Tag Archives: Friends and Inimies

In the mornings I am stronger

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I say the words.  I knew I shouldn’t.  It’s not the first time but, this time, he replies.  Before, he hasn’t, even if he did hear them, although sometimes I just say them when I know he is asleep.

Now he says that I scare him.  Of course, I don’t really understand and have to ask.  We have a conversation.  This is not the best time but the only ‘right’ time to have this conversation.

We have a different point of view.  We knew this from the beginning.  He says that he is scared for me not scared for himself.  I think he is scared for himself.  Even now, as I write this, in the morning.

But, then, I try to explain that I’m not always there, in spite of the fact that he says I am.  He had rung earlier to ask if I fancied going for an aperitivo but I had already made arrangements to meet K and (not his wife, after all) girlfriend M.  I said he could join us if he wanted.  But it was in the centre of town.  He didn’t want to.  I didn’t expect him to.

We said we would talk later.  Actually, K&M wanted to eat so we went for a pizza at the usual place in Piazza Santo Stefano, just off the centre.  Not massively expensive and OK.  Better than the tourist crap that is close to the centre or the really expensive restaurants that are good ….. but expensive.

I texted and asked if I could go round.  He said yes but we would have to go to bed (for sleep).  I said OK as that was what I wanted as well.

But, instead, we talked.  OK these things needed saying.  We still don’t really understand each other, I know that and yet…….

The mornings are best for me and worst for me.  It’s as if, after I have rested for some hours, I think differently, clearly.  Yesterday, as an example, in the morning I was certain that I would not see him.  I needed sleep.  Then, as the day wore on, I worked out how to get the sleep without missing out on seeing him.  Then it changed when K phoned, late in the afternoon but by then I had already set everything up in my mind to see him and I missed him and so, instead of sleep, I got to see him and hold him and we had ‘the talk’.

And, when I was there I wasn’t so tired.  And now I feel like crap.  And, as I was walking home, I knew he was right and I decided wouldn’t see him on Wednesday when he comes back.  I would spend the evening at home, with the dogs, go to sleep early and get some real rest (I am out either at the cinema or for a meal tonight).

And I knew that I would do that and I kept telling myself to be strong and not to give in; not become weak.

But it’s two days and one night away.  If he asks on Wednesday night I will fail; I will give in; I will succumb to the whole “being with him thing”.  And that’s the bit he doesn’t get.  But what of his thinking?  It’s not like he’s turned me away nor has he not suggested it.  I scare him, he says but I’m not so sure.  It’s like the smirk when he says he is porcelain.  I think he scares himself too.

And so, what to do?  I want him to miss me too but I don’t want to take the risk that he won’t miss me.  You understand?  And, after a few hours away from him my brain turns to mush and I become weak and all I want to do is see him, hold him, be with him.

This morning he stays in bed.  I dress and come back into the bedroom.  He reminds me he is porcelain, I tell him that I know that already and kiss him gently, several times.  He calls me his bambino, as usual.  I’m sure he feels the same as me and is just scared for himself.  It’s the afternoons and evenings where I lose it.

But, in the mornings, I am stronger.

In the half-light, I could see the smirk

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In_the_half_light_I_could_see_the_smirk

He tried, on the internet, to find a film in original language, bless him, even though I tried to explain that they did not have original language films on a Sunday any more.  They used to do it at the Odeon, near the Duomo but stopped it a year or so ago.  I guess not enough people went.

But he tried anyway and for that I was happy.  He had said he wanted to see the new film Julie & Julia, with Meryl Streep.  I told him that we could go and watch it anyway, even if it was in Italian.  In fact, I insisted we did as I knew how much he wanted it.  My Italian is improving, at least my understanding of it, mainly because I have less choice now and, although we speak almost exclusively English when we’re together, when we meet his friends or, in general, Italian is spoken much more often in my hearing.

We had had a rather lazy Sunday morning, including a quick trip downstairs to the nice café for breakfast followed by a quick trip round the supermarket for some essential items (including wine).  The clocks had gone back and so, effectively we had the extra hour – although, after so many days/nights like this, I was completely shattered and needed about 3 extra hours!

He was going to lunch with friends and then to see a flat that was, apparently, rather small but had a terrace and was on the top floor and, much more importantly for him, was 3 minutes from work.  This is not so important right now but the first three months of the year it is, as he works from about 8 a.m. until 10 p.m. every day.

