Tag Archives: Relationships

Going with the flow

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In my head, I am firm and resolute.

F hasn’t been sleeping well and I snore and when it gets too much he has to stop me.  He has tried many things.  If he snores I only have to kiss him for him to stop.  He’s tried that with me but, apparently, that and many other things, don’t work.  He has to wake me.

And I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather.  It’s like ‘flu but I think it’s down to not enough sleep.  From my whole life of going to bed about 10 or 10.30 or, at a push, 11 (since I get up at 5 something), I am now never in bed before 11 and, amongst other side effects, I think it’s making me look older.  Someone likened me to Tommy Lee Jones the other day, so you get what I mean (not that being likened to TLJ is a terrible thing, IMO).

And, so, after Tuesday night I resolved that I would sleep in my own bed.  But when we spoke and he asked if I was coming round I said ‘yes’, of course.  Wednesday, after feeling so grotty most of the day, I told myself that I would definitely sleep in my own bed.  And, I said to myself, whatever he says, say that you want to make sure he sleeps well and you don’t want to wake him or keep him awake.  But, again, as soon as he asked if I was going round the answer that came out was ‘yes’.

Last night we went to see Alice in Wonderland.  After, we are walking back to our area (about 10 minutes).  I didn’t mention anything.  He says that he hopes to sleep better tonight.  I sympathise and say that maybe I should stay at mine tonight.  He says that he can come

No, it’s better that you sleep on your own.

Those are the words that should have come out of my mouth.  Instead, I say “If you’re sure”.

Of course, earlier, he had phoned.  “Be at Arcobaleno [the cinema in Viale Tunisia] at 7.30.  We’re going to see Alice in Wonderland”.  I had, previously decided that, when he phoned or came on line I would tell him that I was going to bed very early tonight.  Of course, when he actually phones, I say “OK, I’ll be there”.

And I don’t regret that.  Nor am I sorry that he spent the night at mine last night and the several times I woke up with him spooning me, all warm and comfortable and nice and reassuring.  OK so I got to bed after 11 but I’m not seeing him tonight (he’s going to the theatre with some friends) and so I think that this will be almost the last night (before he goes away for a whole week) and I need to have him close to me.  It’s my need but I think it’s also his.  I mean, if I was really keeping him awake he wouldn’t come, right?  Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t.  Or, is his need to be with me the same as mine to be with him?  Hmmm.  Maybe.

And the reason we went to Alice In Wonderland was because his colleague got us tickets.  F & I went for a beer first at one of the gay bars (Mono) nearby.  Then met up with his colleague and her husband and son in front of the cinema.  OK, it is a good film but Tim Burton is in danger of getting a bit ‘samey’.  But I need to see it in English as I missed some of the (probably) more subtle bits of the film.  The 3-D effects were good in parts (the smoke, falling leaves, flying things – where they really seemed to be coming out of the screen) but the rest was not really necessary and didn’t really add anything to the film.  I wonder if the cost of making the film in 3-D will outweigh the returns and it will have a short shelf-life?

Anyway, back to the purpose of this post, which is to say that, in spite of my logical, calculating side knowing that I should say no, when I speak to him or am with him, it’s impossible to do anything other than agree to whatever he suggests.  It kinda makes me angry (with myself) but then, again, I think- why not?  After all, we only get the one life and fighting against the tide is pointless when, in reality, you just want to go with the flow :-D

And, it’s not as if he is fighting against it that much either!

I am so fortunate

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“And we have to go to Vienna in April.  To party and for the funeral.”

“If you want to come”, he adds.

It may seem incongruous – party and funeral in the same sentence but I totally understand.  I question only why it is such a long time away.  He doesn’t know.  I try to explain that, perhaps, rather than a funeral it is a memorial service.  He says no but I think this is definitely lost in translation.  Surely you can’t have the funeral over a month after the death?

B had asked before that what we were intending to do for Easter.  Someone else had asked me before that, during the day.  I said, as I had said earlier, that we hadn’t talked about it.

“I might have to go to my parents'”, he says.

As I do, I said “OK”, not asking if I could come but wanting to.  I curb my tongue all the time.  My head say ‘Don’t Assume Anything’ and so I keep silent.

