Tag Archives: Relationships

Things we never did

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We were, after all, very different people. That’s what made us good together. We offered different things to each other and to other people.

But, yesterday, I was reminded of the things we never (or rarely) did together. Of course, these were things that I liked to do but, for one reason or another, I usually did on my own. I suspect V has a similar list (and I can think of one thing already).

I suppose the positive side to this is that, as I usually did them on my own, nothing has changed. But, before, I always had the hope that “this time would be different” and that he would be there. Now I don’t have that and I find it quite sad. Not in a depressed way just in a “what a shame” way.

When is a question not a question? When it’s asked by an Italian!

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Sometimes, I just love Italians and the way they think. It’s like living on a different planet.

Having been to Mantova’s Festivaletteratura a number of times I have found that, given the opportunity to speak in public, they really don’t know when to stop or, worse, get to the point.

This is particularly true when they ask questions.

The night before last, I was honoured to be invited to my good friend Stef’s graduation, for he has worked very hard over the last two years and got his MBA. As usual, when he is pleased with himself (as he has every right to be), he just can’t stop grinning.

Of course, before the actual handout of the certificates, there had to be some speech by some guy and then he was asked questions from the panel of lecturers. The last question though, took about 3 minutes to ask and then, at the end, the question failed to materialise! They are a strange people, these Italians.

There was another guy who, I think, was actually doing the handing out – he actually started his speech by saying it would be brevissimo (very short). Of course, he was Italian so that was his own special joke and he continued to talk for over 15 minutes!

Anyway, aside from that it was a very nice evening with drinks and apero food afterwards. N & I managed to get quite a few prossecco’s down us and I met Stef’s parents and younger brother.

There was only one thing, and this is one of those little things that still smart after all this time – if V & I had been together and there, after the event, it would have been nice to go for a quick pizza. But we’re not together and even though I really fancied it, I didn’t go on my own. I did resist calling him which, I thought, was good, as it would have felt far too needy – at least from my point of view.

The Final Conclusion or The Final Betrayal; Travelling and Quandaries; Not as Gay as I was?

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The Final Answer to The Final Question has been confirmed in the affirmative. This has made V very happy despite it being too late in certain respects.

Of course, The Final Answer is not the end of it. There will either be The Final Conclusion or The Final Betrayal. At this stage, obviously, I don’t know which. I have been promised The Final Conclusion but, if you’ve been reading this blog over the last few months, you will have some idea as to my uncertainty regarding things concerning V.

This last few weeks have been somewhat busy at work, hence my lack of posting. And, when I get home, there is, now, less time to sit at the computer and ‘mess around’ than there was.

And, it is almost certain (I shall know on Friday, definitely), I shall be going to the UK for a few days for work. Whilst I am there, I shall stay on a few days to renew my passport. It seems, from the website, that I shall be able to get it all done in 1 day (at extra cost, of course). This is slightly imperative on the basis that I shall only have one day to do it before needing to travel back to Milan! I shall let you know how it goes, for all of you ex-pats.

The alternative was a month to wait whilst it went through the consulate in Rome.

And then there will be Paris in June.

And the reason for writing this is the dogs, for I absolutely MUST do something with them and I cannot take them with me. So what to do? I can put them in kennels of course. Or I could get someone to look after them. Or I could ask V but asking V means that I have to rely on him. It’s a quandary. In addition, the day I come back will be the day that used to be our anniversary. I don’t know that I want to go and pick the dogs up on that day. However, since it is only two weeks before the first trip I do need to do something pretty sharpish.

Finally, as you will have read in an earlier post, it seems I may not be quite as gay as I thought I might be, in spite of using hand cream. And by that I mean that I lost the cream (it fell from my pocket whilst walking to the car) and I didn’t notice for two days!

To be fair, my hands, or rather, the part of my hands that were particularly bad, are much better. But there is still a stubborn area of hard skin. So I bought some new hand cream and have started using it once or twice a day. I’m not sure I can stand any more than that!

But, as soon as they are back to normal I shall stop using the stuff and be back, once more, to being the straight gay guy that I have always been. Hurrah!

Finding things and throwing some out; Am I selfish?

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I open a shoe box. It contains many other, smaller boxes. I have assumed for some years, whilst it sat at the back of my wardrobe in the old flat, that it contained, more or less, only cuff-links.

Indeed, most of the stuff there is exactly that. I am surprised and, I must say, delighted to find some boxes which contain gold rings. This was from the ‘gold’ phase. The ‘gold’ phase was before V and lasted for some years with V. Of course, for some years now we have been on the ‘silver’ phase. I look froward to the ‘gold’ phase return and, maybe, I will re-introduce that phase? After all, I have no one to tell me not to.

I also find a card, at the bottom of the box. It is a Christmas card but I cannot tell from what Christmas it was. I suspect a Christmas before Italy, since these cards are impossible to find here, Italians not being into ‘cards for every occasion’ like the English or Americans. The card professes things.

I start to read it but my eyes cannot focus on the words and, in fact, although it was only last night, I cannot remember a single word – except the word ‘love’.

