year relationship).  We had chatted a lot.  Some of it of a sexual nature, him liking certain things that I also like.  But not always about sex, in fact, often not.  You may remember, if you were reading at that time, he had a boyfriend in Spain.  He kept on promising to meet me but never did.  He also has other problems and, being the person I am, I felt that I might be able to help him.  And so we chatted.

Then he came over one night but only because he was in Milan anyway for some friends dinner and we had like 20 minutes.  And then there was F.  And so, with all the other men and the forthcoming arrangements I had made, I sent a standard chat message to say that I couldn’t really see them any more as I had started a relationship.

See, I was being good and not hedging my bets – after all, F was the ‘one’.

Except this one.  I don’t know why (and it’s not that I find him particularly attractive or anything and nor that I thought we had any future (the boyfriend in Spain being a major part of that thinking)) but I felt that I should tell him face-to-face; to break it more gently; not to dismiss him without him seeing that I was sorry it could not be more even if it was destined not to be more in any event.

And so, for a week or so we hardly chatted.  And then, over the last few days, we chatted some more.  The day before yesterday no sex chat as he was feeling really down, then yesterday afternoon, the sex chat as before, which does nothing for me but seems to do quite a lot for him.

And, yes, I know – I should not have replied, or kept it off sex or something – but it’s harmless, right?  I mean, it’s not like we shall meet any time soon, right?  And even if we did I would be strong and make sure that nothing happened, right?

Well…..yes….but……………………

And then, at the end, he wrote those three words.  And I thought: ‘Oh shit’.

It was unexpected.  I couldn’t reply for almost an hour.  I mean, we’ve had chats and seen each other for 20 minutes.  I replied that he didn’t even know me.  He said he knew that.  I was at a loss for words at that point.  I thought: ‘If only I had told him like the others'; ‘If only I had done this or that’.

But I didn’t.  And I thought of those three words and the fact that I had said them to F and that it had made him scared.  I don’t feel scared by having them written to me – only………

Only what?  Only something. I don’t want this guy to be hurt and I know by my failure to tell him the real circumstances originally, when I should have; when I told everyone else, I WILL hurt him.  But I cannot just leave him hanging…….after those words…….

I am a bastard.  And now?  What am I to do about it?  He is young enough to be my son and, kind of, I wanted to help him that way, but this thing is blurred by the fact that this thing was not clear at the beginning, became less clear as time went on and is now so unclear as to leave him in complete darkness.  And to tell him?  With the shit that he is going through anyway?  This will make it worse?

And so, I have dug this hole and I am in it up to my neck and, it seems, I am digging deeper.  I have to find a way out.  Seriously!

You may judge me if you want; you may comment if you want; I will put them through although I may not reply.  I have to sort this thing out – I want to sort this thing out.  I want it to be ‘right’.

To be honest, I have been saying all the way along that he should just move to Spain.  To be with the boyfriend who, apparently, loves him like crazy.  Before those three words were written last night, there was nothing, really.  But now?

I am a stupid bastard.

Oh, yes, and in case you were thinking that this was the problem I mentioned in the post before last….it isn’t.  I am a stupid, seriously fucked-up bastard.

But, it wasn’t meant to be like this.

Rhetorical Questions

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I love my new computer! It means that, whilst I write this I can listen to some greats, like Melanie’s Ruby Tuesday.

Now, I ask you, what shall I do? I mean to say, really, it’s a rhetorical question, since, even if you gave me any advice I’d still go with my gut at the time.

However, the dilemma is this: Gordon has made it very plain that this ‘thing’, if we have one, has to go slowly. He needs the time to think through his feelings and he doesn’t want to be hurt nor hurt anyone else (which, I guess, would be me). This ‘thing’ cannot be rushed.

He is, absolutely, right, of course. One cannot tell if, after a number of weeks or months, one actually finds that the person that initially seemed so appealing, is, really just annoying or, worse, not attractive (either physically or mentally). It’s a risk, of course. Jump in now and take the risk that within 1 week/2 weeks/1 month, etc. It’s all over.

