Happy New Year

The final post of 2008, and here I am. Out at last! The premise of this blog has changed somewhat from that I first intended – and it seems strangely a long time since I started, so in love was I, to write about my favourite topic - me!

Now, after a naughty but nice nine months what will we make with 2009? In many ways I’m keen for a completely fresh start. I’m going part time at work so for the first time my business is no longer a side-line but a crucial element of my income. I’m in a strange relationship limbo – is something ending, is something beginning, do we still have to keep one foot on the floor at all times? But whilst the search for Mr Right continues I’ve had a lot of… fun this year and I’m not entirely keen for that to stop! Who or whatever is out there, I am also going to put an emphasis on Me in 2009 in other ways – building my business, looking after myself better, being the best person I can be whether or not He is at the end of the rainbow.

I suppose we’ll have to see how it goes. I’m healthier and happier than ever before and there are definitely worse ways of ending a year. Great friends, and good times; lots of new experiences, and lots of new opportunities. Yes, there have been tough times and I’ve been silly, stupid, and downright ignorant probably. But that’s all part of it; I’m a lucky guy.

Now though, it’s time to stop drifting… the motto for 2009 is: Carpe Annum!

A friend commented recently about his worry that with all these assignations I was putting myself in danger. That clarified in my mind the fact that never once sleeping around had I a bad time. The guy I should have been safe with repaid me with… well, nothing says I love you like a hairline fracture ;-) No wonder the year ended better than it started. I really for the first time enjoy being me and I’m just starting to get a sense of self worth. The only thing that hurts me is when people think I’m less than who I am; the only time I hurt myself is by being less than who I could be.

I hope you had a great 2008 gentle reader; and more than that I hope that 2009 is better yet. Happy New Year to you.

Hoof

I’ve been away gentle reader living it large in London town. A big gay peripatetic one man idiot, ha ha.

On Saturday I went to have dinner with a very good friend and over a vast amount of wine and lovely food we talked well into the early hours, leaving myself somewhat worse for wear for my second date with the guy I met on Christmas Eve.

After such an enjoyable evening my fear of being somewhat unpresentable was enhanced when he asked to meet me earlier than planned. However, as my friend was travelling (hungover, by coach, to Cardiff; a journey even worse in my view than any bad date) I could not really complain about my unfortunate state too much; and, as the coach station is near my office, I realised I could use the facilities there to freshen up. So at 11:30 Christmas and I met, the shadows under my eyes – if not those behind them – scrubbed away.

Christmas and I walked along the South Bank for a bit before stopping for a coffee at the British Film Institute. After coffee we went back to his place for a rather noisier occasion than we allowed ourselves on Christmas Eve...

Although we spent hours and hours together I couldn’t really spend the night as Christmas was going to work at 5am. He’s a television journalist and travels a lot. However, I was anyway due to meet International for drinks on the occasion of his return to London after a few days with his family, so that worked out OK.

At this point of course I’d had about one hour’s sleep in the last 36 and really was keen for an early night whatever else happened and after a mediocre Italian meal in Notting Hill we headed back to his place.

Unfortunately it was a somewhat bad-tempered date as things are still a bit awkward between us and being somewhat tired I was also quite irritable too. The problem, I have realised, with International is that he thinks too little of me; and ‘us’. Of course this makes me sensitive and, lacking emotional maturity as much as I am bed rest, this was not good.

We didn’t have a row as such but I felt bad for not being scintillating company and had a restless night. Yet many of the clouds were lifted in the sunlight and we had a nice Monday morning together over a lazy breakfast. I did some work from his place before he needed to head out, and I made my way home.

So where are we? A quiet night in, I think, for me before I get my head down and get some work done over the next few days. International is going to Florida for two weeks with his real boyfriend. And Christmas and I have our third date on New Years Day (dinner at my place, etc).

Man

There was some minor controversy this year about the Pope’s Christmas message in which he apparently discussed the need to preserve gender roles. This caught my mind because of the current orthodoxy that whilst homosexuality is not a sin, homosexual acts are still very much on the stoning rota (a distinction no doubt of importance to priests in glass houses everywhere).

Anyway, put the two together and you have the clear idea that being gay makes one less of a man.

The fear of being thought less of a man is a part of why I denied my true nature for so long. Having a traditional, masculine, stoic father – though not man enough to raise his kids or pay the mortgage to be sure – made me question, as my sexuality first emerged, not whether I was gay but whether I was really comfortable being male.

The answer is that I love being male. One might say in many ways I can’t get enough of it. Certainly having come out I am sometimes a little vexed that people can’t tell and as such people who might be interested, and in whom I may have some interest too, assume I’m straight. But I enjoy rugby; beer; I like fixing things and growing things and occasionally punching things. I drive to fast and take silly risks.

And of course I enjoy the physical aspects of maleness, both in myself and others. A more muscular frame, strong jaw, strong nose, big hands, the whole… package. Oh yes, I enjoy all the male attributes of my boyfriends and lovers and assignations and in that respect might by the short sighted be seen as not fully male at all. But I don’t see liking rugby and beer making me more of a man any more than loving a man, in every sense, could diminish my masculinity.

So in short there is nothing about being gay that makes me less male, or more; and those of my gay friends I have canvassed quite agree.

But there is also, I fine, a freedom and opportunity of being gay. Of course there are pressures, and many challenges, but I think it is easier to be a man when you can grow and become who you want to be, rather than conform to pre-set expectations. I’d rather make my own mistakes than live someone else’s.

Thinking out loud as usual, gentle reader, Yet while I remain in good part ever undefined I enjoy that more than being a square peg in a round hole.

Merry Christmas

Frohes Weinachten; Joyeux Noel; Season’s Greetings gentle reader.

‘T’ got in touch with me the other day and we tried to arrange a get together but sadly we could not arrange any Christmas cheer. So on 23 December I met a few friends for drinks, picked up a Chinese takeaway and had an early night. I sent International a text explaining how I feel, which – in the light of no reply – was probably ill advised.

The early night was certainly advised, however, as on Christmas eve was my date! We met at Bar Museé and, hitting it off, went to the Rose and Crown (which is a gay pub in Greenwich) for more getting to know each other.

And from there… well, we really did hit it off so of course we went back to his place for some festive fun.

What was sweet was the fact that he had friends coming over later for Christmas and rather than kicking me out after the fact, as it were, he invited me to stay and meet them. So we cracked open the wine I bought for my Christmas, he, his friends and I had a lovely dinner and as the evening wore on got progressively worse for wear until, in the early hours of Christmas Day, we went to bed. And we even managed to get some sleep ;-)

At about 11am today I made my move, and he walked me part of the way home. No public transport on Christmas Day so I did end up walking for hours! But now I have the seal of approval of his friends and date two will be Sunday evening… so, who knows? I’m determined just to let things happen on their own; although I do think it was nice of him to introduce me to his friends and let me take up so much of his Christmas.

As for International; a very dear friend insists he needs to be ‘chinned’ and as I know more of the people she’s slept with than I know people I’ve slept with (if you see what I mean) I think we’re close enough to give her views some credence!

I’m not going to go into the New Year moping over International. I still care as deeply as ever but I always guessed the only way forward would be to let him go. I love him but perhaps I need to love me more! Actually I feel guilty it isn’t working out, but I’m still learning – I have very little relationship experience still, and International perhaps has a little too much. Ho hum, onward to 2009!

And for you; thank you for reading. Merry Christmas.

Disgusted of Woolwich

I’m going to take things a bit easy on the fuzunjulation front, at least for a little while. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind and today’s activities have given me cause to pause for thought.

The assignation was a local guy, very similar to me in many respects, but who wanted to meet on neutral territory in the form of a local cottage. It really has been a while – nearly two years I think – since I’ve done anything like that so I was surprisingly nervous as I headed out to meet him. I don’t mind al-fresco, even if the opportunities in this climate are limited. And the thought of getting caught doesn’t turn me on but beyond a certain threshold I simply do not care. My nervousness related to something else, and it was only after the encounter that I realised what it was; I don’t want to go backwards.

