Small world

Christmas and I finally did the Deed and ended things today with a highly civilised exchange of emails where we wished each other the best and, for the other, essentially ceased to exist. So a slightly sad Frumpella am I.

For variety of reasons the equation: it didn’t workout = you need to not exist doesn’t appear to hold true so much for me these days, gentle reader, and I for one view that as a good thing.

Like (I imagine) most gayers who cruise online I prefer my assignations to vanish into the ether, job done as it were, leaving me free to pursue the next one, and the next one, and the next one… but as I – out of sheer laziness mostly – tend to cruise in my local area I do occasionally run into past assignations. This can be awkward though I always remember my shags with fondness and try to give a good account of myself so a smile or the occasional ‘hello’ is exchanged. And the walk to the station allows me to smile knowingly to myself (and, presumably, like a mentalist to everyone else) as I pass That Flat, or This House, or That Mini Cooper Cabriolet Where We Really Should Have Taken the Top Down First.

It can have its downside of course; I treated myself to a Brazilian chef on my birthday and he simply would not leave me alone for months afterward; passing his house daily did not help.

Recently though things seem to have moved to a whole new level. Firstly one of my friend-and-neighbour types is getting mightily annoyed at my tendency to recycle his old boyfriends [two degrees of separation]. Secondly is the somewhat startling fact that I seem to be at least beginning to exhaust my… options… locally, and indeed now need to go as far as Vauxhall and Kennington to meet new guys. An example of this is that on the train to work recently I sat next to one guy I dated, opposite one I had, erm, Met and across the aisle was one I’d been chatting to in a ribald manner on gaydar. What are the odds?

And of the guys I have hooked up with since New Year two work in the same building as me and another on the same street. With luck like that surely I should win the lottery at some point? That also involves balls and numbers, after all [my posts are most droll n’est pas?].

But, by more than happy coincidence, Academic and I are still in touch, which is rather nice and civilised; the first time that’s happened with a man. And even Mark The Invisible Boyfriend recently got in touch with me again (though I’ve declined to respond as yet).

So we have progress of a sort. A past, a present, and at least the promise of a future.

Carousel

This weekend was another busy one for me – but then these days they always are! On Saturday I saw International for lunch and we ended up in a ruined church/rose garden near St Paul’s Cathedral for a steamy smooching session. Only three days till we’re off to sunny Spain… I’m so excited!

On Saturday evening I had my exception that proves the rule date, even though I said I was going to take a month off – we’re barely half way through in fact: but as this guy was the only real prospect on the horizon I’m going to add it to the dissonance pile and carry on regardless (I know some of you think I’ve had quite enough ‘regardless’ to be going on with, but here we are).

Actually he and I got on really well. I know first dates only usually go on for a couple of hours but we met at 5 and didn’t part company till the early hours.

Being a small world I know this guy indirectly in three ways. Firstly, he’s the ex of a neighbour of mine. Secondly, he and International know each other vaguely. And finally his work brings him into contact with the former partner of my friend and former boss. Keeping up?

Anyway, at the end of the night we did kiss a bit, but Rule 1 won out in the end - it was a photo finish, though. Oh my, yes ;-)

Yes, it was a really good first date. We were so similar in our tastes and sense of humour we joked we may as well head to City Hall and get hitched right then! Well, all encouraging signs I think. Let us hope that there will be a date two. I’ve already asked him and he said yes, but then it’s gone a bit quiet… perhaps he’s changed his mind. Though I must say if that kind of first date doesn’t merit a second outing then I’m at a loss.

Academic stayed the night on Sunday but, on the down side, we ended things this morning. Mutually and with no hard feelings – we both agreed things had run their course; we really had very little in common and I suspect he found me a bit distant, which his only natural with International on the scene. I feel sad about it, but not distressed. It was the right time to call it a day.

International himself is delighted by this turn of events as he would like to have me all to himself. Somewhat selfish if you consider he already has a long term partner! Well, I still have Nick to console me – despite his annoying tendency to make a booty call in the early hours which plays hob with my sleep patterns.

Also, you may remember that my old lover new-V took me to a very special party in Brixton a while ago? Well, out of the blue I’ve been invited by the organisers to attend another one on Tuesday. But I’m not going to go. I didn’t enjoy the last one so much – an experience for reminiscence not replication. After all, maybe I am having enough regardless to be going on with.

[Nah.]

Kramer Vs Dissonance

I booked my flight to sunny Spain today; fortunately I was able to get a flight that arrives roughly the same time as International’s. I did toy with the idea of being double plus romantic and trying to get on the same flight, but that would have stretched the credulity of my bank manager to breaking point. Ho hum.

