Tag Archives: Relationships

One food in common – Anchovies!

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7

F was in his element. Greeting people like he had known them for years, and some of them, of course, he had. For those, he knew their names (something I always struggle with) and remembered things about them. I have always admired that but I am aware you can train yourself to be better at it.  I don’t have the will, really.

F took my coat – mainly because he was ‘showing me off’.  Which is fine.  I was introduced as his ‘findanzato’ to a number of people.  I am proud to be so.  And I can do the ‘being very charming and nice’.  I am gay, after all!  I just can never remember their names after 2 seconds.  Ah well.

Of course, other than FfI (with her ‘walker’ as she described him) and N&aS, I knew a number of people already.  People that I have met, including M who is really lovely (and drinks beer like a true English woman), the Manageress of the shop, D – tall, long blonde hair, S, who works with F and is helping with the flat also and a really nice guy, D another guy from the shop, etc., etc.

And I met the BIG MAN himself.  What a really pleasant, down-to-earth guy he was.  I spent a few minutes chatting with him, laughing and joking.  None of your snobby ‘I’m a designer so look at me’ thing going on.  Really nice guy.

There was champagne and nibbles.  After, we all went for a meal.  Nice evening all round.  And then F, who was going to go back to his flat, decided to come and stay with me and this, after no pressure from me whatsoever.  It’s times like that when I feel that he feels the same as me.  And that makes me feel so good.

V and I are exchanging emails as you may have realised from the post below.  It also includes various other things (Rufus, the conclusion of the Final Question, etc., etc.)

I had invited him to the do last night.  After all, this was the world he wanted to be in.  However, he couldn’t go (or chose not to go).  And, I had mentioned that I would be seeing S&N there.  He included a last paragraph, saying that he was concerned because I had changed so much and he thought perhaps I was getting in too deep and he didn’t want me to be hurt and was I sure that this was good?

I wonder why?  Yes, I have changed.  My hair is no longer dyed, so it’s grey.  The clothes that I am wearing are, somewhat, being chosen/determined by F.  As I pointed out to him – I may seem changed on the outside but I am the same ‘me’ inside.  And, as I also pointed out, I am the ‘all or nothing’ guy.  What is the point in doing this if it is half-hearted?  Why bother unless you commit – without that the partner is nothing more than a (more) intimate friend?

And, as I also pointed out, I will be fine as long as F is truthful to me and, to date, I have no reason to distrust him and hope I never will.

Not really sure what his motivation behind this was.  Maybe he was genuinely concerned and really doesn’t want me to be hurt?  Who can tell?  I’m not even sure HE could tell.

When I woke F up this morning, he wanted to stay asleep.  ‘Let’s call in and say we are sick and stay in bed all day’ he murmurs from under the duvet.  ‘It’s a lovely idea’ I say, smiling.  But the reality is that neither of us would do that and we both know that.  It’s the type of people we are.  Different but the same in important things.  And now we have found one food in common – anchovies!

Not the Bad Guy here.

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3

‘You didn’t tell me’.  Maybe I’m being a little over sensitive but it seems so accusatory.

I want to say.  No, why would I?  You have his number/Facebook contact/email address.  I don’t live with him any more and we haven’t been together for over a year.  What the fuck do you want from me?  It’s not like he’s my responsibility any more.

I don’t say that.  I don’t say anything like that.  I just get angry.  And frustrated.

What did you think?  I was going to post it on my Facebook account?  Or send an email to everyone I knew?  Or telephone everyone?  And say what, exactly?  He didn’t even want to tell his parents (and didn’t for the first day or so) until I persuaded him that I should phone his sister and I would make it OK.

In fact, until today, I didn’t even know what had really happened.

Apparently he had a stroke.  But he’s only 43!  He tells me (after I email him about someone else saying that I hadn’t told them and telling me what he had wrong) that it was a localised stroke, brought on by stress, apparently.  Yes, I know about the stress thing.  His colleagues at work made sure I knew as I sat by his hospital bed.  It was one of the reasons I stopped going.  They were definitely accusing me of bringing it on.  They said (in my hearing) that it was the stress of the break-up.

So, for the record – we broke up for reasons of trust.  And he didn’t make any effort to enable me to trust him any more.  It was both of us, of course.  But he had plenty of opportunity to try and make it right and I’m sure I would have listened.  It may not have changed anything but you never know.  But, then, after he didn’t appear to want ‘us’ to continue, I found that I didn’t either.

