I discovered recently that I am only 19*. Well, it came as something of a pleasant surprise I must admit, to find my misspent youth had been fully refunded.
One of the blogs I link to (on the grounds it’s better than mine) is Gay Banker; and in a comment on one of his posts a fellow reader described a formula for determining age by gay years. And the formula is this:
Gay years = 16 + (3 x number of years since coming out).
For me, being just over a year [only a year!] since it all happened, it’s 16 + (3 x 1); or 19. Hurrah!
Now if, gentle reader, you came out a while ago your gay age might come out as more than your real age. Fear not! For the formula only works until you ‘catch up’ as it were, (the theory being us gayers have a steeper learning curve then those heterosexualists). Then, it seems, you switch over to real years and mature gracefully into the homo nobody phobes…
All a bit of hokum really, but useful in some ways; not least because the formula implies it is too early to settle down – or seek to settle down - so soon after coming out. The author suggests being at least 30 in gay years. And I concur.
Now, I’m (if you insist on viewing things through dull-o-vision Realityrama) 31. But I won’t be 30 in gay years for nearly four years; and I shan’t catch up with myself till I’m actually 37. Double-plus hurrah indeed. But what does this rather elegant theorem tell us?
Firstly, I still have a lot of learning to do. I suppose that much was obvious. But in all seriousness this exercise has helped me realise there is no need to rush! This leads to point two: I really should be enjoying myself more and allowing myself the opportunity to catch up properly. And thirdly, the search for Mr Right might just be a bit premature. Would you advise a 19/20/21 year old to settle down? Well, then.
I didn’t really enjoy being 19 the first time round. At university I’d been severed from my very occasional, and admittedly self-destructive, ventures into gay sex ‘back home’ and so I was beginning a very dry spell indeed, broken only occasionally by… something for another post. Well, now I can do it properly, fading basal metabolism notwithstanding, and really put my back [and the rest] into being the little gay engine that could.
Thursday, 30 April 2009
Date up...date.
Well, two dates down and the third should be happening right now, so you can guess that’s not working out too well. Ho Hum. Let’s start with Wednesday’s guys…
My lunch date was with a musician at a very nice gastro-pub on Forest Hill, which is a surprisingly convenient place to get to for where I live. All good. We met, talked, had lunch, a glass of wine and then a coffee. We talked at length about classical music – he plays the clarinet and the saxophone and the piano. Hmmm, good with lips, breath control and fingers. Could, perhaps, come in handy? Anyway, we have a nice time – I think so, anyway – and since then we’ve exchanged messages and it looks like we’ll go out again sometime next week. Huzzah!
In the evening I met date number two in Clapham in a really nice small bar, called the Kazbar. We actually hit it off right away. He’s Irish, and a social worker. After a couple of drinks we had dinner – I had the largest pizza in the world in a small family run restaurant he knows well – and the me headed back for more drinks, bumping into some friends of his along the way. Friends who confided that Frumpella is a bit spiffy, hehe. It was lots of fun but by 11, bearing in mind it was a datetastic day, we were both fading fast so he walked be back to the tube and that was that. He’s back to Ireland today but said he would get in touch when he returns [Rule 15?] so we’ll see.
As for today’s date; unable to get through by phone I sent a message on gaydar and all of a sudden it seems we’re supposed to meet tomorrow, not today at all. I’m confused because I had work drinks tonight anyway and can’t imagine why I’d consciously double-book myself in that way when I was free tomorrow anyway. So I’ve said the time we agreed – late, for tha tvery reason – isn’t really convenient on Friday and we’ll have to meet earlier. If at all. Face: bothered?
So, two good dates; one non-date. Still quite a few guys messaging me on gaydar. As an aside, when (and why) did that suddenly become date central? Even Mr Christmas got back in touch. Has this anything to do with my new profile pictures, including for the first time *gasp* a body pic? Yes, Rule 5 is alive and well in Strumpetville, gentle reader!! I doubt my rippling averageness is tipping the balance... but all this Rule 1 business is getting a bit tiresome!
Further updates as dates warrant; in the meantime a bank holiday weekend when I intend to date no-one at all ;-)
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Mug
Amongst all the dating and the assignations and my gentleman callers I often forget the need to talk to gayers in the real world; Strumpetville is full of gorgeous opportunity for me but I so very rarely take advantage of it.
Where I work there are currently four candidates for the position of office totty. Sadly, I have no real opportunity day to day to talk to them and as such, given my introversion, shyness and general lack of confidence in these matters, I don’t know what to do. They look at me; I look at them. I wish, I wish I were more of a people person.
It’s getting to the point that it’s beginning to irritate me and I suspect them too. There is one to whom I say hello when we pass in the corridor etc; but I suspect he’s equally shy because he doesn’t talk to me if he sees me before I see him. That could, of course, mean he’s not interested in any way. One of the things we have to bear in mind is that the opening line leads to a tactful exploration of whether the subject is (a) gay (b) out (c) single (d) potentially interested (e) meets the specifications.
There is another one I have spoken to, in the sense he was speaking to someone I know and I joined the conversation. She, the mutual acquaintance, was surprised – as she reported to me later – as he’d never acknowledged in the office, before I was there, that he is gay. She thinks that’s a good sign.
The others, never a word. Just… looks.
My administrator, with whom I have become good friends was in stitches when the first guy, Mr Hello, was in the kitchen and I – out of desperation to make conversation – commented that he had a nice mug (as in drinking utensil though he’s cute as a button).Once the tears of laughter had stopped she confided that it sounded like a cheesy pick-up line. Which, I suppose, it was. I took that opportunity to inform her she wouldn’t be getting a pay-rise this year.
She suggests I put too much pressure on myself to try and talk to these guys in ‘that way’ and I should chillax and just talk to them casually. And there is some wisdom to what she says; let things take their course. I find it easy to talk to others, so why not them?
Still… does anyone have any ideas about how a shy gay guy with no relationship experience, people skills, or ‘gaydar’ might go about things? It’s very important I get better at these things soon. Practice makes perfect? I don’t really want to practice on people I‘ll see every day… Still, two dates tomorrow and another on Thursday. You never know, maybe I’ll never need to learn!
