Showoff

I’m quite pleased with myself, oh yes; or more accurately I am pleased with the progress of my dissertation survey. More than 250 respondents so far with nearly three months to go until I close it, which I think is pretty good.

Response rates are tapering off and I am considering strategies to increase them – not least taking advantage of London Pride in early July.  

I was worried that my responses would be limited in so many ways; demographically, geographically, etc – but it seems, in general, not to be the case.

With so many responses I have been able to dip in and perform some preliminary analyses, which are producing some interesting results. I won’t bore you, gentle reader, by going into detail – yet. However, a review of the geographical spread of my respondents suggests focussing on an online questionnaire was the right way of getting responses, although it also suggests going out and visiting various places also pays dividends.

As part of my analysis, and idly thinking about the structure and content of my dissertation, I produced the graphic below to illustrate the spread of responses.

The white areas indicate postal districts where no responses have been received. Rural Wales, Scotland and Wessex don't concern me too much - although I am surprised that areas near London like Watford and Dartford haven't had anyone take part.

It's interesting, and gratifying, to see how many responses I've got from areas like Manchester, Galsgow and Ediunburgh - where I haven't visited - and Cardiff and Brighton, where I have. I also have a lot of friends to thank for spreading the word!

I would really like to break 1000 responses, but if responses can be kept to their long term average then I should hit somewhere around the 750 mark. If I can get 500 I will be double-plus pleased. In the meantime gentle reader I think I done good – and thank you for your help with that :-)

Controversy

Now gentle reader it is not often that the Cheerful Fairy wades into the murk of politics. Very much an armchair fairy about that sort of thing. Usually.

Over the last few months Stonewall has been running ads on the side of Strumpetville’s shiney red buses “some people are gay: get over it!”. A very simple and effective message, and part of a campaign that is complemented with posters and leaflets and T-shirts etc.

But that is of course never the end of it. A counter campaign has been formulated: “not gay, ex gay, post gay and proud. Get over it!”. These were also due to be plastered on our shiny buses, right up until yesterday the Mayor had the campaign stopped.

Ensue much hullabaloo and stroking of beards, oh yes indeed.

A group called the Core Issues Trust, supported by Anglican Mainstream, The largely unsought battle between religious faith and sexual orientation continues apace, it appears.

So what’s the issue? Well, the nominal reason is the suggestion the ad promotes gay cures. We know, I think, that such ‘cures’ are utter rubbish, and if anything actively cause a lot of harm.

Does the advertisement itself claim to offer, or support, “gay cures”? No, not really. But I think the man in the street would reasonably infer that such a thing were possible, or at least that sexual orientation is mutable. And we cannot ignore both Core Issues trust and Anglican Mainstream focus on offering gay cures. Certainly the advertisement goes further than arguing, as this article in the Daily Mail suggests, that homosexuality as an aberration and as such we gayers need to “get over” our 'agenda'.

The Advertising Standards Authority, the regulator of advertisements in the UK, has come in for much criticism for not banning the ads itself. But should it? I used to work for the ASA and grapple with issues such as these. It is implausible to ban advertisements because you disagree with their content or message in principle; but on the other hand you can be so offensive that in limited instances freedom of speech can, and should, be restricted.

The ASA cannot arbitrate on this before an advertisement is run. Such a thing is censorship. If after seeing an advertisement someone has grounds for complaint, that complaint should be fully considered and a decision made in favour of one party or  the other. That is what regulators do; they are in the business of disappointing people. Not protecting them, on the grounds of some moral code nobody agreed, from things they might not like.

The timing of the advertisement, and the decision to ban it, can also not be ignored. The Mayor is running for re-election on 3 May, and up to now the campaign has been a mud-slinging vileathon with no debate about real issues. Of the party (right of centre) that is the main partner in the unpopular national coalition government, and one that is consistently considered to be sleazy and nasty, and in an incredibly diverse and largely left leaning city… I strongly suspect he’ll have swung some of those swing votes. Being sued by people who are to me clearly a hate group (although I’m sure they sincerely don’t see themselves as such, take out the words gay or homosexual in what they write and replace them with black of Jewish and see how it reads then) won’t hurt either, methinks.

Cynical? Perhaps. But should then the advert be run? Well, freedom of speech is a right for those who understand, as all sane adult men and women do, their responsibilities. We must think before we speak, and sometimes consider whether we need to speak at all. So it can’t always be absolute.

