Time

Much as I want one I’m not really sure I have the time for a relationship. That’s not an excuse, of course, gentle reader; and I’m a firm believer in making the time as needed. Nevertheless the challenges I’ve set for myself – including, ironically, getting better at meeting men both for casual assignations and as NOT-dates – do leave little room.

It’s not the plan to stop looking and sometimes I do feel I had in fact left it too late to start. That’s not because I think I’m too old, but because my time to learn ([16 + (X*3)] notwithstanding) is limited and I still seem not to have an effing clue what I’m doing.

I’m again very busy at work; I’ve been invited to make an ‘expression of interest’ for one of five project roles that are vacant under a new directorate structure. And apparently I’ve been ‘volunteered’ some kind of emergency planning role to do with the impending aporkalypse.

Tonight I arranged online various assignations from tonight through to Sunday. Tonight’s assignation, purely FYI, means I’ve slept with so far this year a simple majority of all the men I’ve ever slept with in my whole life. I’m doing well on the strumpet front, no?

So a busy [queen] bee then.

But I recently promised work and sex and dating were not the sum of Frumpella’s days. And to that end I wrote at the weekend a little wish-list for myself of activities I should do. They include:

• get involved in gay culture. Films, plays, that kind of thing;
• holiday more frequently;
• volunteer somewhere [suggestions welcome];
• go to concerts more often;
• go running.

All related to new Rule 25: if you want self-esteem do estimable things. The aim now, rather than replacing Darren with the Darrenqesue, is a normal gay life where I meet guys and things might happen or not as the case may be. That requires exploring resources both internal and not.

There is a tension in this. I’m learning to be gay in a relatively short space of time, to capitalise on what youth is left to me. I suppose this post is a thinking-out-loud way of fitting the square peg of this adjusted path into the round hole of my mind. But, in search of the effing clue, I think I need to be a bit more intelligent. Intelligence of a sort is one of the few things I’ve got going for me – that and a face made for radio ;-).

It’s not, of course, about lists and re-hashes of lists. But a square peg in a round hole can leave anyone walking gingerly.

This is a truly beautiful piece of music and I’ve searched high and low for it for months…

Erratum

I shall be glad when this weekend will be over, gentle reader. Following my fabulous Friday night the last two days have left a bit to be desired.

After my disastrous date on Saturday, and I wrote the previous post about it, a friend contacted me – inadvertently waking me from an early night; and I was very short with him which made me feel worse for being a meanie.

And today Sam was due to come over to have dinner and watch a film, though he didn’t show up, which is sad but had an air of inevitability about it.

In addition there were all the petty irritants that, when one is on a high, would normally not matter. Stormy weather undoing my work on the balcony. It taking nine times longer than it ought to pay my bills over the phone. The computer crashing. The boiler playing up…

But, on top of this – and perhaps inevitability suits both ways – today I bumped into Darren for the first time in what must be 11 months.

'Bumped into' isn’t quite right. He and I happened to be walking along the same street in the same direction. At first I didn’t recognise him. He was wearing a suit, whereas his style when I knew him was very up-to-date casual. Glancing round I am certain that he saw me, but he did not acknowledge me and instead kept walking, quickly, wherever he was going.

Eventually I tired of being just behind him and changed my route to be rid of him. I didn’t call out or try to catch up. I just let him be.

Relief, annoyance, fear, contempt. All these emotions competed for my attention. It's funny how the unexpected can change your perspective even a year after the fact. I wasn't ready to see him, not at all.

Overall this weekend has shaken my confidence a great deal. Very, very much in fact. And as these things can ripple forward I am concerned about the impact on my dates this coming Tuesday and Thursday. I was tempted to cancel them. Certainly I may withdraw from the dating scene for a while. Well, actually a couple of guys have recently been in contact via gaydar and Parship and something might, just, come of that so you never can be too sure...

Yes I am, in short, a bit battered by events. Such is life, I suppose. To tackle things I have done my introverted project manager thing and written a list of five discreet ways in which I can be a better person, as a first step forward. Frumpella shall not be defeated! Yet for now I need to keep a bit of a low profile until I feel better.

L'homme lisant

My body is like a temple: I occasionally let people in for acts of worship. Ho, ho, ho! Only joking; I’m a good girl, I am. Nevertheless tonight I had dinner with Nick (followed by a film) and drinks with International, and both were very pleasant indeed.

But here’s a thing, gentle reader: a thought.

Thinking deep thoughts is so rare for me that precedent passes from all memory - recently this blog has not been the hive of instrospection and self realisation you have become used to [hah]. But it may be back to the good old days because… something occurred to me. Something that in itself made me really stop and think.

