Bore Vs Whore

I’ll start out by being a bore… I’ve been so busy at work as per, but more so, that I deliberately put away my feelings until I had time to deal with them. Last weekend was the plan but, oh my, what a fun weekend it was. And then the sky quite literally fell in this week so there wasn’t much time to think and… although there wasn’t much in the way of man-flesh I still didn’t get to grips with the end of my affair with International.

We remain in contact and through this I have moved from my anger at his somewhat indifferent attitude, to an almost panic-stricken feeling that I’ve Made A Terrible Mistake… it became so oppressive last night I could barely breath. Eventually it all became too much, and I had to address my anxieties via the medium of a full and frank discussion with a neighbour about how playing music too loud late at night, when I’ve got a broken heart, and will barely get four hours’ sleep anyway, might - for example - result in certain people being stabbed through the eye with a pencil.

So, yes; well done to me for moving from denial to anger to despair and even bargaining (thinking briefly that perhaps some accommodation between Ouch and I might be reached) . Perhaps we will get to acceptance. I had planned to approach this through a new stage of getting blind drunk on inferior Hungarian plonk but instead…

Now for the whore bit:

I took my administrator (a pleasant temp with whom I have fast become good friends and who now wants to work with me permanently YAY!) out for a few drinks as a prelude to variations on a theme of Hungarian plonk. When I got home, though, I decided to jump online and see what might be on offer instead of said plonk…

Eventually I ended up making arrangements with six guys for various assignations over the weekend – including a couple not too far from me and two neighbours of mine with whom I have hooked up before. The most interesting of these, incidentally/so far is the very first guy, whom I met tonight. Partly because he was a rather better put together version of me (disconcerting) but mostly because he turned out to have a phobia of semen [spermatophobia]. Thus a perfectly good assignation up to and specific point… after which he left in some distress very, very quickly. Oh dear…

Well, gentle reader. At least I managed to pull of that most gayest of gay tricks: use casual sex to avoid real emotions. Double plus YAY!