I went home to spend some time with the dogs.  They are being a little neglected right this moment and so, when I’m home we go for longer walks and I play with them more.  Still, this week I have to spend some nights at home, which fact I still have to tell him.

We agreed that we would meet at the cinema. Before that I googled the film and got the synopsis and watched clips so that I would have a good idea of what the film was about.  It is more difficult to understand if I don’t really know the subject.  It looked a funny film.  I Skyped FfI who explained that Julia Childs was very famous in America – a sort of Fanny Craddock, I suppose.

So, when we met, I already had a good idea and could remember some of the clips.  We had quite good seats.  I did follow quite a lot of the film.  There were a couple of bits where I really didn’t quite get it but not so many and there was only one bit that I had to check with him afterwards – although I had got the gist of it after all.

Good film.  One of those feel-good films and one that I now want to see in English, to get all the nuances.  But I do think that he liked the fact that I went with him.  I hope so.  It’s all part of the strengthening of the relationship.  He also wants to see it in English.  At the end of all this, he’s speaking in English to me partly because he wants to improve his pronunciation and general command of English (although he is already very, very good).

On that subject (but see the bit about the bar, below), we went out on Saturday night to an Indian restaurant (The Dhaba, Via Castaldi 22) which has to be the best Indian restaurant I have been to in Milan.  Superb food and excellent service although, for those of you from the UK, a little expensive.

Whilst we were chatting over dinner I found that he doesn’t eat red meat – or, at least, not unless it’s minced up (ragù (Bolognese sauce to my English readers), sausages, etc.).  This would be a bit of a problem with Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding then?  Hmmm.  That’s a bit like really loving ice-cream and being told that you may never be able to have it again!  But he did tell me some funny stories of when he was a kid.  He still makes me laugh and I really like that.

Afterwards we went to a bar nearby (the corner of Castaldi and Via Settala) where a friend of a friend was having some special evening.  AfL, the friend, was there with her friend M.  AfL is married to an English guy and has lived in London for 5 years.  F asks me, when they have gone to the bar for another drink, if his pronunciation of English is better than AfL.  I tell him yes, of course.  It does help that it is the truth but he is immensely pleased with this.  He tries so hard to talk with a more English accent, bless.

I leave them to go and do the dogs.  I text him when I am almost back home and he tells me he is coming to pick me up in a taxi (as we had agreed).  In the taxi, on the way back to his place, he tells me that AfL (who will be staying with him next weekend) thought I was really nice.  This is good.  One should always be the best of friends with the friends and colleagues of one’s partner – certainly at the beginning.  You have all seen ‘Hitch’ haven’t you?  And the being friends with the friends is pretty crucial.  Luckily, all the ones I have met so far have been lovely so it’s not so difficult.  Anyway, I can be the perfect English gentleman with all the charm switched on, when I want.

Sunday night, after the film (we went to the 5.30 showing), we went to Al Basilico Fresco restaurant (Viale Abruzzi 21) where we had pizzas.  Nice place.  The pizzas are thin (like Pizza OK) but not so large.  Very nice and not so expensive.  I like that after the meal they give you a sorbet free of charge.  It is nicer than having a limoncello or mirto or something.

During the meal we were talking about films and cartoon films (which we both like).  His favourite was Ice Age, which I’ve never seen.  When we got home, he put the film on the DVD in the bedroom and we watched it.  It was good.  After the film was over, apparently, I went to sleep immediately!  And to be honest, I am very, very tired.  I’m almost looking forward to him going away for a night this week!  I need sleep.  Also, next weekend, it is very unlikely that we shall be together as, not only does he have AfL staying with him but also a dog, for whom he is dog sitting!  A dog who sleeps on the bed!

And, this morning, at about 6.15, just before the alarm went off, he again said that I should remember that he is like porcelain in the morning, but now I’m thinking that this may not be quite so true as, in the half-light, I could see the smirk on his face.

I am like porcelain

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

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

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

_________________________________________________________

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

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

But, later for certain.

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

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

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

All the time in the world – and no time at all

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The metro is not full – at least not at the back end of the train.  I look at the people but don’t really see them.  They are not the ‘city types’ that will crowd the train later, with their suits, briefcases and shoes; perfectly styled hair and, because we are in Italy, sporting the latest style of sunglasses – even if the weather is dreadful and gloomy.