“You can come, if you like”, he adds.  Of course, what I want to say is something like ‘Of course I want to come.  Wild horses nor the devil himself couldn’t keep me from coming’.

“That would be nice”, I actually say, “but what about the dogs?  Can they come too?”.  He thinks about it.  “Yes, they can come too”.  It will be a family trip :-D

Of course, it may not happen.  I know that.  But it’s the thought that’s nice.  And, when I told a colleague this morning, she made the comment that I was going to be ‘introduced’ which, of course, I would be.  Not as his boyfriend or partner but just as his friend.  Just like his ex was, who, I found out when I met S the other week, still sends Christmas cards to them and they still ask after him.  But they don’t ‘know’.  He’s told me why and that’s OK.  I suspect they know but not asking directly means that nothing is confirmed and everyone lives in their cosy world without the need to ‘know’ everything.  Hey, this is his family and how he handles it is up to him just as how I handle mine is up to me.

“Was it love at first sight?”, B had asked, earlier still.  No, it wasn’t ‘love’.  He said that it wasn’t for him.  I didn’t think it was but when B had been asking about how we got together, it became a bit of a blur and I could only remember certain things.  And, so, I’m reading over the posts I wrote at that time.  This blogging thing is really useful :-D.

And, no, it wasn’t ‘love’ at first sight.  But it was something.  I had forgotten that he didn’t kiss other guys, generally, he had said, and certainly not on the first date.  And, yet, he had come over to me and kissed me.  He said, last night, that it was after several glasses of wine.  Well, a couple maybe.  But there must have been something, even for him.  I know I was confused as to how I felt (having read my entries) but it quickly developed into knowing the something; of having the Karl Spark.

He is sweet and I adore him.  I had texted him with B & my last minute plans for a meal and asked if he could come.  I said I would understand if he couldn’t.  He phoned me and we were already in the restaurant and on our starter.  He said he had just finished work and was tired.  I said that I understood and it was no problem but it would be nice if he could come.  He said he would come.

I know that he did it for me and for him.  For me because he knows how important B is to me and how I always am ready to meet the people he wants me to meet and also for him because I have spoken of B often and he wants to meet my friends.  He wants to see N&S before they leave too.  As soon as he finishes his trips (next week and the week after), perhaps?

And, yes, it curtailed our (B and my) conversation a bit.  But I did so want them to meet.

And then he came back to mine  He went to bed and was asleep before I got to bed, as he hasn’t slept well in the last couple of nights.  He got up late (10.30) but at least he slept a bit last night even if he did wake up in the night.  I woke up at 4 because my alarm went off.  Actually, it didn’t go off, messages came through and I had forgotten to change the phone to phone only.  And so, partly because of that and partly because the phone light was flashing, warning me that it was on a very low battery, and I always worry about not being woken up by the alarm, I found it difficult to return to sleep and, instead, I watched him and listened to his snoring and loved him even if, because he was too hot and so was I, we didn’t touch.  So, because of the snoring, I knew he slept some.

And, this morning, as I left him, he was asleep again, and I kissed him on his forehead and, unusually, he didn’t wake and, instead, we chatted through Facebook when he got up.

And I said that B had said he was lovely and asked about us going to Rome and he was all for it (in the same way that he was all for going to Pallanza) and I said that we would go after Carrara and Vienna and he said OK, that would be good.

And, reading back on my blog entries I realise that, although maybe not love at first sight, it was certainly something and almost at first sight and I realise again that I am so fortunate to have found him.

Explanation not required nor desired?

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Well, what was I supposed to do?

He was complaining about last night.  I didn’t give him the support.  WTF?  I mean, I couldn’t hug him (his shoulder was so bad and he wouldn’t let me hug him), I couldn’t really say anything (what is there to say with news like he had).  What the hell did he want?

“But you had a bad shoulder”, I replied.  “How the hell could I comfort you?”, I asked.

He hadn’t phoned me because he had been annoyed with me.  But, really.  There was nothing I could do.

Of course, after a little while I had started to get a bit worried.