If I were Mayor of Strumpetville – or better still, king and tyrant – then I would let the advert run, but publicly and loudly voice my disagreement with its message and my view of those behind it. I would use it as a reason to keep equality, rights (and obligations), tackling hatred, and proper education about sexual health sand orientation high on the list of social priorities

In the meantime we have to accept that there are those who disagree with, or simply hate, homosexuality, and this must be tackled through open and honest debate. It creates climate of fear that stops people freely living their lives. Those, like the Anglican Mainstream or the Daily Mail, who clearly have an agenda all their own that is closer to something far more right wing and pernicious than sleaziness or nastiness must not be driven underground or simply banned. They have to be shown to be wrong.

What’s next...

Some things, once said, cannot be unsaid and cause such damage there is no going back.

So Fella made his choice; the booze over me. Well, it's a decision and – on every level – I asked for it. What else could I do? I asked Fella for his keys and advised him to contact some friends he could stay with. When I got home I packed up his stuff and put it to one side, in preparation for handing it over in over the next couple of days. I went on Facebook to update my relationship status, but somehow it felt so... final, I couldn't quite do it. I texted some friends for a bit of short term sticking-plaster support.

The Gardener, unaware of the situation, let Fella in. Rather than have him wander the streets in a drunken state I decided to let him sleep on the floor. And on Saturday morning he went to get his hair done, and to give me some space, to think about whether we should talk when he got back.

So we talked.

Fella said my new willingness to just end the relationship was, as he put it, a 'wake up call' and he was willing to go tee-total if that was what it takes for our relationship to work. I expressed my doubts about his ability to do this, as I'd asked him to moderate his consumption in the past. And in fact I would have never asked him to stop drinking all together; but I would ask him to bear in mind how much he's eaten (or not); how much other people are drinking; how he will get home safely... As an aside my illness has moved to a point where I shall soon be unable to drink alcohol at all, but that I shall post about shortly.

What needs to be worked on is the underlying cause of his drinking. What makes a man so insecure that he turns, through drink, from someone acknowledged as charming, intelligent, giving and witty, into someone universally acknowledged as a bit of a dick. What also needs to be worked on is how I deal with things and how I can support him going forward. What needs to be restored is a level of trust; we can still have a good time together, we can enjoy ourselves.

Where we left it is that we're still very much together, and still planning to move in together, but this endless cycle has to... end. Fella, it seems, wants to be happy but in a world where happiness is the default and attractive though that is we're in a place where I think it has to be worked at quite hard now.

I imagine it seems, at least a little bit, to you gentle reader like I'm flogging a dead horse. But I see quite the reverse. We have, admittedly through a crisis, reached a point where we have agreed our problems and agreed to work through them, together. No guarantees of course, but our relationship is built on a strong foundation and we have a real love I would not want to throw away. I'm not afraid of being single, but I also know how I feel when Fella walks into a room.

So what's next? Stay tuned...

C2H5OH

Fella and I have had our disagreements in the past, but they tend to centre on two things. The first is my inability to communicate well. I get terribly frustrated and this results in huffy and pouty behaviour that's not very nice for either of us, and eventually it boils over into big arguments and hurt feelings.

The other is Fella's alcohol consumption. It's been an area of concern for some time. Since long before our anniversary I got terribly anxious about going out with him where alcohol was involved. Ironically because I was unable to articulate my concerns the difficulties in our relationship were based on a positive feedback cycle where ultimately the more frustrated I became the more he drank in response until we couldn't have a good time going out at all. It's been that way for a while now, until things recently came to a head.

We went to see A Beautiful Thing at the theatre on Wednesday and the 15 or so of us who went all agreed that it was an excellent and well staged play. The evening in fact was marred by just one thing, and I think you can guess what it is gentle reader.

In order on Wednesday Fella drank the following:

• A bottle of red wine, by himself at home while getting changed before going to the theatre
  
• One pint of beer with the group before the play started
  
• One large red wine at the interval
  
• One pint of beer and one large red wine, in the pub after the theatre
  
• Finished up with a line of shots of unknown number.
  

All told not less than 25 units of alcohol. The rest of us had two or three pints; nine or 10 units at most. He had eaten, all day, two ryvita. You can imagine the state he was in...

The absolute worst thing, though, is the shots. He was with the group, talking away. And he turned to me and said he was going to get a diet coke. Of course I was fine with this, and in fact quite relieved. But he was gone for a while.... so when I went to find him he was at the bar, alone, knocking back the shots he lined up. He had lied to me.

I am concerned about how much he drinks; his family is; his friends are; his colleagues are. There isn't an alcohol dependency at work here. Fella can go a very long time without drinking at all. But his inability to enjoy a social situation without drinking to excess had at that point gone just to far.

