One night a week is date night. Our night. Common to couples, but for us because we’re quite “long distance” the one night in the week we spend together is important.
Usually it’s Wednesdays, a tradition that evolved because Wednesdays are Orange Wednesdays – where my mobile phone company, the eponymous Orange, gives its customers buy-one get-one-free on cinema tickets.
Last week, however, Fella wanted to make it Thursday as he would be in town after work having drinks with colleagues; and that therefore it might be nicer if I were to join him and we then went home, had a nice dinner (cooked by him) and watched a film (picked by me).
Looks good to me…
So, then, Thursday comes around and I’m a bit tired after work but I go along and a couple of hours but around 8:30 I said I was a bit tired and could we leave? Fella on his part said it would be rude to leave just then as food had just arrived etc… well, it went on to become a bit of an argument so we agreed I would leave and he would come later.
The time apart became a Big Frosty Silence between as it became apparent that he had no intention of coming home at an early hour and I became gradually more and more annoyed. I mean, this is time spent with people he sees all day Monday to Friday. We spend Wednesday nights, Friday night, Saturday and every other Sunday together [which thinking about it probably works out a bit more time, but that does include sleep!!]. I was very… disappointed (*sigh*) that he would want to spend date night with them and not me!
But, one in the eye for the Universe methinks, Frumpella did not become the passive-aggressive conniption queen. No. Quite the reverse… a bit cunning, this Cheerful Fairy, oh yes.
You would have been proud gentle reader, for I told Fella that when he got home we should talk. And that’s what we did. By and large. Voices were raised from time to time but actually the discussion was all grown up and productive. We both said out price and I think we both had valid things the other needed to take on board.
Let this blog be too one sided, let me impart Fella’s criticisms: I never want to stay out when it’s HIS friends and colleagues. I’m always too tired to enjoy myself in their company. Yet I can go out until all hours with MY friends on a whim, anytime, with no ill effects. In fact his annoyance at this very thing was the root of the silent treatment I posted about in Aggravation and Maturity – yes, I was right (!) he was giving me the cold shoulder.
But also I take his point; I should make more of an effort to join in when he’s doing things; and probably let him go out and enjoy himself if he wants to. We did both agree this gets a lot easier as and when Fella moves back to London because then things can take place as and when required.
Fortunately Fella and I are fine; Thursday night and into Friday he was very loving, and we had a relaxed weekend, eating take-out and watching Will and Grace and Sex and The City, going for long walks, and having the Us time that was the root of all the anxiety in the first place.
So there we have it. A bit of a row; a bit of angst; all useful to clear the air. But I think it does underline how our relationship is changing, settling down, evolving… two steps forward, one step back!
Many thanks to my good friend F for this video!
Sunday, 28 February 2010
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
Aging
Today my colleagues and I went for out second run training for our 5k in April. We’ve been running around St James’s Park; at 2.1km three circuits is enough to keep us ready. It takes me about 10 minutes at a steady measured pace to go around the park; I think we should aim to get to a point where we can do the 5k in about 20 minutes; maybe a shade less.
One of us taking part is a guy a few years younger than me and also gay. He seems to compete with me quite openly to be the official gayer in the group. It’s weird for me, to be challenged in this way. You see, gentle reader, I often have a love/hate fascination for younger gay guys. I tend to find young and pretty guys quite annoying – essentially because I’m not one of them any more. Part of the reason I go for older men I suppose...
I myself am acutely aware of my mortality and, essentially, that – dimly I perceive - I’m not 18 any more. Much more than I should be I think. I’m beginning to feel I’m getting older. More mature; aging disgracefully. And I resent it.
Young gay guys who are out, on the scene, enjoying themselves are doing something I never did. Going for the older gentleman in many ways betrayed my lack of experience. I met a small number of guys about my age, maybe younger, just coming out as I was and without exception they were going for ‘teacher’ types too. We didn’t keep in touch…
I was young and pretty once. Not ever prize-winning looks; but I do feel I’ve entered a world obsessed with youth and beauty riding the absolute last train I could get. And now I’m jogging alongside someone who rather sensibly jumped on board somewhat earlier than I!
Being critical of what I’ve just written I would say (a) I needed – and still need – to take better care of myself and coming out was areal boost to that and (b) I’ve always been a bit insecure of my looks, and going out on a limb – whilst never wrong – wasn’t really helpful.
So is this all a bit shallow? I am concerned, you see, that I’m running out of goes, for the want of a better expression. One of the reasons I threw myself into men, whether it be boyfriend or otherwise, was because I considered I had left myself a very narrow window of opportunity.
I'm not so concerned about my colleague as I am reminded how I do regret coming out so late. But with that comes a recognition I kinda need to grow up to stay young. If I’d been different my life would have been different I honestly wouldn’t want that. I’d still be 32, slightly frumpy and with challenged follicles… but would I have my Fella? My friends? Would I have grabbed these opportunities or let them pass me by in youthful ignorance? Being in my thirties really works for me, so let’s look forward rather than think about what could have been… and let me get my beauty sleep.