Where I work there are currently four candidates for the position of office totty. Sadly, I have no real opportunity day to day to talk to them and as such, given my introversion, shyness and general lack of confidence in these matters, I don’t know what to do. They look at me; I look at them. I wish, I wish I were more of a people person.
It’s getting to the point that it’s beginning to irritate me and I suspect them too. There is one to whom I say hello when we pass in the corridor etc; but I suspect he’s equally shy because he doesn’t talk to me if he sees me before I see him. That could, of course, mean he’s not interested in any way. One of the things we have to bear in mind is that the opening line leads to a tactful exploration of whether the subject is (a) gay (b) out (c) single (d) potentially interested (e) meets the specifications.
There is another one I have spoken to, in the sense he was speaking to someone I know and I joined the conversation. She, the mutual acquaintance, was surprised – as she reported to me later – as he’d never acknowledged in the office, before I was there, that he is gay. She thinks that’s a good sign.
The others, never a word. Just… looks.
My administrator, with whom I have become good friends was in stitches when the first guy, Mr Hello, was in the kitchen and I – out of desperation to make conversation – commented that he had a nice mug (as in drinking utensil though he’s cute as a button).Once the tears of laughter had stopped she confided that it sounded like a cheesy pick-up line. Which, I suppose, it was. I took that opportunity to inform her she wouldn’t be getting a pay-rise this year.
She suggests I put too much pressure on myself to try and talk to these guys in ‘that way’ and I should chillax and just talk to them casually. And there is some wisdom to what she says; let things take their course. I find it easy to talk to others, so why not them?
Still… does anyone have any ideas about how a shy gay guy with no relationship experience, people skills, or ‘gaydar’ might go about things? It’s very important I get better at these things soon. Practice makes perfect? I don’t really want to practice on people I‘ll see every day… Still, two dates tomorrow and another on Thursday. You never know, maybe I’ll never need to learn!
Sunday, 26 April 2009
The Regulars
One of the many ways in which my life has changed as an out gay man is that, alongside the occasional boyfriendette and the more frequent assignation, I have built up a small portfolio of what I term regular gentleman callers. Others might call them fuck-buddies or friends-with-benefits.
Of the current crop the first is ‘T’. You may recall, gentle reader, he is one of the very first guys I hooked up with after Darren disappeared. He already has a boyfriend, who is keen for an open-relationship whilst ‘T’ is not. So when said boyfriend is away, as he often is, and enjoying his freedoms I am called on as the spare. ‘T’ lives close by, in an absolute palace, and always treats me like a prince. I shall remember ‘T’ with the greatest fondness because of when we met; and so it pleases me greatly that we still hook up from time to time. He sets the standard in, oh so many ways. I consider myself very lucky.
Next on the list is Mr Cake; a guy who lives near to me and I first met a few months ago via the magic of gaydar. He’s a very nice South African and lots of fun. Since first meeting we have kept in touch and have each other as a kind of “are you available right the pardon the pun now?!” option when the need *ahem* arises.
Of course there is Nick, my neighbour who I have blogged about before. He and I met via OUT, and went on a date that resulted us being friends, with the attendant benefits. We infrequently get together at weekends to have dinner at my place (he shares; I live alone), watch a DVD, drink some wine and… though when I’m seeing someone he maintains a respectful distance which is really sweet of him, and I much appreciate.
Number four at the top-table is The Gardener. Now, I’ll be totally honest: he is simply the best. I mean so good I sometimes feel like I can’t cope with how good it is. He’s got quite a few guys like me on the go; why ever not? As a bonus The Gardener has a Friend whom he occasionally brings along to join the fun. They’re both great and very considerate – often giving the place a bit of a tidy on their way out which is touching, if also somewhat amusing.
And last but not least we come to the one that got away. A very young private stationed at the barracks just up the road. We would either meet at my place or outdoors near his base. Rather lacking in charm or tact, I assure you he makes up for it in other ways. Yet his imminent posting to far-far-away-land means that for quite some time we shall not meet again. Which, thinking about it, leaves a vacancy. Hmmm...
So there we have it, five different guys; unique in terms of what attracts me to them and the circumstances under which we meet. It is very nice to have them to call on instead of having always to jump on gaydar or whatever. Though of course I still do, from time to time. Whenever Mr Right comes along I’ll have to put him on special vitamins; he’s got a lot to live up to!
Of the current crop the first is ‘T’. You may recall, gentle reader, he is one of the very first guys I hooked up with after Darren disappeared. He already has a boyfriend, who is keen for an open-relationship whilst ‘T’ is not. So when said boyfriend is away, as he often is, and enjoying his freedoms I am called on as the spare. ‘T’ lives close by, in an absolute palace, and always treats me like a prince. I shall remember ‘T’ with the greatest fondness because of when we met; and so it pleases me greatly that we still hook up from time to time. He sets the standard in, oh so many ways. I consider myself very lucky.
Next on the list is Mr Cake; a guy who lives near to me and I first met a few months ago via the magic of gaydar. He’s a very nice South African and lots of fun. Since first meeting we have kept in touch and have each other as a kind of “are you available right the pardon the pun now?!” option when the need *ahem* arises.
Of course there is Nick, my neighbour who I have blogged about before. He and I met via OUT, and went on a date that resulted us being friends, with the attendant benefits. We infrequently get together at weekends to have dinner at my place (he shares; I live alone), watch a DVD, drink some wine and… though when I’m seeing someone he maintains a respectful distance which is really sweet of him, and I much appreciate.
Number four at the top-table is The Gardener. Now, I’ll be totally honest: he is simply the best. I mean so good I sometimes feel like I can’t cope with how good it is. He’s got quite a few guys like me on the go; why ever not? As a bonus The Gardener has a Friend whom he occasionally brings along to join the fun. They’re both great and very considerate – often giving the place a bit of a tidy on their way out which is touching, if also somewhat amusing.
And last but not least we come to the one that got away. A very young private stationed at the barracks just up the road. We would either meet at my place or outdoors near his base. Rather lacking in charm or tact, I assure you he makes up for it in other ways. Yet his imminent posting to far-far-away-land means that for quite some time we shall not meet again. Which, thinking about it, leaves a vacancy. Hmmm...
