Sunshine

I can't believe another month has flown by. Where does the time go, gentle reader? Well, I've certainly been busy. I had my first exam a couple of weeks ago. It didn't go as well as I had hoped by I'm harshly marking myself down do who knows? It just goes to show how much time I need to study! This is what has consumed most of my time, gentle reader, and made me a dull fairy indeed. I hope you can forgive em...

In celebration of fairyness Fella and I went to Brighton last weekend. The gayest town on Eurovision, the gayest holiday... Fella, who loathes Eurovision, was not amused! But we had a great time and somehow manged to get sunburn on the back of my left leg and nowhere else.

Unfortunately news on the job front has been less good. I know my organisation is shutting down but it seems they are in the process of merging some departments and my job is going to be cut early. As I'm out on secondment I'm not quite sure how it works. I am ready to move on to my next career move... but I was looking at next year, not this. My adopted team like me and want to keep me so are looking at how I can stay until March (if not longer) but it's a bit of a difficult situation.

The secondment itself is keeping me super busy - another reason why time to blog is in short supply. But I'm enjoying it, very much. I know I need to apply for something new soon, but it will have to wait until my exams are finished and that will be late June.

The really good news is that my dissertation survey is going double plus well. I got my 250th respondent today! I'm really keen to get as many as possible, natch, so after a positive experience leafleting in Brighton for a while I'm looking forward to doing the same at Pride in July. In my heart of heart I want 1000 responses but I think as it goes I'll get 500. However, that's still a huge response compared to some of the other surveys on which other research I've seen has been based.

So there we have it. Strumpetville is sunny and hot and life continues with its typical ups and downs. I hope your life is mostly up!

The Good Wife

In mid-February I start a new secondment in the Chief Executive’s office of the organisation I work for. It’s great to have a new opportunity – I will be focusing more on corporate governance and risk management rather than business management which will be a good change. A sideways promotion, if you will, and perhaps the nicest thing is I will be working directly for the head of the LGBT group, who has been double-plus supportive of me and other gay colleagues in the office.

It’s only nine months, but I’m very much looking forward to the change of setting, work and pace.

Of course I still need to do my project, dissertation and study for my exams, so it will be tough to manage but I know with Fella’s support I shall be able to manage.

Fella of course needs my support too, both with the physical and the emotional side of looking after his mother, and also with his own career.

He is on secondment too, of course, and he is doing very well in his role. He’s such a sweetheart it’s nice he can work to his strengths and capabilities as well as being uber-popular in his own office.

Part of supporting him is playing the good wife; where he works has lots of social and work events and it is politic to be there to support him and hob with the nobs. It’s a bit like being a politician’s wife; smile and wave, smile and wave… although as we both work in healthcare I can hold my own with anyone there. I enjoy it, but I have to be pretty and witty and gay regardless of my mood!

This weekend it was the highlight of the season, the annual ball. I went the whole hog and bought a new DJ for the occasion. As this is the third such occasion I’ve been to I saw loads of people I know; a lot of the people Fella works with have become good friends. I’m told the cheerful fairy was on top form, which is good. They do like the keep the wine flowing at these things…

I really do think it is a strength of our relationship that we are mutually supporting each other’s careers; and I’m very proud that I’ve been able to support fella in getting his career going well. Admittedly I am pleased that I get paid more than him, but every little helps as we plan for our civil partnership and our life after that. Of course we have to support each other in lots of ways, but really I do enjoy hanging off his arm at a do or two.

Invisible Boyfriend Redux

A short while ago I ran into the Invisible Boyfriend, for the first time in a long while. He was ever so nice; quite flattering really, telling me how lovely I was and how I was nicer to know than some other guys who wasted his time etc. In the end we agreed to meet again and the other weekend I went round to his place for a coffee.


It was exactly as I remembered it, from three or so years ago. Exactly. Unchanged. He’d just bought the place then and had big plans for the garden, and redecorating. I was keen to help as I recall, a Way of bonding and growing our relationship. Today; the swatches of colour are still on the walls and the project has moved forward not a jot.

I have no doubt he has been busy and he’s had his holidays and family dramas. It will be nice in many ways to develop a friendship (if it happens) with an ex (of sorts). He’s one of the few that has kept in at least intermittent contact, and being part of his life in some way has a pleasing element to it; I can be a good friend and more rounded person.

