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.