So there we have it, five different guys; unique in terms of what attracts me to them and the circumstances under which we meet. It is very nice to have them to call on instead of having always to jump on gaydar or whatever. Though of course I still do, from time to time. Whenever Mr Right comes along I’ll have to put him on special vitamins; he’s got a lot to live up to!
Saturday, 25 April 2009
Dateline Strumpetville
Where are we at then, gentle reader? Well, so far I’ve had one of my dates – and have been asked out by another guy whom I shall have to squeeze in (oo-er) at some point.
Thursday I met my date at The Village. I’m always slightly anxious about picking the venue for a date as I’m no so into the scene that I know where-it’s-at and always run the risk of making a selection on which I shall be judged poorly, and our decision to move on to The Yard after one drink perhaps bears that anxiety out. Nevertheless, after The Yard we went on for dinner (pizza) and then after that onto The Edge for a couple more drinks before calling it a night.
And as dates go it wasn’t too bad. I’ll confess that my date spent the entire evening talking about himself. He put on his profile that was 30 but his expansive stories about himself led me to doubt it, as all the years of work, travel, university etc he described added up to more than that… but not much so I’m not quite sure what that was about. I managed to squeeze in two things about myself in – German; and I used to work regulating advertising. He also tried this cheeky-chappy persona that strayed into the obnoxious more than once. Not quite my cup of tea.
We left it at the usual, insincere, “How nice; we must do this again” stage… and that, I think, is that. It was a nice enough evening, to be sure. Just not what dreams are made of.
But as one door closes another opens; for on Guardian Soulmates someone who had contacted me a few months ago, whilst I was between subscriptions (and thus unable to reply), got in touch again.
We’ve been chatting for a while and seem to get on well enough but it’s only now he’s asked to meet. Well, as a reward for sheer persistence, I’ve said yes. He is very nice; I just wasn’t really looking for more dates. As it is we’re either looking at lunch on Wednesday (before another date that every evening) or the weekend of 8th May. My initial instinct, actually, is why not both?
Oh, the ennui of Strumpetville. Must not look a gift horse in the mouth! No, he is nice. He plays the clarinet and the saxophone and the piano for a living and travels up and down the country hence the tightness of both schedules. And after my initial hesitation he charmed me off the fence. I hope he thinks it’s worth his while!
Thursday I met my date at The Village. I’m always slightly anxious about picking the venue for a date as I’m no so into the scene that I know where-it’s-at and always run the risk of making a selection on which I shall be judged poorly, and our decision to move on to The Yard after one drink perhaps bears that anxiety out. Nevertheless, after The Yard we went on for dinner (pizza) and then after that onto The Edge for a couple more drinks before calling it a night.
And as dates go it wasn’t too bad. I’ll confess that my date spent the entire evening talking about himself. He put on his profile that was 30 but his expansive stories about himself led me to doubt it, as all the years of work, travel, university etc he described added up to more than that… but not much so I’m not quite sure what that was about. I managed to squeeze in two things about myself in – German; and I used to work regulating advertising. He also tried this cheeky-chappy persona that strayed into the obnoxious more than once. Not quite my cup of tea.
We left it at the usual, insincere, “How nice; we must do this again” stage… and that, I think, is that. It was a nice enough evening, to be sure. Just not what dreams are made of.
But as one door closes another opens; for on Guardian Soulmates someone who had contacted me a few months ago, whilst I was between subscriptions (and thus unable to reply), got in touch again.
We’ve been chatting for a while and seem to get on well enough but it’s only now he’s asked to meet. Well, as a reward for sheer persistence, I’ve said yes. He is very nice; I just wasn’t really looking for more dates. As it is we’re either looking at lunch on Wednesday (before another date that every evening) or the weekend of 8th May. My initial instinct, actually, is why not both?
Oh, the ennui of Strumpetville. Must not look a gift horse in the mouth! No, he is nice. He plays the clarinet and the saxophone and the piano for a living and travels up and down the country hence the tightness of both schedules. And after my initial hesitation he charmed me off the fence. I hope he thinks it’s worth his while!
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
The Rules
The Rules have come a long way since those first three that I came up with when I started dating, just over a year ago. They continue to grow and grow! But what do they mean? And how well does Frumpella stick to them? Here are my favourites and how I interpret them…
Rule 1: Well, no sex on a first date. Self explanatory really. Even if I break it more than 60% of the time (yes, I keep records. A complete and thorough slattern is yours truly). As for Rules 2 and 3; Yes 60%. And I’m still single aren’t I? Actually my two most successful – well, longest anyway – relationships were very Rule One complaint indeed. But the idea is really that ‘putting out’ too early doesn’t help. I know it was different for some of you out there, so perhaps I’m just being overly restrictive. Or not. Celarly I'll have to break that Rule a lot more, just to be sure...
Rule 5: I lack confidence a lot. I’m quite shy; and I’m not good at meeting people. No, really. So I needed to encourage myself to just get out there. A work in progress in that regard, but a good Rule - partly because it’s totally true! I make it a point to say yes to virtually everything now and regrets… none whatever. If there was a Rule I’d sell to other people, it would be Rule 5.
Rule 7: My current favourite rule. For all the cock I’ve had not one guy has yet proven to have the balls to be the man in my life. Honesty AND balls. That’s all it takes for me; the rest can be a work in progress. Do I have balls? Well… I got Rule 5, don’t I?
Rule 10: Contributed by an ex-girlfriend of mine as a joke after I came out to her; it’s certainly the most important. Of course it means practise safe sex!
Rule 15: One of many contributed by friend ‘A’; simply put “well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?”. Perhaps having that as a rule is a bit cynical, and that’s not what this blog is about. Yet… say what you mean, men; and if you don’t want to then say that too. “It’s not you… it’s me. I’m the one who doesn’t find you attractive”… is that so difficult?! No need to lie, make up excuses or unaccountably loose the use of your dialling finger.
Rule 21: This is all my own, and cautions me against infatuation. I came up with it after too many hours checking my phone every 30 seconds for text messages from guys who with hindsight sit at the business end of Rule 7.
Of course some of the Rules were made to be broken and for more than half my life I’ve reasoned that if you’re going to break rules, break ‘em good and hard. But at least one Rule seems pertinent to every man-based situation so the system works!
What about you, gentle reader: got any Rules you live by? Got any rules for me…?