Still, gentle reader, there was a slight melancholy air to out chat. A ghost of an opportunity lost in the air, just tangibly putting a slight pall over things. I couldn’t help thinking about how my life has changed in the last few years; how many times I’ve changed jobs, relationships, house, and of course where I’ve ended up. Except of course it’s not an end – there is so much more going forward to look forward to.

What I sensed from the Invisible Ex was none of the forward look that I see in others. And of course that I hope I embody for us. I had been out of sorts most recently but have been feeling much better and more energised, mainly due to some changes at work that have presented some real new challenges but partly because it’s Fella’s birthday coming up and we have our holiday/visit to family planned.

I’m being a bit disparaging of the Invisible Ex, I think. After all one of the main issues was that he was too busy and self involved to really be who I needed those three-plus-years ago. It will be interesting to see how much we have both changed as we try to be friends. I certainly look forward to seeing who his real Mr Right is!!

Glass half...

This weekend Fella and I went to Brighton to celebrate the hen-hen do of two of our friends who will have their civil partnership in October. Fella and I drove down there on Friday afternoon, checked in, met our friends and spent the next 36 hours partying.


There is nothing quite like seeing a lesbian flail about in a giant floating hamster ball, going on a 12 pub crawl, or spending an afternoon dressed as a flapper girl to put a smile on the cheerful fairy’s face, gentle reader. We had a great time.

There were 30 of us in total, a fair number I had met, but naturally a great proportion I had not. A few gay men, a fair number of straight women – I met some nice new people and I look forward to seeing them all again in October for the actual ceremony.

Some of our friends were there too. Always good to catch up with some old favourites, including of course the hens. I was quite touched that each of them in their own way did for me a spontaneous act of kindness, from a great big hug to just checking I’m OK.

You see, although I had a great time I did realise, reflected perhaps in the concerns of my friends, that my mood has of late been very dark. You see, from time to time, despite my efforts to see things in a positive light, I will suffer from a period of mild depression.

A fellow blogger recently had his aura photographed; and I find myself wondering what my aura would look like right now. I have to confront the fact I haven’t been very happy for a while now.

Part of it is self-denial. Not having freedom of action will bring me down. I am very restricted in what I can do, job wise, money wise, even where I live for the next two years but all in a worthy cause of course.

Nevertheless, I have a nagging feeling that nothing is quite as it should be in my life; and that applies to my relationship with Fella too. There’s nothing specifically wrong, but I have a strange desire just to get away from it all by myself for a while. I suspect that’s my strong introversion reasserting itself as part of my mood. If I could change one part of myself (that I can’t change, I mean) then I would make myself more of a people person. There is a reason most of my friends are former schoolmates and current or former colleagues.

But I digress.

There is so much to be positive about; that’s what I need to remember. I’ve lost quite a bit of weight; I’ve passed my exams (hurrah); we’re going on a trip to Germany at the end of September. And of course the wonderful friends I do have.

I think a couple of days off, just here, to reboot my silly head and just have some quiet time is in order. In the meantime, you can look forward to some photos and YouTube gold of our trip!

400

A typically lazy Sunday morning Chez Frumpella… I leave Fella lying in bed (he can sleep for Strumpetville that one) put on the coffee machine and go into the second bedroom/office/my den (what it’s rapidly becoming) to catch up on my reading, and my blogging. It’s a way of being lazy and not lazy. I read, I post, I catch up and slowly drift into the job search, studying, or prep for the week ahead my Sundays are about. When Fella emerges we may spend some time together before lunch. The afternoons he spends catching up with his TV (I’ve got him hooked on Star Trek!), and I get on with my own thing, maybe go out for some shopping. Later we’ll spend more time together, perhaps put on a film or do some gardening and so the chilled day wends into the evening, a nice dinner and back to bed.


That is the life of the domesticated Cheerful Fairy. A thoroughly pleasant life it is too. 400 posts in, and we can safely say our journey is by and large complete.

400 posts. There will be more of course; much remains to be done – civil partnerships and kids/not kids and all manner of future challenges. But no more for finding Mr Right or Mr Right-Now.

No more for coming out either. But then I’m still not fully into gay culture; film, books, etc. Lots to see and read and discuss.

Nevertheless, I can confidently post this: I am, perhaps for the first time, living my own life on my own terms. Not living in a shell of someone else’s devising; not trying to live up the expectations of others; not trying to follow the herd . Nothing to hide behind, but then no longer trying to hide.