International himself skated on some very thin ice today when he demurred about my done-to-death sexual health check up. Not because there was anything dodgy about the results: far from it. But because he suddenly got an attack of cold feet when, as we talked, he (to paraphrase him) realised I was quite promiscuous and he only very occasionally strayed from the True Path. Why yes, gentle reader, it should come as no surprise that I sow my wild oats. I do resent, however, being made to feel bad when I take every reasonable step to guarantee a crop failure and double check just to make sure.

Fortunately he managed to stave off disaster by explaining how he felt nervous and somewhat overwhelmed; he rarely has affairs (for want of a better term). And I’ve quite swept him off his feet.

I called International’s boyfriend Ouch not out of disrespect but to emphasise the potential for some serious-bad fallout. Even through the jolly pink fug of my dissonance I dimly perceive I’m pushing the art of the possible when it comes to my protestations of honesty, and no wish to hurt anyone. My justification? International will never be my man, I’m not going to break them up. This won’t last forever. Yes, I may well be doing wrong. But I just want it.

And if you knew International you’d want it too.

We’re going to meet on Saturday afternoon for a coffee and to talk (not Talk, note: we’re OK). And then, next week, viva Espanya! Of course I still have my date on Saturday evening – and on Sunday Academic is in London, with me, so I can make up for being Mr Moody Pants last time. Actually he’s down here all weekend but is spending Saturday night with friends so that works out just peachy.

I was told recently that my life is over-complicated; and I’m sure it must seem this way. But the truth is I’m quite happy the way things are right now. It occurred to me that my sex-life has changed from a series of assignations, with the occasional bijou-boyfriendette thrown in, to a series of regular lovers of greater or lesser intensity. Is that progress? I haven’t missed the search for a boyfriend though I am, perhaps contrarily, all the keener to resume the search for Mr Right given my recent break…. Oh yes gentle reader; dissonance spanks it hard!

Promiscuity and desire

As expected I spent much of this weekend in Banbury with Academic. I must confess I was not good company due to the journey being horrendous and my bank deciding to mess around with clearing my clients’ cheques.

Fortunately Academic was wise enough to give me some space over the weekend which was very sweet of him. I hope I made it up to him sufficiently; but if not I intend to treat – perhaps let him have that threesome he’s been pushing for. Well, he’s been such a good distraction he deserves a little extra ;-) However, I’m not sure when I can go there next as London demands most of my attention for the time being.

Regular readers might recall my weekend fling, at about the time I started seeing Gareth, with my near neighbour Nick. That fling fizzled out for various reasons but on Thursday Nick got in touch and asked to see me. He works in finance and has been having a tough time of if lately so I think he wanted a night of distraction – and that’s certainly what he got. This meant I had only two hours’ sleep between Thursday and Friday but it was worth it! I imagine Nick and I will be catching up again soon enough; possibly this weekend coming. Possibly before.

And then of course there’s International. It seems every thought of him keeps my red flag flying here. On Friday he and I met again in Soho, and things hotted up very nicely culminating in a tryst in the early hours just off Piccadilly Circus along a street that was not quite as deserted as I had originally hoped; al fresco once again. Hmm. Well, I get too excited to care and I suspect International is too excited by the possibility of getting caught. He’s back from New York on Wednesday and I’m on tenterhooks…

I revel in my three lovers and no boyfriends. This detox business has most assuredly put a spring in my step. International did confide in me his anxiety over my (in his view) greater experience; I think we can all agree, gentle reader, there is no basis for concern. I mean, the above notwithstanding, you don’t think I’m a slut do you gentle reader? Do you? I do know International would prefer to have me all to himself – as he is well aware that he does not. Much as I am consumed with passion for him and dream of us together in the night, something that burns twice as brightly burns twice as fast. And any night, be it never so full of desire fulfilled, must surely be followed by the next day.

In the meantime I have booked myself onto the Arse Class. Oh, yes gentle reader, on 18 October I shall be attending a workshop designed to teach us gayers about better/safer sex… I look forward to putting theory into practice; because practice makes perfect.

I ride a white horse

This weekend I shall once again be heading up to Banbury for more delicious fun with the Academic. He’s a devil for making me travel all that way for a taste of man-flesh! But he’ll have to come to me the time after this as I’ve promised him dinner in Canary Wharf; after all we should do more than indoor sports when he’s down here.