I don’t want to go back to bus-shelters and photo-booths and alleyways. So I’ll be sticking with the internet from now on, and enjoying my meets in the comfort to which I have become used! Talk about being reminded of more than you want to remember… but enough of that.

You see, if not backward then we must forward go – don’t you agree, gentle reader? And to that end I have a date, yes a date, on Christmas Eve.

I was on gaydar late this lunchtime seeing who was around but pretty half-heartedly after earlier events when a guy got in touch. Cute, local, the ideal age… well, naturally I replied and we ended up chatting for ages. Hit it off, if you will. So chat became text messages; text messages became a phone call; a phone call became lunch on Wednesday.

Very pleased with myself, for two reasons. Firstly, I asked him out, which is relatively rare for me. And I did it properly; “you seem really nice and I’d like to get to know you better so…” rather than “let’s make it shag-plus and have a drink somewhere first.”.

The second reason is, and I hope this makes sense, is I want to meet him because he seems really sweet and nice and I do want to know him better. This rather than the usual thing of being pleased someone has expressed an interest and going with it. Pursuing rather than being pursued (even if only perfunctorily).

Anyway, it promises to be a good date and a nice way of starting Christmas off properly. I’ll still be looking for the odd guy here and there for casual fun but… maybe it’s time to calm down and think about what happens next.

Undefined

A lot has happened in the last 24 hours, gentle reader, so it is time to think aloud once more and subject the ether to my musings…

Last night I went to my neighbour for cocktails and nibbles and Sex and the City and after many, many margaritas, I stumbled home and decided in a fit of whimsy to update my Facebook profile from ‘in a relationship’ to ‘it’s complicated’.

Virtually immediately Nick got in touch and suggested he come over for a drink, DVD etc. Classic modus operandi for him; get in touch in the early hours; suggest we watch a film; watch about 1/3 of said film; end up in bed. Last night’s booty call was no different.

It was, however, nice to hear from him and to be honest it was a welcome distraction from the events of the day. Nick spent the night, and we had more fun on the Sunday morning before he had to go to a lunch, and I had to go to Eltham for my pre-arranged assignation.

That was fun, oh yes, and I am very, very tired now. Back at home I contemplated procuring shag number four of the weekend but there was not much interest in little old me on gaydar (I really must refresh my profile), and to be fair I’m not sure how well I would have acquitted myself give my recent exertions! Certainly Eltham is keen to meet again, but right now I am drained!!

So, shag, shag but not all shag, gentle reader: oh no. Because Interspersed among all this were messages to and from International.

He said he hadn’t slept well last night, thinking about his life, and us. And to quote him “All I can say to you is that I have fallen for you. I love you and care about you so much. It is not just about the sex for me. I want to do the right thing for you as well as the right thing for me and if we are both getting stressed about it, that's not good is it?” He also agreed ‘it’s complicated’ was a fair assessment!

In my reply I advised him not to feel bad as it was a useful discussion we had and clarified things a lot. I said we were still seeing each other, and I for one am not getting stressed; we will just have to see how things go.

How do I feel? I don’t know yet. I’m probably going to have to go through some kind of five stages process to get my head round it all. There’s a bit of denial going on; he still loves me so it’s all OK right? But I know the situation has changed and while we are still together the value of together has shifted to something as yet undefined...

Stumped

On Thursday I was out with a very, very good friend and a number of her other friends. My friend’s friends are mostly gay men, hurrah, and a good time was had by all - at one point I was being force-fed long island iced teas – and not from a glass :-)

International called just as we were leaving the bar and asked to join me, so we met, had more drinks ended up back at mine. Ignoring our earlier promise to go straight to bed we, well, went straight to bed. There’s nothing quite like a quick, passionate, hardcore shag to round off a night on the tiles. Unfortunately the occasion of him calling was that he has been made redundant, and was pretty drunk himself when we met up. But he still gave a good account of himself in the wee small hours.

Today I saw International again – using the elderly aunt ruse that we could not employ before – and what can I say? The sex between us just keeps getting better and he was extremely complimentary. We were overcome with passion so I’m pretty sure anyone who happened to glance into my windows would have seen, oh my, a whole lotta lurvin’. But what’s done is done. And, gentle reader, in more than one way I’ve been done.

You see, International complained incidentally of all the ‘shit’ going on in his life. Enquiring tremulously whether I fell under the heading of ‘shit’ I was somewhat startled to find that, in not so many words, I do. So in no time our conversation became a Talk and, well, the edited highlights are:

International isn’t going to leave Ouch. He and I are not boyfriends; I am pretty much just someone he fucks. International doesn’t want me to see other people of course, but I shouldn’t harbour any ambition that he and I will live together and be happy ever after. He says it’s OK for him to have all the power in our relationship because he’s being faithful to me. Though he also does love me, and if he ever does leave Ouch I am definitely in the running…

For my part I explained I like sex, enjoy having it frequently, and in getting screwed – as in anything – I make my own choices.

We haven’t broken up, or at least not formally. But in many... well, I don’t know what this is. There was I thinking he was Mr Right, who he clearly isn’t.

I’m too shocked. I know for sure I absolutely have carte blanche to keep shagging around and maybe go back to dating too. Or at least that’s what my slightly hot head tells me. What my heart will report remains to be seen.

Stay tuned for the next exciting instalment… but in the mean time, here’s a button to enjoy.

Pendulum

Halfway through the week, and as per I’m really busy. But, strangely, loving the work and really feel challenged and that I’m working at a higher level than ever [reward, please?]. Fortunately, though, I have two weeks off from Friday, and yes while I will have occasionally to pop into the office, I’m going to enjoy the break.

As last year I’m spending Christmas with various neighbours and friends. And it looks like a bumper crop of social events that will be double plus fun, I reckon. Drinks last night, out again tomorrow. International on Saturday (followed by cocktails at a friend’s) and Monday International again; I hope he’s on the mend. If not, well then the bondage tape I got as a Christmas present on Tuesday might come in very handy… if not, the lovely book I was also given might!

As for the other days; well, ‘tis the season:

Friday I have tentatively scheduled an evening’s entertainment with a local gentleman. As so often happens with Squirt we’d messaged/emailed before but nothing came of it. Then tonight… well, we shall see. It’s easy to be imprudent on Squirt as things more often come to naught there, in my experience, at least compared to gaydar. But as mentioned before; Squirt has a broader range of clientele to enjoy. So it balances out in its own way.

Sunday… well, I’m a very naughty boy and as such have tentatively further arranged to spend it with a young man from Eltham for what promises to be hours of fun, oh my.

And tonight… well, my quiet night in was interrupted by a steamingly pornographic cybersex session with, you’ve guessed it, yet another guy from Squirt…

Oh, gentle reader, come now! Did you think I would be resolute after vacillating for so long? Lets us consider it thus: International – whom I love and adore – is as yet unsure how many boyfriends he wants; and remains yet unwilling to formally acknowledge me to be one of them (though there is no doubt I’m a candidate!). Love and sex are not the same thing, certainly not at three months I would submit. And my counsellor says it’s OK. And it’s Christmas… So why not?

As an aside, on Squirt I find myself persistently propositioned by really young guys – 18, 19, 20 etc. Far too young for me (in my mind at least). Sunday’s child is 21, which is barely respectable; in the sense one might say “whilst not respectable, 21 is still…” but after so many propositions from so many of these young guys I thought, well, again, why not?

Can you have too much of a good thing?

Zeitgeist

Yeah, when I said I was busy before… well, now I’m busier. I wish I could talk in detail about what I had to do today, but I can’t. It would bore you gentle reader; and more of that would be unforgivable. Fortunately this is my last week before Christmas and the break will do me good.

Now I’m home, and I’m (as always) missing my man. We exchanged the customary texts and emails today, as I complained about my day and enquired about his. And as we communicated I became more and more worried about him.

I’m not worried for Us, understand. But International is really down at the moment and of course one thing about our situation is that I can’t be there to do something about it. He says that all I need to do to cheer him up is smile the next time I see him. Of course, when he says that it makes me feel great. Nevertheless, he’s quite depressed – hopefully I’m not part of the reason (I don’t actually think I am); but that’s not the thing.