But, anyway, I only found out a day after he had been taken to hospital.  So, what do you want from me?  He didn’t even want to tell me!  He didn’t even tell me about the fact that it was a stroke until after someone else told me!  And that was only today!!!!

I’m not the bad guy here, you know?

Everything is, always, mostly, nearly completely perfect.

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2

“That’s why I love you”, he says.

This may be in a jokey way – or maybe not.  Or, maybe both?  It doesn’t matter as it’s true, in any case.

As usual, all my doubts, uncertainties, confusion, etc. melted the moment that I saw him.  How does he do this to me?  I have to be honest and say that, were it not for the internet we may never have even noticed each other, even if we had met before, although, if we had spoken, maybe it would have been different.  But now, I only have to see him, even from a distance!

I had sent texts during the day.  He hadn’t replied.  I was aware that he may not, what with the BIG DAY being today and, I guessed, everyone running around as if the Queen were about to visit.  His responsibility being the ‘look’, I thought he may be even busier than most.  That was OK.  I knew what this was like (sort of) and, so, was not pressing.

I got home and waited.  Eventually, he called.  He was going to go home.  He was late.  I suggested that he may want to come to my place first, to check out and decide what I was going to wear for the ‘do’ tonight.  He thought that was a good idea.

He got to Porta Venezia and suggested going for a pizza and would I like to come there.  I said yes but I had to change and sort out the dogs.  Then he rang saying he was already at Porta Venezia and should we meet at Pizza OK.  I suggested Timeout 2 as it was closer to my place and he could then come back to mine for the five minutes it would take to sort through what I would wear.

I walked the few minutes to Timeout 2, realising, as I walked, that it was, probably, closed.  It was Tuesday and I was convinced that it was closed for that day.  It was.  I try to phone him.  He is on the phone (as usual).  I walk up towards Pizza OK as I know that’s where he’s coming from.  Trying to call him all the time.  Still engaged.  I start walking back to Timeout 2.  He is already there and calls out to me.

We kiss on the cheeks, well, almost on the lips.  We end up in the pizzeria Liù.  V & I used to go there when we first lived in Milan in Via Eustachi.  We talk.  He tells me about his day.  How the stuff he had to do in the shop should have taken a couple of hours but how customers would ask him about the price of this or that or how they find the right size or where is so-and-so and, so, it meant he was there for over 8 hours.  On his feet all day, a new phrase he learnt last night.

And how, because he was in the shop and so busy, he didn’t have his phone on and so only read my messages just before he phoned me.

He has electricity in his flat now.  He will be able to finish the decoration.  He is happier.  I tell him I’m meeting A on Thursday night.  He might come.  I said I had told A that F might not be there as I didn’t know what he was doing but that I would be there anyway.  I have to see A as he is leaving for his parents early next week.  I say that I have agreed to meet G on Saturday night for a beer and a pizza.  Again, I have said I don’t know if F will be there.  He thanks me for this.  I explain that I know he’s feeling stressed right now and I understand and so, although I have to see these people and would prefer that he were there, I understand if he is not.

And he thanks me again for being so understanding and that’s when he says “That’s why I love you”.

The pizza was good, the base being particularly nice.  I don’t remember if it was always this good.   We also have Milanese cake (that I forget the name of the cake but it is really nice – brought out at this time of year).  He says he will be spending a lot of time at the flat.  I explain that I have arranged to meet L and take the dogs (hers and mine) to the park near the airport on Saturday morning at 10 because I thought that he would want to go and do painting and that it would encourage us to get up and not waste the day.  He is happy with that and makes plans to come and stay at mine at Friday because he is closer to his flat and it means we can get up just that little bit later.

He tells me that he had planned that he would go home, have a shower, get his stuff ready for tomorrow and come and stay at mine.  I said that I thought it would be easier and better if he stayed at his, apologising that I wouldn’t be there as I needed to be in work on time.  He said it was a good idea.  And it was, even if it means spending the night apart.  He is, in fact, relieved that I came up with this suggestion as it will be much better for both of us.  It’s practical, anyway.

I tell him that, obviously, I would have preferred to be with him and that I missed him last night.  I tell him that much, anyway.

We go home.  I try on the jacket.  He is pleased with it and says it looks really nice and the sartoria (tailors) have done a good job.  I take all the jeans out of the wardrobe.  He goes through them, rejecting most.  He finds one that he likes and then another.  He looks at the jumpers I have (that I could wear).  He thinks a white shirt, or blue, is better.  For shoes he obviously is not impressed by my type of normal shoe.  It’s not his style, for certain.  But he decides, in the end, on the new ‘trainer-type’ shoe that I bought that time in Fox Town with A.