One of us taking part is a guy a few years younger than me and also gay. He seems to compete with me quite openly to be the official gayer in the group. It’s weird for me, to be challenged in this way. You see, gentle reader, I often have a love/hate fascination for younger gay guys. I tend to find young and pretty guys quite annoying – essentially because I’m not one of them any more. Part of the reason I go for older men I suppose...
I myself am acutely aware of my mortality and, essentially, that – dimly I perceive - I’m not 18 any more. Much more than I should be I think. I’m beginning to feel I’m getting older. More mature; aging disgracefully. And I resent it.
Young gay guys who are out, on the scene, enjoying themselves are doing something I never did. Going for the older gentleman in many ways betrayed my lack of experience. I met a small number of guys about my age, maybe younger, just coming out as I was and without exception they were going for ‘teacher’ types too. We didn’t keep in touch…
I was young and pretty once. Not ever prize-winning looks; but I do feel I’ve entered a world obsessed with youth and beauty riding the absolute last train I could get. And now I’m jogging alongside someone who rather sensibly jumped on board somewhat earlier than I!
Being critical of what I’ve just written I would say (a) I needed – and still need – to take better care of myself and coming out was areal boost to that and (b) I’ve always been a bit insecure of my looks, and going out on a limb – whilst never wrong – wasn’t really helpful.
So is this all a bit shallow? I am concerned, you see, that I’m running out of goes, for the want of a better expression. One of the reasons I threw myself into men, whether it be boyfriend or otherwise, was because I considered I had left myself a very narrow window of opportunity.
I'm not so concerned about my colleague as I am reminded how I do regret coming out so late. But with that comes a recognition I kinda need to grow up to stay young. If I’d been different my life would have been different I honestly wouldn’t want that. I’d still be 32, slightly frumpy and with challenged follicles… but would I have my Fella? My friends? Would I have grabbed these opportunities or let them pass me by in youthful ignorance? Being in my thirties really works for me, so let’s look forward rather than think about what could have been… and let me get my beauty sleep.
Monday, 22 February 2010
Maturity
Treat this post, if you will gentle reader, as part two. I will confess, due in no small part to your kind words, that I did not act on my earlier impulse of confronting Fella. No, instead I did a little growing up.
Growing up is something a Cheerful Fairy does tend to avoid. I can’t afford the wrinkles, at the very least. Immaturity has an allure I am loath to let go.
Yet here I am. An actual boyfriend to an actual boy.
POW. Cue epiphany!
Fella came home on Friday and he was dead tired. So much so I thought it was kinder simply not to mention it at all and to have a pleasant evening. And the evening became the whole weekend and it seems he was quite pleased to pay me as much attention as my little heart could desire. So as such the issue simply faded away. A lucky escape? Who knows.
Now, I know I came across as a bit needy and insecure when I posted my last post. That is probably due to being a bit needy and insecure. Well, at the moment I do feel a bit out of sorts. I’m still ill and there’s only so long I can be busy at work before I become a bit ‘tired and emotional’. The cure for that of course is to continue down the road I set for myself – study ,exercise, good lurvin *ahem*.
Also, there is only so long I can ignore the preponderance of good advice and observations I’ve received since starting this blog – the big, positive, unintended consequence of pouring out… well, whatever occupies my pretty little head at any point.
So, a bit of growing up. It’s part and parcel of a wider change. I’m tired of making plans but rarely realising them. I’m tired of trying to please everybody and ending up pleasing nobody – especially myself. There still needs to be a little further effort before I am all at peace with myself.
What has this to do with Fella and I? Well, we’re fine. I’m still not entirely happy at all about this step change in our communication 'regime'; but as a relationship develops this will occur and if he’s going to wind down our communication when we’re not physically together then so be it. This relationship will develop and elements of it will ebb and flow with their own strange tides; no Canute am I.
A friend pointed out to me today that I can MAKE the time to communicate with Fella because, in her view, I can become uniquely focussed when I want something. As compliments go, I rather like it. Now I just need to realise when I done got what I want; as, with Fella, I have.
Growing up is something a Cheerful Fairy does tend to avoid. I can’t afford the wrinkles, at the very least. Immaturity has an allure I am loath to let go.
Yet here I am. An actual boyfriend to an actual boy.
POW. Cue epiphany!
Fella came home on Friday and he was dead tired. So much so I thought it was kinder simply not to mention it at all and to have a pleasant evening. And the evening became the whole weekend and it seems he was quite pleased to pay me as much attention as my little heart could desire. So as such the issue simply faded away. A lucky escape? Who knows.
