Tag Archives: English

Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinalyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

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Hmm. Maybe it wasn’t what I thought. Or, at least, it wasn’t the whole thing.

You may remember this. Well, I have, in the last few moments, finally finished it. It’s not because I was being slow or particularly lazy (although without a deadline, as I have mentioned in the past, I am far to much ‘I’ll do it later’ which, invariably, leads to a massive rush in the last few days, hours, seconds, whatever). No, with this job I had some real difficulties and it has taken me far too long.

However, as with all things, you learn stuff on the way. And these are some of the things I have learnt:

1. It was a really good idea to buy the laptop – especially as it was one with windows rather than an apple. It has almost ‘saved my life’!
2. Word on an Apple Mac IS NOT the same as Microsoft Word. They are similar but not the same. Plus, if the version is in Italian it is too difficult.
3. It was very useful having a USB key – this has also ‘saved my life’.
4. It is important, when doing this kind of work, that the computers at home and at work are compatible – at least to a major degree.
5. Other people are not so bright either – they don’t know how to use functions in, for example, Word in exactly the same way that you don’t! Worse still, just like you, they use it and then stop using it randomly (the special function, that is). This is not really a problem until someone who doesn’t know where and when and how you used it comes to look at it.
6. Don’t have anything to do with computers or new technology!

Of course, it’s finished now. The final two things (one of which involved the special function) were done, this morning, at work. Actually, it’s not finished. In the physical book are loads of markers where questions have to be asked. The page numbers appear to be different (which will be a BIG problem as page numbers are referenced), one or two spelling, one or two bits of English (although checking the English is not really part of the job, as such). Still, I’ve phoned him and I go and see him tonight – when the job WILL be finished – except if he asks me to go through it again for the English!

But you have to know that on Sunday, I was there for hours, only to find that everything got mucked up (thanks Bill Gates for your product) and so I gave up about 9.30 p.m.

Then last night, I was rather pleased to find it wasn’t quite as bad as it could have been and I finished it about 8.30 p.m. to do the final two bits this morning.

Now I have to decide how much to charge, for it was a real pain in the ‘you know where’.

And, having finished it, I feel a great weight lifted off me. Maybe it wasn’t that customer after all – at least, not entirely!

Lesson One – Remembering How To Teach!

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I am almost prepared. I should have done more, of course. I have copies of things and, probably, much more material than I really need. But, as always, I worry.

It’s my first English lesson for nearly 4 years. To be honest, I’ve almost forgotten all the names of the different tenses of verbs. But I’ll cope, I’m sure. After all, we don’t use the names when we learn English, as kids – and the names of them aren’t really important.

It will be at my house. This suits me fine. No trudging halfway across town or anything.

Anyway, this is the first lesson. We need to try out some things. I do the error correction stuff first. This one is a bit ‘finger in the air’ stuff since it’s the first lesson but I do remember stuff from our chat the other day. Then it’s to my favourite bit – the pronunciation. It’s a bit like a game. I go through the pronunciation of the symbols we shall use throughout the lessons. Then the words she’s supposed to fit with them. Then she fits the words to the symbols. We go through and discuss any errors. It is, of course, better in a class.

Then there are various other exercises and I have some listening stuff for her to do. Well, one listening exercise, anyway. We shall do it together, this time. It’s the first time, after all.

I am a little nervous but not so much considering I have been away from it for a bit. In a way, I shall quite enjoy it.

An English Teaching job that wasn’t

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I had an uneasy feeling about this. I very nearly texted F with all the details – the address, the phone number, the name, etc.

It had been a strange phone call. All in Italian and, unfortunately it didn’t really make sense.

“I saw your advertisement in Easy Milano”.

“Do you have a computer?”, he asked. I replied that I did. “Because I need to have this program modified”, he continued. “Do you have a key?”, he asked. Hmmmm.

He sounded like he was mid-forties or fifties. I said that I didn’t really understand what he wanted but that I would come and see him and we could discuss it – just like we could discuss the price (which he wasn’t happy about). I thought that this was a man who wanted to have some computer program which either taught him English or was a test of English, altered to suit him or make it easier or something. It was probable that it couldn’t be done but, anyway, the price would be at least double.