Rule 1: Well, no sex on a first date. Self explanatory really. Even if I break it more than 60% of the time (yes, I keep records. A complete and thorough slattern is yours truly). As for Rules 2 and 3; Yes 60%. And I’m still single aren’t I? Actually my two most successful – well, longest anyway – relationships were very Rule One complaint indeed. But the idea is really that ‘putting out’ too early doesn’t help. I know it was different for some of you out there, so perhaps I’m just being overly restrictive. Or not. Celarly I'll have to break that Rule a lot more, just to be sure...
Rule 5: I lack confidence a lot. I’m quite shy; and I’m not good at meeting people. No, really. So I needed to encourage myself to just get out there. A work in progress in that regard, but a good Rule - partly because it’s totally true! I make it a point to say yes to virtually everything now and regrets… none whatever. If there was a Rule I’d sell to other people, it would be Rule 5.
Rule 7: My current favourite rule. For all the cock I’ve had not one guy has yet proven to have the balls to be the man in my life. Honesty AND balls. That’s all it takes for me; the rest can be a work in progress. Do I have balls? Well… I got Rule 5, don’t I?
Rule 10: Contributed by an ex-girlfriend of mine as a joke after I came out to her; it’s certainly the most important. Of course it means practise safe sex!
Rule 15: One of many contributed by friend ‘A’; simply put “well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?”. Perhaps having that as a rule is a bit cynical, and that’s not what this blog is about. Yet… say what you mean, men; and if you don’t want to then say that too. “It’s not you… it’s me. I’m the one who doesn’t find you attractive”… is that so difficult?! No need to lie, make up excuses or unaccountably loose the use of your dialling finger.
Rule 21: This is all my own, and cautions me against infatuation. I came up with it after too many hours checking my phone every 30 seconds for text messages from guys who with hindsight sit at the business end of Rule 7.
Of course some of the Rules were made to be broken and for more than half my life I’ve reasoned that if you’re going to break rules, break ‘em good and hard. But at least one Rule seems pertinent to every man-based situation so the system works!
What about you, gentle reader: got any Rules you live by? Got any rules for me…?
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Popular
I’m not doing too well on posts this month… though I have a few posts in mind, as you will see from the right here. But I think my output might not increase greatly very soon.
It seems that all of a sudden I have so many dates I’ve actually had to start turning people down! I don’t know why; Frumpella remains unchanged. Spring has sprung in Strumpetville, but I’ve been taking advantage of that in other ways… I can’t explain it.
But of course I’m not complaining! It’s nice to be popular. What has the remainder of April in store?
This Thursday I have dinner and drinks in Soho with a guy I met – like all my upcoming dates – through gaydar. He visited my profile; I liked the look of him, so marked his profile with a ‘flame’; he said thanks; the rest is… future! 30, slim, cute, creative...
After a quiet weekend I have drinks in Eltham with my next date, 37 and works in communication. We haven’t finalised the details yet but again we’ll see what happens.
Tuesday a break from the man-carousel with a work do… and then on Wednesday date number three. This is the guy I blogged about a couple of posts ago; the one who asked me out and then complained I hadn’t replied just as I was doing that! Well, we are going out after all and he’s laying on the charm very much; perhaps to make up for his earlier outburst! This one is 33, and a social worker. We’re meeting near where he lives, in Clapham.
Thursday I have another work do, but must make my getaway early for the last date of that week; a return to Clapham for my final slice of XY cake; a 37 year old musician with a marvellous line in tattoos.
This and next Friday are both going to be my nights in to recover from my knights out.
After that? Well, I’ve consciously avoided arranging any further dates as if we have to jump at least two weeks ahead and still work around various social and work lives then it becomes a bit silly. “I can sweep you off your feet… erm… between 8:00 and 10:30 on the third Tuesday in June?” Perhaps not.
Actually I’m pondering, depending on how these dates go, giving myself the May and possibly June as a date-free zone. My friend ‘A’ is doing a sponsored sobriety for six weeks, which is an amusing way of raising funds for charity. I wonder if I could get sponsored to spend a month not going on about being a big gayer looking/longing for love but to talk about something else? How much would you give for that to happen, gentle reader? ;-)
Sunday, 19 April 2009
Honesty
Honesty is, I think, the best policy. It is all I demand in a relationship; my only absolute. It comes from watching my parents’ various marriages disintegrate around. And this weekend is a case in point.
You may recall, gentle reader, that I had a lot of fun over the Easter weekend with a guy I’d met before, and a friend of his, for a lovely threeway assignation. Since then I have been in touch with a couple who live locally and who were looking to hook up. At the same time I remained in contact with the ‘friend’ from the earlier threeway as he wanted to hook up again and knowing my fondness for small groups, he wanted to invite his partner too.
Well, this weekend it all came together and I invited both couples to join me for some indoor sports *ahem*. Yes, Frumpella is the hostess with the mostest but it had been a wee while and I had reserved the weekend specifically for naughty fun so why not?
It turned out that that the first couple included one guy from the threeway at Easter; and the second couple included not only the other (as I already knew); but I’d met his boyfriend before for some naughty fun too. Hmm… leaving aside the fact that this means there’s only a 1 in 4 chance that any random guy I pick up is someone I haven’t slept with before; it all was still a bit awkward. Mainly because none of these guys, the ones in relationships I emphasise now, had told their partners about their extra-curricular activities so all three separately swore me to secrecy. Strumpetville was descending into farce!
Nevertheless, a good time was had by all. And today one of the guys – the only one I hadn’t met before - contacted me looking for further, discreet, fun. He’s pretty hot so I had him over and again much fun was had! But it was only afterward that he revealed to me – as part of a request to join my select group of regular gentleman callers – that he and his partner are HIV positive.
This annoyed me somewhat as, well, he, his partner, and their friends and I have been engaged in a lot of sex. And truth be told a few times various of them had been pushy about not using a condom. I always play safe; yet while I know there is no harm done to me personally I am a bit put out by it and would have preferred a more up-front approach.
Yes, honesty works for me. A great weekend but; welcome Rule 23.