Now, I know I came across as a bit needy and insecure when I posted my last post. That is probably due to being a bit needy and insecure. Well, at the moment I do feel a bit out of sorts. I’m still ill and there’s only so long I can be busy at work before I become a bit ‘tired and emotional’. The cure for that of course is to continue down the road I set for myself – study ,exercise, good lurvin *ahem*.
Also, there is only so long I can ignore the preponderance of good advice and observations I’ve received since starting this blog – the big, positive, unintended consequence of pouring out… well, whatever occupies my pretty little head at any point.
So, a bit of growing up. It’s part and parcel of a wider change. I’m tired of making plans but rarely realising them. I’m tired of trying to please everybody and ending up pleasing nobody – especially myself. There still needs to be a little further effort before I am all at peace with myself.
What has this to do with Fella and I? Well, we’re fine. I’m still not entirely happy at all about this step change in our communication 'regime'; but as a relationship develops this will occur and if he’s going to wind down our communication when we’re not physically together then so be it. This relationship will develop and elements of it will ebb and flow with their own strange tides; no Canute am I.
A friend pointed out to me today that I can MAKE the time to communicate with Fella because, in her view, I can become uniquely focussed when I want something. As compliments go, I rather like it. Now I just need to realise when I done got what I want; as, with Fella, I have.
Friday, 19 February 2010
Aggravation
Sometimes I worry about the state of my relationship with Fella. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to bits and while we have one or two real Issues to contend with generally things have been very good.
A while ago a very kind reader left a comment about the difficult eight to 12 month stage in a relationship, and at the time I gave it little thought but the whooshing noise our nine month milestone made as it went past has filled what might be considered a thoughtful pause.
On Wednesday Fella and I talked about where we are at the moment. We agreed that the novelty value of our relationship is wearing off – but that in itself is no bad thing. I tried to get a reassurance that he spends every Wednesday at mine because he wants to, not because he feels he has to – but that didn’t work so my fears are not allayed as well I had intended. Having said that we have a perfectly lovely evening and all was well.
The of course today, and we come to the crux of the matter gentle reader. Normally Fella and I email and text each other over the course of the day. It’s all perfectly banal; but it makes up in some ways for the fact we only have half the week or so together.
On my part it is sometimes difficult given how busy I can be at work [yawn] but I always Make The Time. Because Fella is absolutely the most important thing.
Today I emailed, texted, phone his mobile and his office in an attempt to get in touch. Over the course of the day when I hadn’t heard from him I began to get increasingly concerned – really quite worried. I recognise there’s a good measure of paranoia in there, but I was filled with all manner of dark thoughts. He’s ill. He’s been kidnapped. *Gasp* he’s found this blog!!
So, to cut a long story short, I decided to go up to the Church where he is working tonight and see him in person to check what’s up.
On arrival, when I ask, he simple tells me he was “too busy” to reply to me.
Well… good then. I’m a little shocked if truth be told. The purpose of this post therefore is not to air my dirty laundry in public – but rather to think out loud about WTF that’s all about.
I’m somewhat on the back foot; unsure how best to go about tackling what I think is pretty shabby treatment. Of course he doesn’t have to email me at all if he’d rather not. He’s under no real obligation to communicate total twaddle in the day. But a simple “I’m too busy to talk today, speak later X” should not be too much to ask. What I really don’t expect is being totally ignored when I specifically explain I’m very concerned and need to know that he’s OK.
Well, he’s on his way over here now for the customary start to our weekend. I don’t want a row, but then I don’t think I can leave it. What a tightrope to walk!
A while ago a very kind reader left a comment about the difficult eight to 12 month stage in a relationship, and at the time I gave it little thought but the whooshing noise our nine month milestone made as it went past has filled what might be considered a thoughtful pause.
On Wednesday Fella and I talked about where we are at the moment. We agreed that the novelty value of our relationship is wearing off – but that in itself is no bad thing. I tried to get a reassurance that he spends every Wednesday at mine because he wants to, not because he feels he has to – but that didn’t work so my fears are not allayed as well I had intended. Having said that we have a perfectly lovely evening and all was well.
The of course today, and we come to the crux of the matter gentle reader. Normally Fella and I email and text each other over the course of the day. It’s all perfectly banal; but it makes up in some ways for the fact we only have half the week or so together.
On my part it is sometimes difficult given how busy I can be at work [yawn] but I always Make The Time. Because Fella is absolutely the most important thing.
Today I emailed, texted, phone his mobile and his office in an attempt to get in touch. Over the course of the day when I hadn’t heard from him I began to get increasingly concerned – really quite worried. I recognise there’s a good measure of paranoia in there, but I was filled with all manner of dark thoughts. He’s ill. He’s been kidnapped. *Gasp* he’s found this blog!!
So, to cut a long story short, I decided to go up to the Church where he is working tonight and see him in person to check what’s up.
On arrival, when I ask, he simple tells me he was “too busy” to reply to me.