This is the thing: how do I be a good boyfriend when I can’t be there for him? OK, it’s not that I’m stuck working on an oil rig somewhere. And he has Ouch to keep him warm. Not a prospect that pleases me but I suppose I have to trust him to do what’s right for him, us, to take care of himself.

So here I am, tired, worried, having a very ill-advised glass of wine, thinking. Regular readers might know that I get quite insecure about things. I can’t be there. Ouch can be there, and no I don’t like that one bit. But it’s his… right I suppose. If International has to deal with the tough times all by himself what use am I? The occasional fuck? That’s not what I mortgaged my heart for. In fact this is exactly what I mean when I describe the difference between love and sex. I’m not just having a clandestine affair; I really do love him and it genuinely scares me to think I might inadvertently let him down (in rather more than the usual day to day way, I mean).

The whole point, in my view, of a relationship is the support and sharing and building a life together. I get infatuated and insecure, absolutely. I have no experience at this, not really. I think that just wishing I could help ain’t gonna cut it. Lucky my next counselling session on Thursday will be about relationships. Lots for me, in my self-destructive gorgeousness, to talk about!

Rainy Day

I went out last night to my friend’s leaving do and got very, very drunk. I had a really good time and got a healthy reminder of the importance of good friends. I love and adore mine, and must take better care of them in future!

In other news International and I did not meet up today; he couldn’t make it. We had a slightly strained discussion last night via the medium of text messaging; he seemed somewhat stressed and distant – though he insisted when pressed that all is well. Now it seems we shall not see each other until 22 December.

I recognise that we may not see each other too often (Ouch etc). Yet, the truth of the matter is I have, I think, a pretty high sex drive. When together International and I average two or three times a day. Sadly, that day only comes every two weeks. And to go from an average of a new partner every other day to sexual intimacy one day per fortnight is a sudden change. Anyone who reads this blog might know that I particularly enjoy threesomes and it was not unknown for me to have two or three assignations in a day [he boasts, he boasts]. After all, I’m not so long out of my closet and only then because it turned out there wasn’t really room in there for two.

Don’t get me wrong, International is a good and attentive lover and I like to think I know a trick or two. We do actively explore passion and I like those serendipitous discoveries (“Oh you like that, do you?” He thinks whilst leaning back just so). Mostly it’s just a 'I like sex and want more, oh so much more', thing.

One effect this has had is people are beginning to notice my arms becoming more developed. Another is that I sometimes still go on gaydar and Squirt for a look around. I get a bit jealous of people that are having more and better sex than me, you see (International is not the only one who might like to have his cake and eat it!).

Today on gaydar I had quite a bit of interest. One guy is the architect I hooked up with before and wrote about a while ago. It was nice of him to get in touch (I’m always flattered when past lovers do) and I certainly did not discourage him. Another was a guy in the local area who sadly proved unsuitable because he flatly refused to practise safe sex. A pity really, as he fit the bill otherwise rather well; who knows what may have happened? And the third turned out to be in Harrow which is unfortunately far away.

So, monomagous still – though exploring my options once again. No doubt on or around 22 December the pendulum will swing back the other way. In the meantime, gentle reader, there is tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow…

PS I thought about updating my profile pictures on gaydar today, but the morning after a night spanking it hard is not the best time as you can see!

Olympic

International took me ice skating last night! We went to the Natural History Museum and went on the ice outside there. It was tremendous fun; I’d never been ice skating before. Thus I fell over, a lot, and today have sore arms and legs and appear to have come perilously close to a groin strain. Tee Hee. It was so sweet of him to treat me; and of him to hold my hand as I skittered hither and thither across the ice, scaring no small number of people along the way (to his intense amusement; in some cultures I might be expected to marry some of the people I blundered into. All a bit embarassing).

Afterward we went to Earls Court for a lovely Chinese meal and smooches in a ‘friendly’ venue – but that had been transformed since International’s last visit into a gastro-pub. So back to the retro bar for us it was to end the evening off.

It was a wonderful evening and he was so nice. He held my hand wherever we walked and told me how much he loved me. I don't deserve* such treatment

Of course our conversation turned to our situation, if only briefly. International did see to be a bit annoyed that I was so tolerant of the status quo; but I explained that (a) pressurising him to make a change would not be nice (b) it would not be healthy for our relationship and (c) I wouldn’t want him to precipitately take action he’d regret. In part that last one comes from an uncertainty that I can yet compete with the six-figure earning suave and sophisticated Frenchman. After all, I can barely spell (see last post!).

But, but, but, what a great night. The way he makes me feel really helps me get through the tough times – and right now things are a bit tough with the sheer volume of work if nothing else. I’m going to have to sit my employers down and see if we can get rid of at least two of my nine projects. Just so you know - accident and emergency; trauma and orthopaedics; mental health; workforce strategy; patient and public awareness; patient surveys; primary care development; annual planning for 09/10; and day to day oversight of about nine hospitals. Not that I’m showing off ;-)

Yes, love is grand.

International and I will hopefully be having muches smooches and double plus more on Saturday, oh fingers so very crossed gentle reader. On that occasion I will be cunningly disguised as an errand for an elderly aunt. But I don’t mind. I’m totally loved up right now. And it really, really makes it all worthwhile.

Onward and upward

Wow! It is so busy at work it is unreal. 8 till 6 and no lunch… we can but hope things ease up soon. But I won’t bore you with that today gentle reader, oh no. For there are other things afoot.

This evening I had another counselling session and today’s theme was ‘being gay’. My counsellor wanted to explore my earliest sexual experiences. Unfortunately I was in a very reticent mood and not willing to discuss in detail. I think it had been a long day. So he kept trying to prompt me and things got more disturbing by the second. No, I was not 13; no he was not in the navy… nasty. He did, however, also want to talk a lot about International and he remains resolute that three months is very little time really and I should keep seeing other men if I want too. Poor International! The whole world rails against my self-enforced monogamy. Yet monogamous I remain.

My counsellor also keeps going on about how gorgeous I am which, whilst undoubtedly true (honest Guv’), is going a bit above and beyond the call and has begun to make me somewhat uncomfortable. On the plus side, however, he assures me one day my prince will come – and I contrarily argue that I must accept the possibility that he might not (not wishing to assume International is said prince).

Tomorrow International is whisking me off for a surprise of some sort. I think I’ve guessed what it is; but I shall reveal all later. It certainly involves something outdoors. How intriguing! How exciting. It’s nice that he’s planning something spontaneous and romantic. N-one;s ever done that before for me. It has me all a-quiver.

And Thursday I have a client, hurrah. I doubt a high paying one but the work they want me to do is embarrassingly light and at least I shall have something to put in my brand-spanking-new business account. This will give me a reason to leave the office early; which will also allow me to pick up my wine order which has finally arrived. Any fans of Management Buzzword Bingo will cringe at phrases like ‘synergy’ but when it works…

And Friday, a good friend’s leaving do – jumping the same ship I did a few months ago. I foresee a good time will be had by all, and that Saturday will be a very miserable day indeed ;-)

A week on today is the three month anniversary. This means International is officially my second longest lasting boyfriend ever. I’m wondering whether to do something to mark it. Month one was Spain; month two was his birthday. This time it’s Christmas. Well, I shall wait for inspiration to strike. In the meantime a well deserved glass of wine for and the never ever-lasting embrace of my bed…

Loose end

Harrumph. Harrumph I say! For it’s the weekend and I am at a loose end. All dressed down and nowhere to go.

I blame International for this intolerable state of affairs; if I were not in a relationship with him – or at least still casting a roving eye – then I could roam across the internet and meet guys for some double plus naughty fun. But no, that option is closed to me. In my mind’s eye I picture he and Ouch getting up to all manner of fun; shopping, the cinema… smooches? Grrr! Advantage, International. While I sit here alone. Harrumph.

Of course there are things I could do – the distinction between having things to do and boredom has been the subject of many a frank discussion with past employers over the years – but writing all my Christmas cards and tidying up my YouTube favourites etc seem like chores.