“And, anyway, I can’t see into your brain; can’t know what you’re thinking”.  It almost sounded like whining.  I kicked myself but I wasn’t going to give in on this one.  He wants support (which I’ve been doing) and then, when I don’t do something that he thinks I should, he complains.  I mean, we haven’t been together that long that I can just work everything out.

It’s more like being with a woman!

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Actually, of course, almost none of that happened.  It just went through my head.  Soon after it went through my head, I did what I usually do which is worry about him and be concerned about how he was feeling whilst resisting the almost unbelievable urge to call him.

Then he texted and I was sooooooo relieved that we didn’t have any of that conversation at all.  And he wasn’t angry with me.  And he didn’t think that I didn’t support him.  And I hadn’t done anything ‘wrong’ nor misunderstood anything.

All was well, apart from his shoulder and the fact that he had had no sleep.  We slept apart last night.  He explained that, if he stayed awake like the night before, he might want to put the television on or go and sit at the computer and he wouldn’t be able to do that if I were there because I ‘need your rest as you have to get up so early’.  He thinks about me too and considers my needs.

As I say often (to him), there’s no need to explain.  I usually add that there’s no need to say sorry, either.

But, of course, there is.  But it’s just for confirmation, of course.  And to stop the things in my head becoming real – to stop me giving voice to them.  So, my biggest problem here is myself.

It’s a very good feeling

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No, I was wrong.  This wasn’t Bunch but, most definitely Brunch.

Her husband (I presume) was from American stock and so there was bacon, scrambled eggs (with, because the husband was American, Heinz Tomato Sauce) and pancakes with maple syrup.  She also baked – blueberry muffins, carrot cake that was almost like ginger cake, a fruit cake (that reminded me of my mother’s rock cake) and raspberry jam tart!  Mmmmmm!  Delicious.

Most of the conversation was in Italian but it wasn’t too bad.  As I’ve recently said to Man of Roma in the post On Being British, my understanding of Italian improves.  The hostess was particularly kind when she found out that I didn’t understand perfectly saying that the few words I had spoken were perfectly pronounced and so she thought I spoke Italian.  It made me smile.

As did F, who, when we are together, doesn’t show affection so often but when we are out, touches me more (rubs my knee, strokes my leg, holds my hand, kisses me (although not today)) and in such a way that it is genuinely affectionate.  I know he loves me.

I was introduced as his findanzata.  I like that.

I watched him during the conversations.  He has such a way about him, such style, such a good conversationist, so friendly, so instantly likeable.  I got the small pastries that we were taking and went round to his flat before we went for brunch.  He was getting dressed.  At that stage he wore a white shirt and underpants.  So very sexy.

We walked back to his house with his colleague who had also been at the brunch.  I followed behind them sometimes, when the pavement was too narrow for three abreast, and noticed the back of his neck or, rather, the nape where his hair fanned out (though it is short) almost like an upside down peacock’s tail.  So sweet.  And I wanted to kiss it there and then.

But that’s for later when he comes round.  Now I should be making the bed, washing up the few things, putting the house in order.  His idea to come round.  He misses the babies (the dogs to you and I).  Especially Dino who loves him, probably, only slightly less than he loves Dino.

Yep, I like being his findanzata.  It’s a very good feeling.

Brunch or Bunch

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I was chatting with a colleague who was complaining about the cost of Brunch at this particular place in Milan.

The problem, we worked out, was that Italians have taken the word ‘Brunch’ and applied it (and an increased price) to a meal that can only be described as a buffet lunch rather than a (very) late breakfast, which was what Brunch devolved from.

F had told me, last week, that he was going to brunch with his landlady. It will be an all-Italian affair and, therefore, best described as a buffet lunch or Bunch. He told me that this Bunch would be Sunday (tomorrow).

Then, a few days later, he asked me to come. I’m not entirely sure why. I hesitate to say it’s because he wants me there but it does seem like that. I am going as his friend or findanzato – I’m not sure which. But I’m going anyway – and pleased to go because, in spite of my hesitation, I think it is because he wants me there; he wants us to do things together. It’s just that he doesn’t explain that very well.