So far so good on the detox – no dates…

Well, OK; both the guys I’ve written about before (one from OUT, the other from gaydar) want to meet up. I’m stringing things out as long as possible – there are still 26 days to go after all.

I should, I suppose, take the time to think about what I really want but it’s hard right now as I Kissed A Boy last night (and I liked it). Mmmm. Distraction.

Yes, last night I went for a drink with someone I met from, you’ve guessed it gentle reader, OUT. It was meant to be just a sociable thing – we’d been discussing going running together and so on. It was not a date. We met in Barcode in Vauxhall and essentially really hit it off – helped by a fair amount of beer if truth be told. And, as the night wore on one thing led to another and…

We were all over each other right the way along the Albert Embankment; anyone at home in Lambeth Palace in particular will now require little imagination to understand exactly what it is they disapprove of. What the hell; is that so terrible?

A good kisser, especially one who likes to publicly AND who knows how to work that special area on my neck… well, he holds the key to the tradesman’s entrance of my Magic Kingdom and no mistake.

It really is amazing how horny he’s made me. I haven’t been this turned on by a guy for some time. Certainly our exchange of messages today hasn’t helped keep my mind off him at all. What can I say? He’s just gorgeous – seriously – intelligent and incredibly ‘sorted’. Virtually as perfect as I am not. Perhaps he stimulates me so as I see who I should be and want to become?

The down side – well, it’s a big one. In the form of the boyfriend of 11 years. Ouch. Still, they’re, to quote: “mostly monogamous… but I need my freedom”. I wouldn’t dream of even trying to usurp – that would be bad and wrong, and fly in the face of what I myself hope to achieve with Someone someday. But, I shall operate my dissonance filters at maximum capacity and definitely see him again. He himself (the exhibitionist that he is) suggested a venue called Nudity. That sounds like a plan!

In the meantime I took part online in a sexual health survey that quite shocked me. I’m at or near the bottom of virtually every one of the ‘activity’ based questions. Though I'm careful and hence pretty sure I'm disease free (time for a check-up though) it did make me feel like a bit of a tart. If you live in England, Wales or Northern Ireland then take the test yourself – their website also has lots of useful info (and the inadvertent pointers toward certain websites and magazines are much appreciated too ;-p )

Lucifer's baby brother

The Academic came, he saw, he conquered… And now he’s gone, back to Oxford for a night on the tiles and I’m here with a nice Merlot [the diet’s going well then?] and some Norah Jones. Phew, what a weekend! What fun we had – it’ll take me a couple of days to recover methinks. It’s nice to be with someone who likes to be adventurous and whose sex-drive is as high as my own, even if that does mean indulging tastes that normally wouldn’t fall within my normal parameters.

I think I’ll be seeing him again…

Is the Academic boyfriend material? I have, in fact, 99% decided not. There is neither Soldier nor Justice flanking this Lover; but a fine lover he remains and one I shall keep, trophy like, for the time being.

In Germany you have to pay a religious tax, or tithe, of about 5% of your income – unless, that is, you can prove that you are an atheist. It seems somewhat Kafkaesque to have to prove the absence of a something that is in itself the acceptance of a thing without proof of the thing: a requirement to demonstrate you have no faith. It occurred to me that the religious demand faith in God but sometimes neglect the argument that God demands that we have faith not only in Him but in each-other. Let he who is without sin throw the first custard pie, people in glass houses might occasionally want to close the curtains etc etc.

Well, I have enormous faith in people. Sometimes too much. Sometimes, because I’m human, too little. I’m very shy (honest) and almost never trust; but I’m often touched by the random acts of kindness that I see every day, and how – as I’ve written before – when you smile the world smiles with you. So then, it is not disappointment, bitterness, an unwillingness to make that leap, or – heaven take all arguably reasonable steps to forefend – a broken heart that makes me do this, but simply the need for a holiday.

For one month from today there will be no dating, no searching for a boyfriend, no looking for Mr Right. Just a holiday. It is in fact six months to the very day that I started this blog, so I suppose that works. But (here’s the science bit) over those 26 weeks I’ve dated an average of 2.6 men per week and slept with just under half of them of them. So a break is in order, no? That doesn't mean no sex, of course - for the devil makes work for idle hands ;-)

Believe me though, gentle reader, in one month I shall be back in the saddle continuing my look for Mr Right.; because I do want a boyfriend and I don’t accept that not-looking is the only way to make him magically appear. To paraphrase a character from one of my favourite films (V for vendetta) I will have roses, and apologise to no-one.