So, I am in a relationship; and the duller for it then. I will admit, as we head for our three month anniversary, that the initial headlong rush is calming down a bit, as is only to be expected. But it’s nice to replace that with getting to know him better and find out more. We really don’t know much about each other at all well right now, which makes this romance all the more preposterous. But when he was here last we did talk and I learned more about him and his upbringing and family. Make no mistake, I still crave his presence in my arms and the thought of him is guaranteed to put a smile on my face. Oh dear, Mike’s got it bad!

We continue to text or message each other several times a day. But as yet we have not fixed a time/day when we will see each other again. I am pretty sure we’ll have at least a day together before Christmas – which of course isn’t enough, so we’ll have to arrange something more then, won’t we?

I’m hoping for a subscription to The Economist from International for Christmas; I dropped some pretty heavy hints. Like “buy me a subscription to The Economist for Christmas”. So we will see. Today I bought for myself a subscription to Gay Times and Men’s Health, so there’ll be plenty to oggle while I wait for my brain to be stimulated. In the New Year I am keen to properly tackle my body and get some proper rippling gorgeousness going – I dare but whisper it really, but there is a hint (just a hint) of a six-pack after all my weight loss. Oh yes, gentle reader, we likey.

As for the portion weekend that remains: dinner, wine, and (one of my favourite shows ever) the West Wing.

Rotation

We tolerate surprisingly little extroversion in Britain (though we seem keen to indulge banks that can’t count). But I’m in a talk to strangers and dance in the rain mood right now. Things have been a bit of a whirlwind over the last few days, and in the nicest possible way. Including work; though it remains hugely busy (the annual leave ban remains in force for months and months) I am genuinely excited by my new projects – as well as keeping some of my existing projects. It’ll be tough, but it should be challenging in the way I like – stimulating intellectually, genuinely knotty problems, busy, yet getting things done.

But enough of work! On Wednesday there was an evening trip to Harvey Nichols with some of my bestest friends, which involved champagne cocktails, and Manhattans, and other cocktails I don’t quite remember. Then onto Liberty, and onward further then to even more cocktails. Yum yum, yum yum. This, of course, meant I was slightly worse for wear – but only slightly, gentle reader – for International’s return.

Thursday: this time I was an overrunning meeting with NGOs, or similar. As you may have gathered I am happy to take what I’m given. Nevertheless International and I certainly made up for lost time (a new sofa will be added soon to the Christmas list). Fun all night and fun all morning [double plus ;-)]. International was, not unconnectedly, in quite a good mood this morning which makes a change. Light or dark, rain or shine, I of course remain evermore, unchanging in my loveliness, the Cheerful Fairy.

And here we have Friday; I did other things beginning with F today. I bought a phone and some fairy lights. I’m SO pleased with the phone. Check it out! A fabulous edition to my home office. Have I dialled myself? Of course I have! Bling bling, ring ring. At the third stroke, the time (sponsored by my bank manager) will be fabulous o’clock.

International did not Talk to Ouch at the weekend – it didn’t come up. And, interestingly, I have noticed as time goes by it is harder, and hard, for me to talk of Ouch in a ‘your boyfriend’ ‘your partner’ sense. So… well, it’s not easy but then what’s new? It was, though, good to just be in his arms that night. Being in love like this makes all the petty hardships and little stressors in life all worthwhile (as, of course, do shopping and cocktails too). And, sorry so sorry, but him being a great lover really makes a difference. It just does.

So then, deep breath, relax. No more sugar for Mike. But I end the week more in love than I was before and happier, not so much for that, but because I have done nothing to challenge it, or analyse it, or take the shine off my unalloyed delight. So maybe I shall rest here in this place a little while longer…

Fame and Fortune

Ho ho ho! Today I got my new business bank account sorted. I’m so pleased! The business-manager type who dealt with me was very nice and seemed genuinely supportive of my modest aspirations – how much of this was hyperbole I can never know, although she did go as far as researching marketing techniques for businesses of my type, to help me; in my view going above and beyond the call of duty. I suspect my efforts to prepare properly for the appointment helped break the ice too though; preparation is the key!

Now I have lots of new toys and brochures and packs of literature to play with at home which, in my credulity, I quite like (I have a stationery fetish too).

In the meantime I also had a haircut; and cleaned* the apartment; and I got loads of work done; AND I flirted with International, as is my custom. Frumpella the Double Plus Efficient Fairy today!

Yes I’m glad it’s done, gentle reader, because even if I meet the never so modest income forecasts from my small business then I should be able to eventually fund the love-nest of International and I… the one in my dreams that is… and happy ever after we shall be. That contentment may be such a burden! *sigh*

In the meantime, tonight I enjoy some baroque music, and a glass or three of nice new-world Colombard in anticipation of the time – Thursday (and via the pretence of an overrunning meeting at the European Commission) - that I see International again. It has been too long since he told me he loves me; I am anxious to hear those words again. Tomorrow it is back to the office, and who can say what workload awaits? Though I remain hopeful of cocktails in the evening.

And, as even I am moved to shift my traditional not-until-Christmas-eve humbug stance, (alongside Christmas coming too early I also disapprove of the saxophone and mustard) I leave you with this carol, which I find rather lovely…

Routine

Busy busy, always busy! In many ways it’s really nice; it means International and I have settled into something of a routine without the shine wearing off yet. This is normally the stage when my clingy insecure nature makes me ruin everything. So I need to be careful...

Over the last week I bumped into my friend, neighbour and one time date L, not once but twice. Both of us have started relationships at about the same time so it was good to chat about that as we wandered home from, variously, the train station and the supermarket. L is fun, but tends to be annoyingly two steps ahead of me – I’ve ended up dating quite a few people he dated before me for example. So I pick up tips and watch for clues.

Another gay friend (I still classify my friends as either ‘gay’ or ‘your round’) recently got a good job with a vanishingly small bit of help from me which is great news. And yet another – a fellow blogger this time – met someone via gaydar and seems to have fallen head over heels in love at first sight. Ish. So I'm a little jealous.

Is this winter the time for change? I’m not in a position to canvas the gayers generally. Being the little-gay-engine-that-could I cannot speak for my breeder brethren. But for me all is in flux; job, home-life, love-life.

Sex life too. International and I have drifted from passive/active to versatile/versatile which is...intriguing... and keeps things pretty fresh. International isn’t very adventurous, and stands on principle in odd ways – refusing the let me do things he would very much like as he would not reciprocate - even though I wouldn’t like those particular things anyway (not my cup of tea, but I’m nice like that!). Sorry gentle reader; too much detail? So be it.

Being a serial monogamist (well, you know what I mean) he’s had relatively few sexual partners and while I refuse to feel bad about my experimentation I find his depth of experience, as opposed to my breadth [hark at him] induces some anxiety. Whatever I’ve done he’s done more in the relationship, love, being with someone sense.

International is out tonight with his friends including the last person he had an affair with – and I’m the topic se soir. I’m eager to hear what insights will be derived from this winter’s night. And particularly on tenterhooks to find out what discussions were had between International and Ouch at the weekend - if any. Yes, in many ways we are on the cusp. A new moon, new year, new life… Soldiering on.

I was struck today by the coverage of World Aids Day, and how many people were out campaigning and fund-raising. In my 13 years in London I don’t recall as much passion before; it’s a great sign of hope and reminded me I’m lucky to have a future, whatever happens. Well, here’s to the move from hoping to planning, dreaming to building. So cross fingers.

Saturday

A cold weekend in Strumpetville gentle reader; I wore my favourite scarf which is universally acclaimed as very Dr Who and normally leaves me far too hot – but today it was just right. Brrrr.

I met International on the South Bank at about 2pm and we walked via Blackfriars Bridge into Soho. Along the way we discussed various things including whether or not his expectation of fidelity is a way of avoiding STIs (it isn’t) and, most importantly, what happens next for us.