Where next then? You see gentle reader, it is difficult to compose scintillating prose when one is resolutely ordinary. But I like diarising out loud if you will, so I’m not done with blogging yet.

I clearly had something quite different in mind when I started this blog; but it quickly became something of far more use and led of itself to meeting some wonderful people. It chronicles my three great affairs, and the lesser passing fancies – too numerous to recall even if I cared to.

A lot of water under the bridge. Thank goodness there is so much more to look forward to…

Wedding Plans

We've had a bit of bad luck recently, Fella and I. I mean, in the last week, we've been robbed; my laptop completely packed up, taking with it everything from my holiday photos to my CV (I have a shiny new one now though :-) ); part of the bathroom ceiling fell in for reasons best known to itself...

Sadly the worst thing is Fella's mother has been diagnosed with inoperable cancer. She has suffered with MS for a while, and has had problems in that area because of that for a while. So no-one took any notice of the jaundice and the weight loss until it was too late. Liver cancers tend to be inoperable and are peculiar in that chemotherapy doesn't work on them. The treatment is a transplant, but you can't give immuno-suppressants to someone with MS so that's out. Recently a range of wonder-drugs have come on the market that will ensure her liver continues to function and may co-incidentally shrink the tumour. But even under ideal circumstances a primary liver tumour has a less than 20% survival rate after a year.

In Fella's mother's case they are talking two years but knowing this illness I wonder if six to nine months is nearer the mark. Dark I know but Fella and his family are dealing with this in perhaps a very English upper middle-classed way. Putting the best possible gloss on it, changing the subject, and having a nice cup of tea.

What I wanted to post about, gentle reader, was how Fella and I are advancing our wedding plans. Perhaps post a picture of the post-it notes covering the back wall of our second-bedroom cum home-office. Perhaps my tentative day dreams on what to put on my our wedding list.

Instead, our plans are in disarray. I do not complaint, of course; the circumstances cannot be helped. But what we really are looking at is getting wed very quickly, perhaps in the next few weeks - or months.

In the separate-but-equal* world of marriage we have in Strumpetville a civil partnership can be entered into without even being in the same room - one fills in a form, the other fills in his at a time convenient to him (or her of course). No ceremony required though the government has helpfully handed down a "form of words" if we really must. The logistics of the thing would be relatively simple. The issue at hand of course is getting CPd for the right reasons, at the right time. Our reasons for going for May 2013 were simply - where we met, when we met, but after my masters is finished (it was tiresomely short-sighted of love to come during exam season). Both of those options would be sacrificed...

Am I reluctant to hurry into a CP? Yes. Especially because of someone else, regardless of the tragedy. Because a long engagement suited me. Because what happens next when you are married - mortgages and pensions and the like - I'm just not prepared for.

But here we are, in a world or turmoil. Once we have a detailed prognosis and we can be sure whatever we do meets Fella's mother's needs and capabilities, we can make our decision. Still, I do want to make sure it is right for us too and that I think - deciding what is for the best for him will really be hard for Fella.

Anniversary

This is all written in the future tense as I am late publishing... hope it still makes sense!

Who would have thought it? Two years for me and Fella. Halfway to our civil partnership, in fact.


Well, on Sunday to be fair. To celebrate I have decided we will spend much of the afternoon on the Southbank – along the queen’s walk, attending a food fair, going to a photography exhibit, cocktails at Skylon, and then dinner on the Strand.

As a gift I bought Fella an antique cigarette box, and a fancy Zippo lighter (yes, he is an occasional smoker!). We’re not spending too much money this month as it has been an expensive month, what with the holiday and all.

The day itself will be quite light on activities because we will be attending a Eurovision party on the Saturday night before, and I want to allow for the possibility of overindulgence, plus I am sure we will want to enjoy the day in other ways.

Looking back over the last two years we have had quite a time. Living together, engaged, owning a car, visiting each other’s families. That’s quite a lot, especially compared to my dating days.

Of course we have had our ups and downs, and no doubt will continue to work through various issues, it has occurred to me how relatively smooth things have been for us. Still, it takes a lot of work – as it should – and not least because we hardly have any time, between the work, the studying, his career development and second job etc. One of our big struggles is to find time for each other.

...hence the plan for Sunday.

I suppose it’s positive that we complement each other so well in that we have different strengths and interests, although slowly they are merging. It reminds me a bit of my grandparents who after nearly 65 years of marriage have so refined their roles that each is entirely dependent on the other. One memory in two heads.