No, these are the people who work at more manual labour or in bars or cafés or restaurants.  But neither are they smartly dressed – but then, why would they be.  I, on the other hand, look like I’m just on my way for a night out, which, of course, when I dressed, I was.

It’s only three stops to my home – well, to the nearest metro stop to my home – and then a 10 minute walk to home.  The streets are fairly quiet.  Not as quiet as when I usually take the dogs out, since that’s a little earlier, but, still, quietish.

I ponder, it being so late, do I take the dogs out immediately or do I have coffee and shower first.  It starts to rain but not heavy rain (thank goodness) just that light, misty rain.  We don’t get that so often here, not like the UK.

I arrive home.  They are pleased to see me and I them.  They smell the smells of a strange place and seemingly can’t get enough of it.  Let’s be honest, these jeans spent most of the time on a chair and not with me inside them!

I take them out after preparing the moka for coffee.  I was offered coffee before I left but decided it would be better to come home and sort the dogs out, so, declined.  We do a shorter walk.  I am already late.  Well, I say late.  Of course, I will be in at the time I used to be….which also means that I will leave later.  But, right now, that’s OK.  Later is later and not now and nothing can change the way I feel or the humour I am in.

It had been busy last night.  Many emails to answer.  V wants to borrow the car to pick someone up from the airport.  He was supposed to go to Berlin but decided he couldn’t afford it.  Instead he wants to pick his friend up from the airport.  We arrange that he should call me on Sunday and we shall make arrangements.  He asks after F and explains a little about him and Ig.  He’s not ready for a relationship right now and so it is not going anywhere.  I say he is starting to sound like an Italian.

Of course, that’s not really fair.  Most people are like this.  Not me.  For me too much thinking is involved.  You either have the Karl Spark or not.  If not then there is nothing, if there is then that is all.  Perhaps it is me that is totally at odds with the world?  Perhaps the rest of the world is right and I am wrong?  Still, it will change nothing.

FfI wanted me to call her.  She calls my phone and immediately hangs up.  The signal that I should call her back.  I Skype her.  She answers and says she is upstairs and that I should call her on her mobile.  I say it’s too expensive for me to call her back.  She thought it was a company mobile!  Some people!!  I say, I shall speak to her tomorrow, unless, as partially planned, I go to F’s for the night.

I start a conversation with another friend.  He’s a new friend, from Saturday but I really like him.  We have funny email exchanges.  He makes me laugh. I shall call him NfM.  We converse by email, Facebook and Skype, at one point, all at the same time.  Which makes for interesting discussions.

He wanted to look at my blog.  Given Lola’s comments in the post below, I am slightly nervous about it.  I mention him and think that, perhaps, he won’t fully understand the way this works.  That anything I say here are only my thoughts at the time.  And may not even be all the thoughts but some partial thought, some nuance.  I briefly contemplate that I don’t give it to him but that seems stupid.  If I am frightened of what I say then I shouldn’t be doing this, this blogging.  I give him the link and try to explain (badly) that if he reads something about himself it’s not meant in a bad way.  After all I do like him.  You may ask what the hell am I doing putting it down here if he’s going to read it.  Well, first of all, I doubt that he will (it’s a little bit wordy for him) and secondly it helps to explain the problem that Lola mentioned.

So, he reads some stuff and finds himself mentioned and I feel bad that it doesn’t say wonderful things about him ‘cos I really do like him.

F suddenly arrives home.  He is earlier than I expected.  I thought he would be much later.  I am happy he is home though.  It means he can tidy his place and then he can be ready for tomorrow, when I may go round, if he wants it.

I don’t know this at the time but he reads my emails with the links to songs that I love or ones that explain me or ones that are for him.

We chat over Facebook for a bit.

I’m still chatting with NfM.  F calls.  He asks me what I am dong.  I say that I shall go and take the dogs out and then have a glass of wine.  He asks if I want to come over for a glass of wine there.  I don’t know why he asked.  It is totally unexpected but so what I want to do.  I say yes, I would love to.  He says to give him 10 minutes for a shower and stuff and the place is a mess.  It makes me laugh.  I tell him that I am sure his place will look immaculate to me.  I tell him that I will be about half an hour or so as I need to take the dogs out and have a shower myself – without adding that, obviously, I need to be dressed well, smell good, etc., etc.