You may recall, gentle reader, that I had a lot of fun over the Easter weekend with a guy I’d met before, and a friend of his, for a lovely threeway assignation. Since then I have been in touch with a couple who live locally and who were looking to hook up. At the same time I remained in contact with the ‘friend’ from the earlier threeway as he wanted to hook up again and knowing my fondness for small groups, he wanted to invite his partner too.
Well, this weekend it all came together and I invited both couples to join me for some indoor sports *ahem*. Yes, Frumpella is the hostess with the mostest but it had been a wee while and I had reserved the weekend specifically for naughty fun so why not?
It turned out that that the first couple included one guy from the threeway at Easter; and the second couple included not only the other (as I already knew); but I’d met his boyfriend before for some naughty fun too. Hmm… leaving aside the fact that this means there’s only a 1 in 4 chance that any random guy I pick up is someone I haven’t slept with before; it all was still a bit awkward. Mainly because none of these guys, the ones in relationships I emphasise now, had told their partners about their extra-curricular activities so all three separately swore me to secrecy. Strumpetville was descending into farce!
Nevertheless, a good time was had by all. And today one of the guys – the only one I hadn’t met before - contacted me looking for further, discreet, fun. He’s pretty hot so I had him over and again much fun was had! But it was only afterward that he revealed to me – as part of a request to join my select group of regular gentleman callers – that he and his partner are HIV positive.
This annoyed me somewhat as, well, he, his partner, and their friends and I have been engaged in a lot of sex. And truth be told a few times various of them had been pushy about not using a condom. I always play safe; yet while I know there is no harm done to me personally I am a bit put out by it and would have preferred a more up-front approach.
Yes, honesty works for me. A great weekend but; welcome Rule 23.
And next...
Well, it’s the weekend gentle reader; and what a fine weekend it’s turning out to be. Sunny and warm. So there’s the chance to get lots of things done and enjoy the outdoors and simply relax – which is something I haven’t done for a little while.
On Thursday I had a date with a Scottish lawyer who lives not too far from me and works in the City. We went to a nice oriental restaurant on Soho called Ping Pong and then afterward for a few drinks. It was very nice and we said we should see each other again… Today I texted him to say I would be walking along the river on Sunday past the area where he lives so perhaps we could grab a coffee/have lunch/something. So we’ll see.
On Friday I had dinner with friends, hosted by one of us who is currently enjoying a period of self-enforced sobriety for charity! She therefore had the misfortune to have to cook [fabulous food] and then watch the rest of us get tiresomely drunk until the early hours; and that was the springboard into my weekend.
In between times I got a rather curt message of a guy on gaydar who had messaged me quite out of the blue asking me out. I hadn’t really had a chance to reply up to that point, with an affirmative. He took the delay as an indication on my part that I wasn’t interested. I replied back that I was but hadn’t had a chance to respond fully/nicely. I really didn’t like having to do that as it has a touch of the Rule 15 about it and to honest I resented being put in that position; especially as it had only been about 36 hours! But instead of saying “sorry, I’m looking for balls not nuts” I explained what the situation was. That seemd to work; he got back in touch and the long-and-short of it is we are going out a week on Wednesday. No doubt you’ll read about that in due course…
So there we have it. Yet another first date to look forward to! The week between then and now will be a quiet one, some self-enforced discipline on the man/booze/late night front (though I suspect the occasional assignation will be on the cards). Some quiet time in Strumpetville.
I hope, aspire if you will, to sooner or later get some second dates under my belt. Performance has been lacklustre in that department since International and I split. But there’s no urgency and I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see and just enjoy the sunshine.
On Thursday I had a date with a Scottish lawyer who lives not too far from me and works in the City. We went to a nice oriental restaurant on Soho called Ping Pong and then afterward for a few drinks. It was very nice and we said we should see each other again… Today I texted him to say I would be walking along the river on Sunday past the area where he lives so perhaps we could grab a coffee/have lunch/something. So we’ll see.
On Friday I had dinner with friends, hosted by one of us who is currently enjoying a period of self-enforced sobriety for charity! She therefore had the misfortune to have to cook [fabulous food] and then watch the rest of us get tiresomely drunk until the early hours; and that was the springboard into my weekend.
In between times I got a rather curt message of a guy on gaydar who had messaged me quite out of the blue asking me out. I hadn’t really had a chance to reply up to that point, with an affirmative. He took the delay as an indication on my part that I wasn’t interested. I replied back that I was but hadn’t had a chance to respond fully/nicely. I really didn’t like having to do that as it has a touch of the Rule 15 about it and to honest I resented being put in that position; especially as it had only been about 36 hours! But instead of saying “sorry, I’m looking for balls not nuts” I explained what the situation was. That seemd to work; he got back in touch and the long-and-short of it is we are going out a week on Wednesday. No doubt you’ll read about that in due course…
So there we have it. Yet another first date to look forward to! The week between then and now will be a quiet one, some self-enforced discipline on the man/booze/late night front (though I suspect the occasional assignation will be on the cards). Some quiet time in Strumpetville.
I hope, aspire if you will, to sooner or later get some second dates under my belt. Performance has been lacklustre in that department since International and I split. But there’s no urgency and I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see and just enjoy the sunshine.
Tuesday, 14 April 2009
Thirty something
I really like being in my thirties. It’s all part of coming out, looking after myself, even having my heart carelessly tossed aside by thoughtless boys. But more than that it’s the whole knowing who I am, where I want to be and that I do want to hold hands with someone on my way to the sunny side of Strumpetville.
Recently, whilst eyeing up the bounty of eye-candy to be seen about town, I had one of the bijou epiphanies I occasionally experience. Friends have often advised me not, on the rocky road to love, to express traits I myself find unattractive. How right they are, too! But I realised that when I look at attractive guys I am actually seeing often what I hope I look like.
Or what I aspire too. Well, that’s something I have to work on; though it’s nice to have a visualised goal for the medium term. I, of course, often visualise more short-term goals but that’s not for here.
But when all’s said and done I like guys who are in their 30s too. Not that I’m averse to guys in their 40s or 20s or beyond either end of that for causal assignations. But guy’s in their 30s are still in their prime, whilst also having the life experience to stimulate upstairs as well as down. Sorry, 20-somethings; I like people who can speak in sentences n’shit. Guys in their 40s… well, I’m more open to that (liking my fellas to be generally older too) but they’re not around as much.