Friendly

I never enjoy doing the domestic bit quite as much as when I’m doing it for someone else. Today I spent most of the evening (between this piece of work and that) cleaning the flat from top to bottom – including the loathsome, to me at least, task of scrubbing the floors. All in anticipation of the Academic’s arrival on Friday.

And in celebration of the calorie burning feat I had a salad for dinner, though I took the shine off that with a lurvely Australian Viognier yum yum yum.

I may yet have to manage the Academic’s expectations of Chez Moi; possibly with mood lighting but certainly with other distractions… though he is a filthy beast, gentle reader (leather, poppers, porn, bondage, threesomes, masks – I only go so far with these things myself, so it can be hard to keep up. Or not, pardon the pun ;-) )

Is he, then, after four dates and some serious bruising boyfriend material? Well, try as I might there’s nothing not to like about him so let’s see how it goes. In the meantime I have a hard-won second date with Captain Thursday, next Thursday – though getting it was like pulling teeth. So much so it’s quite taken the joy out of it for me, though I like a challenge and will put on my most seductive eyelash fluttering poses; Hogzilla in voluptuary guise. Mr Saturday sadly does not want a second date, fool that he is. I may demand that he introduces me to all his single gay friends as compensation.

Truth be told his “let’s just be friends” bit did annoy me somewhat. While I am today much better than ever at finding men I like, the subsequent knock-back becomes ever harder to bear. I try to turn my face to the sun, but my friends are generally encouraging me to take the much-delayed man-detox I’ve been promising myself. I think they’re right.

Speaking of friends; a very recently acquired ‘gay’ friend (I probably should stop classifying friends according to their sexuality) has invited me to be his running partner which is absolutely ideal given my quiet inability to shift further weight – next week the programme of wheezing and spluttering should begin in earnest!

And to end, an idea!! I read an article in one of London’s many, many free papers about a guy who handed a woman whom he saw on a train - and he liked the look of, - a note telling her how attractive found her (but without contact details etc – just a nice note). I’m really taken with the idea, and the story really cheered me. So on the basis that there’s no harm in spreading a little sunshine about, I might just steal it. Postsecret-Plus, let us call it. A new hobby, perhaps. A bit of fun; a speedy route to a black eye. High jinks!

Time

I wonder sometimes where time goes. Today I had work, then chased - as I seem ever to do - clients for actual payment, had a delivery as soon as I got home, needed to clean the place up as I’m having the bathroom retiled, then whilst baking a cake and preparing my lunches for the remainder of the week I did some of the work I brought home with me… and it’s still only Monday.

Well, fortunate then that this week I have no dates! Well, not till Friday at least. And if memory serves this is about the second or third such week where I have been man free since I started this blog. So I’m going to have a little break: a mini-man-detox if you will. Not the full man-detox that August was supposed to bring, but that month was when Gareth swept me right back onto my feet; so perhaps a little quiet time is overdue.

As for Captain Thursday and Man Saturday, I’ve invited both of them for second date next week, not this, and if that goes nowhere then so be it. I’ve done all I can; certainly [hopefully] neither can have serious complaint and in the meantime I’m not looking for anyone else.

Also, I’m on the next phase of my diet which is very restrictive. No alcohol, no men… all work and no play makes this a dull blog! But the mundane over mendaciousness for the time being, be you never so indulgent of my whims gentle reader. Well, there’s still retail therapy and catching up with my neglected friends...

Rescue comes in the form of the Academic yet again; this time he’s coming to me on Friday and heading back Saturday. He got a bit bruised by our antics last weekend but he’s well on the mend, so it’s looking like a fun couple of days ahead. Of course I now have to clean the place from top to bottom and generally make good the flat, but that never did me any harm!

Yes, date four for me and the Academic. I have developed a certain fondness for him over the last few weeks. For a while there I was keen to try having two or three boyfriends on the go, but with my history that was probably a bit of wishful thinking! I may just stick with the Academic, who knows? We shall all have to wait and see.

Patience

I embody any number of unlovable virtues but patience is assuredly not one of them. A desire for instant gratification has contributed greatly toward my tendency to get infatuated. Part of it is that (despite the increasingly strident and panic stricken evidence of my mirror to the contrary) I’ve always felt about 18 on the inside, and since coming out and the coincident, if untimely, death of my accountant have removed the only two impediments to indulging that feeling I have nothing really holding me back.