To be sure, there is plenty about us both that irritates the other. As it’s my blog, I’ll confine myself to things that irritate me about him (!): his slow driving; his inability to do any kind of DIY; the way he cries at any film. Well, that’s actually quite endearing. But don’t tell him I said so... Then there’s all the positives; he is beautiful, and kind, and generous, and a nice person.

Two years. There was a time when I never thought I would ever be in a LTR; but here we are. I’m quite proud overall. Of myself, and him, and us!

And we had a lovely time :-)

If I May

“I have only one ambition in life: to achieve my many goals” - Homer Simpson                       

The beginning of May catches me in a despondent mood, gentle reader. It is exam season, plus post holiday poverty is biting, PLUS Fella and I are having home related nightmares in the things-falling-apart (expensively) sense.

Nevertheless, I like to think I’m the kind of person who looks at the positive side of things, light at the end of the tunnel etc.

So.... here we are a third of the way through the year and time to take stock.

Ambition. My first (post graduate) boss – so long ago we were allowed to smoke in the office, that’s how old the Cheerful Fairy is – called me ambitious. She was a scholar of English and she thought I didn’t get she was using the older, pejorative definition.

Well, I am ambitious. And stupid in a clever sort of way, and quite lazy in the sense delayed gratification was never my thing. Hence Hogzilla Hyde to the Cheerful Jekyll!

Why the downer on myself? No-one in all Strumpetville to blame but myself of course. Story of my life.

I really dislike letting myself down but as I’ve grown I recognise the symptoms and react to my own foolishness more speedily than before. As my current boss put it recently, I am “very self aware”.

What to do, then?

I have disparate ambitions indeed and it’s time to remind myself of the need to focus!

• Body I want to be thin and fit! I have a good body, but it’s wrapped in the products of booze and chocolate. Plus a stressful full life with an equally full social life does take its toll on the skin and hair of a mildly frumpy guy approaching his mid 30s. So – time to take care. Be healthy, dress well – no excuse for going out looking or being any less than my best.

• Mind I want to get the best possible degree I can, to show that I can – I mean, I have degrees and qualifications and a career and all sorts of things, but I never had to try before. And (as if that’s not enough) I want the assurance consciously addressing all the flaws I feel I have might being; the self confidence, I-am-right-after-all, beating the dissenting voice in my head...

• Soul I want to be a worthy fiancé! A better friend, bother, son... this is an area of my life of which you will have read little and with good reason. I am an introvert, but more than that I should stop using that as an excuse to take how lucky I am for granted.

So then what does good look like?

In a year’s time

• I will be sailing through my exams
• I will have been promoted
• I will have a toned body, dress better, have better skin and hair
• I will feel worthy of my friends
• I will have saved some (more) money

And this time you get to hold me to it!

Spring

Well, spring has sprung gentle reader. The days are getting longer, the flowers are blooming... all is well.


Yes, all is well. Fella and I have gone some good way to patching things up. For quite a while there I was ambivalent at best about our relationship but right now things are looking much more positive. To help cement this renaissance we did something we’d danced around for some time... we bought a car.

A blue Volkswagen golf, christened Morag, and proudly ensconced in our garage as a symbol of putting the past behind us.

The car will make it a lot easier for us; I have already planned the road-trip to visit my mother in Germany – no more silly baggage restrictions meaning we can’t take home some nice German wines, bring gifts etc. And we can make it scenic and touristy on the way. It also means I can go to the garden centre and get some proper, plants and soil for our large balcony, which will give me a chance to indulge my green fingers.

Plus, we are soon to go on holiday to a cottage in Wales with some friends, and the car will be invaluable for that too.

Yes, having a car is good.

Having a fiancé? Well, that’s OK too!

And spring is in the air...

Actually what I need to do is make some big changes. I think recent events are the culmination of a long slow build up of pressures in a variety of areas, and it’s time for me to address the fact that in some areas I am truly unhappy. Obviously when someone is unhappy in one area then it can impact on other areas of their life.

The two main areas are my work and my health; or more accurately my level of fitness. But the headline has to be Getting What I Want.

Focussing on that will mean less leaning on my relationship for support, or using the fact that I am trying to make a relationship work as an excuse to accept a whole load of crap. Our relationship will always require effort and work, naturally; but it doesn’t mean I should let the other areas slip – or do things by myself.

I’ll bog more over the next few posts about exactly that the problems are and how I want to tackle them. But on the positive side Fella and I continue well enough and that’s a good foundation to tackle the other things.