We hug and kiss.  He had said earlier that, being on his feet all day, his feet were doing that throbbing that they do.  I said I would drive him back home.  He protested that it was not necessary and I would have difficulty parking when I got back.  I said it would be OK.  I took him anyway and I know he was grateful.  I was back home within 15 minutes and found somewhere to park.  I was lucky, I know.

And, because I had seen him and been with him, sleeping, even if alone, was not so bad.  And I know that he misses me too and he had said, during the meal, that he had explained to a colleague and friend that he would be going to my place and staying there because it was only fair and that I had the dogs and he didn’t want me to be always going to his place because of them, etc.  I knew this anyway.

But, I still don’t quite understand why, when I see him, when we’re together,I don’t have any doubts or fears or concerns.  Everything is, always, mostly, nearly completely perfect.

I feel somewhat sorry for him as this is shit.

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6

It’s no good.  I’ve tried everything, short of half a bottle of wine or something.

I get up and get myself a glass of milk, my cigarettes and my book, the one I started months and months ago (before summer?) but, which, over the last few months has remained untouched, unopened, unread and unloved.

I know I shall regret this in the morning but, although tired and although it seems I am almost at the point of sleep, the final hurdle seems insurmountable.

I went to bed later than I had hoped, too.  I even had a wank which used to work wonders but now, not only was it difficult but it made no difference.  Bugger.

The last time I looked at the clock, which displays the time on the ceiling in laser red, it was about 12.45.  I know it’s not because of him but part of me blames him anyway.  After all, it was his decision.  And it is because of him.

But, I knew it was coming, even as I got home; even before we spoke or chatted or texted or anything.

Even if his new flat has no electricity and, so, he cannot go there.

It was (and still is) very cold.  Although not freezing in Milan proper, it is close.  The flat was OK but not so warm when I arrived home, the cleaner ironing and then pointing out the broken handle on the moka and blaming it on Dino.  Another broken thing.  So bloody clumsy.

He texted or phoned to say he was leaving work and going home.  I knew he would not be venturing out last night again.  Not in this cold.  I wanted to say ‘Come here’, as I am on his way home but I knew he would not so I said nothing.  We don’t want to feel needy, do we?

He got home and phoned me.  He said that he was so cold, the heating not having been on in the flat and me not having sorted out his timer thing over the weekend.  We chatted through Facebook for a while.  He called me again.  He said he wouldn’t come over, if I didn’t mind.

Of course I minded even if I knew it was coming or, rather, had the nagging doubt that he wouldn’t come.  I wanted to say ‘but it’s OK for me to suffer the cold before 6 in the morning when I come to your place!’ but, of course, I didn’t.  And, anyway, it is my choice.  He said I could come to him but I said that I had the dogs and I hadn’t spent enough time with them over the weekend and, so, I should stay.  He knew that I would stay and said he understood.

And I wonder, just for a moment, if he has the same thoughts as me?  Well, the same but different, if you see what I mean.

We chatted more on Facebook.  I took the dogs out.  God it was cold.  I hurried through the streets, knowing that, at least, the flat would feel warmer on my return.

It didn’t.  Or, rather, not warm enough.

I went back to Facebook to see some messages from him.  There was a turkey to take on Farmville and he had posted a video.  The video said ‘For You’.  I saw what it was.  I chatted back ‘For me?’.  He chatted ‘Did you like it?’.  I ignored that.  ‘From you?’, I chatted.  ‘Si, Mi (sic) and Diana’.  The video is below.

[April 2015: Unfortunately the video doesn’t work any more and, as I didn’t use to put the name of the song, I don’t remember what it was. Sorry. Video now removed as it doesn’t work.]

As I watched it, my feelings of slight anger dissolved.  But the emotions were mixed.  He wasn’t here and that was the point.  And I wasn’t sure it was really for me; I mean, not in the words although the song maybe.  I had asked before if something was for me, some weeks ago.  He said no but he would tell me if it was.  He had told me this was.  He doesn’t use words so much.  But the sentiments, if for me and if he understood the words well enough, were strong.  As I watched, I felt myself welling up inside.  I choked back a sob and wiped the few tears from my eyes.  I hoped it was true but, if it was true, where the fucking hell was he?  I loved him more and hated him all at the same time.  It’s not as if we were far apart but it felt like the other side of the world.  I briefly contemplated going over to his place.  I wanted him so badly, wanted to hold him and kiss him.  But I wasn’t going to go, I just wanted to.

I chatted.  ‘It made me cry’.

