Domesticity

My home-life has taken another bizarre twist. It seems The Gardener has moved in someone without telling me, and this person (working nights) has been here for some time entirely without my knowledge. A secret housemate. My day to day experience of domesticity has changed in many ways since moving here!

Presumably that will make the masked ball type party that is being held here on hallowe’en all the more exciting… 20 gay men, lots of booze… sometimes (only momentarily of course) having a boyfriend can be inconvenient! Who knows, perhaps some of them WON’T actually be living here. Fella and I will also be making a brief sojourn to the party of mutual friends; a lesbian couple who recently got engaged. It seems a lot of my/our friends are settling down, breeding as various bits allow… being proper grown ups.

Anyway, it seems Paris has left me a little legacy in the form of le trots. Not sure what caused it exactly. But I only mention it now as it’s quite severe. I suppose one test of a relationship is not just how well someone ‘does’ your arse, but how well they handle the world falling out of it. Gosh, I must be ill if my writing descends so. Still, it’s done my diet no harm. Lost 4 lbs already.

Domesticity itself has taken hold with Fella and I; he insisted on looking after me this weekend while I was stricken which seemed to involve me doing a lot of cooking, cleaning and shopping than I would have thought as the nursemaided invalid. But either way, as we spend the majority of a week together and I live in a couple of rooms, things can get a bit cramped – and especially so when a tad under the weather, As we approach the six month mark and Fella considers moving back to London I imagine things will continue a-pace. Of course, if he moves reasonably nearby, then we can begin to share domestic arrangements.

In the meantime the revolving door of my house continues. It seems a Canadian gentleman has expressed an interest in living here too, assuming the new random housemate moves out. I don’t really mind the Gardener moving in (and out) all these waifs and strays… I just wish he wouldn’t show them pictures of my from my erstwhile gaydar account to entice them!!

Trips

I’ve already hit on the place I would like to take Fella for his next birthday… New York! Well, it’s an idea. I’ve never been; and Fella apparently likes the place very much. And I have a year to plan for it.

Of course, I still want to go to China. At some point. That trip I will probably do by myself; so I’m not really looking forward to being away from Fella for a couple of weeks.

In the meantime I am thinking of taking him in early December to meet my mother. She lives in Germany, so it would be at the very least another long weekend. He’s met my aunt and uncle and some cousins… but I’ve met his parents and so I think it’s time he met mine. The one that’s available at least!

He’s quite reticent, though. Annoyingly so, in fact. Admittedly it is because my mother isn’t exactly a huge fan of the gay thing. She’s… OK with it. Just not happy about it. Now that is annoying! So I can understand why he feels the way he does.

So Fella is not keen to meet her at all. I decided not to push it at the time as it would only precipitate a row. Instead we talked about it this weekend just gone; he’s booked some time off work. I just need to approach my mother and find out if it would be OK to come over… I would be very, very disappointed if she decided not. I mean, it really ought to be done at some point, don’t you think gentle reader?

I’ve never taken anyone to meet my parents. So it’s a big thing on many levels. However, as insurance against any… awkwardness there are a few family members passing through the weekend we’re planning to visit so – safety in numbers?

Overall I’m disappointed that my relationship with my mother has suffered with me coming out. I know it’s worse for some of you out there, gentle reader, so I can’t complain too much. Yet this anti-goldilocks scenario of the worst of both worlds is somewhat draining.

We shall have to see how it goes… stay tuned for the next instalment of the Cheerful Fairy’s Adventures on Parentville!

Paris

Well, I’ve been a lax little blogger, haven’t I? Fear not, gentle reader!! I have returned to Strumpetville from gay Paris and am ready to blog again…

First things first; le trip.

We travelled in the early afternoon from St Pancras; and I’ll be honest, the train is the only was to go. Fast, efficient, no hassle getting our seat, stowing our luggage… before we knew it we were under the sea; and then in France itself.

We’d booked a studio apartment near the Gare Du Nord so we were quickly there. The place was really nice, on a little side street off the main boulevard. And from then on we were out and about, exploring the city.

All the touristy things of course; the Louvre – absolutely fantastic; worth a day in its own right. The Arc de Triomphe; really impressive. The Eiffel Tower. A tad rusty! The people were far friendlier than I thought they would be; it’s the little things that can really make your day, don’t you think? Just turning a corner from the main streets we found ourselves in a small family run bakery, where the staff fussed over us letting us taste thus or that… or the attentive waiters in restaurant we had to ourselves one lunchtime, in the gay district near Rue de Te,mple, who all worked to give us the perfect Parisian dining experience. My verdict? I’m sold. Paris is a thriving, vibrant, beautiful city where I would very happily live one day.

Highlights:

- The Rodin museum
- The Louvre
- Notre Dame
- Pompidou Centre
- The Latin Quarter

The best thing of course is that Fella really loved it. He’s shown he appreciates his best birthday present in many ways, not just the physical *ahem*. Tonight is the only night since last Friday, and until Sunday, that we are apart – hence the time to write a post. He’s changed ever so slightly. Things are more… comfortable. The rhythm is easier in some way.