It is, in a way, a little unfortunate as the conversation with NfM was good and now I have to blow him off quickly.  I don’t want to do this as, I feel, we are building quite a good rapport but this is life.  I tell NfM that I must go.  The next day he complains that I was rude and didn’t say goodnight.  He’s right.  It makes me feel bad.  Especially as now, he may have the wrong impression of me.  Relationships – a bloody minefield.  I haven’t had time to explain to him yet, for him to know who I am.  Damn.

Still the dogs go out.  It’s fast as it is raining so hard and they don’t like the rain, so they hurry too.  I am hurrying for a different reason.

I am worried – ‘cos that’s the way I am.  I worry that my old problem will come back – tonight.  I don’t know why that is.  But I worry anyway.  It seems that is what I do – worry.  It’s all in my head anyway, I know, but then the problem is in my head, I know that too.  And I worry that the worry of it will cause the problem.  Bah

I take a shower and leave.  It’s a 10 minute walk to the Metro and three stops away.  About 20 minutes in all.  I notice nothing, not even the rain.

I arrive and phone as I go through the gate, following some other people.  I arrive at his door as he opens it.  It is raining so much that I don’t do what I had thought in my head  I walk up the stairs, him following.  At the top of the stairs we stop and kiss.  It’s a needy kiss from both of us.  And long and deep.  He misses me, for which I am happy; I miss him too.

He says, as we sit on the chair with wine, we can be a couple, if you want.  I want to reply that, for me, we already are.  I want to say that, in spite of what he might say, I know that we are in his head too, even if he is scared that I will just disappear like all the rest.  He doesn’t need to worry.  I’m not going anywhere.  Instead I say that I would and that it would make me very happy.

I say that, if we are a couple, he will have to meet my friends.  He tells me that he cannot because it will be too embarrassing.  He will meet them only as a friend of mine.  This is a little ‘lost in translation’.  He really means that he will feel pressurised by this and, therefore, can only handle it if he is introduced as a friend.  Hmmm.  This means I have to explain this to my friends – but I know they will understand.  Even the newer ones have begun to understand me well enough.

I need not have worried about needing the miracles.  I have one but, really, it is not necessary.  Even during the night, I wake up, from time to time, and hug him or stroke him, even for a few moments before drifting back to sleep.  I think I hear him say that he loves me….but in his sleep.  Perhaps this is someone else, or perhaps this is me.  But I think it is me anyway.  It is enough.  We have all the time in the world – and no time at all.  That’s the bit he doesn’t get but I’m working on it.

He needs to feel secure with me, to trust me, to know that if I say something, it is true.

The alarm goes off at 6.30.  I want to hold him and kiss him and hug him.  He gets up because he has to let me out.  He will go back to sleep until 8.  That’s OK.  He needs his sleep and he needs to feel secure that I will not disrupt his routine too much and not treat him like shit and not take advantage of him.  I won’t but he does not actually know that…..yet!

I leave and catch the metro.

We have all the time in the world – and no time at all.

A good afternoon out; Gordon comes back tomorrow – yay!

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A phoned me. Would I like to go out for a spot of lunch and then a walk round some exhibition. Sure, why not?

He also wanted to go to Il Salvegente, either the oldest or one of the oldest outlet stores in Milan. But first, being A, it was lunch. Once again I find myself in the Corso Garibaldi area although, after walking down there we went back to Fabbrica in Viale Pasubio (No2, to be precise), just down from Corso Como.

I like Fabbrica although the one in the Navigli is the best one (for atmosphere and pizzas, in my opinion). However, they’re good pizzas and I was able to tell him all about Gordon. To be honest (and I don’t know why), by the time he came round I felt in such a good mood. Maybe it’s because Gordon is back in Milan tomorrow night and, if I have my way, I shall be picking him up from the airport as I have mentioned.

After the pizza we looked in a shoe shop and, rashly, I bought some (quite nice) shoes for €30. They will do as ordinary going-out shoes and stop me ruining my really good shoes. They may only last for a year but, hey, at €30 I can’t really complain.

Then we went to 10 Corso Como. This is a strange mix of shop, gallery, bookshop and café. A nice atmosphere. We walked round the photo exhibition, which, to be frank, was boring, then round the roof garden which was open and then the bookshop. Then we had a coffee in the café area. It was a lovely day, the sun shining brightly although a tad too cold for me. Still, it’s October, so what can I expect!