Yes, guys in their 30s are hot, clever, available, and sorted. Not entirely unlike me [he blushes]
On the dating front I have been in touch with Tall Handsome Australian who says he wants to meet again but wants to take things slow because all the pieces need to fit for him before he stops being cautious. Tiresome, but I don’t want to become cynical so OK; let’s see what happens. Date one begets date two, not a trip to City Hall. And on the dating front; on Thursday I have a date with a Scottish lawyer I met via Soulmates, which promises to be fun.
After that I think I’ll take a week off. It occurs to me of all the men I’ve met I really have only been on a few dozen dates and that’s not many. With 8 ½ years of thirty something ahead I have also realised I can take things a bit easier. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may gentle reader, to be sure, but less haste and more speed and all that. Er… well, you know what I mean.
Sunday, 12 April 2009
Threads
I had been chatting to guy on gaydar for a little while; he put a star on my profile (which means he ‘likes me’ as opposed to a flame which would mean he thinks I’m ‘hot’) and I thanked him and we just got to talking. So, after a while, I asked him out – and we set a date for this coming Monday.
By co-incidence in the meantime my friend ‘A’ invited me on Friday to join her and her gay male friends for a few drinks in Vauxhall (an area of London that has a nice range of scene venues). I arrived at 10 and there were drinks and dancing to the early hours when we piled by to ‘A’s place for more drinks and dancing… A very good night.
In the [later that] morning, whilst unaccountably feeling slightly under the weather, I got a text from Monday’s date. It seems he had been in the same place as my friends and O; and my antics caught his eye. So, after further discussion we decided to bring the date forward to that very evening.
We met in Greenwich at 7 and I took him for dinner at a French restaurant in the town centre. Afterward we went for a drink, which became a few drinks – though I hasten to point out we were very measured and did not get drunk at all. But midnight came and we were still talking so I took him (as part of a nefarious scheme I will admit to you now gentle reader) to a gay bar in Greenwich for a nightcap.
To cut a long story short there were in the bar muches smooches and, as that venue closed, my date asked to come home with me.
And, to cut a longer story even shorter on the bus home Rule One slowly got trumped [t’was ever thus] by Rule Two and after we got home it seemed the fewer clothes there were the more fun was to be had…
Sunday morning we cuddled for hours first in bed and then on my sofa then after breakfast and our shower together I walked him to the station and around midday we said goodbye.
The date is a very tall, handsome Australian guy less than a year in Strumpetville and frankly, I’d very much like to see him again. But this is where Rule Three comes in; here I am after a fantastic first date that lasted 16 hours sort of regretting the Rule Two thing and angstishlike wondering if I will see tall, handsome Australian again.
I know I should be more aloof but that’s not really my style and I can’t pretend not to care. I’m not planning our wedding or anything. It’s just I’ve had recently quite a few Fantastic First Dates that simply went nowhere; so I recognise my persistence in living in hope is flying in the face of some pretty rough numbers! And I have no experience, skills or resources to inform my handling of events after a guy puts his clothes back on so it’s all, still, a bit tricky.
Well, what I’m going to do is on Monday get in touch and invite him to come over for dinner and – if he’s very nice – dessert. And we’ll take it from there.
Round and round and round it goes: where it stops no-body knows!
By co-incidence in the meantime my friend ‘A’ invited me on Friday to join her and her gay male friends for a few drinks in Vauxhall (an area of London that has a nice range of scene venues). I arrived at 10 and there were drinks and dancing to the early hours when we piled by to ‘A’s place for more drinks and dancing… A very good night.
In the [later that] morning, whilst unaccountably feeling slightly under the weather, I got a text from Monday’s date. It seems he had been in the same place as my friends and O; and my antics caught his eye. So, after further discussion we decided to bring the date forward to that very evening.
We met in Greenwich at 7 and I took him for dinner at a French restaurant in the town centre. Afterward we went for a drink, which became a few drinks – though I hasten to point out we were very measured and did not get drunk at all. But midnight came and we were still talking so I took him (as part of a nefarious scheme I will admit to you now gentle reader) to a gay bar in Greenwich for a nightcap.
To cut a long story short there were in the bar muches smooches and, as that venue closed, my date asked to come home with me.
And, to cut a longer story even shorter on the bus home Rule One slowly got trumped [t’was ever thus] by Rule Two and after we got home it seemed the fewer clothes there were the more fun was to be had…
Sunday morning we cuddled for hours first in bed and then on my sofa then after breakfast and our shower together I walked him to the station and around midday we said goodbye.
The date is a very tall, handsome Australian guy less than a year in Strumpetville and frankly, I’d very much like to see him again. But this is where Rule Three comes in; here I am after a fantastic first date that lasted 16 hours sort of regretting the Rule Two thing and angstishlike wondering if I will see tall, handsome Australian again.
I know I should be more aloof but that’s not really my style and I can’t pretend not to care. I’m not planning our wedding or anything. It’s just I’ve had recently quite a few Fantastic First Dates that simply went nowhere; so I recognise my persistence in living in hope is flying in the face of some pretty rough numbers! And I have no experience, skills or resources to inform my handling of events after a guy puts his clothes back on so it’s all, still, a bit tricky.
Well, what I’m going to do is on Monday get in touch and invite him to come over for dinner and – if he’s very nice – dessert. And we’ll take it from there.
Round and round and round it goes: where it stops no-body knows!
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Fun and Games
I have had this week off work and, as part of my 'Whole New Me' detox programme I have been spring cleaning my apartment and chucking out a load of old rubbish that I’d accumulated. I also, and I recognise that I tend to do this when emotionally ‘challenged’, have been having a fair amount of assignations. In fact it has tended to be work in the morning, some fun in the afternoon and a bit of wine in the evening.
What does this tell us, gentle reader? Possibly I am turning into my father… or perhaps I’m just not really confronting the real issues.
And in that regard I think today was helpful.
This lunchtime I had a particularly fine piece of fun with a guy I’d met at the very end of 2008, and someone he know from the local area. Threesomes have always been a favourite of mine; and this was particularly nice.
On the way home I bumped into a guy who is among the more regular of my gentleman callers and it was, I thought, rather sweet of him to stop and talk to me in the street. After I got home I chatted to my neighbour for a while; then I had a client. And after that I put on the CD that International made for us for our Spanish holiday when we first got together.