On the other hand, my view is considerably different. Firstly, the person that you are ‘with’ is not perfect. There will be things that annoy you, frustrate you, make you mad or sad or bad. They may not get on with your friends, your parents, fit in with the way you want your life to be, etc. What one does, of course, is some sort of compromise, something where there is give and take. You find the things you don’t like and, if you really want to, you either put up with it or the other person, if they really want to, adapt their behaviour accordingly.

Many times, these things are, in reality, trivial. Things such as the infamous ‘leaving the lid off the toothpaste tube’, throwing dirty clothes on the floor, etc. Many times, the person won’t even know that it annoys the other person. Sometimes if it is just pointed out to them, they can and will modify their behaviour.

At the end of it all, it’s about living together as a unit, as a couple.

The trouble is that, in my mind, it really doesn’t matter if it’s 20 minutes, 20 hours, 20 days, 20 months or, in my most recent experience, 20 years! So, at what point do you consider it ‘safe’ to try?

See, for me, the fastest and most secure way, is to get together immediately. OK, this is really for me. If I am ‘attached’ to someone, I stop looking at anyone else. I don’t even notice them. They mean nothing to me. My whole being is focused on the person to whom I am attached. They get my complete and full attention.

And, in this situation, I am at a loss as to what to do. What if Gordon decides, in, say, 1 month, that we should just remain friends? And if I have dumped all the ‘potentials’, I have to start all over again. So, I am trying to keep the channels open without committing. Really, in my head, I want to tell them all that I’m no longer available – but, that’s not necessarily true.

There is another option. Tell Gordon. Be upfront with him. Explain the situation and how I feel and what it’s all about and ask him how I’m supposed to cope with this; manage it or how we move forward, without jeopardising it all. However, when to do this? I mean by that, what is the right time? Now, tonight? When I am alone with him, in the car? It’s not perfect – after all, he will get out of the car and start to think about it all.

Of course, I know the perfect time. The perfect time is in bed. This is when you hold each other close and is the closest that you can be. This is the right time. But that’s not for a few days, at least, maybe, even the weekend. Will this be too late?

I don’t want to start something with lies and half-truths. I’m not good at that anyway. He must know that (well, he kind of does know) I am actually looking; we have discussed that anyway – what we are all looking for.

I could do it in a way that seems as if I am asking his advice. Leaving him to take the initiative.

Oh, but I know myself too well. I can’t afford to wait. Although, right this moment, there is only Gordon, tomorrow is another day……..and I don’t want that, I don’t want to see someone else, see someone that I think is better. I want only Gordon.

I’m sure (really certain) that Cecilieaux would say that I should take it easier……..but I am dangerous on my own, without having someone to focus on

So, having written this, I do need to find a way to explain and tell him. I also need to decide when and I don’t want it to ruin tonight – but tomorrow night I am supposed to be seeing someone else (this was arranged a little while ago). I want to cancel tomorrow. I want to cancel them all – to wait for Gordon but it may not be wise to do that.

So, yes, I must find a way and must do it and must do it soon. Maybe tonight, if the time is right………..I just didn’t want it to be rushed, to be without holding, without a closeness that will not be there tonight.

After all, it is really my need, not his and it has to be something that comes across in the right way……

Relationships – bloody difficult – which is why I said, some months ago, that I wasn’t going to do them again…..but, of course, that’s not really me either, is it?

Again, a rhetorical question. Thanks for listening.

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.

The Fashion World of Milan – means nothing; Doubts and order

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It’s strange.  Since V & I split, I have come into contact with more people in the fashion world than I ever did with V.  Well, I suppose it’s not that strange, really.  After all this is one of the great fashion cities of the world and there is, most probably, a higher proportion of gay people working in that industry than, say, the one I work in, Engineering.  And now I’m ‘out and about’, I meet the people who work for the names that we all know.

Interesting; and I hope V is doing the same because this was the world he always wanted – although it would be slightly ironic if he wasn’t meeting these people and I, much less interested than he, were.  I mean, for him, someone working for, say, Dolce & Gabanna, would be highly interesting, for me, it’s just a name and, unless they are Mr Dolce, really, of no interest in its own right.  He would ‘use’ the connection, for me it’s just like working for, say, Marks and Spencers.