Ouch Suspects, it seems. He queries, for example, International’s ever more frequent absences and visits to friends who have no apparent recollection of seeing my beau (today I was a meeting of International’s book club). To that end International has resolved to have the first of what I suspect will be a series of discussions. The theme of discussion one is Where We Are. International wants to discuss the state of play of his relationship with Ouch and what his feelings about it are. Essentially is Ouch ‘up for’ for sharing. This will in itself of course reveal much to Ouch; therefore some discussion of the consequences was needed today too.

So, then, over a lovely Japanese dinner and drinks in The Yard we talked and schemed and planned and even found time for smooches…

The mortgage will be tricky. International and I could cover it but we would be ever so poor. And I don’t ‘do’ poor. Obviously it will take time to sort out – even without the pressures of the current market. After that International wants to get his own place for a while. I’m not a huge fan of that idea, but I can’t force him to live with me. Well, I could but it would not bode well. In the meantime if things get a bit hairy I’ve invited International to stay with me for as long as he needs to.

This scenario still assumes much; but I am genuinely worried for Ouch now. I made clear to International that I wasn’t pushing him or pressurising him but International seems resolute in his wish/recognition of the need to sort things out. He says he wants to ‘do right’. The immortal words of Mandy Rice-Davies notwithstanding I asked him to keep me informed of what happens.

I love him so very much and wish there was a way I could make him happy… easily. But fool that I am, I have fallen head over heels for a manifestly unsuitable man.

So there we have it; progress of a sort. Further updates as events warrant. In the meantime happy Weasel Stomping Day.

Sympathy

I was due to go out with a great friend and former colleague tonight, but sadly she had to cancel. We will catch up next week I hope; but this disappointing change to my plans did allow me to see International tonight.

It always amazes me that when I’m with him everything and everyone around simply melts away. I do hope our passionate tonsil hockey in The Stag didn’t put-off too many of that place’s clientele.

In between the muches smooches we did discuss, he and I, me and him and Ouch and stuff. The upshot is I am clear that Ouch is (as International put it) ‘besotted’ with him – as am I of course. And International acknowledged that therefore someone is likely to get hurt. Furthermore he was candid enough to argue that this someone may well be me. I in turn reiterated that if he does me wrong I’ll burn his house down.

Annoyingly he beat me to saying “I love you”. I was hoping to make my declaration of undying love first, you see! I did play “I love you” Top Trumps by telling International I’ve never loved anyone like I love him (thus I win) which engendered more discussion about Darren and how my love for him compares.

From there we moved to fidelity and monogamy and such; International asked me again not to see other people. This prompted me to raise intimacy between International and Ouch; I can hardly protest if and when it occurs; hence my protest against International’s assertion he has the right to tell me how to conduct my vududium. I explained I am happy for us to be open or monogamous (monogamous being the ideal) and indeed he can have two boyfriends if that’s what he wants; but until things are sorted …

Actually, my endless crusade of dissonance and vacillation continues; my resolve crumbled pretty quickly and, once again, until at least next time, I do not intend to play away. I know, I know! My counsellor will have a thing or two to say about it at the very least.

In other news my work is so busy that I’ve been banned from taking annual leave until the end of March. Boo! But it’s nice to be needed… I find out tomorrow more about what my role will become in the future – but it is ironic that it comes when I’m finally on top of things. Three months on 1 December in my new role. Somehow it seems longer!

Enough of my waffling. Enjoy some Culture.

Sleepyhead

I’m a little tired right now gentle reader. Not from a bit of how’s-your-father, oh no, but rather a long day – one of those days full of little niggles and challenges. All done now though, and I’m home, and it’s dinner time and the radio is on…

Today I had yet another counselling session, and I’m beginning to feel my counsellor is responding to my needs when structuring our sessions. Apparently I’m too ‘bright’ for his standard counselling techniques, which is nice. I think.

Today’s theme was self-esteem. He wanted to explore any self-destructive behaviours I might be exhibiting and seemed somewhat disappointed when I couldn’t reveal any. Being an introvert getting angry or upset makes me want to avoid people, not jump into bed with them. As mentioned previously getting tipsy (a) makes me less interested in sex and (b) I act like an idiot so no-one would want me anyway. I don’t 'do' drugs. I don’t put myself in dangerous situations bar the usual risks that come with the gaydar/squirt cruising thing. It’s just me; late bloom in the gardens of Strumpetville; a breath away from withering…

My counsellor was particularly keen to talk about International (I suspect he sees him as more in need of counselling than I which his hardly fair – he only has my description after all. And I’m cuckoo). He was very forgiving of my weekend indiscretion, perhaps clutching at straws by seeing my love for International as the manifestation of my self-destructive tendencies. The counsellor gave me some cognitive behavioural therapy exercises to go through at home.

Does it seem strange that I profess to love International and yet still have sex with other people? I hope not. The situation will evolve as the facts change; right now I am decided not to wait idly by while has his cake and eats it. Alongside the causal encounters there is my – quite possibly self destructive – refusal to rearrange my social life around seeing him. I realise it may be stubbornness or obstinacy on my part, but I won’t change my plans to suit him because he can’t change his plans with Ouch. I fear that would leave me running around after him all the time.

I may be the other woman but we abhor the cliché!

Anyway, I still can’t wait to see him at the weekend and the message from Geneva is he can’t wait to see me. It will be a useful distraction from redrafting by business plan and bringing my accounts up to date and cleaning the flat and… because I love him loads.

(I also enjoy robot chicken.)

Sauce

True to my word, gentle reader, I have had a very naughty weekend. You may recall I had recently heard from T and I was tempted to respond positively to his overtures. Well, in the end I did get in touch with him to say we should indeed meet up. So hopefully I shall get a response soon.

In the meantime on Saturday and Sunday there have been three assignations arranged via t’internet. All were guys I’d been in touch with peri-International; but because he was on the scene, pardon the pun, nothing came of it. However, while I was online on Saturday all three got in touch. The first I had been flirting for months. He wanted some al-fresco action but I felt it was a tad on the chilly side for such activities; so on Saturday night I met him and we went back to mine. My that was fun; it’s amazing how things that may not be your favourite, if done right, can still drive you wild ;-)

And on Sunday a guy came over from Greenwich for an afternoon shag, to be followed in the evening by a nice long 'session' with another, who likes to party and play - though I prefer not to mix fuzunjulation of the vududium with much more than a glass of wine if I can help it. (thinking it’s pretty darned fabulous on its own account). Not even poppers for me gentle reader though I indulge my men-folk if they really must have that helping hand (as if I’m not enough… cheek!).

Yes, I let my trouser department do the thinking this weekend – and it was most marvellous to our eyes! The weekend ended with a tempting invitation from a very young (late teens eeek!) couple from nearby for one of my favourite activities; a threesome. I’m not sure yet – I’m comfortable in a range 25 to 45, and prefer guys at least my own age; but as a cardinal rule of threesomes is that they’re just about sex, there may be no harm in it…

Of course this comes alongside work; I have had two clients this week which is fantastic and quite timely! And my ‘proper job’ is keeping me busy as always; my current projects have been reviewed and it has been decided that they are too important/I’m doing too well [flattery will get you everywhere] to hand the over to someone else. Well, I’m keen to see my projects through and as some colleagues are definitely moving on I’m going to be leading on more projects from now too. Thus some catching up on Sunday was necessary.

Raise your glasses to sex and projects!

I strangely don’t feel bad about my nominal infidelity to International. I do, however, feel comfortable that I’ve rebalanced the various portfolios in my life more equitably. Until International and I make some progress he remains my love-life (we’ve been exchanging the usual messages today too, awwww), just not, for now, all of my sex life.

So be it

I’m back! And, finally, my boiler is fixed, which makes homecoming all the sweeter.

Back from two nights and a day with International at his place. The house withstood our passion; kitchen, living room, shower and of course bedroom – International has his work cut out before Ouch gets home ;-)! OK, OK I’ll stop bragging now...

International and I do so very well when we are shut away from the real world and no pressure of work or travel or the Real boyfriend snipes at our precious time together. However, we did have a row on Thursday over dinner. Which was my fault; emotional maturity is something I really must work on! Unfortunately International said he felt we shouldn’t really consider ourselves boyfriends in the strictest sense as we were only just starting a relationship and he has so much baggage to contend with. And when I demurred at this I was accused of being high maintenance. Me!