Uh-oh.
When I was a very young child I recall asking my father why he never cried, as opposed to my mother who seemed to cry rather a lot in my view. His response was simply that “real men don’t cry”. So perhaps I am not very much like my father, because I’ll admit I did have a little cry whilst I got on with my cleaning…
But, before you throw your hands in the air and cry “Oh, Frumpella, get over yourself!” I had a small revelation.
Whatever I had with International, and whatever he offered before we had That Talk in February… it wasn’t/isn’t what I want.
A small adjustment but it really makes all the difference. I get it: and it’s all fine now.
On a final note I should very much like to thank my friend ‘A’ for a number of reasons: being a pretty damned good friend when actually going through some pretty similar stuff; coming up with so many Rules that she deserves a co-author credit on this blog; and finally for being just about the only person with enough balls to be the man in my life!
What does this tell us, gentle reader? Possibly I am turning into my father… or perhaps I’m just not really confronting the real issues.
And in that regard I think today was helpful.
This lunchtime I had a particularly fine piece of fun with a guy I’d met at the very end of 2008, and someone he know from the local area. Threesomes have always been a favourite of mine; and this was particularly nice.
On the way home I bumped into a guy who is among the more regular of my gentleman callers and it was, I thought, rather sweet of him to stop and talk to me in the street. After I got home I chatted to my neighbour for a while; then I had a client. And after that I put on the CD that International made for us for our Spanish holiday when we first got together.
Uh-oh.
When I was a very young child I recall asking my father why he never cried, as opposed to my mother who seemed to cry rather a lot in my view. His response was simply that “real men don’t cry”. So perhaps I am not very much like my father, because I’ll admit I did have a little cry whilst I got on with my cleaning…
But, before you throw your hands in the air and cry “Oh, Frumpella, get over yourself!” I had a small revelation.
Whatever I had with International, and whatever he offered before we had That Talk in February… it wasn’t/isn’t what I want.
A small adjustment but it really makes all the difference. I get it: and it’s all fine now.
On a final note I should very much like to thank my friend ‘A’ for a number of reasons: being a pretty damned good friend when actually going through some pretty similar stuff; coming up with so many Rules that she deserves a co-author credit on this blog; and finally for being just about the only person with enough balls to be the man in my life!
Sunday, 5 April 2009
Hint of Karma
I called my mother on Saturday to bite the bullet and talk about me being a big gayer and that.
After the usual banal chatter (the economy is bad; the cat is not pregnant) I decided to force the issue by explaining, relatively casually, that I had broken up with my ‘boyfriend’ (well she doesn’t know what you know gentle reader) a while before but that I was thinking about going out dating again.
This didn’t really generate much of a response at first. So I ploughed on and talked about my plans to visit a friend of mine in China in the early autumn, and my mother asked me if I had any other holiday plans this year. I explained that International and I had tentatively looked at Berlin in April though that of course is not now going to happen.
My mother then invited me to stay with her if I wanted to and needed a break, so – in a blatant bit of agenda pushing – I asked if, should I be seeing someone, I could bring him with me.
And I think this is what broke the ice! My mother explained that I was welcome to bring anyone I wanted; that was fine. She would ensure that there was no family around and we wouldn’t be disturbed.
Ah ha! I thought to myself. I pushed this a bit and she explained she wouldn’t want anyone to find out from her that I am gay – essentially my secret is safe with her.
Well, obviously we talked further about this. Yes, it does seem as I suspected; my mother treats my homosexuality like she would if I were an alcoholic or a shop-lifter or something. An unfortunate state of affairs that doesn’t stop her loving me but possibly is something best kept under wraps for fear of embarrassment. To her credit primarily embarrassment to me – but nonetheless not really the attitude I was hoping for.
So, I explained as best I could my being a big gayer is merely a part of who I am, like my brown eyes and being 5’11’’ (180cm). She should talk to whomsoever she pleases about it – especially me if she has any concerns or queries. I came out to her because it was important to me. To anyone else it’s a fact of life that is hardly any more their business than my shoe size.
There we have it then: not as bad as I first feared but still I’m glad we talked it through. Clearly some form of conversation was needed. It does occur to me that perhaps my own concerns in this area were a reflection of my insecurities generally. But if so this will help tackle that issue too, so it’s all to the good.
After the usual banal chatter (the economy is bad; the cat is not pregnant) I decided to force the issue by explaining, relatively casually, that I had broken up with my ‘boyfriend’ (well she doesn’t know what you know gentle reader) a while before but that I was thinking about going out dating again.
This didn’t really generate much of a response at first. So I ploughed on and talked about my plans to visit a friend of mine in China in the early autumn, and my mother asked me if I had any other holiday plans this year. I explained that International and I had tentatively looked at Berlin in April though that of course is not now going to happen.
My mother then invited me to stay with her if I wanted to and needed a break, so – in a blatant bit of agenda pushing – I asked if, should I be seeing someone, I could bring him with me.
And I think this is what broke the ice! My mother explained that I was welcome to bring anyone I wanted; that was fine. She would ensure that there was no family around and we wouldn’t be disturbed.
Ah ha! I thought to myself. I pushed this a bit and she explained she wouldn’t want anyone to find out from her that I am gay – essentially my secret is safe with her.
Well, obviously we talked further about this. Yes, it does seem as I suspected; my mother treats my homosexuality like she would if I were an alcoholic or a shop-lifter or something. An unfortunate state of affairs that doesn’t stop her loving me but possibly is something best kept under wraps for fear of embarrassment. To her credit primarily embarrassment to me – but nonetheless not really the attitude I was hoping for.
So, I explained as best I could my being a big gayer is merely a part of who I am, like my brown eyes and being 5’11’’ (180cm). She should talk to whomsoever she pleases about it – especially me if she has any concerns or queries. I came out to her because it was important to me. To anyone else it’s a fact of life that is hardly any more their business than my shoe size.
There we have it then: not as bad as I first feared but still I’m glad we talked it through. Clearly some form of conversation was needed. It does occur to me that perhaps my own concerns in this area were a reflection of my insecurities generally. But if so this will help tackle that issue too, so it’s all to the good.