I start having doubts.  This is based on a previous experience.  Am I just wanting him because it is ‘somebody'; a warm body; it could be any ‘body’?  Is it like that?  He makes me laugh, he is funny, he is nice, he has a great body (even if he doesn’t think so), he’s not incredibly handsome but it is a nice face – but…..will it be enough….will there be other things I like but, more importantly, will there be things I hate or are there already things I hate that will become ugly?  I want him but is that because he is available rather then I really want him?  I wish he were here, with me, so I could find out.

I keep two things in my wallet.  One is the card that Gordon gave me the night before last and the other is the piece of paper, torn from the notebook with the designer’s name on the bottom, for whom he works, on which he ‘scribbled’ the name of the pub for the previous night and the directions to get there.  Except they weren’t scribbled.  They are meticulously written words and a drawn map.

Normally, I struggle to read Italians’ writing.  His is immaculate, tidy, ordered, done with such care (I watched him do it).  It is beautiful writing.  I’m not sure that anything he does is unordered.  Everything is so perfect, so tidy.

I wonder if that is something I could live with?  And, whether he could live with me….but he says that, at first, with his ex, who is also a blue-eyed, British Taurean, he briefly put their clothes together in the wardrobe.  Later he split them as everything had to be ordered for him – so much like V but worse.  Or maybe that was why V came first, to get me more used to the idea?  Gordon says he is used to someone not as tidy as he is.  Maybe it will be a problem for him?

He had a dog when he was a kid.  And he is looking after a dog on the weekend after next or the one after that.  But, with my two?  With the fact that, really, the house should be cleaned every day; that nothing can be left within the reach of Dino; that, if they’re ill, it’s not pleasant – how does he cope with that in the ordered world of his?

He likes the bathroom, the cleanest place in the house, maybe?  He used to do his homework in the bathroom – it was his favourite place.

I take out the note, just to study how tidy and perfectly it is done.  It’s a scrap of paper but more like an artwork.

Maybe I will frame it :-)

Basta il pensiero – and, although it’s not enough, it will have to do.

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He points out, quite correctly, that we have seen each other 3 times in the last 4 days.  In reality it is every day for the last four days.  He also points out, again correctly, that he is here because he wants to be here and, if there were nothing, he wouldn’t be here.  I know this to be true.

But, he says, he is 40 and he is looking for something more or even different, from what he wanted before.  And I remind him of the chat message, on the evening that I moaned to him, where he said that we are all, in the end, looking for the same thing.

He was late.  Normally I would say ‘siamo in Italia’ but, for him, already, I am forgiving and excusing.  He had some visitors in the office and they wouldn’t go.  He texted me to tell me.  I texted back to say that I understood (which I do).  He was about half an hour late and the weather is cold now.  Some winds from Russia or something.  In any event, I need to dig out my winter stuff.

We sit outside as there is no room inside.  There are just too many gay people here, I noticed, whilst I was waiting, propping up a lamppost nearby.  The bar is Elettrauto in Via Cadore.  It is windy but we are somewhat sheltered.  However, it is still cold.  We order beers; he gets some apero food, he is hungry.

We talk about his day, what he is doing tomorrow, etc.  We have another 2 beers.  I like that he doesn’t drink like an Italian.  It is late; later than either of us would like.

The conversation moves to relationships and, because I will, probably, not see him for about 7 days, our relationship, if it exists.

But it does exist, in some form or another.  It’s only been 4 days – if you don’t count the chat beforehand, which, in some weird way, I do.  I try to explain that.  I try to explain things in my head.

He tries to explain why he wants to go slow, to be sure, to know me better beforehand.  We both think that things are getting lost in translation.  I try to understand.

He suggests going for a pizza.  I realise that he must really like me…..I know he has to prepare for tomorrow and I know that he is eating into this time by remaining with me.  But the conversation needs to be finished; a form of closure is required; we need to know that we understand each other.

I explain that, OK, I don’t need the full-on thing but I need more than just a meal, a drink, a visit to the cinema or museum.  I need some physical contact, some kissing, some hugging, some touch!