Well… good then. I’m a little shocked if truth be told. The purpose of this post therefore is not to air my dirty laundry in public – but rather to think out loud about WTF that’s all about.
I’m somewhat on the back foot; unsure how best to go about tackling what I think is pretty shabby treatment. Of course he doesn’t have to email me at all if he’d rather not. He’s under no real obligation to communicate total twaddle in the day. But a simple “I’m too busy to talk today, speak later X” should not be too much to ask. What I really don’t expect is being totally ignored when I specifically explain I’m very concerned and need to know that he’s OK.
Well, he’s on his way over here now for the customary start to our weekend. I don’t want a row, but then I don’t think I can leave it. What a tightrope to walk!
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Lent
Today was Pancake Day. Fella and I had our pancakes at the weekend; and no, that isn’t a euphemism. But, as today is the start of Lent I have resolved thusly: to be less crap and get things done. And I’m giving up spending – or at least wasting - money too.
I’m doing this because I’ve been feeling a bit uncertain of myself recently. Worried about my looks, my health, my career, my relationship, my… personality. I’m a worrier, gentle reader. There’s no surprise there and little I can do about it, except meet my concerns head on and do the very best I can.
So, for Lent, I’ve decided I’m going to do the following:
1. complete my Masters application, including my application for funding, by the end of February.
2. Develop and stick to a weekly exercise regime – the first part of which has been to, somewhat precipitately, sign up for a 5k run (in April) with some colleagues.
3. Cut back my working hours to 50 or so a week (ha ha); and within two weeks develop a proper business case for some projects I want to take forward in 2010 and 2011 to win funding and take greater control over my career direction.
4. Replace booze and caffeine with antioxidants and herbal tea; mainly because this Fairy has been so very Cheerful – indeed extremely so on many an occasion - for so long it’s [more than] beginning to show.
5. Make a much more concerted effort to dress well and, you know, pull off the suave sophisticated bit more often. And to worry less when it doesn’t work!
I’m sure that seems a lot, but half of it is stuff I’m doing anyway and it’s six weeks to Easter…
The final part is saving money. Being with Fella these past nine months has been wonderful but it has involved haemorrhaging money and that has to stop. I’m happy to spend money; a gym membership; new clothes; gifts and holidays for me and Fella. But most importantly I am financially a bigger earner than Fella and I should being to act like it, no?
They say (that famous Them, you know) that writing a list and setting targets is a good and cathartic start to getting things done. Sometime I wonder if my problem isn’t planning but finishing what I started. Well, tune in early April gentle reader and see what in my rippling and bling gorgeousness might be seen.
I’m doing this because I’ve been feeling a bit uncertain of myself recently. Worried about my looks, my health, my career, my relationship, my… personality. I’m a worrier, gentle reader. There’s no surprise there and little I can do about it, except meet my concerns head on and do the very best I can.
So, for Lent, I’ve decided I’m going to do the following:
1. complete my Masters application, including my application for funding, by the end of February.
2. Develop and stick to a weekly exercise regime – the first part of which has been to, somewhat precipitately, sign up for a 5k run (in April) with some colleagues.
3. Cut back my working hours to 50 or so a week (ha ha); and within two weeks develop a proper business case for some projects I want to take forward in 2010 and 2011 to win funding and take greater control over my career direction.
4. Replace booze and caffeine with antioxidants and herbal tea; mainly because this Fairy has been so very Cheerful – indeed extremely so on many an occasion - for so long it’s [more than] beginning to show.
5. Make a much more concerted effort to dress well and, you know, pull off the suave sophisticated bit more often. And to worry less when it doesn’t work!
I’m sure that seems a lot, but half of it is stuff I’m doing anyway and it’s six weeks to Easter…
The final part is saving money. Being with Fella these past nine months has been wonderful but it has involved haemorrhaging money and that has to stop. I’m happy to spend money; a gym membership; new clothes; gifts and holidays for me and Fella. But most importantly I am financially a bigger earner than Fella and I should being to act like it, no?
They say (that famous Them, you know) that writing a list and setting targets is a good and cathartic start to getting things done. Sometime I wonder if my problem isn’t planning but finishing what I started. Well, tune in early April gentle reader and see what in my rippling and bling gorgeousness might be seen.
Monday, 15 February 2010
Valentine
February 14th marked my first Valentine ’s Day in a proper relationship. Darren feel between two stoops in that we went from April to October; and International and I ended things a few weeks before the event last year.
So: hurrah for milestones… etc.
The weekend passed quite smoothly, bar the small hiccup of some cross words on Saturday night – entirely started by me getting huffy; but then Frumpella can be a dick sometimes. Still, overall, I think it is agreed, a lovely weekend was enjoyed by all.
On Friday we went out, Fella and I, with some friends for a boozy evening in the pub before heading home for a decent night’s sleep and a very long lie-in on Saturday morning. Fella was working on Saturday so after a nice early dinner he and I went to St James’s and I sat in on the concert there; some Mozart and Haydn played by Belsize Baroque.