I wonder, now and yesterday, if the words meant anything at the time they were written or whether it was just ‘the right thing to say’? I wonder whether anything really has any meaning from anyone? I even wonder if anything I think or say is real or ‘made-up’ in my head? Sometimes it feels real but does that mean it was or is or is it just in my head?

I throw the card with the other things that I am throwing away. Boxes that contain nothing and that aren’t even nice boxes, plastic bags, etc.

There is a moment of indecision as to whether I should retrieve it. I have kept it this long (but for how long?). But why? I haven’t read it for a number of years and, maybe, never since it was given to me, so why keep it longer?

Why bother to keep it now?

I steel my heart (for it is my heart that tells me to retrieve it and my head is telling me not to) and it gets collected up and thrown out with the rest of the trash of a past life.

‘It’s better this way,’ I tell myself.

Later…. I talk with the dogs since a) they will listen, b) they will not answer back or contradict me or argue with me and c) there is no one else to talk to. For Dino, this talking means that I want to give him attention, so I do, loving him for being there and needing me right now.

This is the fifth post I have written and, probably the only one that I will publish. Sometimes it is hard to write something that is even slightly worthwhile and even the slightly worthwhile ones are dubious. Maybe all of them? But, then, like talking to Dino and Rufus, it’s not for their benefit but mine. Does that make me selfish?

Musing?

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I am taking a break from cleaning, whilst also waiting for the Terminally Ill Techno Guy to come (now just to fix my telephone line).

I cleaned and sorted much of the bedroom and then cleaned the lounge and re-arranged everything as to how it should be.

But, I do wonder, who is it for? What real purpose does it serve? Let’s be honest, V was the home maker. He did all the curtains and the fancy stuff that made it a home. I would live without curtains – not because I want to, just because I couldn’t be bothered. And why spend all that money which could be spent on something else?

I mean, for instance, the bedroom really needs a chest of drawers. I know where it should go; I know what it should look like. And, if I got one, it would look good but I probably won’t get one now and, therefore, I will manage – for ever!

But V would have one and, somehow, it would make the bedroom just so much better. I sit here, at the open window, in the perfect flat, knowing that, if V were here, it would be better than perfect.

The Answer to the Final Question nearly done; Swedish Meatballs; Good and Bad bits

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29th April, Early Evening.

I’ve had better days, to be frank. The saving grace was that Best Mate was with me.

At least this morning, when I woke up, there was blue sky and sun. It wasn’t really warm but OK. I was just grateful it wasn’t raining.

By the time I got back from taking the boys out it was cloudy. There were things to do. Namely, completing the answer to the Final Question (this is getting really boring, isn’t it). This meant a trip to work and then somewhere else. Best Mate sat in the car. It took a little longer than expected but now I have done everything I can. I shall know next week. Of course, the “situation” will not be finished then but at least my part will be.

Then to Ikea to get some bits. I had high hopes even if Ikea is one of the very worst places in the world (for me). I knew, more or less, what I wanted – had a list with measurements.

When we got there we first went to Costarama. This is more of a DIY place. I needed some things which I got OK. Good start.

Then to Ikea and, as it was just past lunchtime we went in as Best Mate had a real hankering for their meatballs. They were great. Proper gravy and we had them with chips. They reminded me a bit of the meatballs I had in the Mongolian restaurant here, in Milan>, which, in turn, reminded me of faggots (for my American readers, faggots are not what you think, obviously) once again. Mmmm. Really tasty. As far as I was concerned I could have gone home right there and then. However, we were here so let’s do it.

Although I did get some things, the things I really wanted were short in supply. There was so little choice in bathroom cabinets; not the right storage boxes; not the right things for the kitchen.

So, I am not much further forward which is annoying. Also, when we came out of Ikea it was to a tremendous thunderstorm. Bah!

Then I got a call from work to tell me that I am working the weekend of the show in Paris and having to drive back with the bits at the end of the show.

Well, there are things to discuss when I am back in work on Monday, that’s for sure.

And, once again, I am, in effect, without internet access. This morning there was a very slow connection but, I guess, after the rain again, this afternoon it was gone.

At the moment, I have an even slower connection via someone’s wireless but it is so slow as to not be there. I guess this will be posted tomorrow when they are supposed to have officially fixed it.

Maybe this morning was just a ploy by Telecom Italia to let me think they were not so bad after all. Let’s hope that they have fixed it by the end of tomorrow as Best Mate has bought me a USB video camera so we can see each other when we Skype and we were going to try it out when she called the little BMs this evening.

Ah well, the plan is to do Chinese tonight as I have kept to my word so far and we have been having cheap (but good) meals.

I remain passively stupid – like any other man!

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“I have to schlep it all across to my house”, she wailed.

I remain without expression. I suggest “Why don’t you just take half?”

“If L were here, I’d get her to pick me up” (L is her daughter who is in the Caribbean as we speak).

“Why don’t you leave it here until Tuesday?”, I ask, helpfully.