Then we went to Il Salvegente. This was a mistake, really. Before, with V, to help curb the expenses, I would rarely, if ever buy anything on trips out like this. First I saw quite a nice top with some nice detail and only €18 – so a bargain. Then I saw a Dolce and Gabbana jacket, light grey, excellent with jeans, for €170 (reduced from €429) and it was just my size and really looked good.

I said to A that we really needed to get out of there as I would only see something else. In fact, I went out today with absolutely no intention of buying anything…….and now I have a pair of shoes, a top and a nice new jacket.

There are times when being without V is really nice. Now I can do what I want without worrying about him spending money we didn’t have. And I end up with some nice things for myself!

Finally, we had a quick coffee and then home. I finished off the web site check and sent off the document for corrections and enhancements and, therefore, feel that I achieved quite a lot today.

And, during our trip, Gordon gave in and is going to let me pick him up from the airport. I am so very happy about that. I will see him again and we shall have a little time alone.

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.

Some little things?

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I already bought a bottle of white wine.  It is in the fridge – just in case.  Next time I’m at his house, I will check which shower gel he uses, just in case.  There will be other things.

I write an email.  I try to explain the Karl Spark and the fact that, actually, after expressing my doubts yesterday, here, I feel there is that Karl Spark and that I don’t want it to frighten him away.  I compare him to the best chocolate cake in the world, ever.  I know he will understand as this is a simile he has used.

I think he probably won’t get it until he is home.  We text during the day and speak whilst he is on the train, on his way home.  I tell him that, if he didn’t have so much to do, I would meet him from the train.  But I am trying to play it cool.

I go to see A.  It seems weeks since I saw him.  He wants to find out what is going on but, also, to talk about his own shit.  My doubts are all gone now.  At least, for the moment.  The things that worry me are insignificant and nothing to worry about.

I walk back home (the tram will be a long time).  I check my messages on my phone as I walk.  Gordon has sent me an email.  I ask if this is good or bad.  He says he thinks it is good.  I ask if I can phone him when I read it, in about 5 minutes.  He says that he is going to bed but that, of course, I can.

I read the email.  It’s so sweet.  He compares me to a volcano.  I’m not sure I’ve ever been compared to that before?  He explains that he doesn’t want to get hurt, nor cause someone else hurt and so, he needs to be sure of his feelings.  He promises a meeting soon.  A meeting where we can kiss and hug and more.  I know that is true.  The building of trust is important.  And he needs to trust me and so I will make sure he can.

He says he doesn’t write so well (and although his English is good, it must be difficult).  He would prefer to speak to me face-to-face.  Me too.  But I also write.  A lot.

I call him.  I don’t remember what I say – it’s enough (although not enough) to hear his voice.  I cut it short as he is tired.

We text this morning.  Him first (again), which bugs me and makes me happy at the same time.  We will speak later before he flies off to see the Diva on Saturday.  Already I am looking forward to next week.  I don’t know when but am hoping for Tuesday.  Even if it is a school night, I don’t care.

And, just to show you what this all means I am seriously thinking that I should start speaking Italian to him……….it’s my way of being able to show trust and a willingness to ‘fit in’ to his world.  What do you think?

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.

The meaning of X; why do I put myself in these situations?

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When I was a kid, we used to write cards (birthday cards and the like) to grandparents, sisters, brothers, etc.  Always it ended with ‘Lots of love X’.  If you were really generous it would be even more ‘x’s.

I had always assumed, like one does, that everyone did this.  Here, quite often, people end with ‘baci’.

More recently, I have stopped using baci but have been putting ‘x’.  It seems that things are not (and it has taken me about 45 years to find this out) quite as I thought and that not everyone uses an x in place of baci.

Not only don’t they use it but they don’t recognise it!  Who knew?

So last night, on the phone, I was asked why the ‘x’ and was it like a signature or something.  So I explained and, in the process, learnt yet another thing that separates us from the Italians, culturally.

So, catching up with friends, as I was last night.  Telling them of the guys and why I was dropping some of them and why others were working (maybe….early days yet).  Now, I spoke to Best Mate the other night.  Told her about the sweet guy.  She was fine.  Another friend was fine…..one friend was not….

It got me to thinking, this is my problem really.  I put myself in situations that other people find hard to take.  But, and here is where the real problem lies, it is my opinion that it is their problem and not mine.  I don’t do the compromise very well.