After that we went home and ended up watching trash on the tele until the early hours, thus brining us to the main event.
First things first; for breakfast Fella got pancakes with strawberries, maple syrup and lemon curd, and pink champagne.
Then it was time for the gifts. I gave him a lovely warm dressing gown; a box of chocolates; and a compendium of love letters by famous men and women (a la Sex and the City!). He gave me a box of chocolates; some prosecco, and a ring (the proudly adorns my right hand). Most touching of all he gave me a hand made Valentine’s card, the front of which was a photo of us taken at the ball.
In the evening we went to a restaurant in Soho that I chose, with some trepidation, due to the reviews it had been given for both food and service. Now, Fella is a foodie and we think little of spending three figures on posh nosh once in a while… so it was a tough choice to pick somewhere less well appointed. But, as it turned out gentle reader, I done chose well.
The restaurant held its small upstairs dining room for Valentine’s couples; nine tables for two. We were the first to arrive and during our time there, there were never more than five couple at any given time. The décor was very modern, the food was absolutely delightful and the service attentive without being intrusive. Fella was amused that we were sat between a gay female couple and a pair of argumentative northerners. It added for him a certain je ne sais quoi.
There we have it then. All over now. A slight down now it’s past, a certain petit mort… but on the other hand what better way to see us past the nine-month mark? I think this song (as always) sums it up...
So: hurrah for milestones… etc.
The weekend passed quite smoothly, bar the small hiccup of some cross words on Saturday night – entirely started by me getting huffy; but then Frumpella can be a dick sometimes. Still, overall, I think it is agreed, a lovely weekend was enjoyed by all.
On Friday we went out, Fella and I, with some friends for a boozy evening in the pub before heading home for a decent night’s sleep and a very long lie-in on Saturday morning. Fella was working on Saturday so after a nice early dinner he and I went to St James’s and I sat in on the concert there; some Mozart and Haydn played by Belsize Baroque.
After that we went home and ended up watching trash on the tele until the early hours, thus brining us to the main event.
First things first; for breakfast Fella got pancakes with strawberries, maple syrup and lemon curd, and pink champagne.
Then it was time for the gifts. I gave him a lovely warm dressing gown; a box of chocolates; and a compendium of love letters by famous men and women (a la Sex and the City!). He gave me a box of chocolates; some prosecco, and a ring (the proudly adorns my right hand). Most touching of all he gave me a hand made Valentine’s card, the front of which was a photo of us taken at the ball.
In the evening we went to a restaurant in Soho that I chose, with some trepidation, due to the reviews it had been given for both food and service. Now, Fella is a foodie and we think little of spending three figures on posh nosh once in a while… so it was a tough choice to pick somewhere less well appointed. But, as it turned out gentle reader, I done chose well.
The restaurant held its small upstairs dining room for Valentine’s couples; nine tables for two. We were the first to arrive and during our time there, there were never more than five couple at any given time. The décor was very modern, the food was absolutely delightful and the service attentive without being intrusive. Fella was amused that we were sat between a gay female couple and a pair of argumentative northerners. It added for him a certain je ne sais quoi.
There we have it then. All over now. A slight down now it’s past, a certain petit mort… but on the other hand what better way to see us past the nine-month mark? I think this song (as always) sums it up...
Monday, 8 February 2010
Mark
This weekend was very messy and I am once again ready to foreswear the grape and the grain. Bleurgh! Saturday out till 4am and Sunday until 2:00, it’s an early night on the Monday I’m drafting this. Bleurgh…
Two very interesting things happened this weekend. The second was Fella DEMANDING to be proposed to. Eek! I do hope he realises it won’t happen on Sunday.
The first is a bit more proper-grown-up (boo).
Before meeting Fella et al in town on Saturday night, quite out of the blue, Mark of invisible boyfriend fame got in touch.
Now I’ve never been one to keep in touch with people I’ve dated. I kind-of tried with International but it fizzled out; c’est la vie.
So on Saturday Mark got in touch – we always lived quite close so we’d seen each other around – and as he sounded quite miserable I thought I would give it a go. OK, so it was a bit mean of me, but if he’d been really cocky and expected me to drop everything and go round then it would have been different. Nevertheless, there is a bit of me that kinda kinda wanted to see if he was happy or unhappy without me…
Of course in reality it was nothing like that. We had a couple of glasses of wine and talked at some length. He did want… me to stay. Kept touching me in that flirty way (you know, that way). I did think he was rather nicer to me then, then when we had been seeing each other. Ha ha. *Ahem*.
But of course I did not do anything; didn’t want to. But I didn’t get what I really wanted – a vicarious thrill. An “Aha! You were wrong to treat me the way you did, and as ye sow so ye shall reap!!”.