In the morning, I thought that, perhaps, I should ‘forget’ my laptop and then phone to say I had forgotten it; or just not go; or make some other excuse. I felt that it would be a waste of time. He was, quite probably, a beginner. And he didn’t want to pay for anything.

Of course, my judgement was clouded because, although I didn’t know the particular area where he lived (I looked at it on Google Maps whilst he was on the telephone), it was very close to a place that FfI and I went to see a flat, when I was looking for flats, last year. This place we went to was an out-of-town council estate. I say estate and, of course, since this is Italy, there were no houses, just huge sets of blocks of flats. The flat we went to looked like it had been used as a drug den. I can’t tell you how happy we were to be leaving and getting back to the comfort and safety of Milan proper.

>So, this place was another couple of blocks down.

I had a vision of what would happen. He would certainly be paying for this.

I parked the car next to a car that looked as if it had been vandalised – the front windscreen smashed, the bonnet and front end looking like someone had rammed it. The small car park looks like the sort of thing that was built on the same sort of estates in the 50s and 60s, when no one who lived in ‘those sort of places’ could possibly have afforded a car! The car park had weeds growing – this is how it would look a few months after the whole of the human population had been wiped out – like you see in those sci-fi films.

I got out. I checked with a guy who had just parked his car, that I was on the right street. Yes, I was. The huge, ugly block of flats loomed ahead. Must be several hundred, maybe a thousand, flats in this complex.

Should I take my computer (in a briefcase) or not? Would I be mugged? No, I was being really stupid, I decided, even if there were signs everywhere I looked – one can read too much into things.

I go to the entrance to the block. the block is actually several blocks, all joined together, round a large garden with flowers and trees. I find his button. He answers. I am to go to the F Stairs. The first one on the left is A. As it is, F is nearly the furthest away. I pass all the flats, some with amazing displays of flowers, others with what looks like junk on their balconies. Overall, though, it wasn’t like that other block I had been to before, just up the road. This was not a crack-dealing estate and may, even, be privately owned flats.

Still, I wasn’t entirely happy about it all.

I got to entrance F. I had to buzz again. He let me in. I was to go to the top floor. The seventh.

As I entered the building, the usual smells of flats hit me. This, like any other block, smelled of the latest food cooked. I idly wondered if, in reality, the smell was so different from the ones in my block? It seemed so but maybe that was only my preconception, given where I was and what I was doing. It wasn’t pleasant, in any event.

I thought about the first flat I had ever lived in. When V and I got together. We lived in his council supplied one, near the heart of Birmingham. Just down the road from the red-light district. I remember getting in the lift sometimes (we lived on the 10th floor). It was like this, except that this lift (the one I was in now) didn’t smell of piss like the one in Birmingham often did. Still, it brought back some memories.

When I reached the top floor there were four possible doors to his flat. As I stepped out one was opened. I guess this would be the one, I thought.

My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. In front of me, holding the door open, was an elderly man. I don’t mean retired or anything. I mean O.L.D. He was, probably, in his eighties! He was hunched over and he shuffled, rather than walked.

My first thought was to laugh! This guy wanted to learn English? Why the hell would he need or want to do that?

It’s warm in, what looks like, a one room flat with a single window. There is a door. It could be a bedroom……. or, maybe, just a cupboard. It is very hot. I ask if it’s OK to take my coat off.

I ask him if he speaks any English. He does. It’s not brilliant and he doesn’t have that much vocabulary but it’s passable. He asks where I come from and I explain, as I do, that he won’t know where it is before telling him and then explaining where it is. He tells me he’s been to Bristol. Not that far away after all.

We sit at his table. In front, at the back and slightly to the left is a covered-up typewriter. To the right is a single desk lamp. Between them is a CD and a usb key. In front of those two things, closest to him, is a book; a red-bound book that looks as if it has been well used.

He points to the book. I suppose this is an ‘English’ exercise book although I have never seen one like it.

He opens the book and starts explaining that, as he points them out, these corrections are to be made to the text (or the layout or the spelling or whatever). When all the corrections are done, he would like it transferred to the usb key (to send to the publisher, probably).