Speed Bumps

Being relatively inexperienced at relationships, compared to people who are older or who came out sooner, it’s difficult to assess bumps in the road.


Nevertheless, I think on any criterion you might care to name, my relationship with Fella took a hell of a knock last week.

On Wednesday Fella went out with his work colleagues and had a few drinks. I myself had a hell of a trying day at work, and when work is trying it really gets to me.

I think, gentle reader, that set the scene pretty well?

Anyway, we ended up having a massive row. He had got it into his head that I found him boring, and the things we liked to do or talk about uninteresting. I made repeated attempts to reassure him but to no avail. I think this was the booze talking... be became increasingly belligerent and unwilling to accept my reassurances escalating his comments to a point where I felt the best thing to do was to leave him alone for a little while.

I went out. I came back. By the time I did, he’d packed his bags.

I’m not really the kind of person one should bluff with, it seems. You pack your bags, I’ll call you a taxi. Engagement ring returned, facebook status updated, the end. It’s over.

I then proceeded to get very drunk.

Then... the morning after the night before.

Fella was apologetic... he sent me messages telling me how much he loved me, but I wasn’t really in the mood to hear it. I wanted to know why he had behaved in the way he did; why he had to push it and push it. We talked; it broke the ice, but I remained sceptical.

The thing that won me over was when Fella told me the story of how he fell in love with me. I had always been... suspicious, in a way, of why Fella wanted to be with me. I don’t perceive in myself any qualities that would make me husband material. No-one else ever has either!

But there he was, telling me how he just wanted to date for a while but slowly and surely I won his heart and he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life at my side. That was a much more attractive scenario than being a boyfriend-shaped peg in a boyfriend-shaped hole.

We agreed to give it a go.

Since then – since then I have been somewhat depressed. I’m not going to pretend that this hasn’t changed our relationship, but it’s difficult to see how it can be the way it was. I can’t escape the feeling its a wounded animal, or damaged goods. Part of that is a reflection of the unattainably high standards I set for myself. I want my love to be perfect-and-forever love. Now it is publicly and embarrassingly human. What a let down.

When with others rows and upsets were par for the course; part of the rich tapestry of all my boyfriendettes. But with Fella it is different. I loath rowing with him, and always promise myself that it won’t happen again. I’m not that easy to get on with, it seems.

Yet somehow I can’t let it be.

So here we are. Time will tell what happens next. I don’t really know. Perhaps next time I blog I’ll be in a more positive mood. We shall see.

Up, up and away

The up side to being in a relationship are fairly obvious. At its core there is the sharing. Chores, finances, bodies, fears... it helps get through the trials of life. I have great friends whom I adore and really don’t deserve; but when in a decent, loving relationship there is someone to talk to 24 hours a day, whether it be the most inane pet hates or ranting about a difficult day at work or... the most private and difficult thing.

If I didn’t have someone to come home to I think my life would be a lot worse. For an introverted science-type who lived alone since graduation that’s a hell of a thing. Good old Rule 14 is there for a reason – meeting guys, exploring my sexuality, especially the sexual side, was a lot of fun but sooner or later having no-one really there was... aging. Body and soul. And heart.

The downsides don’t really compare of course; I mean the only real downside to being in a relationship with the Cheerful Fairy is that Frumpella comes along for the ride!

I think it is important to consider the downsides all the same; otherwise I worry they assume in importance they don’t deserve and begin to take over my day to day feelings.

So what is there?

We have to guard against dullness, slipping into a rut/routine. It’s not really a downside that it takes effort to make it work; if it were, then we’d really be in trouble. But we need to also make the effort to be outward facing, keep up with our friends.

One potential downside is that we don’t have the freedom to socialise as if we were single; everything is in consultation. Can’t just stay out all night any more!

Another, though I’m not sure it’s really a downside, is the need to take the other half into account when planning for life in the round. Before Fella and I got together I could indulge in retail therapy to my heart’s content. Now, well it’s the wedding saving, being careful with money. Being sensible. I’ve worked for four organisations since I graduated; and only with my current role have I moved from one job with another to go to. Can’t afford that kind of whimsy in Strumpetville these days.

It’s difficult to find specific and terrible downsides to being with someone. The real issue is the need to be a bit more sensible and grown up [shudder]. Cardigans, wills and pensions, oh my. I’ve never really convinced myself that I’m much over 18; though I dimly realise I can’t really continue to act like I am half my age...