No, as with all things in life it was rather more subtle than that. It was the guy who isn’t happy in his job, and who still hasn’t got round to painting his living room. Single; looks the same; talks the same… it was, in fact still him.
What’s the point of this post then, you might well ask gentle reader. Well, I can only conclude that I’m not the same me as I was. I suppose that’s a good thing, so in a sense the joke’s on me. If you’re going to hold a mirror up, make sure you know which way it’s facing.
It was nice though. I could be tiresome and call it closure. I think that gives the whole encounter too much credit. It is good to know that there’s a lot more still to exploring relationships and my sexuality and that I was never dumped because I’m a total freak. Hurrah!
Two very interesting things happened this weekend. The second was Fella DEMANDING to be proposed to. Eek! I do hope he realises it won’t happen on Sunday.
The first is a bit more proper-grown-up (boo).
Before meeting Fella et al in town on Saturday night, quite out of the blue, Mark of invisible boyfriend fame got in touch.
Now I’ve never been one to keep in touch with people I’ve dated. I kind-of tried with International but it fizzled out; c’est la vie.
So on Saturday Mark got in touch – we always lived quite close so we’d seen each other around – and as he sounded quite miserable I thought I would give it a go. OK, so it was a bit mean of me, but if he’d been really cocky and expected me to drop everything and go round then it would have been different. Nevertheless, there is a bit of me that kinda kinda wanted to see if he was happy or unhappy without me…
Of course in reality it was nothing like that. We had a couple of glasses of wine and talked at some length. He did want… me to stay. Kept touching me in that flirty way (you know, that way). I did think he was rather nicer to me then, then when we had been seeing each other. Ha ha. *Ahem*.
But of course I did not do anything; didn’t want to. But I didn’t get what I really wanted – a vicarious thrill. An “Aha! You were wrong to treat me the way you did, and as ye sow so ye shall reap!!”.
No, as with all things in life it was rather more subtle than that. It was the guy who isn’t happy in his job, and who still hasn’t got round to painting his living room. Single; looks the same; talks the same… it was, in fact still him.
What’s the point of this post then, you might well ask gentle reader. Well, I can only conclude that I’m not the same me as I was. I suppose that’s a good thing, so in a sense the joke’s on me. If you’re going to hold a mirror up, make sure you know which way it’s facing.
It was nice though. I could be tiresome and call it closure. I think that gives the whole encounter too much credit. It is good to know that there’s a lot more still to exploring relationships and my sexuality and that I was never dumped because I’m a total freak. Hurrah!
Thursday, 4 February 2010
Sex etc
On 16 March I’m going into hospital. Basically I’m having a camera crew up my bottom to check why the world keeps falling out of it. It did occur to me then to wonder if they could tell, to put it coarsely, if there is any tread left on the tyres of whether it’s like throwing a hosepipe down a hallway.
I am being coarse, gentle reader, I know. Not least because I have a dedication to my pelvic floor verging on the obsessive. But there has been a fair bit of traffic this last couple of years and while it isn’t done to kiss and tell I think I’ve given a good account of myself.
So, a while back I decided that I wanted to have a lot more sex with men, and therefore pretending not to be a massive ‘mo would have to go. And while I’ve had cause to consider my erstwhile relationships a bit of a roller coaster, I’ve never regretted encountering any of the people I’ve chosen to have sex with. Sometimes it’s been fantastic; sometimes… interesting. But worthwhile.
I don’t particularly regret that the first time I had sex with a man it was under the stairs at a party. I’m not sorry that a large proportion of my sex life has consisted of casual fucks. I’m glad I’ve pretty much been super careful and that I’ve gone into any situation informed and when I felt ready to.
The reality is someone somewhere will always have had more sex, better sex, will be considered sexier, be better at seducing guys, whatever… I’ve never wanted to treat sex as a competition. Nevertheless I like sex and enjoy indulging in it frequently; and I’ve let – as a consequence, known if not wilfully sought, of coming out – sex be a big part of my sexuality.
But! I’ve always preferred sex with someone I know, rather than a one-night-stand or casual assignation. I don’t know why – causal sex is great fun and can be a lovely way to pass the time. Nevertheless, it has struck me that a lot of gay men treat causal sex as a way of getting intimate, not just getting off. I myself have always refrained from confusing sex and intimacy – God forbid, love. Come and go, as it were – within the bounds of common good manners. I think that’s why I’ve been fond of group sex in the past, and had a range of friends-with-benefits in one form or another.
Now I’m in a stable, monogamous relationship. The Bad Boyfriend part of me would argue that the average man has sex 165+ times a year; and from experience getting up the average when single takes quite a lot of work. The Good boyfriend part of me argues that it’s worth sacrificing casual sex for a lifetime of making love. All the Cheerful Fairy knows is that Fella is by far the best lover I’ve ever had, and knowing that things will get better and better is no small help in smoothing the bumps on the rocky road of love.