Of course this led to a terrible row over the next couple of days and ultimately, piss poor communicator that I am, on Friday night it boiled down to a simple choice; the booze, or me.

And he choose booze.

Stormclouds

One night a week is date night. Our night. Common to couples, but for us because we’re quite “long distance” the one night in the week we spend together is important.

Usually it’s Wednesdays, a tradition that evolved because Wednesdays are Orange Wednesdays – where my mobile phone company, the eponymous Orange, gives its customers buy-one get-one-free on cinema tickets.

Last week, however, Fella wanted to make it Thursday as he would be in town after work having drinks with colleagues; and that therefore it might be nicer if I were to join him and we then went home, had a nice dinner (cooked by him) and watched a film (picked by me).

Looks good to me…

So, then, Thursday comes around and I’m a bit tired after work but I go along and a couple of hours but around 8:30 I said I was a bit tired and could we leave? Fella on his part said it would be rude to leave just then as food had just arrived etc… well, it went on to become a bit of an argument so we agreed I would leave and he would come later.

The time apart became a Big Frosty Silence between as it became apparent that he had no intention of coming home at an early hour and I became gradually more and more annoyed. I mean, this is time spent with people he sees all day Monday to Friday. We spend Wednesday nights, Friday night, Saturday and every other Sunday together [which thinking about it probably works out a bit more time, but that does include sleep!!]. I was very… disappointed (*sigh*) that he would want to spend date night with them and not me!

But, one in the eye for the Universe methinks, Frumpella did not become the passive-aggressive conniption queen. No. Quite the reverse… a bit cunning, this Cheerful Fairy, oh yes.

You would have been proud gentle reader, for I told Fella that when he got home we should talk. And that’s what we did. By and large. Voices were raised from time to time but actually the discussion was all grown up and productive. We both said out price and I think we both had valid things the other needed to take on board.

Let this blog be too one sided, let me impart Fella’s criticisms: I never want to stay out when it’s HIS friends and colleagues. I’m always too tired to enjoy myself in their company. Yet I can go out until all hours with MY friends on a whim, anytime, with no ill effects. In fact his annoyance at this very thing was the root of the silent treatment I posted about in Aggravation and Maturity – yes, I was right (!) he was giving me the cold shoulder.

But also I take his point; I should make more of an effort to join in when he’s doing things; and probably let him go out and enjoy himself if he wants to. We did both agree this gets a lot easier as and when Fella moves back to London because then things can take place as and when required.

Fortunately Fella and I are fine; Thursday night and into Friday he was very loving, and we had a relaxed weekend, eating take-out and watching Will and Grace and Sex and The City, going for long walks, and having the Us time that was the root of all the anxiety in the first place.

So there we have it. A bit of a row; a bit of angst; all useful to clear the air. But I think it does underline how our relationship is changing, settling down, evolving… two steps forward, one step back!

Many thanks to my good friend F for this video!

Vexes from exes

It had to happen sooner or later; and as always with these things it’s always unexpected. I came out of the closet and – to cut a long story short – ended up having my fun.

Lots of fun.

Lots of frankly damned good fun, as it goes.

Anyway, it turns out the Ghost of Assignations Past has a job at my current employer. It’s not embarrassing or awkward; it’s just slightly unnerving to bump into someone like that. I mean, fun is fun; but afterward the deal is you stop existing, right?

One of the down sides of this kind of encounter is that your rather fond memories of physical pleasure just so are spoiled by getting to know the person you were… with. A kind of anti-relationship I suppose. This particular guy indicated without any encouragement from, gentle reader, that whilst he might be up for fun he “doesn’t fuck the crew”.

Right then he turned from a delicious piece of nostalgia to a bit of a cock.

Coincidentally another past assignation got in touch. It was rather random, and I’m not sure how best to take it as it doesn’t seem to portray me in a good light. Now, this is someone I met a few times a while ago and it was again just a bit of fun for us both. I’m amazed he still has my number, to be honest.

A text message arrived explaining he (nice for him to be sure) has found himself a boyfriend. And, if I ever meet the boyfriend, I shouldn’t tell him that me and theis past-assignation ever hooked up.

Right…. OK. Well, my lips are sealed. But now I’m thinking: is it because I’m something to be ashamed of? Or am I so indiscreet? As if I'm likely to walk in and loudly exclaim "Hi X! I was just thinking about that time I got you with my candlestick in your ballroom". Well, in all frankness, I don’t think it can be either of those things. This guy has probably tried to convince his new beau that he’s is pure and virtuous. LMFA (pardon the pun) O!