I think, at the end of this we do understand.  At least, this morning it was clear.  And, anyway, he is away until Thursday night and then he goes away (holiday) the next day until Monday.

I want to see him on Thursday when he’s back but there may not be enough time.  I decide that I will hold back, knowing that it will be rushed and difficult even if we did meet.  I guess it will be the week after.

We got a taxi home, my house is first so I get dropped off first.  We hold hands in the taxi on the way back.  My fingers stroke his fingers.  I wish we could kiss like I see the couples kissing on the street but, even if he was brave enough for that, I am not.  But, the holding hands thing, this is what I mean.  And this is enough for me, at least for the moment.  Later today, I don’t know.

I text him to thank him, he texts me back to thank me, calling me his sweet English man.  I am sure it is true.  I want it to be true anyway.

I text this morning to say Good Morning.  I explain I feel guilty about the lack of sleep he must have had.  He says I am guilty and we both know that he is equally guilty.  As he said last night, if he really wanted to leave he had plenty of reasons and excuses.

We text many times this morning.  He is travelling by train.  He is sweet and sends me kisses and hugs and I am grinning and although it’s not enough (although he sends the Italian phrase ‘basta il pensiero’ which, from what I can make out, means thinking about it is enough), it is better than nothing and will have to do.

There is this warm feeling that I have.  I am not in some crazy place, like I thought I may be, but in a nice place, a gentle place, a happy place.  I will speak to him later, I know.  I wish he were here but am happy that he will be – on Thursday or, if not, then next week.

Trying to explain something.

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We have texted and phoned during the day.  He agrees to meet for an aperitivo, at Bar Basso on Viale Abruzzi, one of the most famous bars in Milan.

I wonder, as I do, if, when I see him I will feel the same as before.  I know that, if we were in bed, I would feel the same but without that, how will I feel?  Will it be enough just meeting for a drink?

I decide that I will invite him to meet the dogs, since he has said he loves them.  I know that will mean bed and sex too…..I also know that he will know that……I am certain that he will decline because it’s a ‘school night’ and he knows it will not mean a good night’s sleep.  And I know that he won’t do that.

I am there early, of course.  I wait outside the bar.  I see him coming, he waves. I grin.  We kiss, on the cheeks, as one does in Europe, gay or not.  It’s a strange thing that I’ve never quite got used to.  I mean to say, not with men, anyway, not in public, not in the street!

He is wearing jeans, a striped jacket, done up, not with a button but with a big safety pin, a scarf, a top with a T-shirt underneath.  I feel the same.  I want to hold him; close; closer still.  I can’t stop grinning.

We sit down and order beers (yes, he drinks beer too).  He chats to the waiter.  I follow the conversation, more or less.  He is known here.  He is comfortable and in his environment.  That’s OK.

We talk.  I can’t tell you exactly what about.  We talk about the weekend coming (he is going to a concert in another European country to see a diva that he loves); his ex, currently over here and looking for a job; what he expects from a relationship (which matches what I expect); ‘almost’ relationships (which he explains to try and show me why he is wary and cautious); his job and what he’s been doing today; about how everything must be in it’s place (which is, absolutely, not me at all) and how he understands I will not be like that because I am English; spontaneity (something that he put on his profile) and how he is not but how, in his mind he is – and that came about because I did, indeed, invite him to see the dogs and he knew what it meant as I knew that he would; and he knew that I knew and that was why I was asking and he explained that he needed to take a shower – but with his shower gel and his stuff before he came over and that, maybe, we could do it next week, when he is back from his trip; and I said that he didn’t need to explain; and he said that he did and he wanted to and he kept explaining everything as if he wanted me to really understand and I tried to explain that I did understand and what I failed to say was that, I thought I understood him perfectly and, anyway, we weren’t a couple and that he shouldn’t feel the need to explain and he just kept on talking and talking and I couldn’t take my eyes off him (I had put my contact lens in again for this meet) and I couldn’t stop smiling.

And he touched my knee and I told him not to…..and then added that it was because it turned me on…and so he took his hand away and I had to explain that I was just joking…and I was joking about him not touching my knee but I so wanted him to do it again and again ……and he said he knew I was joking and he did touch it again, more than once.