As we go through the changes he requires, I ask questions. I suggest that I’ll do it at home – it will be easier. He is doubtful but, as we go through the changes he wants, he becomes more comfortable. I obviously know what needs to be done and can understand his notations and symbols and writing that he has done.

I make sure that I can read the CD and that it is a program I can change. I ask him how long it took him to write (for it is a HEAVY book – not a nice novel for bed-time reading). 38 years is the answer!

I assume he must be some sort of retired professor but it turns out he was a photographer. It took him 38 years because he needed to see and interview some of the people who are quoted in his book. There were some from China, Japan, Africa, etc. It took time for it all to be arranged. He wrote it in Italian and had it translated. The problem is that the translators are not from Milan and, for these few corrections, he wanted someone closer.

We have, in some sort of way, ‘got on’. We were both wary at the start, both unsure – me of his requirement, he of my competence. As he shuffled behind me as I was leaving, we were smiling; he reminded me of many of the people I have met at the festivals.

“Well”, as I pointed out to him, “this is much more interesting than just English teaching”, without adding that ‘and, I can do it at home!’

Back to the grind; a little lopsided

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Well, finally, I’m on my way! Yessssssss!

I met my first student yesterday. Very sweet and, I think, it will be a lot of fun. Then, I was telling FfI and it might be that she can put some work my way, which would be very cool.

And I did some things I have been putting off; tidying stuff in the house and sorting some things, so I feel like I really did something this weekend, which also makes me happy.

Now, tonight, I must start digging out the stuff I need to teach English and start doing the photocopies and stuff.

Saturday night, we went to a ‘new’ restaurant – Piero & Pia. We sat outside as it was warm but with a nice breeze. I had goose liver pate with some warm, sweet bread, followed by rack of lamb (and for once, here, in Italy, it was cooked right – pink) with roasted potatoes and then a thick, creamy rice pudding with a sprinkling of sultanas and a light dusting of coconut for sweet. It was all delicious. With wine and water it was something around €50 per head. Not outrageous but not cheap either!

The only problem was at the end. F insisted on paying for it all. It’s just that I really can’t afford it right now but I’m annoyed at myself for being in a position where we can’t go ‘dutch’. This is one of the reasons for going back to English teaching. It will just give me the spending money I need and, hopefully, will just give me that bit extra for our holidays. I know F can afford it (the occasional meal, etc.) but that’s not really the point.

Ah, well – soon it will be different :-)

Ice treading

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We don’t talk about it.

And here, my reader, you may be wondering what it is that we aren’t talking about. Well there’s nothing specific – it’s just anything that is difficult. We don’t discuss. And it’s not one-sided either. We skirt around a subject and only talk about it when it is absolutely necessary. And, when we talk about it we use the minimum of words and don’t discuss the implications or anything deeper than a conversation with an acquaintance.

I don’t know why. Or why we both do this.

An example. One thing I must do is earn more money. For various reasons my income, so far this year, has been less than I had planned for or expenses have been greater than expected or completely unexpected or unplanned. As a result I need more.

Therefore I must get more work – part-time work. This means teaching English again. In one way I don’t really mind. I had been worried that my English was disappearing; changing into the Ital-English spoken here. Me saying ‘We are in three’ instead of ‘There are three of us’ as an example; struggling to find the correct word to describe something and knowing that I know the word – I just haven’t used it nor heard it for so long. If I teach English my English will return to its proper level quickly because I will be reading more newspapers, books, etc. This is a very good thing.

It will also give me the money I need. So all good. Well, yes but…..

It will change some things. I will have to work evenings and weekends – which I don’t mind in itself although I had tried to keep them free – free for relaxing, etc. This, in turn, will curb the amount of time we are together. It will mean that going to bed at near midnight most evenings will not be acceptable. It will mean a lot of work outside the time I am teaching. It will mean my life will be mostly about work

For the last two or three nights I have promised myself that I will explain this to F as it will mean so much change for us. I know he won’t have a problem with it but it is almost as if, by saying it, I am making such a big deal of it and making it into a huge problem since we don’t really talk of these things.

And so, I have yet to tell him anything. It bugs me because it seems, by holding out, when I do tell him it will be such a huge thing, even if, although it is important, it’s only a change in the time we are together and nothing more.