It was his trip after all – so I’m delighted he liked it. But for me it was great. The last time I went abroad it was with International to his villa in Spain for a dirty weekend of naughty nookie. This time it was a joint experience of art, culture, food and wine. Something shared, and ‘grown up’. It really was a great trip.

And for the next birthday trip? Hmm….

Mirror

Conversation regarding baby photos:

Fella: “you’re not allowed to see the ones where I’m drooling and looking dopey”.
Mike: “well, to be fair I see THAT first thing every morning”.

Fella sulks. Cheerful fairy congratulates himself on wit. Diverse alarums…

I have heard it said, Gentle reader, that art holds a mirror up to life. And if so the two films Fella and I saw this week reflected a lot back to me.

The first was Away We Go. One of my favourite films ever is Happy-go-Lucky, and Away We Go is in a similar vein. However, it’s much more of a laugh-out-loud comedy and brilliantly acted. In it the main characters go on a journey and meet various friends and family members. Each relationship they encounter is flawed in its own way but as the couple struggle to come to terms what might become with them they, perhaps, realise they need to make their own paradigm that celebrates and encompasses their flaws…



Well, I hardly need Freud to point out the parallels between this and my posts here on this blog. It touched me in many ways and I loved it. Hooray for the Haymarket and Orange Wednesdays!

On Sunday we saw Up. A new Pixar animated adventure that, in all honesty, Fella and I had waited to see for an absolute age! And so, there I was, in a room full of four year olds, with tears running down my face. Gosh-darn. That’s no way for a cheerful fairy to behave!



You see, at the beginning a couple meet, fall in love, grow old and eventually die. Ordinary people, whose lives were touched by ordinary tragedies and yet never lost their sense of adventure. Very beautiful; and obviously very touching. So why did I cry? Well, two main reasons.

The old couple reminded me very much of my (maternal) grandparents. The finest people I ever met; now in the winter of their lives, they are universally loved, raising four fin children under fascism and then communism and still somehow being good people. I love them to most in all the world; we don’t even speak the same language! Yet I don’t know how I will bear their loss when, in perhaps 10 – or more – years time (well, their 85 or so, and it’s been 70 years of beer, cigarettes and lard… you do the maths…) when they are gone. They’ll never know, of course, but it’s respect for them and the family they built that gave me the strength to come out to my family at all. Better late then never, I suppose!

But also, I saw the potential to be like them and have that “forever”. Soppy old fairy that I am. But, well, you know… when you fall in love with someone it’s an adventure all its own and, really, do you want to have every adventure all by yourself? Things aren’t just mirrored in glass after all.

Confession

I’ve been thinking for a short while about how to tell Fella about this blog. I love blogging – and I’m not going to stop – but I don’t really think I can justify him not knowing about me thinking out loud to the Universe at large about us and me and him.

International knew about this blog, in a roundabout way. It was an open secret and he (lacking interest in most things about me) never really pursued the issue. But with Fella it’s different. He has become, naturally, very much part of my life and the more we share the more difficult it is to keep things from him; even innocent things like this blog.

Of course, fate steps in and this very Sunday, just as I was about to tell him, he notices an unpublished comment sitting in my inbox! “Oh. You have a blog!!” Well, that was that.

I explained to him all about it; but I asked him not to read it. I assured him he isn’t named; nothing detailed about him or his family is on here; and I don’t discuss our sex like. I started it as part of coming out and… he described it best: it became my hobby.

It’s a big ask, not to read it. I Trust him; so I’m not worried he’ll go behind my back. I was careful to explain if he ever did read it he would find it told entirely from my point of view… of course. I couched it in terms of a diary, but he was naturally dubious… diaries are private in the sense they aren’t on the internet. No, I mean I wonder if I ask too much of him not to be part of this… my hobby.

Compromising, I suggested this:

He could nominate the things I may not write about; and suggest things that I should write about. He could even take part in video posts with me (he said no to that).

Well, he was fine with it. He likes the Rules, anyway. I hope you don’t mind me outing you this way gentle reader, but it’s best he knows about us don’t you agree?

It does occur to me that the raison d’etre of this blog has changed yet again. First it was suggested by the first, ignored by the second, and now… accepted by the one??

Monogamy

Fella and I are monogamous. It seems odd posting what must have appeared to be a given, but nevertheless; it is so.

The real reason is that he insisted on it from the outset. His Rule. And very sensible he was too. However, I’ve always said I don’t mind open or monogamous – I don’t equate sex with love. I need honesty.

This is the only monogamous relationship I’ve been in. OK; I’ve only had three ‘proper’ boyfriends amongst a series of boyfriendettes, regular gentlemen callers and the casual assignation. I never slept with anyone else for the sixth months I was with Darren before being so spectacularly binned but, as with so much in that relationship, I put that down to my own naïveté. As International has other boyfriends I carried on sleeping around with abandon – not reckless, but still…

And then, somewhat unexpectedly and rather unintentionally I stumbled across Fella. What marvellous luck; I rarely do so well in matters of chance!