I'm back from Saturday night and most of Sunday with the Academic. I arrived at about 7pm on Saturday night, and he’d cooked a sumptuous dinner whose courses were interrupted by lots of double-plus naughtiness (I didn’t want to wait for chocolate cake). Then a lovely long snuggly lie in on Sunday morning before even more naughtiness and an afternoon in front of the tele’ with more snuggles and – gosh - more naughtiness till it was time for me to head home.

He’s quite the fetishist, the Academic, but nothing too sinister in his tastes so it was a bit of fun to indulge him. As you might have gathered, gentle reader, I’m aware of what I like and he fits the bill very nicely! Still, next time he’s going to have to come down to London so I can play the host and then indulge him all the more.

Saturday’s lunch date went very well – it was a salad, the National Gallery, and then some window shopping on Oxford Street. He had to get back about the same time I needed to catch my train so that worked out rather well. We really hit it off actually. He and I met through Parship which is, unusually, all done with psychometrics – no username, no pictures. This is the first time I’ve had a sense that it works; I think whatever happens he and I could be great friends! But I’d like to see first what 'whatever' might be…

As for Thursday’s fella: very quiet on that front. A few messages back and forth but tonight it seems he’s out to dinner, and we’ll catch up tomorrow, so that would be yet another imposition on my finite patience. Hmmm.

Actually, it’s not that bad. A while ago, though I never blogged about it (there have been a few!), I had a nice assignation with a local guy. Anyway and we recently go back in touch. It was a bit bizarre – double take “hang on – I know you…” but I’ve found before it’s a small world. Well, he kept me entertained on Sunday night, and who knows? Maybe we’ll hook up again some time.

On the serious side I don’t really enjoy the nervous “does he like me? Will he want to see me again” side of things, which is why I sometimes despair at how many guys just can’t seem to say “It’s not you; it’s me – I’m the one that doesn’t find you attractive. So thanks, but no thanks.”. This really is why I was craving distraction and entertainment tonight; the affirmation that would bring. I’m in the mood to indulge myself a bit right now - so impatiently here I sit and wait, I sit and wait…

101 Damnations

I feel I should apologise for my sometimes spelling and grammar. One of my silly self-imposed rules, like what we all has and that, is once anyone comments on a post it is bad form to change it as that risks invalidating the comment; it’s just something I hold myself to. So I now look in frustration at some of the things I’ve written knowing I can’t really fix them. I’m sorry for some of the terrible typos and grammatical gaffs; I nevertheless promise nothing for the future!

Now that that’s that and out of the way, let me tell you the results of my Experiment!!

On Wednesday I had the second date with the Academic. After a quick drink in a pub we went back to his place for dinner. And dinner was followed by muches smooches, as these things so often are, and I must admit that despite my best intentions I did let him [make him] take me upstairs for some post-prandial naughtiness too.

Yes, it was all very nice. The Academic is a great kisser; it is rare for me to have to stop someone doing something because it’s too good! But with him… well, he could have taken me kitten-stomping afterward and I still would have enjoyed his company. So naturally my clothes fell off.

Was the experiment a success? Well, on Saturday evening I’m travelling up to Banbury again to spend the whole weekend! I do hope the bad weather currently battering Britain doesn’t interfere with my travel plans. We were originally going to see each other next Thursday, but we brought it forward… because sometimes it’s nice to be naughty.

On Thursday gone there was a date with yet another guy met through OUT. As mentioned previously he and I had been flirting for weeks and when we met we did have a good time. We ended up going to three different bars and I must admit I got a bit tipsy, so some smooching was as far as it got – we did in fact shock an elderly couple with our antics after I walked him back to his bus stop.

So, again, another success – of sorts. I was/am worried that it would/will be a one-off date but it seems he wants to see me again too (we exchanged a few messages on Friday). Much as I’d love that, we shall see. He’s scarily like me, and we’ve had very similar life experiences - came out at the same age and so on. However on blanace I just don’t know; I couldn’t really tell whether he ‘liked’ me or not, so at the moment I’m trying to put myself in a mental space where I won’t be too disappointed if things don’t progress any further.

Nevertheless things overall are looking pretty fine. Especially if you consider I’ve been averaging about five hours sleep a night with this new job – I did bring papers home to work over the weekend before my plans changed. I can work on the train at least!

But before I go up to Banbury again there is – what are the odds? - another date to be had with someone I met through Parship. We’re having lunch in Soho on Saturday – well, I have a few hours to kill between swimming and catching my train, May as well make them man-hours! So I reckon there'll be more to report after the weekend, gentle reader, may yours leave you walking almost as funny as mine will.

The Experiment

So September then! And already it’s busy, busy, busy!