As Dan Savage put it gay men don’t have sex like this because they’re gay; they do it because they’re men (a whorehouse staffed with volunteers is a rather apt phrase he uses). We need a restraining influence to manage sex healthily. No regrets and I’m not yet done swinging from the chandeliers. But that cup of tea would be great round about now. And afterwards, take your clothes off…
I am being coarse, gentle reader, I know. Not least because I have a dedication to my pelvic floor verging on the obsessive. But there has been a fair bit of traffic this last couple of years and while it isn’t done to kiss and tell I think I’ve given a good account of myself.
So, a while back I decided that I wanted to have a lot more sex with men, and therefore pretending not to be a massive ‘mo would have to go. And while I’ve had cause to consider my erstwhile relationships a bit of a roller coaster, I’ve never regretted encountering any of the people I’ve chosen to have sex with. Sometimes it’s been fantastic; sometimes… interesting. But worthwhile.
I don’t particularly regret that the first time I had sex with a man it was under the stairs at a party. I’m not sorry that a large proportion of my sex life has consisted of casual fucks. I’m glad I’ve pretty much been super careful and that I’ve gone into any situation informed and when I felt ready to.
The reality is someone somewhere will always have had more sex, better sex, will be considered sexier, be better at seducing guys, whatever… I’ve never wanted to treat sex as a competition. Nevertheless I like sex and enjoy indulging in it frequently; and I’ve let – as a consequence, known if not wilfully sought, of coming out – sex be a big part of my sexuality.
But! I’ve always preferred sex with someone I know, rather than a one-night-stand or casual assignation. I don’t know why – causal sex is great fun and can be a lovely way to pass the time. Nevertheless, it has struck me that a lot of gay men treat causal sex as a way of getting intimate, not just getting off. I myself have always refrained from confusing sex and intimacy – God forbid, love. Come and go, as it were – within the bounds of common good manners. I think that’s why I’ve been fond of group sex in the past, and had a range of friends-with-benefits in one form or another.
Now I’m in a stable, monogamous relationship. The Bad Boyfriend part of me would argue that the average man has sex 165+ times a year; and from experience getting up the average when single takes quite a lot of work. The Good boyfriend part of me argues that it’s worth sacrificing casual sex for a lifetime of making love. All the Cheerful Fairy knows is that Fella is by far the best lover I’ve ever had, and knowing that things will get better and better is no small help in smoothing the bumps on the rocky road of love.
As Dan Savage put it gay men don’t have sex like this because they’re gay; they do it because they’re men (a whorehouse staffed with volunteers is a rather apt phrase he uses). We need a restraining influence to manage sex healthily. No regrets and I’m not yet done swinging from the chandeliers. But that cup of tea would be great round about now. And afterwards, take your clothes off…
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
Evening All
This is the first evening in a couple of weeks that I’ve had to myself, in that I don’t have to work at home after my time in the office. My project has reached a phase where I’m somewhat redundant. My plans are for others to execute [lightning crashes; maniacal laughter]. Having worked so hard for so long, now seeing it pay off is bitter-sweet.
Fortunately February is a bit of a social whirlwind for me. On Saturday, for example, I have been invited to two concerts and a birthday party, so busy busy busy there. A pirate themed birthday party in Soho does call to me… but a neighbour is having a gig in town so I may do that first.
Of course it’s the weekend after that really interests me. I make no apologies for wanting a proper, proper Valentine’s day. I want a card and chocolates and champagne and flowers and some time that doesn’t involve any of those things or clothes at all. So there.
But – and this is where the Cheerful Fairy comes into his own, gentle reader – I got me a proper boyfriend and relationships being, somewhat tiresomely, about giving as well as taking I have a plan…
Since the New Year Fella’s life has been punctuated by a series of losses. Nothing major – not like family, anyway. He lost a funky pair of blue shoes; my Christmas present to him of a knitted scarf; his MP3 player… well, a lot of things. On Friday night he was in floods of tears after losing his glasses under circumstances I’ll blog about later…
Well, I can’t go back in time. But I can be romantic. Oh yes! So, here’s my plan for the run up to Valentine’s day *giggle*
I’m going to buy him a replacement for the shoes, scarf and MP3 player. But, rather than merely present them, this is what I’m thinking of doing:
On the Thursday night I intend (somehow – details are yet to be fully thought through) to put a box, wrapped in shiny red paper, and containing the new shoes on his desk for him to find Friday morning.
On Saturday I will give him the scarf.
And on Sunday at a dinner in a location to be confirmed – my treat of course – I intend to give him the MP3 player.