‘Why?’, he asked.  It made me think that, perhaps, it wasn’t the words he was trying to tell me.  You, surely, wouldn’t be asking why if they were?

‘Just cos’, I replied.

‘cos ?’, he queried.

‘It’s difficult…….I don’t know how to say……I don’t know’, I replied.  Afterwards, as I was in bed, I thought that it wasn’t the sentiment he was querying but the word ‘cos’.  Maybe he doesn’t know it’s slang for because.

‘I will phone you now’ he says.  I think he was worried.  I think he didn’t understand and was frightened it was something else (that I don’t understand).  We are open to this mis-communication.  We have a different mother tongue, different culture, etc.

I’m not crying by the time he phones.  I am a bloke.  Blokes don’t cry.  Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him.  We talk about An, the friend of his in London and the problems with her husband and with him (her husband) having had an affair and he told me how he had said to her that he had had the affair because of the problems and the problem was that they hadn’t talked about the problems and that she should make sure they talked about the problems and he said that talking about the problems was better, wasn’t it? …he asked me, finally.  And I agreed and then added that we didn’t talk and he replied that we didn’t have any problems and I thought that we do but that we didn’t talk about them anyway even if they were important and then he mentioned something that is and is not important and I said that I understood that and didn’t have a problem with it and I thought, additionally, since that was not the “problems” I was talking about although I didn’t then say what the problems were but they aren’t problems for him and, with the exception of him not coming down to see me and be with me, the other problems weren’t really problems, at least, not yet but would become problems, I was sure, but in the meantime how could I possibly tell him something about the problems that weren’t but would be.

And, anyway, I’ve already told him but perhaps he’s forgotten.  And I couldn’t mention the problem of tonight because I didn’t want to make him feel guilty and he would, I am sure (well, almost sure), have got re-dressed and come to me and you have no idea how guilty I would feel about that!  Having done that once to him, never again.  It made me feel so bad that he was doing something he really didn’t want to that the pleasure in him doing it was so lost that I thought at the time – Remember this, this moment and how bad you feel and make sure he doesn’t do something just for you when he really doesn’t want to do it, again! Ever!

And so I didn’t say anything, of course.  And then he said he was going to bed.  So he was tired too.  This is a big week for him and I must try and remember that it’s not all about me.  Even if this blog IS all about me.  This is the place and should be the only place that really is about me, with others being only bit players, even if some of them feature often.

And, so, he went to bed.  And, within a few moments so did I.  But it was cold in the bed and I missed him putting his arm round me and I still had all those mixed up and screwed up emotions; loving him and aching for him and hating him (but not really) and understanding but thinking that he didn’t really understand me or my needs or just how much I love him.

And I thought of V.  But not in that way.  V used to say that he thought that he loved me too much.  I thought that it was a stupid thing to say.  I mean, how can someone say ‘I love you too much’ – how can love be too much?  But maybe there’s something in this?  Maybe he had a point?  Maybe it’s just ‘cos I didn’t understand?

And, I decided that, if he really did feel this way, I should have been more sympathetic and understanding.  But I didn’t know.  How could I?  But this, this thing, this feeling or feelings.  Was this what he meant?  And, if so, then I have sympathy or empathy or something like that.  And I wondered why I never felt this about V.  Or, at least, I don’t remember feeling like this about V.  Or is this because I’m not getting everything I want?  But I never had everything I wanted with V either.  But I think you can never get that.  Not everything.

And that’s why I couldn’t sleep as well.  In spite of everything I tried to do.  And the thoughts and the questions remain, this morning.  What is really meant by it all?  He’s fucking up my mind.  And, is this what I did to V?  For 20 years?  And, so, even if it’s not true, if it wasn’t true, I feel somewhat sorry for him as this is shit.

In case of what? I’ve no idea!

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9

I find her on Facebook.  There is a strange fascination that makes me look.  It’s not an obsession, just an interest.  I mean by that, I don’t go looking for her every day or anything.  To be honest, I wasn’t looking for her when I found her but, having found her, I wanted to know more……

But there’s nothing really there.  You can view her friends (and I’m assuming she’s still with Ruth (her profile says she’s in a relationship but not who it is with (but, then, nor does mine)) and that’s about it.  Her friends include my two nephews (that I’ve never seen) and my two brothers who I haven’t seen for more than 20 years.  There, that’s it.

I have a weird satisfaction in knowing that she is there (and not because she is physically on this planet but that, being physically on this planet, I know how to find her and I can view her profile) and that I can see her but that it’s unlikely she can see me, as if I’m viewing her from behind net curtains; peeping into her life like some voyeur even if, in reality, I know nothing of her life and nor will I, really, from this glimpse.