It’s like now, as I write this. He had a headache earlier and went to bed. He rang because, although he feels better, he still feels a bit rotten. I don’t know whether he wants me there or not. So I said I would come round – if he would like. Eventually he said that he would like and so, when I’ve finished this, I will have a shower and go round, returning to do the dogs later.

And then we shall stay at his place. We went to IKEA this morning and he was looking for pillows as we need to be higher to watch the television. As he was buying some special pillows he asked me if this was what I wanted – ‘because one of them is mine and the other is yours’.

But, in spite of all the signals he gives, I remain unsure and, as a result, don’t push. In fact, I rather ‘hold back’. I don’t know. Is it right or should I be more forceful with what I want? Am I just being a pushover? And will that turn him away?

Ah well, tomorrow is brunch (or bunch). Either way, we shall be together and, whatever the signals, I like it a lot that we’re together.

The same thing with the right person

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To be honest, I’m just a little apprehensive.

I knew it was coming, I just expected a little more notice.  And it’s not as if it’s anything to worry about, really.  But, you know…….?

F phones.  He is at Liù, near my flat.  He’s not IN Liù since it’s only 6.30 p.m. and I know they don’t open until 7.30.  He’s there because he has to get some stuff.  He needs a cable for the TV so that it can be moved to the correct place in the bedroom.

“Would you like to go for a pizza later?”, he asks me.  “We can go to Liù”

“Sure”, I reply.  He’s going to phone me later.

He does.

“We’re going to Basillico”, he states, “for 8.30.  We’re meeting S”.

He uses the nickname so it takes me a moment to understand what he means.  “Is that OK?”, he adds, maybe misunderstanding my initial silence.

“Sure but are you sure you want me to come?” I ask him.

Now, you should know that this is only me being polite.  S and F haven’t met up since S got back into town.  And, I’m not really jealous but there’s something.  I mean, he was with S for 11 years and, you know, maybe with S coming back, F thinks there may be a ‘getting back together’.  I don’t really think so but…….

And, I think, perhaps it would be better for them to have an evening together, catching up on old times or stuff like that and I would just be in the way.  Anyway, S’s boyfriend is still in the States.  It will be weird with me being there but S not being able to bring his boyfriend too.

Of course, the question, just like the thoughts are all crap.  What I want is that F would not possibly meet S without me being there.  But one can’t actually say that, right?

But there is also the thing that I am not S.  I am not as good as S.  That my not being good enough will become obvious to F when he sees us together.  Still, I want him to say that he wants me there too.

And he does.  He calls a little later to say he is having an aperitivo at Bar Basso, which is in the same piazza.  I have just come out of the shower.  I can’t meet S without making the best of myself, obviously.  I expect him to be somewhat glamorous.

I say I will be another 10 minutes.  As I am leaving he calls to say he will meet me at the pizzeria.  I walk up.

I see them.  S with his back to me, talking to F.

We meet.  He shakes my hand.  I shake his and we kiss on both cheeks, as one does, instigated by me.  Why not, I think to myself?  He is the same height as F.  Thin but not as thin as I thought.  An old-fashioned haircut, a short beard, not over-fashionable nor quirky as he might be, being a designer and all.

We sit in the restaurant.  Afterwards I think about how strangely F acted.  Like he was over-excited.  It strikes me that he was excited about introducing me to S.  I think that either he so wanted S to meet me or that he wanted to show S that he had someone else.  I thought the former last night and the latter this morning – so, obviously, I have no idea.

He and S always spoke Italian to each other in the past, F not speaking any English when they first met but, several times when S spoke Italian last night he asked him to speak English.  He finds it difficult to understand S so well, what with his heavier Mancunian accent.

Anyway, I liked him.  S, that is.  He’s not me and I am not him.  We are very different.  He asked a lot about me and I asked a lot about him.  He told me that when I meet F’s family I will like them.  He asked how long we had been together.  F replied that it was four months to which I added that it wasn’t so long.  However, S seemed to think that it was and seemed genuinely pleased that F had ‘found’ someone – as did F.

At the end he said that it was really nice to meet me after all the good things he had heard about me.  And since he would only have heard those things from F, it made me smile as perhaps this IS the real thing?  Apparently he texted F afterwards to say I was simpatico – our equivalent of nice, I think.