Anyway, to help ease our passage back to the real world, on Friday night I called International just to talk to him (not Talk note) and to hear his voice. Our conversation did, nevertheless, stray onto the topic of Us and we revisited some of the things that were Said on Thursday. International said he isn’t happy at home, at work, or really with anything and it will take him time to sort things out. I merely said that though whatever he does and decides affects me – a lot, a lot – I am here to help him with the pressures he feels; not add to them.

I really love International. This morning I would have given anything to wake up next to him, have him in my arms. However, it is increasingly clear that he will not leave Ouch for me; and I have listened to International when he talked and noted that we are lovers but that we shall have to see how things go. I have even had the cheek to feel somewhat aggrieved that International and Ouch are snuggled up in bed, or out with friends, or whatever whilst I am here alone.

So here am I, back in the real world. And I have decided something, gentle reader; something of which you may or may not approve.

I’m not going to continue being ‘exclusive’ with International until he’s made his mind up. I have mixed feelings about this, though not in a love=sex sense. It’s just not easy to see this as a step backward or a coping mechanism; I’m damned if I’m going to have my heart broken twice in a year. But International clearly has a lot to work through and, yes, I’m here to help. But I’m not going to just sit and wait while I sit and wait. Erm...

Spirits Soaring

As you know, gentle reader, my boiler is [still!] broken. You can, I imagine, comprehend my dismay when my kettle of 13 years – faithful kettle of mine, and my father before me - followed it onto the undiscovered circuit.

It occurred to me then that my luck has not been too good of late; but then I thought of International and I said to myself “oh, I don’t know…”.

You see, like most I potter through life slightly bad tempered, silently wishing everyone would get out of my way because I’m very busy and I’ve got lots to get on with and I need to do six impossible things before breakfast. But it’s not the same with International; when I’m with him everyone else simply disappears and I see no-one but him. When I think of him I feel like I’m flying high over mountains like an eagle… yes, alright, I’m not going to spout lovey claptrap till you retch so hard you shatter your own rib-cage. You get the idea. I’m just saying.

One of the nicest times I’ve ever had was just last Monday; International and me, wine and candlelight – and not caring a jot - not a jot I tells ye - that the heating wasn’t working. I hope the rest of the week, spending it (well, from tomorrow night) with him, will be as nice. Right now what I really want is a hot shower! After I’ve had that he can do as he pleases ;-)

I have, in two weeks, an appointment with my bank for business related matters; accounts and cards and similar. It feels quite exciting; in the meantime I will need to brush up my accounts and business plan – so I can show off. Fortunately I don’t need any loans or credit, though I do need to jump through various anti-money-laundering hoops which make the whole process tiresome. Yet it will be nice to focus on something (work related) other than my day to day job.

In the meantime my counselling session, due today, was cancelled. So much for working on my self-esteem! In fact it was postponed for a week but even so I didn’t accept my friend’s fine offer for some beerage and I went home to get an early night and dream of being with International, tomorrow, tomorrow… When I called him to wish him goodnight it turned out he himself is out with friends, telling them all about me! Well, that’s a boost, to be sure.

Scrooge

I finish the weekend somewhat ill at ease. I feel like I haven’t achieved anything. I dislike not seizing the day and getting things done.

Is that fair? I did a mind boggling amount of shopping, resurrected this blog from the ashes of Google’s maladministration, sorted out my business banking (or at least started to), chatted to friends online, reviewed the (frankly inadequate) advertising proofs for my new campaign, and even managed to have a bath (24 hours till the boiler is fixed... oh I hope).

But. I didn’t do any actual work; and I have been alone all weekend. Next week is a bit crammed as my next counselling session – self esteem, if you please – is on Tuesday then Wednesday to Friday I’m with International. So the opportunities to get things done are limited.

In fact the real reason I’m dissatisfied is a general lack of ease about my current situation. Not on the romance side – International and I as we ever were. No, it’s the whole thing. An holistic malcontent, gentle reader, is your correspondent.

I am fortunate, though – and perhaps it is my Teutonic origins shining through – that I can usually identify point A (where I am), point B (where I want to be) and define the obstacles to overcome to get from one to the other. In other words I generally know what I want and how to get there. This of course is something that gets easier with time, which incidentally is the main reason I like being in my 30s.

So, here am I at point A (not enough money) and I want to be at point B (lots of lovely lolly). I do have a good income, one that allows me to indulge my tastes and whims quite freely; yet I fear I am not in a position that I can take advantage of the opportunities that may arise over the next couple of years. The fall in house prices bringing bricks and mortar at least nominally within my reach, for example.

What solutions has my incisive and efficient deutsche Kopf given me? Increase income and reduce outgoings! Aber natürlich.

The income bit will be in part helped along by finding an advertiser that can write in whole sentences. And the outgoings? Ah, hence the Scrooge bit. I am determined to cut back!

Up to Christmas I am going to see how little I can live on – excluding the social life, as it’s that time of year of course. But I reckon certain premium elements of my lifestyle could be trimmed… we shall see. On those occasions when I have identified point B I rarely have failed to reach it. It can take me some considerable time to recognise point B – as this blog amply demonstrates – but now our course is set. Wonga Ahoy!

Swap

Shift, substitute, switch...

Well, gentle reader compared to when you last saw it you will notice a difference in this blog. Why the change? Because blogger decided to decimate my blog for no reason and when rebuilding it I decided to experiment with my template. I hope you like it. Essentially on the left you will find my fevered imaginings, and on the right the rather more reasonable external sources and sites that keep me grounded.

It's almost done, though I'm sad to say anyone who recently voted will need to do so again; sorry. Believe me, it's taken hours of work (spent largely raving like a madman about the cruelty of it all) to get back to this point. And now I'm done and will post again soon.

Silence

On Thursday I met International again – at the Retro Bar. There I told him about the ‘intervention’ of my friends the previous Tuesday. They had encouraged me to cast my net somewhat wider as International has Ouch and… as such I may not have International. And you will recall, gentle reader, T recently got in touch again. So it was time to Talk.

Well, this provided an excellent route into discussing Us and where we are and the whole Me, Him, Ouch situation. International said that, no, he could not stop me having fun with other men but to do so would hurt him. Yes, I am (my friends are) right that he is having his cake and eating it but he assured me again that he and Ouch are no longer intimate. In fact, he revealed, he was refusing Ouch’s attempts to initiate sex; one of the reasons their relationship is ending is that he no longer ‘fancies’ him.

Yes, he said, he was saying all the things some two-timing bastard might say; he couldn’t help that because he’s madly in love with me and means everything he says. International said he and Ouch had been on rocky ground for some time and he had been thinking of leaving him for a while. In fact he claims he almost ended it on Saturday (though I immediately thought ‘almost’ isn’t quite the same methinks). But he wanted to leave him for the “right reasons”

I did directly challenge precisely how open this open relationship is; and International confessed it was open largely in potentia – though of course for the two of us it has gone rather further than any reasonable definition of open might anyway encompass.

Wider reasons International hesitates to end his relationship with Ouch are what he termed lifestyle. They have a nice house (a not nice mortgage with it)… joint friends… a lot of ties that bind and to cut them is complex and difficult. In fact International suggested that should he and Ouch end they may still live together, which frankly dismayed me.

My friends cautioned me that International was living well with a rich older man, but enjoying the physical side with a ‘fit’ [cheers babe] younger man. After Thursday this resonates with me somewhat.

I am uncertain now. My feelings are unchanged; but I am much clearer that Ouch might feel more for International than he returns and that makes things all the more difficult for me. I really am the other woman… Mr T pities the fool. But - to my credit I feel - I did, quite sincerely inform International that if he is messing me around I will burn his house down.

In other news: my boiler should be up and running again on Monday and on the work front my portfolio continues to grow. I’m being asked to take on yet more work – my manager is leaving and on top of everything else her work needs cover too! And on the business front I’m starting a whole new online advertising campaign that will hopefully generate some new interest. Clients have been somewhat thin on the ground of late and I’ve been too… busy… to pursue new business. But it’s not just all about International you know.