I showed F her photo.  ‘She looks like you’, he said.  She doesn’t but he didn’t know that was the wrong thing to say.  Or, perhaps she does and everyone else has been giving me crap over the years?

Really, I was looking for the few (and that would be very few) friends that left school at the same time as I did or my friends from then, some of whom left school earlier than I did.  They’re not there, in the same way that I’m not there, possibly.  I don’t want ‘anyone’ to contact me and expect me to ‘Friend’ them just in case I didn’t really like them or something like that..

And on Saturday, we talked about ‘de-Friending’.  FfI said that she had never been ‘de-Friended’.  I then explained about G, who had ‘de-Friended’ me, prat that he is.  She then realised that she had, in fact, been ‘de-Friended’ by someone who’s wife/girlfriend wanted him to take his profile off Facebook or, at least, stop being friends with ex-girlfriends.

F and I have each others passwords for Facebook.  It’s really for Farmville, rather than Facebook.  There is a slight urge in me to ‘look around’ but I don’t.  It’s only a slight urge.  When we’re together, neither of us hides anything anyway, including chats with friends.  I don’t know if S, F’s ex, is on there but I don’t think so.  Not that it matters anyway.  I don’t have a problem with that at all.  Which is just as well, seeing as he’ll be back here in January.  I ask the occasional question – about his return, about what he’ll be doing, etc. but it’s only mild curiosity.  My concern is that it has some effect on us – in that his flat won’t be ready and I expect him not to stay at mine every night…….but, maybe, that will be good?  Perhaps?

I kind of hate Facebook.  I suppose that I would really be a ‘sleeping’ Facebook user, were it not for Farmville, which is starting to annoy the hell out of me.  In fact, some of my friends do seem to be ‘sleeping’ Facebook users and I can’t blame them.  I’m not one of those who ‘posts’ something every five minutes.  That would bore me too.

But I know this sort of thing wouldn’t bore her in the same way.  So, I keep a check, every now and again.  Just to see what is happening.  Just in case.  Although, in case of what, I’ve no idea!

Food; Alarm or Not; I get the keys to the flat!

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4

The phone makes its beeping sound.  ‘Go on, baby, get up’, he says.  I get up, thinking how much I hate this getting up at this time in his place knowing I’ve got that 20-minute walk back home to take the boys out.  For some reason, getting up in my flat doesn’t seem so bad!

I put my clothes in the lounge so that I wouldn’t wake him too much.  I start getting dressed and, for some reason, look at my phone.  Why hasn’t the phone shown the snooze option, I wonder?  I look at the time.  It’s 5.30.  The beeping was for an email that came through.  But 5.30 means only a quarter of an hour until the alarm anyway, and I’m half dressed and, so, by the time I got back to bed there would only be 10 minutes and, therefore, I wouldn’t sleep anyway.  And it would annoy him if I went back.  And it means I can take the dogs out on the full walk, rather than the short walk that I do when I stay at his place.  Still, I am annoyed with myself for not setting the phone to silent as I usually do, for this very reason.

So, in spite of the fact that I really want to go back and sleep, I continue to dress.

I go back and kiss him goodbye.  ‘Ciao, baby’ he calls, as I go down the stairs and make my way home.

I had just checked with him before I got out of the bed that he had a good night.  He had.  He asked if I had too.  I had.  We (well, at least, I) had only woken up once that night, when he turned over to me and cuddled me.  But I noticed that my pillow had ‘moved’ over to his side during the night.  It makes me feel ‘needy’ and I don’t really want that.  When you’re asleep you can’t really control what you do.  We had agreed that we would not sleep so close because we both get so hot and that may have been the reason for not sleeping well the night before.  Either we were both waking up or one of us was waking and, therefore, waking the other.  We thought it may be the heat.  The flat was very hot on Saturday as the heating had been on all day and he hadn’t been feeling so well and didn’t go out all day.

Last night he cooked me a meal.  A huge meal.  Gnocchi with salmon in a cream sauce, fish with roast potatoes and some chocolate mouse.  It was really wonderful but made us feel so full, even if we did eat early (for Italians), eating at around 8.  I wondered, as we were lying in bed, watching The Sound of Music on the telly, and complaining about how full we felt, if he had done it in response to the Facebook chat he had had with FfI.