And, yes, he was a little effeminate but not much more than V and, in fact, in some ways, more like V than was healthy…….than is healthy…and I’m not looking for V but, I guess, I’m attracted to the V’s of this world….

And he wanted to tell me about his ex and how, three months into the relationship, his ex had picked him up from work and they had gone to a bar and his ex had spent all the time looking at some other attractive guy and how he told him that, next time, if his ex came to pick him up and take him out, he should be with him and not looking for something else….and I agreed as I stared at him as he was talking, watching his face, his mouth, his eyes, not being able to take in everything but wanting to, so much……………and I know I would not do what his ex did because I never did it with V and I would never do it with any man that I loved…………if I do love him…………and I don’t know, yet……

But, and I really can’t explain this in words that make sense or in any words at all, but I was so very happy to be with him, even if it was cold, even if he wasn’t going to come back to my house, even if there would not even be kissing tonight.

Suffice it to say, I just can’t get enough of him.  In any form.  Even sitting opposite me over a table at a bar.

We have another beer.  I don’t want him to go.  I think he doesn’t really want to go but he is sensible.  This is what I meant before, when I said that I need someone to compliment me….it is good for me to have someone sensible….something, actually, that V did not provide.

Oh, and I know he’s not perfect – no one is, but, you know, he has something and I like it a lot.  And I will miss him like hell when he is away from tomorrow……even if I’ve only seen him twice…..it’s been a long twice (but just not long enough for me).

Defence strategies and other things

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I feel I need to explain.  Not to you, dear reader, but to Gordon.  I don’t want to fuck this up but, maybe being out of practice, or maybe because it was ever so, I’m not very good at this dating lark.

When I had Spillaine’s Syndrome, I was in incredible pain and yet I would joke about it, all the time.  When I had my knee operation, and, afterwards, when I shouldn’t really have been in work, I joked about it.

It’s my defence.  It’s the way I cope with something serious.  It’s how I am.  I don’t try and defend it as there is not a lot I can do about it.

But I feel the need to explain it to Gordon because he sends nice text message; I reply with one that is jokey and not serious.  I try to be serious but, always, there has to be a twist, at the end, to lighten it all up.

I know why.  This is a just-in-case-I-have-it-all-wrong thing.  In case it becomes too serious and to try and stop the other person being frightened off.  I tried to tell him on Saturday night/Sunday morning.  I get a bit intense.

He didn’t understand.  I know he didn’t.  But I can stop myself (to some extent) getting intense if I joke about it; lighten it up a bit.

So, this morning I text him asking when I can phone.  I phone him.  He doesn’t really get it (I think) but he says OK.  I hope he understands.  I tell him that I don’t want to fuck it up.  I think he might get that bit.

We shall speak later……..phone calls are difficult for me.  It’s always better face-to-face.

Oh, yes, and I wore my new contact lenses for the first time Saturday.  I wonder if that was what did it.  It’s my eyes, you see.  They are striking, apparently.  Obviously, I’ve had them all my life so, for me they are just my eyes.  But women find them amazing and will tell me.  So I wore the contact lenses on Saturday night to see Gordon.  And then, I didn’t take them out when I went over to FfI on Sunday night (for some take-away pizza and red wine).

She said that I should always wear contact lenses when I go out on the pull (English phrase to mean going out looking for a partner or on a date – just in case it’s not used in the States).  It means, apparently, that my eyes aren’t hidden.

So I show her Gordon’s profile.  I show her Sweet Guy but explain that that is over as I tried 3 times to get some sort of second date and 3 times is enough.  We look at some others that are online.  I explain more things about the gay scene.

We laugh about her emails to the Dream Guy.  Not least when she told him that he had a small member.  It seemed to elicit some response from him.  I couldn’t believe that she had done that in the first place but, a woman scorned….etc., etc.

Sweet Guy had seen that I visited his profile and sends me a message, wishing me a sweet night and golden dreams.  I am confused.  I thought he wasn’t interested.  Just in case I have it wrong with Gordon, I message Sweet Guy asking how he is, etc.