I steel myself, before we see each other at night, that I WILL mention it tonight. I will force myself to say something. Instead, I don’t. Either I forget because, on seeing him, being with him is the only thing or I remember but think that ‘now is not the right time…..later’.

It is stupid and irresponsible and makes no sense at all – even to me!

This is just an example. There are many more – even some from his side!

It’s almost as if we feel like we are treading on thin ice, even after quite a time together and even if it is not or, rather, should not be. And we are, after all, grown up enough to know how to react. Maybe it’s just that we don’t know how the other will react?

Love me, love my dogs

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That’s how it goes.  Well, there’s only the one dog but in my case there are two.

However, it isn’t supposed to be the other way around! :-D

The picture a couple of posts below, taken last weekend, shows them with their ‘shaggy’ look.  It’s a good job that they don’t have smello-internet though.

The pictures below were taken at lunchtime today, just after they had been to the barber’s.  They are adorable.  F insisted that I take them to him after I had picked them up.  He’s suggesting that he might come and take them for a walk tonight ‘because I won’t see them otherwise’.  I shall be at the airport picking up Best Mate.

He did suggest that, maybe, he could take Dino to his house tonight but then realised that it would be a problem in the morning as he was going to London and the flight is early.  Still, there’s time.  I shall offer to pick him up in the morning if he would like.  We’ll see.

Of course, I’m not actually sure that I want him to take Dino to his house as that means I won’t be there.  Far better if I were to keep Dino with me and see how long he could keep up the ‘staying away’ bit.  But, of course, I won’t.  That’s my wicked streak only.

But he is talking about ‘we’ taking them to be washed and groomed every month.  I like the ‘we’.

Si, his friend from work (and probably my first customer in my new extra career as an English Teacher (again)) said that I was very lucky that F likes my dogs because ‘he doesn’t like all dogs, you know?’.  Yes, I know – and I know he loves mine – especially Dino.

Dino

Dino, looking good!

Rufus

and Rufus not looking over 14!!

And then he calls me to ask if we can meet their Press person as she loves dogs and wants to meet them.

And so, tonight, before going to pick up Best Mate I and my two crowd-pleasers will be going for an aperitivo where they will be admired and petted and loved and F will be there, showing them off to the world.  Perhaps I should have changed the title to ‘Love my dogs’ as I don’t seem to be getting a look-in!  Good job I’m not jealous of them :-D

I’m learning a new language

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Well, you might say “of course you are” but it’s not quite what you think.

I’m having various conversations with a girl who’s about 14.  Don’t get the wrong idea here – it’s not a bad thing.  She is the daughter of Best Mate.  And the conversation is the sort of general conversation that one would have with the teenage daughter of your Best Mate – except for one thing – it’s via Facebook and so is more like texting or chatting online.

And, as she’s 14, although she uses English it’s not quite the English that I write here.  And on more than one occasion I have had to ask Best Mate what a certain word or acronym means.

Because, let’s face it, I am old.  I remember mobile phones when they first came in and were almost as big as a small briefcase.  And the first portable computer was like a laptop – but the screen was a normal screen that you had to carry separately.  So, texting and chatting online requires that I learn a different language.

Some examples would be soz.  This is short for sorry.  Said is written sed.  How gets the ‘h’ dropped off the front.

All these things make remarkable sense.  However, I do find it difficult to do this.  I’ve just about mastered using ‘u’ instead of ‘you’ and ‘r’ instead of ‘are’ but I don’t even do that all the time, so writing ‘i sed i wuz soz’ I would still be writing as ‘I said I was sorry’ – even in text form, even going to the trouble of making the ‘i’ a capital.

And, in addition, I text Italians.  For me it is almost unthinkable as an ex English Teacher to write the short form.  The best I can do with F is to write ‘cos’ instead of ‘because’ (and even with that, the first time I did, he asked what it meant).

English is a wonderful, rich language (although the Italians always think theirs is better and richer – and, being a guest in their country I would not disagree – at least in front of them) but having been with V’s family (many of whom are first-generation from Jamaica), I became very aware of the the fact that there is no really ‘pure’ English.  It’s all bastardised all over the world.  Even here they take words and give them slightly different meanings (e.g. relax, which they don’t use verb even when it should be in the context in which they use it).