Shivers

The boiler remains unfixed. And International is not here to keep me warm. Yes, things are on the chilly side, what with it being November and that.

Well, the work I brought home got done at least. And as for the rest of my day today – it was on of those days; the sun was shining, the birds were singing. I had a smile on my face, and the world was smiling with me.

Plus my mental health work is being received very well, which is fabulous.

And…

T has been touch again. And this time he did ask if we could meet up for fun and frolics. As, by the way, have both of my assignations from a couple of weekends ago. Oh yes, gentle reader; an IQ of 177 and an ass that won’t quit. As ever, nice to be popular.

But anyway; I mentioned before T is the one that would tempt me. T was one of the few guys that had as high a sex drive as I do. He lives in a palace with his boyfriend, with whom he also shares an open relationship. And, yes, I remember him very, very fondly indeed.

So… what to do? It would be easy. He lives near me and works even nearer. It would be fun, oh God it would. A genuine lover, oh my. Yes, even writing about it I am… well, very tempted. As I recall with him it wasn’t just sex it was conversation and dinner as well. T is not a huge fan of the open relationship thing; I think he needed the intimacy a lot too – a spare boyfriend while his ‘real’ one was playing away perhaps.

Actually I am struck by the parallel between T and international. I mean if ‘T and me’ begat a relationship you could almost interchange them.

But. Yes, gentle reader, you know what’s coming next. So much so I hardly need write about it!

Well, I think the way out is to talk to International and see how I feel and how he feels. I’m not arguing I should meet other guys, though I actually do miss these encounters. I am one of those people who does like - that is, enjoy - causal sex; in fact I don’t really ‘get’ people who don’t. I enjoyed being promiscuous and occasionally I get a bit nostalgic for those days [er… two months ago…]. I don’t mind not sleeping with other people; I’ve studiously rejected all offers since International and I became proper boyfriends. But the fact remains He has two boyfriends and I suppose I have half of one. I’m not sure, to put it crudely, getting some cock will redress the balance. I’m not sure, feeling for International the way I do, I’d really want to or enjoy it were it to happen. But we do need to talk. To settle things.

PS International has just cancelled Monday...

Shine

So International spent the night last night. It was, as always, very pleasant; candlelight and wine. Music and smooches. Whispered promises of love everlasting between moments of utter breathlessness… I tell you one thing gentle reader, he is an attentive lover.

One thing he is not is a morning person, which his something I will have to get used to I fear. International was Mr Moody Pants, and got in a temper when I called him Mr Moody Pants. So I amended it to Mr Gorgeous Pouting Moody Pants. But I myself was still somewhat irritated so in town we went for a coffee before we parted to ‘make up’.

No, it wasn’t a row. But it was something that I realised later I do with all of my ‘boyfriends’, which is this; I get very irritated when they first insinuate themselves into my space. And when irritated – or having had but 3 hours sleep - ‘my space’ extends for about 3 miles in any direction. Harry is one notable victim of this trait. So, in many ways, I’m glad it’s done.

Nevertheless, I am somewhat dismayed that International may not now be visiting me on 17 November, his birthday, as he may be ‘too tired’ after flying in from Strasbourg. Though we still will be spending some time together that week, as Ouch is away - thus allowing me to temporarily occupy the geist of Ouch. But yes; dismayed. Enough to ask if… well, are we gong to see each other again? The answer I am assured is yes… for now.

A couple of close and dear friends staged an Intervention as Das Boot tonight. They expressed deep concern that International was trying to have his cake and eat it; that I was being manipulated; that International was going to break my heart. In many ways the voice of experience cautioning me – quite reasonably – about repeating their mistakes. Trying, as it was put, to be the friend they wish they’d had.

I was, I will admit, very occasionally irritated by this intervention. But they raise valid issues and I appreciate the care and attention. Honest. But what can I say? Rule Six is there for a reason and… I have no defence. Rule Five is there for a reason too. So I may be setting myself up for a fall. But to my own personal credit these are arguments I am unafraid to raise with himself. This I did not dwell on tonight, but no-one knows how much it means to have someone say to me “I love you”. And how much it means to be able to say it back.

My team was consumed with work today and the appointed hour passed us by unnoticed. For shame. Yet ill remembered is still not forgotten…

Strange

I have had one of the strangest experiences of my life today, gentle reader.

After getting a bit more work done this afternoon – work that, though challenging, is very exhilarating and fills me with a real sense of achievement once done - I had an afternoon nap; something that I have developed a peculiar fondness for as I have aged.

Anyway, after a couple of hours I woke up – at 5:30.

The problem was I had completely forgotten that it was Sunday. In fact I assumed it was 5:30am on Monday. So, I rose, breakfasted and selected my clothes for work, pleased that I could get in early and tackle the tasks of the day.

At 6:30 a fellow blogger and friend sent me a message asking if I’d had a nice weekend and advising he had just opened a bottle of wine.

Of course, thinking it was 6:30 in the morning I was genuinely shocked and was really worried my friend had a drinking problem. When I replied that er... it was 6:30am, so ermmm... he, somewhat confused, asked me if I was in Britain or abroad or what? And at that point, after a mental gear change, I realised my mistake.

It is fortunate indeed that he contacted me when he did – or I would have been 14 hours early for work. As it was, though, I instead had an extra weekend evening. Tempus redux; a chance to live again.

So despite the fact I had had breakfast I made dinner, was a bit domestic, selected a nice merlot and settled in for an enjoyable evening.

It is a stormy night and the wind and the rain are driving against my window. The parts required to fix my boiler are only now undertaking their perilous journey across the Solar System so the apartment is a little chilly. In many ways it is ideal snuggling weather and I wish International were here to snuggle with me. Of course I am in a position where I can’t be with him every day and for the first time that made me feel a little sad. Tomorrow will be the only time this week we have planned together; next week it is three nights and one day – almost justifying the 50% share in him I currently have.

But for tonight I’m suffering a bit from loneliness. It could be worse; I could be suffering from the flu or gout or Licky End. Yes, I miss him. And in 48 hours I shall be missing him again… though in the meantime I fully intend to [censored]

Slave

On Friday, as scheduled, International and I had lunch. Good Friday fayre – fish and chips - at a local café named “Rendevous” followed by a walk in St James’s Park. As an aside I would strongly recommend the walk from Parliament to St James’s Park via Queen Anne’s Gate. It’s a lovely part of London, even if you aren’t there with your boyfriend.

I couldn’t enjoy my time with International as much as I wanted because pressures of work preyed on my mind. I’ve been working all day today even to get things done; and things are getting there, so that’s good. Hopefully this week(end) of frantic activity represents the peak (or trough) of it.

One aspect of my new job has been a relative isolation compared to where I was previously. All my work is ‘external’ – meaning I do the things that affect people outside the organisation, not in it, rather than ‘internal’ work of analysis and reporting. That can be tough because it’s relatively hard to demonstrate the value of what I do. Conversely in the private sector or, to use a technical term, the “real world”, where pensions have to be saved for and you can be sacked for such bourgeois offences as not doing your job properly, I would be bringing clients in and generating income/business which would be of the utmost importance.

Well thus it ever was; I must admit I’m proud of what I’m achieving and God knows it’s really challenging high-level work.

I’m not blowing my own trumpet – if I could do that I wouldn’t need a boyfriend – just having a little me moment…

Anyway, I dislike the compromise between work and romance – particularly as I’m very focussed on one or the other at any given point. One of the reasons I’m working this weekend is because I can’t work at home next week. Again my social dance-card is full of waltzes (and the occasional tango).

Monday, late, International is staying over. Sadly the boiler really has broken down. It requires a new circuit board. Indeed a rare and precious Faberge circuit board that, judging by how long it will take to arrive, may only be sourced from somewhere beyond the orbit of Saturn. I have warned International of his likely privation but he insists I will be able to keep him warm…

And on Tuesday I obey the summons of friends for their ‘intervention’. I fear few people approve of my relationship; so few that I have decided to canvas opinion with a new poll (on the right here). Now gentle reader it is safe to let me know what you think without the fires of my Leonine pride visiting righteous wrath upon thee. For now.