Yes, it is time to settle down. I suppose I started this blog precisely because that was the path I had set for myself. Being in a relationship is a tremendous up (when it’s the right one), and if there are a lot of downsides, then... well, gentle reader, it’s not the right relationship, or the right time to be in one.

81 words

Recently I joined the LGBT society at my place of work. It's only a small group, some peoople I know, and some people I don't. It's a nice group, and we socialise from time to time which is a nice way of meeting new gay people.

As February is LGBT month and in the light of new equalities legislation that includes sexuality amoing gender, religion, age etc as one of the areas in which people have legal protection, the lead of the group put on a recording of '81 words' as one of the events for the History month.

81 words is the story of how in 1973 the American Psychiatric Association declassified homosexuality as a mental illness. It was a very good programme, and well worth listening too. It is quite high-level, so it doesn't go into a great deal of depth. But the narrator is the granddaughter of the Association's president, who himself came out as gay when he was in his 70s.

The programme can be downloaded, or you can read a transcript at http://www.abc.net.au/rn/allinthemind/stories/2007/1992653.htm

The history of homosexuality is very interesting to me, as I'm a history buff and partly because I'm cheerfully a fairy. Although it doesn't go into great detail the programme discusses people welcoming homosexuality's' classification as a mental illness, because before it was considered a crime against God.

It reminded me of a previous discussion that noted the relative sexual permissiveness of modern catholic countries over the secular protestants. This was ascribed to the scientific revolution of evolution and biology (amongst the other sciences) that made sex about reproduction and thus homosexuality aberrant. In catholic countries the balance between god and gonads gave gays a bit of a breathing space. I know that's a gross over-simplification but it strikes me as a counter-culture to the evolution of my sexuality from sin to sickness to normal life.

The programme is well worth a listen, gentle reader - at least I think so. Let me know what you think too.

The demon drink

You will recall, gentle reader, that the thing (apart from my quiet inability to manage any relationship) that brought Fella and I closest to breaking up was his drinking. Without refreshing too many dark memories, there were plenty of occasions where the night was spoiled by Fella drinking himself into unconsciousness.

It wasn't just the drinking per se, it was the risk he put himself, and sometimes me, at by being out of control. Sometimes, sadly, it just isn't safe for a gay man to be totally arseholed with drink. If he of we can't run away from danger, then the consequences don't bear thinking about it.

Now, after an incident when I was attacked at home I turned to the bottle quite heavily, but that wore off as time went on. Still, I can understand the draw of drink if you’re fragile or if, like Fella, you have a mental health problem. But, the reality is, I’m not a saint and I’m still not sure I could cope with a destructive influence in my life like a partner with a dependency.

We came close the breaking point, he and I, dealing with this issue. Friends counselled me in a variety of options. ‘A’ suggested alcoholics anonymous, as partners can find it helpful too. I seriously considered it.

He promised he would do anything to keep us together, and in many respects he has been as good as his word. The bargain we struck was that if he behaved himself on social occasions he could drink as much as he likes at home. And that is broadly what has happened.

You asked recently how he is managing on the booze. There’s no easy way to spell it out; he probably puts away 150 units a week; the recommended maximum for men in 28 (I think). So he drinks an awful lot. But he manages it. He never misses work; he doesn’t stay up into the early hours drinking the place dry; he gets plenty of sleep and eats his meals. Some days he chooses not to drink at all. So... good then [?].

Not perfect, not by a long way. But this is Fella, who wants to build a life with me, build his career, live and enjoy his life. He’s a heavy drinker – but thinking as I type I realise the distinction between someone who happens to drink a lot and someone who behaves destructively. And being able to make that distinction helps me see the problems we had are solved.

The biggest challenge for me, where we are now, is keeping my own consumption at a reasonable level. With my ongoing struggle to get my weight down and my health up, plus the sheer demands placed on my time by work and study. The next biggest challenge is vigilance, as I find it difficult still to trust him to control himself in social situations.

Nevertheless, Fella made the effort and he did it for me. How could I do anything other but love and appreciate him for it? It’s hard to imagine anyone else I’ve been with making one-hundredth of the changes he makes for me, without demanding a lot in return. You see how lucky I am?