I started the new job today. I have a sore throat and a bit of a temperature; and I got a bit flustered on the way there as my train was very delayed and they closed the footpath on Westminster Bridge - meaning I had to play a few rounds of “Oh yeah? We’ll see who rusts first” with the traffic to get from A to B. But at B I did arrive, only a meritorious four minutes late.

I have a nice large desk in a nice large office. House of Fraser beneath me, a roof garden to the left of me, views of the most valuable real-estate in Christendom to the front of me. Very nice.

And on top of that four new clients hard on the heels of each other today – very exciting – plus a good (gay) friend of mine is keen to change jobs so I helped him with his CV; and of course my endless pursuit of man-flesh continues unabated.

Yes, a busy day! It means I haven’t really had much of a chance to have any real me time, but I love being busy so that’s just fine. Especially if it helps to pay for trips out to Banbury, and nights out in London.

And as if there wasn’t enough to occupy me, gentle reader, I hit today apon a scheme so cunning my head would explode if I even began to understand what I was thinking about.

I have (let te deums be sung in every church in the land) a second date with the Academic on Wednesday and for various reasons things have been pretty chaste so far. This business with the previous guy has got me feeling somewhat reticent about whether or not I should let things progress to sex when we meet. I’m not staying the night and it would be nice to see how things go with this one… of course, I can get far too excited to care (he is a very passionate kisser which is a double plus turn-on for me) so who knows?

But, I also have a date on Thursday. I have been exchanging texts messages with this guy for a while now and they have taken on a somewhat adult character of late – well, blisteringly pornographic really – with no real end in sight. I think it is fairly clear that we will meet at a ‘scene‘ venue, and pretty quickly heading back to his place for… naughtiness.

That, however, makes me wonder whether this will be a one night stand and like so many men I’ve met off OUT he’ll just be out to get what he wants. Hell, I’ve been dumped four times since this blog began – I’m allowed to be a bit uncertain.

So this is the experiment: one guy gets chaste, sweet, innocent good Mike. The other gets naughty, horny, better Mike.

The results will be announced in due course, gentle reader. In the meantime, apologies to Family Guy, and watch me weep for my cruel fate!

Banbury Cross

The Academic lives in Banbury. That’s fine in terms of time; not much more than 90 minutes on the train. Not so nice in terms of cost/planning. The hoops I have to jump through helps me dimly understand why long distance relationships often don’t work. One can’t choose when to travel and manage costs at the same time (one or the other; the Eisenbahn Uncertainty Principle), which means one’s sex life, love life, social life are in the hands of some outside agency – in this case Chiltern Railways. For example, Chiltern Railways seems to consider the privilege of staying the night with The Academic should command a surcharge of £27.

Actually it’s not so bad, though I wish I knew when I would get paid next so I could plan ahead – the baseline scenario I’m thinking about, pending things developing nicely, is alternate weekends (him to me and me to him). Maybe I should use the excuse to buy a car… but there’re ways of minimising the cost should things settle down into a relationship/routine.

It’s going to be tough in any event to juggle a hugely busy job, business clients (which with luck should start becoming more frequent from the last quarter of this calendar year) and a long distance relationship plus gym (honest guv’), friends etc.

Is this infatuated blouse Mike as per usual? No, no… I’m just willing to start a relationship with the Academic – so being a Thinker this is what I’m Thinking about. We’ll see how it goes. Careful planning and dollops of maturity is what this will require, if ‘this’ turns out to be something.

The first step to that is our next date; Wednesday evening and it is at the Academic’s place. He himself said he would come to me the next time “if we got that far”, as he put it. This business with Gareth has left me feeling uncertain about whether I should go 'all the way' with the Academic on Wednesday or leave it a while yet. Well, events will take their course – believe me I get far too excited to care about the proprieties and conventions; but then that may be my undoing!

On Sunday Gareth called as arranged and he ultimately explained that having had time to think he sees no future for us (despite me being very nice and his enjoying our time together). I suppose him taking the time to explain that to me does him credit; though my tip for anyone thinking about doing the same is never never never tell the dumpee you regret having sex with them (on a first date in this instance but the principle is a general one I would suggest).

How did I take the news? Rule 4! Rule 4! I was calm, though very upset on the inside. I am, in fact, quite angry – I feel robbed that someone could make that kind of decision about me so precipitately. But I suppose I haven’t got space to dwell; a new job tomorrow, the Academic on Wednesday, another date in London on Thursday and then a weekend in Edinburgh… if not a smitten kitten then still a busy bee. No time for feelings!