Other people have messaged me as we looked at their profiles.  I’m not really bothered.  I wonder if Gordon is or is not the guy for me (before he texts me) or whether the feeling is mutual.  After he texts me it’s all OK.  I emailed him photos of my dogs on Sunday, after I got home.  He says he loves them.  The text I receive on Sunday night sends love to me, Rufus and Dino.  He may not like them so much when he meets them but that is such a sweet thing to do.  My email to him did say that I don’t think I have emotional baggage but I have these….and we come as a package.  I think he understood.

As opposed to Sweet Guy who has met them and is scared of them!

But Gordon doesn’t drink red wine and doesn’t like heat but prefers it when it is cold.

This is a confused posting.  Sorry guys.  It’s how my mind is right now.

What really counts….

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I arrive. I am early but, because of my little joke about ‘tell me an exact time…I am English so I will be there then…’ I wait outside until the clock I can see at Piazza Loreto hits 9.45……and then I call. He doesn’t want to give me his buzzer name, I guess. I understand. We don’t actually know each other.

I cannot explain how different I feel about him. I mean, the pictures are good. But it’s also the chats we have had, easy, not forced or difficult or sleazy or anything…..I look forward to his replies in a way that I hardly feel about the others. Every word he writes seems just that little bit different………..but, is it, as he says, all fake?

He’s shorter than I thought. He’s supposed to be 2″ shorter than me but it seems more. He’s just in jeans and a T-shirt, nothing special. He doesn’t look like the other 40-year-olds that I have met so far – he seems younger. But there’s no immediate connection, I feel. Maybe because of what I wrote before. Maybe because, even before I’ve seen him, I have already discounted this as being anything more than friends. I don’t know.

He pours some wine. We sit, drink, smoke, talk. He’s as funny as he is on the chat. In fact, he is the chat, only for real. We talk about crap, about gay people, about relationships, about, well, crap.

At one point, as he is refilling my glass, he comes over and kisses me. It’s not like Venice. It’s not something that I don’t want. I want this. I want him. He goes back to his chair, opposite me, across the low coffee table. Across the books all about some Viennese actress, Romy Schneider or something. The wall on the right is almost some sort of shrine to her. He tells me about her.

We kiss again, several times, I run my hands up his back, and he likes that and I like it too.< He's very clear. There will be no sex. Sex on a first date means that you don't really like the person and it's just sex. That's OK. I like that. There's some restraint, something that I can look forward to, some purpose to seeing him again. Later....we go to the bedroom, we explore. He doesn't want me to go and nor do I. We don't have sex, but it's all nice and sexy and cool. His body, though a few years older and with a little bit more weight, is just as it was on the can (or, rather, as it was in the photos). I feel slightly out of my league. I wonder what the hell he can see in a 51-year-old - but he sees something and that something is something he likes. And I like that he likes it. We talk, caress, kiss. We enjoy the warmth of each others bodies. We both want much more but we don't. It's like some sort of game where we try to save so much. He tells me he never kisses guys. Well, he never kisses them much and not on a first date. And , not only has he done that, but we have gone much further than he feels is right - but it's not something that feels wrong or bad or that it will mean we never see each other again. We sleep. I hate sleep. I don't want to waste this time; this time to look at him; to run my fingers down his back (which turns him on in a way that I find incredible and fun and interesting). I want to stay awake and look at his face, see his eyes, run my fingers over his short hair, play with his ears (another 'special' zone). I am Top. I hold him in my arms, curl up against him, kissing, loving, etc. He takes the piss out of my accent. All his previous boyfriends have had blue eyes and are Taurus. Apparently. His previous relationship was with an English guy. And that means......? We sleep some. We get up. We go to have coffee across the road at a fabulous place with the most delightful array of croissants (called brioche here). I've never done this. Got up, gone out and had coffee (breakfast) in a bar. It's new for me. It's different. It's more Italian. We won't see each other for about a week, until after he comes back from Brussels. This is good and bad. But the feelings seem mutual and that is perfect. I don't know where this will go; how it will end; if it will end. But, so far, I am enjoying the journey. And that’s what counts.