Valentine's

Our second Valentine is coming up – it’s amazing how time flies. Last year I was more with it and organised a dinner out for us in Soho... but this year a number of factors have kept me off my game, not least my own lack of time management! However, I have managed to pull off a minor coup in that Fella thinks I will be at college on Monday night, but in fact we have the night off (half term) so I can surprise him with...


Well, something! Not sure what yet, because the plan is for us to dine at home. Unfortunately my first project, worth 12.5% of my degree, is due that day so this weekend I’ll frantically be writing up a research proposal – to show I can, before the big dissertation next year.

Work is insanely busy at the moment and so difficult I feel that I’m experiencing a significant personality change, in the sense I have to be much more assertive of my prerogatives and perspectives; demanding of others; and firm when confronted with unreasonable behaviour. Normally, big gay introvert that I am (while sober) I self effacingly tolerate a fair bit, mainly because throwing my toys out of my pram doesn’t seem like a win. I am perhaps blessed in that I can see two, three steps ahead. My experience is many cannot.

Anyway, between the job that sees me take work home some evenings and weekends, my college life, my attempts to get fit (gym, swimming, running 8k twice a week) a social life and domestic drudgery (it can be a hard life in Strumpetville, gentle reader) spending quality time with my man is hard – we probably spend less time together than we did when he lived outside London!

I’m neglecting too much I think. Our relationship is solid, because Fella understands these two years will be tough and it’s not as if we aren’t planning for the longer term. I mean my friends, myself – healthy and hard working which I like, but no me time (important for an introvert), no lie-in at the weekend, no reading for reading’s sake... And of course when I’m tired I find it difficult to listen to Fella about his day and talk to him about the things he likes to talk about, which makes me feel a bit guilty. He tends to be the one who cooks dinner, deal with the groceries, be the drudge (!)

So, then I suppose I need to find something rather special for Valentine’s this year. Absent the restaurant context, the mind is focussed on what else there is – and with the opportunity to surprise...

Flowers... gifts... champagne. What will it be? Well, I must think! Perhaps inspiration will come in a dream. Or from somewhere! Any ideas?? Either way, I’ll let you know.

Awkward

Gay! Sex!! Blog!!! Why, it's yetanothermore blog that strays from the cerebellum to the bedroom... but as always, gentle reader it is/is not what you expect.

Busy busy cheerful fairy ever, Fella and I social butterflies of Strumpetville, were with eight or so friends in the Black Prince in Kennington, enjoying a lovely lunch and a boozy afternoon that became, as these things will, more lively, bawdy and entertainingly frisky. Each of us was prompted to ask a question that others must, but must, answer candidly.

Example: what is the most bizarre inanimate object you have introduced into your sex life? Answer: electric toothbrush [don't ask - and you'll never guess ;-) ].

So, then; round and round it goes, where it stops nobody knows. Where it stops is, it turns out:

"What is the greatest number of people you have slept with in a day?"

Ah. Fella: X, the ladies round the table: Y, the other gay men: Y plus one or two. But for me it's XX.

So, the Cheerful fairy becomes a coward once more and in grand defiance of this URL declines to answer.

Ah.

XX isn't X by X... except now I think of it, it is. And the whole point of this, before it begins to look like I'm bragging, is - this is the first time I have been reticent about my sex life. I mean, coming out and exploring my sexuality publicly, as it were, is/was something I am very proud of.

God only knows I kept International coming back by using my well learned tricks. Then again that was a relationship based on sex [which perhaps, this is why I never cried that much about it]. But with Fella we have of course something more and less. Madonna-Whore-gay? Well, it is and it isn’t. An active and varied sex life is an important part, crucial even, of my... life. But I have a certain reticence about it. I don’t think it’s classy to talk about it.

Anyway, the thing about it is this. I like what I like(d) and while that’s not on the table that doesn’t mean I really want to brag in front of my fiancé that I have enjoyed my groups, parties and other events. Group sex is my favourite thing. BUT I don’t mind giving it up. I remember it fondly, to be sure, but with Fella there is something else. And it is a good thing.
So... is it prurient reticence? Embarrassment? A sense of maturity even ethanol cannot dissolve? Dunno. I suppose as relationships emerge and evolve one’s attitude to one’s attitudes and remembrances evolve too. What was good becomes awkward; memories gain a new hue. But I think it’s important not to neglect how being gay can radically change even when you are properly gay, and quite unexpectedly too.

Wedding Plans

Save the date, Gentle Reader, for Fella and I are to be married on 15 May 2013. Where? St James’s Church Piccadilly. And afterward, we honeymoon in the Maldives or the Seychelles. The guest list is going to be 60 or so people, and the total cost will be about £5,000.