On Saturday morning, FfI had been rather persistent about us coming for dinner that evening.  F wasn’t sure as he was feeling bad.  But we agreed to say ‘yes’ and he would decide later.  I assumed he would come.  He didn’t.  FfI obviously decided that I had lost weight.  And it’s true, I have.  But not because I am eating less or drinking less.  In fact, I am probably eating more and certainly having more beer, these days, which should be making my weight increase.  However, the three or four trips to his place and back, usually walking, every week, mean that I am losing weight.  And, nicely, it’s going from my waistline, which is good.

She said, on the chat, ‘We need to make sure Andy is eating enough”.  He didn’t say anything.  We were together and I’m surprised FfI didn’t realise that.  But maybe that was why, that evening, yesterday evening, he decided to do such a big meal.

And to go to the dinner on Saturday night, I took the keys to his flat, at his insistence.  And, that’s when I learnt he has another set.  However, the keys are back with him now.  I wonder what will happen with the new flat?

The Fashion World – just part of his job

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4

He says it again. The three words; the phrase that I wait for. It makes me feel all warm inside. I don’t say anything. I already say them more than him anyway. And I do mean them, I really do.

It turns out he wasn’t at work at all yesterday. I didn’t realise that he was having all the windows replaced in the new flat. Well, he wasn’t, but his landlady was. And so, he had to stay in the flat, of course.

I text him before I leave work asking what time he would finish work, so that I knew or would have some idea as to what we may be doing and when I would go and see him.

That’s when I found out he wasn’t at work at all. He calls me as I’m driving home. A few minutes before, I had thought it would be nice to go to Baia Chia, the restaurant that is his favourite. I asked him if he would like to go but that I would be paying. He thought I said something about buying something from Ikea ….. buy eekaya (the way that they pronounce Ikea here). I explained. He said ‘Oh, Maria’s!’.

He booked and we were going to eat at 9. I was really happy about it as, not only is it a lovely restaurant and the staff so nice and the food so good – but he was going to let me pay! And, as I told him as we clinked glasses, it was to thank him for a wonderful 2 months.

And, although it wasn’t then, even if I don’t remember exactly why, he said the three words again and it made me very happy, as I am, often, with him.

He said that he was less worried about the flat now. He knew it would be small and that it didn’t worry him any more and that he would move in and everything would not be perfect but he would live with it even if it was a mess and that he would sort it out even if it took three months.

But I didn’t believe him even if I hoped it would be true.

I told him so by saying ‘I’m not sure that you can live without everything being tidy’.

He said that he could. Later he said that he doubted if he could. And, certainly, that I DO believe.

On the way home (his place) he said that he was more relaxed now. It’s not really true but I know he is trying.

He also said that we should quit smoking. Or, at least, cut down. I told him that he couldn’t change me so quickly and I was already doing other things. Which he knew and understood. And he said that, at least he would cut down. And I know that I will try, when I’m with him, to smoke less. I guess.

And I told him I was a bit worried about Rufus. It seems that the deterioration is going in spurts. He doesn’t wee in the house all the time but more often now. And that seemed to happen suddenly. Then, on Thursday night, I noticed, when we were out, that he seemed to be a bit drunk; Friday morning much worse; Friday night still just as bad. It’s not like he collapses (the back legs are very weak now) but seems to stagger a lot, just as if he is drunk.

I know it’s coming, the end, so I give him extra hugs and stuff. And, of course, I have the added thing of telling V. And, yes, it is a little upsetting, especially as he has been such a good dog but V will be really upset, which doesn’t help. Even if he really hasn’t had anything much to do with him for the last 12 months (since the break up, over a year ago now). However, it is all part of having a dog and I do have Dino now, as well.

F says ‘poverino’, as he does with Rufus.

And now, as I write this, I am back at home, having picked up my suit (after alterations) that F has decided to give me as my Christmas present. We are going to the cocktail party in the shop on Wednesday, where he is going to introduce me to the big boss and he told me that I must be very elegant – he will be showing me off, after all – even if he didn’t say that bit :-D.

He wants me to wear the suit or, at least the jacket with jeans. I said that, next time he is at my place, he needs to look through my stuff to decide what I should wear as I will wear whatever he wants. I said that I had no idea what to say to the big boss, other than ‘hello’ and ‘nice to meet you’. But there will be plenty of people there that I know so it will all be fine. And I get to see him in his element and I know, already, that he is good at what he does. So I am half looking forward to it and half apprehensive about it. I mean, I have to make a good impression, for his sake. And it will be another ‘first’ for me, as I’ve never met a ‘designer’ before, so that will be good. And, the fact that he wants me there and wants to introduce me to the big boss, says a lot, I think.

