In-Laws

The in-laws are an unusual bunch. I suppose anyone’s in-laws will be unusual to them; it is, after all, another family – part of the package when you are planning to be marriaged to your significant other.


One of the things that strikes me about having in-laws (or soon to be in-laws) is the ordinariness of it. It never occurred to me that coming out I would end up having a normal life. Indeed, one of the things holding me back was the – entirely baseless – fear of losing that option. And part of coming out was recognising that, firstly, it was possible and secondly an ordinary life wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be anyway.

So things have come full circle and now it’s time to concern myself less with fashion and fitness and blowjobs, and more with marriage, mortgages and... in-laws.

We spent Christmas with them, as we did last year. Fella’s parents had recently moved from the house where he had lived with them to a new place that they’re still settling into. We travelled up on Christmas eve and came back on 27th. Three days... all dictated by the train timetable. Next year we ARE getting a car! Fortunately this year we were allowed to share a room so that’s certainly progress. All in all it was nice to get away and relax for a bit; nice to get cooked for, nice to get some loot!

Fella’s mother is very religious, which can be awkward... but as she suffers from MS can also be problematic logistically. She’s fiercely intelligent and adores Fella, and fortunately she and I get on vey well, so I’m more concerned about her health than her religion. Fella’s father is a world-class grouch, and he turned 65 over the Christmas break so was more cantankerous than usual. Again, we get on rather well though I secretly think him very hard on Fella. Still, since we’ve been together Fella’s relationship with his dad has improved markedly so that is a benefit.

Well, we survived, and we’re back home preparing for a quiet New Year at home. I hope the above doesn’t read with too much bad grace. Having in-laws is quite an unexpected side-effect of my relationship. It’s quite pleasant actually, and as always I do realise I’m lucky (honest, gentle reader) and we’re lucky, in that we have families that accept us and that we can do something as mundane as schlep up to visit them at Christmas time. Most years.

I hope you had a great Christmas gentle reader; and a Happy New Year!

Plenty of Fish

Below is Gypsy Moth. The third member of our little family. This is as far as I’m willing to go for the moment with Fella’s increasingly strident attempts to have kids. Originally meant to be my birthday present she is in fact the surviving member of the fourth pair we bought. On each occasion waking up to their prone corpses floating in the water caused Fella much distress so, Gentle Reade, we’ve decided to stick with just this one for the time being.


I will admit she’s quite the trouper. We’ve had her a few weeks now and she’s tolerated the condition we put her in well. Not that we’ve stinted. Special gravel; plants and a lovely amphora to swim about. Special chemicals to treat the special water to be pumped through the special filter and be aerated by a noisy box on the sideboard. We’ve gone through the nitrate cycle, the ammonia cycle, and the Cloudy Water of Fish Death. Then there’s the special food... yes, this is one pampered poisson.

How do we know she is a she? We looked it up, among the frantic Google searches about fin-rot and why the hell-crap-damn my fish keep dying.

Still, she has some personality. Before Baron von Richthofen Fish passed on (I’m sure he just did it out of spite) she delighted in swimming underneath him then rising up swiftly, essentially flipping him out of the water. Now, when she sees me, she comes right up to the glass before swimming rapidly from side to side, all the while facing me, almost like she's dancing. She clearly associates me with (special) food... It pleases Fella and I to see her swimming around her tank exploring whether gravel has magically become edible overnight.

Now that we’ve managed to slaughter half the Piscean inmates of ‘Pets at Home’ I think we’re settled. This one, the eighth one, is a keeper. We like her well.

JINX!

Bunking up

Fella and I have lived together for nearly six months now, and so far so good. The occasional row, the occasional dinner party. Domestic bliss. Some routines have been settled into well; he cooks, I iron. Throw in a frilly apron and you’ve have a scene from the 1950s.


When we only spent a few nights a week together it was... urgent in some ways to take full advantage of the situation. In a small room, in a shared house, only a few hours together it was important to be together. However, it always being the same nights in the week there was always a risk that things would develop a routine in the bedroom as much as in any other area of life. And... not having your own place made options somewhat limited for us.

Now imagine that, gentle reader (not too graphically if you please!) – me in a monogamous relationship with my man; but we’re together two or three nights a week; and our freedom of... expression is strictly limited (though if memory serves we pushed the boundaries a few times).

Now spool forward to moving in; the opportunities are endless – or seemingly so. We’re together much more than we used to be, and can arrange our busy schedules to be together much more easily too.

But – there’s a lot more to being together, and intimacy, than the physical side of things. I like sex, I mean I really do. And I’ve put myself about a bit, as has Fella. Yet every aspect of coming out, being a proper out-there gay man has been about living life, finding love, not wanting to be alone. I’ve enjoyed the experiences I’ve had... and I’ve had them. So, like dating, moving in and getting engaged, there via the process of getting to what’s next.

Having a partner who is good in bed, adventurous and enquiring, is very nice. I will confess now that I have in my time purchased one or two special items, as I’m sure most of us have, that live tucked discreetly in a drawer. Fella, to my amazement, has a drawer veritably bursting at the seams. Very little chance there of things getting stale, sex getting samey. A full and engaging sex life is and will for a long time be a big part of my relationship.

Still, the intimacy is not fully served with sex alone. Sex, as I mentioned, is great – but I’ve always found that being with one person and learning their likes and wants is a far more worthwhile investment than being with lots of people for a short time (though it has its moments).

When Fella comes home tonight I might peel his clothes off with my teeth or we might curl up on the sofa and take in a film. Both have their merits and their attraction. And the thing about being together the way we are is, if we don’t do one thing or another tonight: well, we can do it tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.

Look but don't touch...

Oh there's ever such a lot of eye candy about. I'm not the best looking guy in the world, and in fact am somewhat obsessive about the flaws in my appearance (not uncommon among gay men I've found). Still, sometimes I do feel like a bit of a looker. I compare myself to other guys on my train and think "yeah, not bad". But that's rare.

Sometimes I am quite overwhelmed by the number of great looking guys about. Certainly I often feel the need to raise my game. I'm definitely no complaining though, about the talent around.

Being in a relationship means I can take time out from the whole world of worry around - does he find me attractive? Do I look good? Will he want to date me? Will he want to sleep with me?

I like being considered attractive, and I'm not letting myself go just because I'm with Fella - I'm still very much a work in progress. But there is something very nice about being able to look without having to worry about touching. I can appreciate, for the first time, hot and horny guys. There a fair few of them about.

I don't really like very, very beautiful men - it's an unwelcome reminder of my own ordinarinous [whatever that is]. I'm not into muscle marys, very young guys, very camp guys... I do have a weakness for slim, nerdy geeky type guys. Overall, though, I like just looking. The well dressed, in shape, well groomed man.

It's an expression of sexuality, but not sex. I'm not looking to play away. That very fact underpins the freedom to look, to appreciate the loveliness around me. Coming out makes it OK to look - no more for the furtive glances. Now I can drink it in!

I think it's well worth it gentle reader. Though I might be considered a bit pervy eyeing up people who might be considered a little out of my league. It's harmless fun. Both harmless and fun.