Saturday, 4 April 2009
Hint of Drama
I want to share an interesting episode from last week, as it relates to my complaint of shyness a couple of posts back.
On Thursday colleagues and I went for a drink and whilst there I began exchanging Looks with a guy at the bar. He’d been having drinks with some family but they had left and we exchanged Looks and Smiles and eventually I went over to him at the bar and…
And that’s it, gentle reader. I didn’t really have the balls to do more than have a few flirty exchanges and buy him a drink. However, I wanted to share that little story because I was actually surprised by myself – in my behaviour at so openly flirting with someone: my 97 colleagues who were watching overall gave it a 9.6; eager to a fault they were to share their views.
Overall view, I think, I wasn’t ready to take things further. Yet this is a battle we might anyway call a win; the war continues ever yet! And yes, I kick myself for not making the situation result in a bit of fun, or perhaps more. But the key point to all of this is that there is next time, and next time and next time.
A tad more positive than the very silly thing I did last night…
And before I go any further I want to make clear you can do anything, just not the face OK?
…which was to contact International.
I know! I know! It was totally the wrong thing to do. But as I have mentioned I miss him. And that is an understatement.
So I asked him how he was and whether he was glad to have met me; he said he was. Very much so. I explained that I missed him and he set the bar pretty high but that I was [getting] ready to start dating again. He said he was still working through some issues but he hoped we could become friends.
It was a foolish thing to do but I am a lot surer now whaever my feelings I don’t want to get back together with him, so in many ways it was as helpful as it was ill-advised.
What was probably more helpful was the kind action of friends last week; one in the office deliberately introducing me to a fellow colleague whom I really do find attractive (and he ended up talking to the two of us quite candidly about being gay; something apparently unprecedented in her experience of him. Hmmmm….). And a very good friend of mine sent me a link to www.meetup.com which is an international site listing groups and clubs and other associations of ‘like-minded’ people. It’s not gay focussed but it will, as she suggested, provide a new avenue for me to go out and meet people.
Further updates as events warrant :-)
Wednesday, 1 April 2009
April Fool
I’m going to make a confession, gentle reader. I haven’t really been a cheerful fairy at all recently. I think it’s time to face the facts.
Just over a year ago my world was turned upside down by Darren dumping me; and I was going through the process of coming out to friends and family and, well, anyone within earshot basically. I then embarked on a never-ending] spree of dating and casual sex that led to some short term romances and, famously, International.
Right now I feel like I’m at square one. I’ve never really explained - or acknowledged to myself before now – how much I miss International. It actually has been, recently, a real struggle not to call him and try to get him back (for a given value of back of course, given our/his situation). I feel like I’m coming out to my mother all over again! And after a couple of highly unpleasant dating experiences my confidence has been shot to pieces.
History repeating.
So, not unlike last time, it took a video I found on YouTube to break through my bright demeanour. The one below has had me in floods of tears night and day for a little while now. It’s really beautiful, both the video and the song. And, in many ways, the way forward for me is summed up by the line “I’d rather be working for a paycheque than wait in to win the lottery”.
Maybe I’m over the worst and I’ll be fine tomorrow. I think things will be alright… but I am going to take the next week and 'sort my life out'. Starting with detoxing my flat and scrubbing it from top to bottom; then reinvigorating my wardrobe; and finally really getting back into regular exercise again. Plus, of course, learning how to meet guys in the Real World and taking advantage of what Strumpetville has to offer.
Of course I can’t do that until I’m confident in myself so it might, just possibly, be a little while. Friends tell me I set impossible standards for myself and consistently recently have told me the bar is too high. But I’ve always achieved what I want, even if I am a late starter sometimes… and I need to be sure I’m right. This isn’t going to work, then, while I’m at a low ebb.
I currently have no dates lined up, though one guy has asked me out so I suppose there’ll be one soon. I may leave it a week or two till I’m more settled. And I’m chatting to a couple of others via Parship and the recently rejoined Soulmates.
I’m not a total loss it seems ;-). Boyfriend in potentia, which is nice to know. My assignation this past Monday was also exactly what I needed at that point too. Oh, I suppose I'm on the mend. It’s not all bad gentle reader. Further updates as events warrant, yes indeed. And do watch the video.
Just over a year ago my world was turned upside down by Darren dumping me; and I was going through the process of coming out to friends and family and, well, anyone within earshot basically. I then embarked on a never-ending] spree of dating and casual sex that led to some short term romances and, famously, International.
Right now I feel like I’m at square one. I’ve never really explained - or acknowledged to myself before now – how much I miss International. It actually has been, recently, a real struggle not to call him and try to get him back (for a given value of back of course, given our/his situation). I feel like I’m coming out to my mother all over again! And after a couple of highly unpleasant dating experiences my confidence has been shot to pieces.
History repeating.
So, not unlike last time, it took a video I found on YouTube to break through my bright demeanour. The one below has had me in floods of tears night and day for a little while now. It’s really beautiful, both the video and the song. And, in many ways, the way forward for me is summed up by the line “I’d rather be working for a paycheque than wait in to win the lottery”.
Maybe I’m over the worst and I’ll be fine tomorrow. I think things will be alright… but I am going to take the next week and 'sort my life out'. Starting with detoxing my flat and scrubbing it from top to bottom; then reinvigorating my wardrobe; and finally really getting back into regular exercise again. Plus, of course, learning how to meet guys in the Real World and taking advantage of what Strumpetville has to offer.
Of course I can’t do that until I’m confident in myself so it might, just possibly, be a little while. Friends tell me I set impossible standards for myself and consistently recently have told me the bar is too high. But I’ve always achieved what I want, even if I am a late starter sometimes… and I need to be sure I’m right. This isn’t going to work, then, while I’m at a low ebb.
I currently have no dates lined up, though one guy has asked me out so I suppose there’ll be one soon. I may leave it a week or two till I’m more settled. And I’m chatting to a couple of others via Parship and the recently rejoined Soulmates.
I’m not a total loss it seems ;-). Boyfriend in potentia, which is nice to know. My assignation this past Monday was also exactly what I needed at that point too. Oh, I suppose I'm on the mend. It’s not all bad gentle reader. Further updates as events warrant, yes indeed. And do watch the video.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)