And so, in spite of everything, it seems I will be more involved with the fashion world after all, which I find quite funny now. Years ago, with V, it would have been important. Now, with F, it’s part of his job and, so, feels so different! And I am really outside it and, so, I think it all feels different for him. I will do a post after Wednesday to let you know how I got on in the Fashion World.

To be continued………

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It’s not mentioned.

‘We’ll watch a DVD’, he says, looking through the DVD collection I have. ‘Is Gomorrah good?’, he asks. I reply in the affirmative. But his mind is elsewhere.  ‘I’ve never seen it’, he says.

He returns to the kitchen table without a DVD.  He starts talking about his flat and what needs to be done.  About how he is worried about this thing and that thing.  He goes and gets his flat plans and we start talking about where things should go.  He uses ‘we’ a lot.  ‘If I get the library, we can put it up’, he says.  ‘Then, we can move the CDs over the Christmas period’, he adds.  See, there’s the ‘we’ thing.  I smile and nod and agree.

We talk about the fact that the television doesn’t actually need to be in the lounge whereas the music set-up and the pc (part of the music set-up) should be in the lounge.  ‘Yes, my music is more important for me’, he states.  I nod and agree for I know this to be true.

We talk about the CD racks.  I suggest a solution.  ‘But that will leave a lot of empty space’, he worries.  ‘Yes, but, F, since I’ve known you, you have bought more than one CD every week.  Unless you’re going to stop doing that, you need space for the new ones.’

He knows that to be true and we talk about how the CDs can be spread out.  I come up with a solution for the television in the bedroom and we talk about how the set-up could be in the lounge, now, without the TV.

>He has bad dreams every night.  Not exactly nightmares but, as he calls them, suffering dreams.  Ones that cause distress rather than actual fear.  Situations that are unpleasant or uncomfortable.  Every night, he says, although some of them he can’t remember.

We don’t watch a DVD in the end.  We talk only about his flat, making plans for how it is going to work.  He is worried that it is too small.  ‘Where will I put the oven’ he says.  I don’t know what he is talking about but say that I’m sure it will all be fine, in the end.  Later I work out that he means hoover and tell him that is the correct word.

He keeps apologising for going through all this again.  I reassure him that it’s fine and I don’t mind and he doesn’t need to apologise.  But, ‘I’m sorry’ keeps coming out, from time to time.

We go to bed.  I am very tired.  But I want to make him feel good.  I point out that it is two months today since we met.  He apologises for not remembering and says that he keeps getting the days mixed up and can’t remember whether it’s the 12th, 11th, 9th or whatever.  Again I tell him that it’s OK. [I text him this morning to say how the last two months have made me very, very happy].

I want to take him in my arms and make everything OK.  I kiss him gently but with passion for that is how I feel.  And he responds.  I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to be with him to be kissing him to be there, side by side and he is in my arms, and I squeeze him tight, trying to tell him, through my actions that it will be fine and that he has me.

Later, he apologises again for the fact that he is ‘stressed out’ and, again, I tell him that it’s OK and that it will be fine in a month or two, when things are done, when he has moved in and is more settled.  I tell him that I understand and that I have been there and know what he means.  It’s all I can do.  I tell him that, in any case, he has me, to hold him and cuddle him and squeeze him and be there for him.  And he knows that – I know he does.  I’m not going away any time soon and I think he knows that too.

And, so, it was not discussed further.  And I couldn’t mention it again, even if there were moments when I wanted to.  It will wait but it certainly does need to be discussed at some point.  At some point when he has moved into his flat and when he feels more settled.  Discussed, so that he understands my feelings about it but not argued over.  At least, I hope not.  But, yes, it is to be continued……..

The thoughts count

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Of course, I find some things most endearing.

Yesterday afternoon/evening, he asked if I was coming over to his place.  I replied that I would like to, if that was OK for him, to which he replied ‘yes’.  Before that (or, rather, during that exchange of messages) I was chatting to Best Friend, really to sound off about the problem and ask for her advice.  She told me what I knew already, as all good advice should be.

And, so, I went round.  This time, instead of coffee, I had a beer.  I needed some courage to talk to him as I knew I must.  We looked online whilst he was trying out different combinations of bookshelves/CD racks for his new flat, CDs being one of the most important collections for him.  We laughed and chatted and talked about the options and it was during this that he said, as usual, the two phrases that make me smile.  I hate and I like.  The problem is that he misses the final word – this/that/it/him/her/them, etc.