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The Ties That Bind – Restrictive or Welcome?

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Since moving to the Perfect Flat, when taking Rufus and Dino out late at night, for their last walk, I walk to the area that I always used which has two dog areas, fenced, where they can be let off the lead

In doing so, I walk up the Perfect Street and every time I pass the Indian restaurant, the Rajput. This is the one that was closest to our old flat and is, more or less, the same distance from the Perfect Flat.

The meal is quite nice, if a little less spicy than it would be in the UK. Normally, of course, I would not have walked past it at all, were it not for the move. And, in passing it late in the evening, I had such a hankering for going there.

Now, there are three people that either know that place or would be very happy going there for a meal. One is a friend who used to live with us but is now living in London and has just had a baby; the other is our friend who spends most of her time in Rome; and then there is V.

So, my craving became an obsession within two evenings and I knew I just HAD to go. So I texted V and suggested it. He was all for it and, Friday night, we went. It was a strange thing. He seemed a bit ‘off’ at the beginning but we had a nice meal and a nice evening, talking about crap and this and that. Nothing heavy, of course. We finished the meal with Sambuca (I really must stop drinking that poison) and I said that I had a bottle at home. He said he’d rather not come over. We walked out of the restaurant and walked down the road. He didn’t turn off as expected and then said he had changed his mind about the Sambuca!

He was very complimentary about the flat, even if it did seem a real mess (to me, anyway). The strange thing was that I didn’t have the urge to have him stay. I mean, this was my place and not his nor shared and so, when he left it seemed so right and natural. Not really what I expected (from myself).

I promised to go round the next day, later, to bring back some stuff that I had but he wanted; to help with the cleaning of the old place, to take some of my stuff away.

After I had taken the dogs out a couple of times, unpacked and tried to place things, etc. it got quite late. By the time I got there he had, more or less, done everything. And, I have to say he had, as he always had in the past, made a good job of it. It looked lovely in spite of missing some furniture.

We chatted, drank some wine and then I left. I realised, whilst I was there, that I had not taken pans and said that I quite fancied having pasta on Sunday so would come back on Sunday to collect some.

Sunday and, because I had to try and get most things unpacked as FfI was returning to Milan and, for various reasons, was going to stay at mine, I didn’t go round as early as I had hoped.

In the meantime, I got a text from V asking that, if I wanted, he would cook some pasta for dinner. I agreed. It sounded nice.

So, later, in the early evening, I went round (again taking some more bits that were, really, V’s). He had made an experimental pasta dish and then chicken with roasted potatoes. We drank the bottle of Barolo that he had been saving. We listened to Maria Callas. All in all a very nice evening, except that both of us (me for all the unpacking and he for all the cleaning and moving stuff around) were so shattered that it was not a late evening.

He promised me a proper meal when he was paid. He asked (again) about my birthday as Best Mate will be here and he thinks that she hates him (which she does not). He seems to have forgotten that we already had a conversation about this. He seems reluctant to meet with Best Mate and I. I do understand and I am sure I would feel the same. Indeed, for different reasons, I would be very reluctant to go out to a place where his work colleagues were.

When I left it did not seem so strange, leaving the place we shared for over four years although, as I was getting in the lift, him leaning against the door post, there seemed a little sadness in his face, which made me feel sad, for a moment, for him and for us. But, maybe I was just imagining it.?

Anyway, there are no words that can really describe this whole thing. We have had, since I moved out, more conversation between us than we did in the last four months! And, to be honest, I enjoy his company; he’s a nice guy; funny, witty, always something to say. It was, at the same time, slightly strange and not strange at all, sitting at the table (our table?), eating the food he had prepared (food I had bought?), drinking the wine, talking and laughing – again, nothing heavy.

He’s much thinner of course. He looks more like his father now – slightly hollowed cheeks and almost with an anorexic look – it makes him look older, somehow, but no less attractive, of course.

I expect the heavy conversations are yet to come but, for now, it’s really nice. The ties are still strong but, maybe a little thinner than before – or maybe we’re using different rope now?  More importantly, will it change once he has moved?

Bits and bobs

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No unpacking last night. More of trying to get the ADSL working. V managed to get the modem/router working without me having to go back over (I had been to collect some more stuff), so that was good.

However, there are a couple of things that, right now, I really, really like.

The first is the silence. There is no sound. I can (and do) sit at the kitchen table with complete silence surrounding me (except for the dogs claws clipping on the concrete floors). Once I get my WiFi working, I can imagine sitting at that table doing my blogging, etc.

The other was, whilst taking the dogs for a walk last night, just round the corner from mine is a street that has, most of the way down, a series of ‘front gardens’, most of which have wisteria overhanging the fence and, last night, even if it was a little cooler after the thunderstorms, the perfume of the flowers was so beautiful, wisteria being one of my favourites.

And I truly love the flat. It still needs to be sorted and I definitely need a handy-man to come and fix some things for me and I do need to get rid of the boxes but……. it feels like home and I just know I will be really happy here. It is, after all The Perfect Flat On The Perfect Street!