And so, this new form of English, widely used (I guess) by most English people (maybe even English-speaking people) under the age of, let’s say, 30 – where will it end up?  In 20 years will the common spelling of ‘said’ be ‘sed’ and ‘sorry’ be ‘soz’ – at least in the UK?

Every language changes over time but I suspect new technology and the need to type words on keyboards, touch pads and keypads could accelerate the changes to the language.  And since I know the same thing happens here (‘che’ becomes ‘k’, ‘per’ becomes ‘x’), I wonder if all languages are now under some pressure to change to meet the growing need of the younger generations to be able to communicate in ways that we never even imagined when we were at school.

Just a thought.

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 wouldn’t want him any different

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Baby I
Want to be
In your loving arms again
Feel you near to me
Baby, ah can’t you see
So much
Romance in the air
And all I really want
Is to be with you

Baby I – Joan Armatrading

We speak several times a day.  And text.  It’s what one does.  Like everything else, it fades in time, the messages only becoming those that explain why you’re late or asking for help or so on.

I was asleep, needing more sleep than I’ve been getting.  He phones.  I knew he would.  He could tell he’d woken me but, as I explained, if I didn’t want him to phone, I would have texted and told him that.

He doesn’t know if everything will be finished today but really hopes so.  He is still talking about, maybe, me going over on Thursday night.  As well as Friday and Saturday?  He knows that I will come on whatever day(s)/night(s) he says.  We shall see.  I’m not certain about Thursday because it is work the next day – obviously, for me, that makes no bloody difference, although I could be in later on Friday…….it’s a kind of hope I have.

I’m sure it’s why Italians look older than they should – just not enough sleep – never having dinner until after 8.30 or 9 or, in some cases, after 9.30!  So never in bed before midnight.  Anyway, I’ve said this before.

I don’t know, quite, how I will manage the dogs.  But I will.  Maybe, leaving for a few hours or so will be good for us.  If this is to work anyway, then he has to understand the dogs although, with Dino, going round to his flat is a little, shall we say, precarious.

He tells me that S, his ex, left the flat and has gone back to the States.  He is happy, I can tell.  It means he can get everything back to the way he wants it and, maybe, also that now I can come round.

Of course, this thing that I do is like a game.  It’s an important game but there are rules.  I know, you may say about the fact that I should let myself go a bit, but I can’t.  Everything I do is leading up to the thing that I want – although, on the way, I give him the things that he wants.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m no ‘player’ but it’s the way I am.  Even things done on the spur of the moment are not really so.

So, it’s important that he knows that I will come when he calls – but then I don’t push that.  Now, it is up to him to tell me when.  In the meantime, even by phone, I must do everything I can to enable him to want Thursday.  Considering that he isn’t mother-tongue English, it seems to be working quite well.  Obviously, it would be better if we were together physically, since then I can use my hands which seem to have some sort of magic properties and, for which, I am very grateful.

Even when he says ‘I will see you on Friday night’, I just say something like ‘That would be nice’.  Don’t seem like you’re desperate – even if I may be :-)

This Englishness of holding back – stiff upper lip and all that, proves useful.  I am grateful that I am English even if I don’t want to live in the UK.

I had said, after Ily got out of the car and had entered her building, ‘I’m sorry but I couldn’t speak Italian with Ily there’.  He told me not to worry, that it was OK speaking English.  He didn’t say but it was the thought that counted.  However, I must/will speak more Italian with him – we’re in his country and he hasn’t picked me because I’m English, well, not exactly even if that was, almost, a criteria.

So, I guess Thursday night somewhat depends on whether he comes home tonight or not.  He says that he needs to tidy the place up.  Of course, I laughed because his version of untidy and mine will be so very different.  Still, I know he will want it to be perfect.  He told me he also wants to be ‘clean’.  I understand that too.  I should imagine he is always like that.  Let’s say that it would be interesting living with him but, maybe, we get to try it, sort of, this weekend.

Still, I wouldn’t want him any different.

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.