International is an unavailable guy. He’s in a long term relationship, which nevertheless allows for extra-curricular activity and in no way is likely to end soon. Certainly not over me. And that is not what I would want – my penchant for honesty comes not from being lied to but from a genuine if not overly-restrictive desire not to cause discord or grief.

International is, in addition, an accomplished man; and achingly beautiful with it. So far out of my league it beggars belief. He has, though, some real self-esteem issues, which in part is why - whether rightly or wrongly - he’s carrying on with me.

And the sum total of that is exactly what I had with Darren. Darren wasn’t particularly accomplished of course, and International isn’t him – to compare them even superficially would be doing him a disservice.

What concerns me is that I may be repeating history, or even – God forbid – simply going through a long drawn out recovery from the events of March and April. I’m damned if this is all about getting over my first [only] proper boyfriend. I have been thinking about Darren quite a bit lately, mainly in terms of “what a/an [adjective]” but still for all that with occasional fondness.

As for International, our long weekend is imminent. And all of a sudden an attack of prudish angst about my body. He’s just so good it makes me feel really concerned about my frumpishness – and that is not helped by averaging 5 of 10 in QueerPersonals’ “Hot or Not?” competition (oddly getting either 8, 9 or 10 OR 1, 2, and 3 – never anything in-between). Yet is such things matter to me so much I should be cheered by a renewed stream of nominations to gaydar's "Sex Factor" too :-)

Thank goodness I have my first counselling session a week on Wednesday, though I remain somewhat dubious about it all. I don’t want to get into it and abandon it half-way through. Well, you and I can giggle over how silly it is afterward. If it is silly. I really don’t know...

Fin de Siècle

100 posts. Who’d have thunk it?

When reaching a milestone of this magnitude it is sometimes expected that one reflects on the past and considers the journey from there to here. So, at least in part, I want to use this post to go back to where it all began: Darren.

Darren encouraged me to start this blog, explore my sexuality, come out to my friends and family; he was my first proper boyfriend and I fell in love with him. Come to think of it, it’s almost a year since I gave in to his pursuit of me…

Of course what I didn’t know at the time was that his encouragement of me to head out on my own was his effort to distance himself from me. He really didn’t want me; I was rebound boy.

In many ways it was one of the best things that happened to me. Out and proud! Ooodles of sex! Today I’m happier and healthier than ever! I wish I’d come out years ago! There was also the dark side to our relationship, equally symptomatic of our incompatibility. The blazing rows, leading to smashed furniture and even smashed walls; and (though I never posted anything about that before) toward the end his tendency to use his fists to end an argument. Only a couple of close friends knew at the time and they were quite clear it was not OK. But I was OK with it – I’m certainly not claiming serious or sustained domestic abuse, which is one of the worst crimes. It was part of who he was, I thought, though I could never raise my hand to a partner or friend in anger. Of course it just showed he didn’t love me at all; and that he was a very unhappy man.

Breaking up – well, being unceremoniously dumped – was really rough. I haven’t cried so long or so hard before or since. A part of me is frightened that the reason I get so easily infatuated with one guy or another is that I really am looking for a quick fix to plug a Darren-shaped hole in my life; I never gave myself time to be broken hearted; never sat down and worked out what I want from a man, relationship, or even being single. Instead (rightly or wrongly) I was straight back on the horse, and rode that horse to Datesville.

And here we are, 100 posts later. Two dates pending, two other guys who’ve got in touch with me, and another one who’s recently caught my eye. Datesville is surely more fun than Dumpsville; you see I really do want to find that special someone, to love and be loved. And I do worry about being unlovable and spending the long days of my life alone. I suppose, when single, who doesn’t?

I hope you’re not alone gentle reader, and that you have strong arms to be swept up in, soft lips to kiss, deep eyes to gaze into and warm sighs in the night to look forward too...

Yes, I've embedded this once before, but it sums up the mood.

Dumped

Wednesday is date night, right? Thursdays too, often, but plans this week…

Anyway, Wednesday dawns. It's a nice day. The Appointed Hour of Fuzunjulation arrives and…

Nothing… Curious.

So, as one does, one enquires after the whereabouts of fine, fine, booty. Text one. No answer. Text two. No answer. Text three, four, five - and a couple of emails - no answer.

When Darren finally answers me we have a long and frank (voice) discussion about why he's not coming round. Apparently (and being new to this, who am I to argue?) being stood up is the nicest possible way of saying he thought he was over his past relationship but he wasn't. Essentially he’s used to being more in control, or dominant, in a relationship but he needs time to rebuild his confidence. My new-found confidence has shown him he wasn’t ready to be with someone, and he's bit scared about how I’ve changed into someone more relaxed and comfortable with who I am. And, to put it bluntly I'm not really his type.