Well if we are to be saintly let us remember the words St Augustine of Hippo: “Lord, give me chastity… but not yet”. Good luck to him say I. And mind your manners!!

The voice of love

There were so many comments on the previous post here that I thought, for a change, I could respond to them in a follow up post.

I think the people commenting on my own ramblings raised a number of really good points that really made me think, so in no particular order…

I have done that thing of judging people on their looks. Particularly when sex is in the offing. I used to judge people instantly based on their profile pic, or how they looked when I met them. I have heard this is a common trait among us humans. But then so was sh*tting in the street, and now we have plumbing… its material progress and we have emotional progress too. I know this because for being me I was only ever in the prison I built for myself.

I, I, I… Anyway, I put my own behaviour down to, firstly, having a type. Thin over large, for example. And secondly what I shall loosely terms standards; saying “I suppose you’ll do as no-one else is biting” is hardly more flattering than “you are not my type”. Don’t you think, gentle reader?

But of course, this spurs me on to try and look good – take care of my body, wear the ‘right’ clothes. Moisturise. I don't choose my friends on any of these criteria of course; and should not value their friendship if they judged me so. But my friend ‘A’ put it best when she advised me not to display those traits I myself find off-putting. This, of course, related to behaviour in (seeking) relationships. Nevertheless the lesson still holds.

So I am, to an extent, seduced by the shallower side of the gay pool. And this becomes a circular thing because Rule 5 notwithstanding, I am bound when trying to look good – to conform one might say to the Strumpetville Standard – to measure my results by the approval of others.

This in turn means I must behave differently when I believe I look good compared to when I don’t. Perhaps, then, it is true that people are merely reacting to my confidence OR I don’t mind so much that they don’t approve OR both.

It is also true that it’s what’s inside that counts and I’ve generally found that giving people a chance really does pay off in virtually every instance; maybe feeling good about looking good advertises that you are good inside? Hmm, I doubt that,

I do know that I have become more comfortable with myself and I certainly don’t try to look good for anyone other than myself – how it makes me feel. I don’t go crazy for clothes and shoes, though I do much more than before I came out. I like colours; I like wearing a suit. I’m not on the cutting edge. But I don’t think – whilst not wishing to deny my undoubted flaws – there’s much physically I should seek to change.

Emotionally? Personality? People skills? You betcha. Much work remains until... thanks for the comments. Thank you; thank you.

Vexatious like a fox

Round and round the wheel spins, and today gentle reader the dial stops at… mild annoyance. Well, it did. By the time I got to posting this I was happier. Nevertheless, it seems we have reached a point that all relationships go thorough but for which *sigh* good communication is needed.

Is there a theme emerging here? I wonder.

Anyway: Fella now has his job and that means a lot of pressure is off him and he’s got more time free not applying for things or doing interview prep. So, today, he tells me all about his plans to take evening courses and do yoga and join a gym… a veritable cornucopia of Fella-time.

Harrumph.

Not us time.

Double plus harrumph.

Incidentally the college apparently subsidises a lot of its staff’s extracurricular activity. It comes to something when there is a public subsidy for my boyfriend not spending time with me.

I work up to 15 hours a day yet I always make time for him and us; get up a couple of hours before him to finish work so we can spend more time together in the morning. Always making sure he has his cup of tea at the bedside however early I need to leave for work. Actively rearranging my work calendar around his availability.

So, yes, I am a little vexed he’s not thinking of time for us to spend together now he has time on his hands. I’m not suggesting 24/7 – far from it. In that event you could place bets on which of us would kill the other first. Maybe I’m being unreasonable; maybe I put in work and he puts up with me… that would be hard enough to be sure :-)

We do spend time together. There are the weekends and we often go to the cinema on Wednesday. On Saturday I’m going to one of his concerts and Sunday to enjoy the Regent St Festival (hopefully joined by Friend ‘A’). Friday is his leaving drinks from his temp role, to which he has invited me. But it does occur that’s having me along to things he’d be doing anyway.

Including me in things is really sweet. He doesn’t have to and I know he does it for the right reasons. But that’s where communication comes in. Rather than being Frumpella the Humphy Fairy - this is surely not a litany of complaints worth burdening him with - maybe I should just take time at the weekend to tell him I think he and I should spend some of his his new found tempus redux together, goshdarn it!!

Perhaps I’ll do it over his new cabbage strudel recipe that he’s using me as the guinea pig for on Sunday…