Apart from a bit of bank holiday fun – which Fella knows about and is fine with because it was between our first and second dates, before we started our relationship proper – I haven’t slept with anyone since I met him. Nevertheless, because Fella has tended to go for relationships while I have tried, but failed to do the same… I’ve slept with many, many times as many partners as he. Fella’s fine with it. International, if memory serves, was always insanely jealous of my past.

Fortunately, whether it makes me seem base or no, our sex life is great. As with so much in our relationship it took work. Ironically I never felt a one night stand (or equivalent) leads to the best in sex. Still pretty good; but relationships are better. You will recall, gentle reader, that Fella and I recent went through a crisis. How better to make up than assign an… activity to each card in a deck (each house representing a certain type of activity) and inviting him, at various points over the weekend, to pick three cards at random?

Fella is probably the best fantasy I’ve ever had. And that’s a new thing for me; to put my current partner as the locus of desire (or lust or whatever you want to call it).

Monogamy isn’t therefore a challenge for me. I’m glad of that. After this most recent challenge to our relationship I am at least certain he’s the one I want; and I’m confident my trust in him is not misplaced. This kind of relationship is exactly is exactly what I want. Most of this post describes the bonus material on this DVD of love [bleurgh]. But I really wouldn’t have it any other way.

Housemates

Moving house has been very helpful, even if it does mean sharing for the first time in 10 years or so. It’s a large Victorian house across three floors; I have my own bathroom. There is a dishwasher. I manage. The money I save will help pay for a place of my own some day. It’s paid for Paris; and this laptop :-)

As you know, gentle reader, I live with the Gardener an erstwhile regular gentleman caller. Certainly there’s plenty of space for the two of us and our disparate schedules mean we rarely meet anyway. And we’ve managed to rub along without any awkwardness.

Nevertheless from time to time he does move in the occasional waif and stray which keeps things interesting, to say the least. Previously there was the Frenchist. Currently there is a gay couple staying here because they are opening a Friendly club locally. They are ‘open’ which has already led to an awkward conversation between them and Fella and I (we aren’t open, not at all!)… and it seems they have an enterprising attitude when it comes to other people’s money as the Gardener’s wages have gone missing and we both know it wasn’t me… It may have been one of the casual acquaintances they occasionally host. But either way I imagine they won’t be around for too long.

It’s a good way of expanding my social circle though. This house has beenm quite the revolving door of characters. Also, there is due to be a party here on 31 October; it’s only gay men attending… given my history with the Gardener Fella is not too keen to be there! Nevertheless, as it is in my house I do feel I have little option but to attend, if only for a while.

Fella and I have talked about moving in together at some point. He really doesn’t want to move in here, and in any event there is no room. But I’m glad to have my own space at least when he is here because we can be left well alone and whether a shared house or no, snuggle up in our own little space. So it works rather well here. Rather well indeed.

Smooth

It seems autumn is well and truly apon us and the nights are drawing in. How lucky, then, am I to have a gorgeous guy to keep me warm through the long cold nights.

Yes, as many of you queried both with your comments and emails, my week long absence from this blog is due to making up with Fella in the nicest possible way. Thank you all for your lovely comments. They were, as always, a source of great reassurance and are much appreciated.

Last week, in the midst of our crisis, I sent him some flowers and he thanked me. This was pretty much the icebreaker though conversation was rather stilted. I’ll be honest – the fact that flowers got him to talk when “I love you” didn’t rankles slightly still. But, in fairness, I suspect he was worried about where we were at and what happens next. And actions speak louder than words.

On Wednesday I bit the bullet and asked him to call me. He wasn’t answering my calls and it was getting to the point it was affecting my work. I think he may never know how close he came… if he had refused to call me then that would have been that.

Nevertheless, call he did; and those five minutes probably did more than anything else to sort us out. I explained there was nothing to worry about but our communication simply wasn’t working right now so we needed to chat to sort it out. He in turn reassured me I had nothing to worry about; that we are OK.

Friday was the first time we met since the row. It was his leaving-do from his previous job. A small affair, but he was very affectionate and we didn’t sty out too late. We slept in Saturday morning, before going into town for an early dinner and then on to the church for another concert. This time it was exactly my kind of music; baroque, played on period instruments. I loved it.

On Sunday we had a birthday lunch for one of Fella’s exes… hmmm, not a huge fan if meeting the exes but on the other hand I’ve become friends with many of HIS friends so it’s difficult to avoid that kind if thing… and anyway, by the end of it all it was as if it had never happened.

One thin I will comment on is that this affair will have longer term consequences, both good and bad. We are better at talking. But I’m disappointed by some of the behaviours displayed on both our parts. It took a lot of effort to get through this and a number of my friends were concerned it wasn';t worth continuing given what was going on and how I was feeling. Nevertheless, taking the rough with the smooth, I am glad we’re back on an even keel and very glad that we’re still together.