I don’t know, really.  Should I feel jealous (or whatever this is)?  Do I, in fact, feel jealous?  I’m not even sure about that.  Whatever I feel, I feel less now that I’ve met him.  He’s more ‘gay’ than F, for certain and more ‘gay’ than me too, for that matter.  I think that’s what F likes about me and it’s certainly one of the things I like about him.

And, after all, F said that we’re all looking for the same thing really.  The same thing with the ‘right person’, of course.

Well, this hasn’t happened for…..ummm….well…..bloody years!

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Yesterday, about 1.30 p.m. I went home.

I felt ill.  I mean, really crappy, shitty and I couldn’t stay any more.

I slept quite a bit, had several Oxo drinks (my own secret solution to any illness) and, later when F came to see me, some Tachiflu (even if it’s not flu, I’m sure) and took my temperature (‘cos Italians like to take temperatures) because he had bought a thermometer, even though I told him it wasn’t necessary.  I did feel he was slightly disapproving of the fact that I didn’t actually have a temperature.  He also bought some orange juice, the Tachiflu, some milk and some beef burgers (he thought I would be off work today which, obviously, I am not!) – very sweet of him though, for sure.

My temperature was normal.  Of course!  I’m afraid I don’t get ‘fever’ which seems his answer to every slight change in how your body feels.  However, I still felt shitty.  The last time I took time off from work because of feeling ill was so long ago that I can’t even remember it.  Perhaps it’s an age thing.  Anyway, half a day off work in, say, 15 years, isn’t so bad, I think.

Oh yes and we had a FB chat thing about Susan Boyle, who appeared at the San Remo festival last night.  He said she looked really good, which surprised me.  He then replied that she had had her hair done and had a good dress on.  I replied that it wouldn’t make that much difference.  He replied that it made her look like Linda Evangelista – which made me laugh a lot.  I then replied saying that Linda may be very unhappy with that comparison but Susan probably wouldn’t be.

How where we grow up affects us

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I am a little worried.  Only a little – right now, of course.  The actual (possible) events are a long way off.

I was born and brought up, for most of my childhood, in the middle of the glorious countryside of Herefordshire.  For the UK, this was one of the places furthest from the sea.  Yes, sure, when we went on our 2 week holiday, we went to the beaches of North Wales (and, sometimes, even had sun and warmth, I seem to remember).  But most of the 6 weeks of summer holidays, we were, as kids, stuck in the middle of this countryside.  And, so, we played in the garden (which was huge) or went walking or playing in the fields and woods near the house.

Certain things I remember would not be allowed now.  Like the bales of straw in the field opposite, where, every summer, we went and made houses of these bales, lugging the heavy bales to form walls and roofs, creating dens.  I was one of those kids that also liked to walk, across the fields and through woods, on my own, looking at the flora and fauna, enjoying the calming effect.

Now, as I am older, for me, the countryside is special.  It invokes images of tranquillity, of a tamed wildness, of being at peace.  Last summer, in the hills of Piedmont, I enjoyed, for a few days, thanks to N&S, the countryside and the hills that, somewhat, reminded me of Herefordshire.  And, every day, went walking with the boys, which they enjoyed immensely.

And then, for lunch or the evening, there is always a town or village nearby where, in the UK, one can find a country pub with good beer (one hopes) and, possibly, some pub grub or here, in Italy, you might chance upon some nice country restaurant.

One thing about my childhood that I always hated was our summer holiday to the beach.  I hated it for many, many reasons – we went in a caravan and, later, when the four kids were older, we had an awning attached, which was where we slept (of course).  The big drama of packing the caravan (to make sure the weight was evenly distributed), the putting up of the awning which had to be done even when it was pissing down with rain, the showering in some toilet block on the camp-site, the daily preparation and trek to the beach, my parents always preferring to be in a part of the beach without too many neighbours, so a longer walk with all the ‘stuff’, also knowing that one had to return with all the ‘stuff’ at the end of the day, etc.  Oh, yes, I hated it.

And now, of course, I have certain things that make my holiday.  Being in the countryside where one can walk without the need to carry; eating at restaurants and bars rather than taking all your own food; having the opportunity to visit a church or a museum or, here, a vineyard or the like.