And so, should I take up with the sweet guy, then I am sure to lose some friends along the way; people who remain ignorant; people who, because it does not seem to have touched them, still think of HIV as something that is a gay plague and that it is the fault of the person who has it and that it can be transferred just by touching, or something equally preposterous!

That’s a shame because, other than this one thing, they are nice people – but I know that I won’t compromise on it.  And that bit is my problem too.

In the meantime, my date for tomorrow (Gordon) returned to Milan from a weekend away.  He is feeling tired.  Hmmm.  This could be the prelude to bailing out for tomorrow night………shame because I found that I had missed our chats online.  Still, it will all be for the best, whatever.  Also, my piano player from Pavia is saying that Sunday will be difficult.  Hmmm.

Still, I still have Varese on Friday night.  And, tonight, hopefully I will see my friend A who I have not seen for a little while…..which will be nice.

A meeting with V

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We have arranged to meet on Thursday for a pizza.

Last night was the theatre.  Actually it was nowhere near as bad as I thought it might be – only being bad because I thought I would not be able to follow the play at all.  In fact it was well done, although I would have preferred it in English since I didn’t get all the sense of it.  However, I did understand some of the jokes and that was good.

We met first for an aperitivo in the theatre.  Nice food and we talked.  It became clear to me that, although he is a nice guy, he is not for me, in terms of a relationship.  He has too many other people in his life that would take precedence……..and, if I’m going to have a relationship with someone then I want to be No. 1 – not further down the list behind a 9 year-old daughter, an ex ‘love of his life’, etc.

Anyway, he’s not really so attractive even if he is rich.  Rich is not everything – in fact, although it would be very nice, it’s decidedly nothing at all – for me, anyway.  Not all my friends think like this but everyone must choose what is important for them.

Beforehand I had rung the piano-player, who also lives in Pavia.  I was due to be there, rather than writing this from home.  The conversation was all Italian.  But he thinks (as a lot of people seem to) that I can understand it perfectly.  Boh!  Anyway, he has the ‘flu so it was cancelled.

I contacted my sweet guy but he was busy today.  I still can’t get him out of my head.

Later……he is online.  Against his name it has the status of ‘Date’ which should mean he is looking for a date.  I send him a message saying that he should know that I would go on a date with him.

He tells me he is working, which I know.  I reply that, if he would like, we could go to a Tuscan restaurant that I have been told is good, nearby.

He says yes, with a grin.  Maybe, perhaps, this will be good.  He wants to be romanced and seduced and I am good at that.  My problem will be holding back and not pushing it too far.

I am just browsing the people online.  I see one profile.  It is V.  He is lying about his age, shaving over 5 years off his age.  I don’t blame him since everyone is so hung up about the age of the person (including me).  I wouldn’t look at anyone my age…even if they did look good.  After all, I want someone younger and, as I was explaining the other night, the perfect man would be in his early forties with the body of a 30-year-old!

I then see that V has looked at my profile.  So, I think, it would be rude not to send a message.

I say hello and ask him how he is.  He tells me he’s fine and asks how I am.  I say I am good. He asks what I am doing.  Am I browsing.  I say that I was supposed to be in Pavia but it was cancelled and then start my normal complaints about Italian men.  He agrees and say that if they weren’t so good looking they’d all be single.  I say they aren’t all so good looking, etc.  I also mention that an ex-colleague is coming to Milan on such-and-such date and would he like to meet up with him.

He asks if the message was meant for him.  I realise that, perhaps, he doesn’t know who he is talking to.

I give the guy’s last name.

He asks if I am me (if you see what I mean).

I reply that yes, I am me and thought he would recognise the jeans!  (Since there is no face picture).

From there we have quite a funny conversation.  At one point he tells me that he was about to ask me out on a date.  Now that would have been funny.  I tell him that, if he had done that, I would have suggested Thursday.  Then we started talking about domestic stuff……Could I have some sunglasses, he has some cushion covers to give me, etc., etc.

I don’t know why, but it was a really pleasant conversation that we had.  It seemed so much easier over the chat and no pressure or crap.

Of course, I thought that, sooner or late, we would meet up online and I was a little worried.  However, it was very nice in the end.  I wonder too if, at some point, I will meet other people that I know……?

I wonder, if V hadn’t been my partner for all those years and I had found him here now, would I be going out on a date on Thursday as John (my onscreen name)?  Interesting thought, isn’t it?