Starlight

I’m a Leo; I adore being a Leo and in many ways I am a typical example of the species. Not being gay so much; I imagine that is not star sign dependant. I’m in fact a Leo with an Aires rising – fire complemented by fire (in Chinese astrology I’m a fire snake – again fire and fire). I suppose the best advice I would give is to avoid my temper; indeed I’ve punched out two computer monitors since starting this blog and I’m told a filthy look from me could stop a team of oxen in its tracks.

As a Leo I can in a few days look forward to an encounter between my ruler (the Sun) and Uranus. Well, that’s something at least.

The upcoming encounter between my ruler International and my… has been thrown into doubt by nothing so cosmic as my boiler breaking down, finally, thus confirming me as Cassandra to my landlord’s One Man Idiot. But I can discuss that with International when we have lunch tomorrow – you see, he really is making an effort to be with me.

Yes, International again gentle reader… you were expecting different?

I had another counselling session tonight but I was absolutely not in the mood at all as I had too much work to do and, if you’ll forgive me straying into management buzzwords, it got right on my tits. So his topic suggestions got remarkably short shrift but we did discuss my new relationship. And, for a change, some useful insights were derived. See if you agree.

My counsellor felt that I am reasonably clear on things but that International is not; and therefore the greatest need is to work through his issues. In short I should continue to be careful about getting emotionally dependent as this would mean swapping my journey for his. Generally feeling needy signified that I should consider what I could do to educate my boyfriend to fulfil my needs, including tackling things he is doing wrong; meaning the onus should be on changing International so I don’t feel needy, not changing myself. My counsellor explained that otherwise this would result in not being myself, and this would kill any relationship.

The counsellor’s advice was I should define my values and my ‘red lines’ – that which I shall not sacrifice – and he said I should learn that a relationship is two wholes together, not one half trying to find the missing other.

I think there is little new in here but actually rather well packaged and it did mean the session ended on a high note.

PS International’s horoscope is that the unruly Uranus will bring chaos during November… Roar.

Someone

It was at 9:10 this very morning that I decided not to worry about it any more and, just as my train was pulling into London Bridge, accept the fact that I love him back.

For the moment he and I will be only able to love each other on 11, 17, 19, 20, 21, and 26 November. Which is lots of times if you consider he lives with his, well... his main boyfriend. I think that is the advantage of living very near to an international airport when having an International man of mystery as my boyfriend. 17 November is his birthday - I’m pleased that he’s spending it with me; and 19/20/21 will be at his place for a change as Ouch is away.

Yes, I’ve given into the exciting new phase of a proper relationship. I haven’t forgotten the circumstances; I just want to enjoy it. I want, just for a little while, to enjoy the feeling that somebody loves me without putting terms and conditions on it. Like not being able to say who I'm in a relationship with on Facebook. Or Ouch (I should come up with a better name for him now).

My work has taken an interesting new direction; from the end of the calendar year my project outputs so far are being mainstreamed into London wide NHS work. So, instead my team is being expanded slightly and we’re splitting the city into three sectors and I’m getting deputy operational management of one of them. A new challenge; and in fact one I’m looking forward to. Sadly it appears the WHO job has been withdrawn. Well, opportunity is where you find it! I’d like to work abroad though; sometimes I feel like buying a one way ticket to anywhere… perhaps if things don’t work out with International it will provide the impetus I need.

As for my relationship with him – my new boyfriend tee hee – some friends have organised an intervention. They’re going to interfere with me at Das Boot on Tuesday; I’m not sure whether this means they approve (but are concerned) or disapprove (and want to stop me). Whether or not they read this blog [they do] they know I’m sometimes overcome with insecurities. I don’t want to repeat history; I’m afraid of the unknown. I look good* and have a great job, great friends, etc; but I must do better!

Well that’s probably a long enough stream of confidence for today, gentle reader. But on a final note I really do still feel that it’s the right time to be with someone; and hearing I love you and being able to say I love you… well, that’s made me feel happy.

Six Weeks

I sometimes look at all the things I have and wonder what I would take with me if I'm ever lucky enough to move in with someone and try to build a home together. My plants, the works of art my friends have made and give me, and the original pieces I have picked up around Europe. Probably my books, DVDs and CDs; clothes etc. But not so much if you think about all the crap I’ve accumulated over my spendthrift years.

Why do I think of this? Because my mind wonders often into speculating about relationships; and relationships are very much back on the cards. At last one anyway.

I saw International yesterday; he asked me out of the blue to meet him on Monday evening. In fact he suggested a sauna but to be honest that didn’t entice me too much – so I suggested dinner. And to that end we ended up at Balans and then for afters had drinks at The Friendly Society.

My friend I owe in particular a debt of gratitude for encouraging me to avoid the sauna. I suspect the evening would have gone rather differently if hadn't stuck to my guns.

Because somewhere between dinner and drinks International repeated that he didn’t want me seeing anyone else – he really doesn’t like it. He said he had been thinking about, and comparing himself to, Darren – something I was avoiding – and International has decided that he and I should be boyfriends.

Because he loves me.

Yes, he told me that he loves me. No-one had ever said that to me before. Not ever...

Of course in my reply I confessed my losing battle not to feel the same way. Yet not all is unalloyed delight because we have to accept that International now has two boyfriends; and I was not backward in pointing out International seeks to have his cake and eat it. I did jokingly complaint about my 40 man target, but not too much as I know International doesn’t like my history – though to be frank he needs to take it or leave it and I note he is not averse to my practising a trick or two I picked up along the way.

As for the rest of the night, we very much enjoyed each-others’ company in "the fairy room" at the back of the bar which we ended up sharing with another couple we met who were celebrating their one year anniversary. There was little bit of friendly competition for a while there between the four (two twos) of us I don’t mind telling you :-D

In the meantime, does spring turn into glorious summer in Strumpetville? Much work remains to be done I fear. But it’s a turn up for the books, gentle reader, isn’t it? What a difference a day makes, and no mistake.

Sunday

Well, I didn’t get as much work as I intended done, gentle reader, but I had a pretty good Sunday indeed.

As it turns out it is a bit like riding a bike; indeed, the citizens of Strumpetville have put on quite a parade now that Frumpella’s back in town.

After trawling the internet on Friday and Saturday I arranged not one but two of those extra special visitors today. And another early in the coming week. Plus another the week after that; which will be the earliest I will see International again (another layover between Belgium and his boyfriend). And of course there remain a couple of irons in the fire…

But I digress.

Between lunch (James) and dinner (Dave) I enjoyed the sunshine, by going out to the shops and purchasing some wine, and after the main course of the evening I made myself a delicious Japanese stir-fry, and am now settling in with some music and the aforementioned wine before bed (sleep).

This of course means that mental health services are safe from my ministrations for a little while yet – and this may yet be no bad thing.

One of the nicer outcomes of putting myself out there again after this brief hiatus is that those lucky guys are getting rippling gorgeous Frumpella, not ye olde Hogzilla. And said guys have been very complimentary. I’m told I have a handsome, friendly face; and a nice ass. Always good to hear [flattery will get you everywhere]!

On the other hand I do still want that special someone so I guess it will be back to the dating scene for me. There is a certain loneliness when an assignation leaves you, or you leave him. Now that the evenings are drawing in and the weather has a distinct chill it becomes more acute.

Nevertheless I have set myself an informal target, or challenge: 40 lovers (this year) by Christmas! Mid 30s already – so it shouldn’t require too much effort. That may make me appear the slattern; but of course, if it does, it is surely purely because… I am ;-)

Sleeping around, or even looking for Mr Right, doesn’t mean I am being properly gay – if that makes sense. A fellow and rather better blogger once wrote he was looking for a man who wasn’t defined by his sexuality. That phrasing haunts me somewhat and the meaning generated a lively discussion in the pub on Thursday but remains to me elusive. Worrisomely so. I shall have to think, at the very least, what I want from my man. And being gay I suppose. About time.