Of course, I should tell him.  But there’s just something about it that I like.  Is it wrong of me to put off telling him for a bit longer?  He now uses switch/turn off the light rather than turn down and I know he wants his English to be perfect but I just really like it when referring to something (for example, Farmville, which, to be honest, given all their problems I wouldn’t pay good money for (and they’ve taken away my Christmas Tree, the bar stewards)), when something goes wrong he will say I hate rather than I hate it.

Later, we go to bed and watch telly for a bit.  There’s some dreadful documentary about Princess Diana.  Some dreadful and ugly woman who is, probably, nobody, is being interviewed about how she was receiving phone calls from Diana all the time during the days before her death.  I dozed off.  The program ended and I woke up – he was asleep next to me.  I kissed him and he woke up and we switched the television off.

As he turned over and I snuggled up to him to try and get him warm (he was really cold last night), I said that I had to tell him something.  I said that the thing was about what he had said and that, whilst not a problem now, I knew it would be a problem sometime in the future.  He said we would talk about it tomorrow as he was so tired and so sleepy.  We shall see.  But at least I’ve told him, so I already feel better.  What he chooses to do with this information is up to him.

During our conversation last night, Best Mate said that he obviously feels the same as I do and, even if he may say other things, his actions say a lot.  Which they do, I know.  But it’s also the thoughts that count.

The Right Thing To Do

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I wonder why I’m here. By this I meant, originally, why I’m here, in this meeting, where they are talking in two foreign languages – the first being Italian and the second being engineering, which is as foreign a language to me as any other, proper, language.

But after what F said last night, I even begin to question this in a bigger way; making it a bigger, broader question.

Why am I here, in this place, at this time? For what purpose? What am I here to achieve? Or, if not for me to achieve, for someone else to achieve, through me, perhaps, maybe, kind of?

I am an ‘all or nothing’ guy. Perhaps. Maybe.

Or, perhaps not. Given a choice or, rather, given no choice, perhaps I would settle for less than ‘all’ but more than ‘nothing’, if less than ‘all’ were the only thing on offer. But, even if less than ‘all’ were the only offer, would I just go with less than ‘all’, convincing myself throughout that this ‘less’ could be turned into ‘all’ in time?
Am I, or would I be, deluding myself?

At what point would I wake up to the reality? The one where I know or come to know that ‘all’ will just not happen.  At that point, what will I do then?  Will the time in between now and then be too long?  Will it have been a waste of time?

I want to say ‘Tonight I’m not going to come over’. I want to say it but the actual thing (i.e. not going over) is NOT what I really want, of course. I only want to say it for effect – to effect some change, some uncertainty. To give back what I felt; what I feel, what I still feel.  Uncertainty. Change. Fear.

But that’s just ‘playing those games’ and I swore I wouldn’t do that this time; I don’t want that this time; I have no time for that this time. Time is short – and none of us need this; neither of us need this.

And so, whilst listening to the two foreign languages and the games that are, almost certainly, being played out in this very room, I contemplate the right response; the one that won’t leave me too vulnerable, won’t limit my choices, won’t need me to go back on my word, won’t add to the pressure but also the one that gives me the ‘all’ I crave.

Or, maybe, gives me the ‘something’ that is, surely, better than the ‘nothing’ it could be. Or is it?

So, I toy with the options.  There’s the being upfront and honest option.  There’s the saying nothing and just getting on with it option.  And there’s the response option‚  I prefer the first or the second.  But the second will make me continue to feel as I do, not unhappy but unsure……….and frightened.  Frightened of what may not be or, maybe, what may be, especially if it doesn’t come close to what I actually want; or do I mean ‘need’.

I don’t think I can do the response option since that opens up the game and I definitely don’t want that.

He had a dream last night, where something had changed and his boss was not happy with the result but did not tell him directly but, rather, told someone else.  He said that this was typical English.  Where we are so polite but don’t actually tell the truth to people face-to-face.

I said that we weren’t all like that.  But, of course, we are.  He said that we were, meaning most English people were. But it’s not just the English but the Italians too!  Although perhaps the English are more practised at it and, therefore, appear to be much better.

If I am to prove that I am not like that, I guess I have to chose the upfront and honest option.  Say it like it is.  Roll over with my belly exposed and hope, yes, very much hope, that it is the right thing to do.

Update: We text.  He phones.  Is everything as it was before?  For him, maybe.  For me, well, yes and no.  Yes because nothing has really changed and no because the future has changed.  But, as I listen to his voice I remember looking at his face this morning, just before I got up and thinking how much I love him.  And, maybe, that ‘less’ is worth it after all?