But, for those people brought up near to the sea, the beach was the place that they went during their time away from school.  To them it is the perfect place to relax.

And so it is with F.  He has told me that, after breakfast he goes to the beach and stays there all day.  When he returns home, at 6 or 7, he eats having not eaten at lunch.

My worry is that, this summer, assuming we go on holiday, this is what he will want to do.  For me, it is boring and hot and I’m not really one for lying there just to get brown.  Getting brown is a consequence of doing something in the sun, not the reason for the holiday.  I can swim but I’m not good – basic, I think you would say.  But for him it’s his way to completely relax.  For me it is not.

Or, maybe it is and I have just not been with a partner for whom this IS the summer holiday.  Perhaps I should try and see.  My worry is, what if I do get bored and after an hour or so on the beach, want to do something?  Go for a walk, visit the town, do something else?

I know I should wait and see and, if I really don’t like it, I’m sure we can compromise, both of us wanting this to work, after all.

It just niggles at me from time to time, is all.

I miss you so much

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Actually, no.  that wasn’t what was said.  What was said was:

“I miss the babies.”

Not a line from me and nothing to do with real babies at all.

He phones me last night, about 7.  He’s been at the shop all day and so is finishing early (well, early for him).

“What do you think about going for a pizza?”, he asks.

“Sure”, I reply.

“We could meet at Liù in 10 minutes?”, he suggests – this being the restaurant/pizzeria in Via Eustachi, so very close to me.

“Perhaps then I go home and come back and stay with you”, he says, before adding how he missed the babies.  Not me!  Well, of course not, since I am with him every night, even if we are at his place.

But, for me, it’s great that he misses the ‘babies’ as he calls Rufus and Dino.  I like it a lot.  And it’s great that he misses them and loves them.  I left the flat to take them for a walk and we waited, just outside the building for a few moments until I saw him coming.  Then we walked on as he likes to ‘surprise’ them – especially Dino.  And so we are walking.  He catches us up and is a few paces behind.  Suddenly Dino spies him, does a double take (for one second it could be anyone) and then launches himself at F, so excited he is to see him.  I like this too.  I like that Dino is so pleased to see him and that he is so pleased to see Dino.

This morning I text him to tell him that it’s been a great four months and that he makes me happy.  He texts back to say ‘I love you’.

I can’t stop smiling.

The Lamb and the Penguin

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They sit there, the penguin in front of the lamb staring straight ahead.

As you may remember, Christmas was a difficult time this year.  Not difficult being with F, which was wonderful, nor was it difficult doing the meal, even if we didn’t have goose or Christmas pudding or bread sauce or brandy sauce or any of the usual things.

No, it was difficult because we had been seeing each other for only a couple of months and I had no idea what the hell to buy for him and, in the end, on my wonderful Christmas Eve shopping trip, I bought lots of little things, some very cheap – but, in the end, it was OK and I think he liked them.

The last shop I went to was a toy shop.  I was looking for something particular.  We have become big fans of Shaun the Sheep, an animated figure appearing in stories and by Aardman, the people who bought you Wallace and Gromit.  Below is Sheepless Nights which is the funniest bit I have ever seen.  Unfortunately, it keeps being removed from YouTube and so may not work for long.  Enjoy.

And so, there I am, passing this shop that I know but have never been in and I pop in to see if they have something like Shaun.  I explain that I want a sheep.  She takes me to the rack with the soft-toy sheep.  she picks one up. I just burst out laughing.  I explain that it can’t possibly be a sheep as it looks like a gorilla.  She laughs too because it is true but assures me it is a sheep.  However, since I want something that looks more like Shaun, a gorilla simply won’t do, even if it is supposed to be a sheep.

We (I) settle on one that, although similar to Shaun, does not have the black face or legs.

The other thing he had said he liked was penguins since they were new things on FarmVille, just before Christmas and so, previously, I had bought a small penguin.

And now, on the edge of the wide arm of the new sofa, they sit staring out.  I don’t know if he really likes them or if he puts them there because I bought them or because of how he feels about me or some combination of all of those things – but it makes me feel good anyway.  And I smile even now, as I think about it.