A series of presents to make a lovely romantic weekend. OK, so I haven’t fully thought it through and the gaps tend to be filled with champagne and flowers but it’s a start. A good start. Being gay, male and pragmatic I imagine the weekend will go rather well for me too ;-)
Fortunately February is a bit of a social whirlwind for me. On Saturday, for example, I have been invited to two concerts and a birthday party, so busy busy busy there. A pirate themed birthday party in Soho does call to me… but a neighbour is having a gig in town so I may do that first.
Of course it’s the weekend after that really interests me. I make no apologies for wanting a proper, proper Valentine’s day. I want a card and chocolates and champagne and flowers and some time that doesn’t involve any of those things or clothes at all. So there.
But – and this is where the Cheerful Fairy comes into his own, gentle reader – I got me a proper boyfriend and relationships being, somewhat tiresomely, about giving as well as taking I have a plan…
Since the New Year Fella’s life has been punctuated by a series of losses. Nothing major – not like family, anyway. He lost a funky pair of blue shoes; my Christmas present to him of a knitted scarf; his MP3 player… well, a lot of things. On Friday night he was in floods of tears after losing his glasses under circumstances I’ll blog about later…
Well, I can’t go back in time. But I can be romantic. Oh yes! So, here’s my plan for the run up to Valentine’s day *giggle*
I’m going to buy him a replacement for the shoes, scarf and MP3 player. But, rather than merely present them, this is what I’m thinking of doing:
On the Thursday night I intend (somehow – details are yet to be fully thought through) to put a box, wrapped in shiny red paper, and containing the new shoes on his desk for him to find Friday morning.
On Saturday I will give him the scarf.
And on Sunday at a dinner in a location to be confirmed – my treat of course – I intend to give him the MP3 player.
A series of presents to make a lovely romantic weekend. OK, so I haven’t fully thought it through and the gaps tend to be filled with champagne and flowers but it’s a start. A good start. Being gay, male and pragmatic I imagine the weekend will go rather well for me too ;-)
Kreativ Blogger Award
Ah, finally some recognition. Well, it would seem there is a meme...
3. Link to the person who nominated you
4. List seven things about yourself that other people might find interesting
Ah well, there you have me… I can list seven things anyway. I am German; have a degree in physics; before I became an official fairy I had two long-ish term girlfriends; I intensely dislike being photographed; I had a dog named Pi; I have a fondness for white wine; I secretly think I have a really nice body!
5. Nominate seven Kreativ Bloggers
There are loads of blogs better than mine, a tiny fraction listed here are ones I particularly like.
Final Girl – an absolutely hilarious blog of a lady who reviews horror films for a living
Made In Scotland – a touching, funny and deep blog of a great guy living in London with his husband; a person top whom I owe many thanks.
Much Ado About Monty – a blog by someone on the other side of the world and ahead of me in the nice guy/gay guy/love and life stakes.
It’s All About Me – gay pagan who has adventures and seems to have a good head on his shoulders, as well as being another really nice guy…
Gay Socrates – a truly intelligent and in-depth blog of someone who has a lot of wisdom to share. Invaluable insights and feedback for someone like me
Love Gay Sex – a funny and well written blog of a gay guy in Southern England observing the facets of his life. Excellent reading.
The Coterie of Zombies – by a very talented artist, this witty and often dark blog is a doorway to all manner of beautiful and amazing ideas and images.
6. Link to their blogs – well,, you can do on the right here…
7. Tell them you’ve nominated them… done
1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award
Thanks to Nik the Greek. He has a funny blog that, as so many are, is better than mine. I linked to his blog after being absorbed reading his stories and seeing much of what I myself wanted to express therein.
2. Copy the award logo and place it on your blog
3. Link to the person who nominated you
4. List seven things about yourself that other people might find interesting
Ah well, there you have me… I can list seven things anyway. I am German; have a degree in physics; before I became an official fairy I had two long-ish term girlfriends; I intensely dislike being photographed; I had a dog named Pi; I have a fondness for white wine; I secretly think I have a really nice body!
5. Nominate seven Kreativ Bloggers
There are loads of blogs better than mine, a tiny fraction listed here are ones I particularly like.
Final Girl – an absolutely hilarious blog of a lady who reviews horror films for a living
Made In Scotland – a touching, funny and deep blog of a great guy living in London with his husband; a person top whom I owe many thanks.
Much Ado About Monty – a blog by someone on the other side of the world and ahead of me in the nice guy/gay guy/love and life stakes.
It’s All About Me – gay pagan who has adventures and seems to have a good head on his shoulders, as well as being another really nice guy…
Gay Socrates – a truly intelligent and in-depth blog of someone who has a lot of wisdom to share. Invaluable insights and feedback for someone like me
Love Gay Sex – a funny and well written blog of a gay guy in Southern England observing the facets of his life. Excellent reading.
The Coterie of Zombies – by a very talented artist, this witty and often dark blog is a doorway to all manner of beautiful and amazing ideas and images.
6. Link to their blogs – well,, you can do on the right here…
7. Tell them you’ve nominated them… done
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