Small world

Christmas and I finally did the Deed and ended things today with a highly civilised exchange of emails where we wished each other the best and, for the other, essentially ceased to exist. So a slightly sad Frumpella am I.

For variety of reasons the equation: it didn’t workout = you need to not exist doesn’t appear to hold true so much for me these days, gentle reader, and I for one view that as a good thing.

Like (I imagine) most gayers who cruise online I prefer my assignations to vanish into the ether, job done as it were, leaving me free to pursue the next one, and the next one, and the next one… but as I – out of sheer laziness mostly – tend to cruise in my local area I do occasionally run into past assignations. This can be awkward though I always remember my shags with fondness and try to give a good account of myself so a smile or the occasional ‘hello’ is exchanged. And the walk to the station allows me to smile knowingly to myself (and, presumably, like a mentalist to everyone else) as I pass That Flat, or This House, or That Mini Cooper Cabriolet Where We Really Should Have Taken the Top Down First.

It can have its downside of course; I treated myself to a Brazilian chef on my birthday and he simply would not leave me alone for months afterward; passing his house daily did not help.

Recently though things seem to have moved to a whole new level. Firstly one of my friend-and-neighbour types is getting mightily annoyed at my tendency to recycle his old boyfriends [two degrees of separation]. Secondly is the somewhat startling fact that I seem to be at least beginning to exhaust my… options… locally, and indeed now need to go as far as Vauxhall and Kennington to meet new guys. An example of this is that on the train to work recently I sat next to one guy I dated, opposite one I had, erm, Met and across the aisle was one I’d been chatting to in a ribald manner on gaydar. What are the odds?

And of the guys I have hooked up with since New Year two work in the same building as me and another on the same street. With luck like that surely I should win the lottery at some point? That also involves balls and numbers, after all [my posts are most droll n’est pas?].

But, by more than happy coincidence, Academic and I are still in touch, which is rather nice and civilised; the first time that’s happened with a man. And even Mark The Invisible Boyfriend recently got in touch with me again (though I’ve declined to respond as yet).

So we have progress of a sort. A past, a present, and at least the promise of a future.