Or, to summarise, “I was hoping for some ripped love-slave to fuck my way over my ex, but that ain’t you [Lord knows he got that right] so I’m off, with the delusion that this really is the best thing for both of us”.

Or, even more succinctly, “Even though I’m a coward, I think I can do better”.

Perhaps I'm being harsh, though. He did say a lot of nice things about how great it was to be with someone who liked him so much, and he assured me he hadn't met someone else. On the other hand, though I don't think I could plausibly be expected to have deciphered that from being stood up.

At first I was just numb and spent hours staring into space. The next morning I had a good cry and discussed it with friends, who were (as always) totally supportive. I made it into work and went out for a couple of drinks after with colleagues who were bored to the point of chewing their legs off by my relationship woes.

Then, and this is prizewinning - it really is - on the way home a text. From him. An explicit text essentially suggesting he'd like to fuzunjulate his way back into my good books and we could go from there. A tentative texted 'yes', and more explicit texts follow - certainly enough to shock the elderly lady sitting next to me (whoops). And so at home I clean, shower, change, perfume and primp except again, again, again, again gentle reader I'VE BEEN STOOD UP.

So of course now I feel like an idiot and the bottle of champagne with a bandelero of condoms, which was such a romantic gesture at the time, just seems silly now.

My relationship

Being in a committed, stable relationship with another man is totally different from being in a relationship with a woman. And I'm not just talking about the fuzunjulation of my vuduedium.

One of the things we’ve both found most difficult is reconciling our expectations of each-other and putting our relationship on an equal footing. One mistake I made was assuming that our relationship was automatically monogamous – we’ve been seeing each other for just under seven months, and neither of us has been with someone else, but I was surprised by how carefully we’ve had to explore our attitude to fidelity. I don’t want an open relationship, and as I’ve said to Darren before if he sleeps with his ex I’ll kill them both. I do, however, accept that though love, companionship and sex are the root of what I have, I can’t expect (and I’m probably not ready to give) a 100% seven days a week nothing-but-you commitment.

I’m really pleased how sensitive Darren has been to me coming out (like encouraging me to do this blog). It helped that I was honest about my lack of relationship-experience with him, so that he gave me some space and when I was ready to be with him we’d already learnt a lot about each other. One way he has helped me/us most was having us both take a psychometric test (at http://kw.guys.parship.co.uk/) designed for people who want a full relationship with someone of the same sex. Darren and I both registered and took the test, and our results showed;

• neither of us operates by instinct. I’m more rational, he’s more emotional;
• I’m more willing to conform to social norms and rules than him;
• both of us have a good combination of vivacity and common sense;
• our relationship, where we spend about ½ the week together and half apart doing our own thing suits us both very well;
• I’ve become much more extroverted;
• he’s more domesticated than I am (which surprised us both);
• I avoid conflict, and he does not;
• I react badly to being let down by people;
• neither of us is ‘passive’ in a relationship;
• we each bring out the feminine side in the other.

These results calmed us both down and made us realise we both have to work hard. I began to understand he was just as committed to me as I was to him, and he began to understand he wasn't as secure as he thought he was. But we're still passionately crazy for each-other and I love him, and I love being with him, and I love the idea of being with him more and more and more.

Here's my blog

So, here it is; my blog.

The reasons behind it are fairly wide-ranging. Firstly, there are many, many things happening out there that make me want to rant at length. So, I'd been thinking for some time about starting a blog to vent my spleen, mainly as an alternative to my friends tunneling their way out of the pub to get away in my more strident moments.

Secondly, I'm interested in a wide variety of topics and it's not always easy to find someone to talk to about them, so I can put them down here.

Thirdly, and by far most importantly, is Darren.

Darren is my boyfriend (I did originally put current, but he made me take it out. I admire his optimism).

I've been into other guys since, like, ever, right? Though by no means inactive, my sexuality was The Big Secret, and in many respects it still is (more about that later). I never had a long term relationship, or a particularly committed one, with another guy before. In fact, when asked, I always denied my feelings and claimed to be a totally straight "phwoar, breasts are great. Get a load of them puppies. Errr... hubba hubba etc, eh?" guy.

Because my gorgeous fella about whom you will be reading so much more on these pages, is just the best thing to have happened to me since I-don't-know-when (but at least the invention of the microwave oven) I have slowly begun telling people About Me. The ongoing process of Coming Out is a real real roller-coaster ride, and falling, plunging, plummeting head-over-heels in love has been such a thrill that Darren suggested I put my feelings in a blog to help me get my head round it all, and to help me reveal myself to all the people I care about (including, perhaps for the first time, myself).

So, here it is; my blog.