There, that was easy...

As a project manager I’m dealing with a lot of the arrangements, though Fella will no doubt have a strong contribution when it comes to the aesthetics, the music, that kind of thing; his forte. I myself am less a bride than a potential bridezilla. The day itself doesn’t excite me too much yet, though that may change... the state of nuptial bliss tantalises me more.

Why? Well, it’s simple – 15 May is when we met, so we thought it would make a nice choice of date. St James’s is the place we met, and I’ve always wanted to have a nice luxurious indulgent holiday in a lovely spot like those islands... As for the year. 50% is because my exam are that period in 2011 and 2012, 40% is because I will have cleared all my debts by then and saved up enough to start us off properly, and 10% is bet hedging.

Yes, gentle reader, risk management relationship-stylie. We’ve been together 20 months, but the wedding will be the fourth anniversary of our meeting and that gives us plenty of time to grow, adapt, and yes if need be change our minds. Bad fairy? You decide!

I strongly believe gay people should have the same rights as straight people; but I also spy the advantage of homosexuality in not having to follow the cultural traditions of mortgage-marriage-children-death... so, all things being equal, I’m fine with marriage, or more accurately civil partnership or without it. But here we are, and it is a good thing we plan to do.

One thing that does get me is the civil partnership aspect. It’s kind of a separate-but-equal kind of marriage. And “oh... if you MUST” kind of deal. And that does get to me slightly. Firstly, I don’t like the idea of my rights being handed down to me by anyone. No-one gets to decide what my rights are until I start infringing on the rights of others. And marriage simply doesn’t do that.

Also, the status of civil partnerships varies from country to country. In Germany, for example, a ‘registered partnership’ would not give us the same tax status as married straight couples; we would not legally be allowed to adopt (though single gay people may, bizarrely) and we would not have final say in medical cases, say a living will or organ donation, over our respective families. This is an issue given my German lineage.

Still, I am confident that things will get better and with vigilance these distinctions will erode. And anyway the whole point is to build a life together, where I can spend my days making Fella happy for as long as he wants me

So roll on 2013...

Being Together

What is it, this being together? For an angst ridden yet cheerful fairy like my good self it is a pertinent question. Right now my man is smoking a cigarette. Our TV service is paused awaiting his return – so he can finish making my dinner, to be fair – and I am stretched out on my sofa, laptop on top of lap, drafting this post.


We have spent most of the day, he and I, in separate rooms because we’re both doing job applications. There are worse reasons to be in separate rooms of course... me and Fella recently were in Separate Rooms over his totally unreasonable bed hogging about which I am entirely blameless of course ;-)

Togetherness has of course has a more long-term connotation; as you have read this blog for a while gentle reader, you will know togetherness is the very bedrock of my sexuality. Either fleeting or, more recently, permanent. But... yes, as always that angsty but... how forever is forever?

At some point, diet and exercise notwithstanding, time will slip out of my tired hands e’re everlong I hold onto Fella’s... and as my damned soul slips off to Hell (for 97 reasons of which being gay is not even in the top 10 – in your face Pope) it will slip off alone. Fella will not be with me in that tunnel of light.

So what then? Better to be alone and await the endless sponge baths from that hot male nurse? Better to live life with your love, I think. Not quite for the moment. We are on the path of marriage and all that entails (I may even be sensible and make a will, take out life-insurance oh yes!).

But then there’s being together. I mean, what’s it about? It’s difficult to maintain the right balance of together and apart; not suffocating each other with demands for attention, and not being so distant that we have completely separate lives. One of the nice things about living together is that we aren’t confined to a timetable – we can be together or apart when we like. For the rest of our lives I think there’s still a lot of learning to do, about what being together and the right balance of intimacy and independence really are. We could be looking at 60 years, with or without the sponge baths.

Perhaps being together is developing those rituals and shared routines that mark out two lives increasingly lived as one; knowing the value of the moments we spend together so that working in separate rooms, me studying in the evenings or having to work late aren’t causing any grief. Either way I think we’re getting there. I can almost feel our relationship maturing and I’m learning to take the rough edge off all my worries. Whatever it means, I’m not sure I can define “being together” easily or exactly. But I look forward ot keeping on learning; and learning how best to keep him happy. After all, if together is on one side of the equation surely the other has to be happiness, no?

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.