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!
Showing posts with label sad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sad. Show all posts
Sunday, 28 August 2011
Sunday, 14 August 2011
Strumpetvill en-flambe
Wow, when things kick off here they really go for it! Never do things by halves in this town.
I spent much of the evening excitedly texting friends and colleagues to check if they were OK; some close friends offered us a chance to stay with them if need be but we decided to stay put.
I wonder if it’s symbolic of the state of the world right now. With the economic, political and military turmoil going on right now it sometimes feels like we’re in a Weimar-hyperinflation-Poland is lovely this time of year situation. Another part of me wonders if this symbolises the emergence of the underclass; third generation under-parented, under-educated people without material poverty, just poverty of aspiration.
A couple of years ago I was a member of a residents association that covered about 420 families; a mixture of social housing, tenants, owner-occupiers; young professionals, families, retirees; a real ethnic and social mix. That worked. Mixing people together meant the standards of civility or social behaviour were so much higher than estates where so many people have been dumped. Everyone working together brought everyone up. People were incentivised to keep up with their neighbours, and people learned from each other how to do better.
Going forward as a country we need to focus on ensuring our towns and cities are mixed communities of all types of people; ethnically, socially, economically. We need to ensure that schools teach people properly and that will cost money. As will a decent prison system that deters crime but reforms criminals. The benefits system should reward and incentivises (and includes), rather than keeps poor people out of sight and mind.
That will take years. Decades probably. But they manage in Sweden, the Netherlands, Australia – we can, frankly, beg borrow and steal ideas from around the world.
In the meantime windows will be replaced, buildings rebuilt, politicians will make their sound-bites and do the bare minimum in order to make this go away. I hope the social scars will be as easily dealt with.
Fella and I live in sunny Woolwich, and on 8th of August the three days of rioting finally reached our district. First it was reported on the news and we nervously watched events unfold. Then they began to unfold outside our window. Flames leapt up into the sky and there was smoke everywhere. I wasn’t sure we could stay where we were. Drama, gentle reader, drama.
I spent much of the evening excitedly texting friends and colleagues to check if they were OK; some close friends offered us a chance to stay with them if need be but we decided to stay put. The next morning I went into the town centre, a few minutes’ walk away, to have a look at the damage. Burned out buildings and police cars; the fire brigade still tackling fires. It was a scene reminiscent of the blitz or a bombing. Even now some of the damage is so severe streets remain closed.
I’ve never experienced a riot before, even at the periphery. It was all quite exciting, in a scary sort of way. I’m a little worried it will all kick off again tonight; we’ll be battening down the hatches and Fella is under strict instructions to come home at the earliest possible time. The last thing I want is for him to be caught up in any disorder. The streets are quiet now, but the sense of menace is palpable; people regarding each other with suspicions, shops still closing early. The whole atmosphere has changed.
For me, the most important thing going forward is finding out why this happened. It’s not race, youth, or any easy label. Although the riots arose out of a peaceful protest about the police shooting a man in another area, there is no single Great Injustice that can be singled out for blame. I wonder if it’s symbolic of the state of the world right now. With the economic, political and military turmoil going on right now it sometimes feels like we’re in a Weimar-hyperinflation-Poland is lovely this time of year situation. Another part of me wonders if this symbolises the emergence of the underclass; third generation under-parented, under-educated people without material poverty, just poverty of aspiration.
A couple of years ago I was a member of a residents association that covered about 420 families; a mixture of social housing, tenants, owner-occupiers; young professionals, families, retirees; a real ethnic and social mix. That worked. Mixing people together meant the standards of civility or social behaviour were so much higher than estates where so many people have been dumped. Everyone working together brought everyone up. People were incentivised to keep up with their neighbours, and people learned from each other how to do better.
Going forward as a country we need to focus on ensuring our towns and cities are mixed communities of all types of people; ethnically, socially, economically. We need to ensure that schools teach people properly and that will cost money. As will a decent prison system that deters crime but reforms criminals. The benefits system should reward and incentivises (and includes), rather than keeps poor people out of sight and mind.
That will take years. Decades probably. But they manage in Sweden, the Netherlands, Australia – we can, frankly, beg borrow and steal ideas from around the world.
In the meantime windows will be replaced, buildings rebuilt, politicians will make their sound-bites and do the bare minimum in order to make this go away. I hope the social scars will be as easily dealt with.
Sunday, 3 April 2011
I Want
I’ve been writing this blog for three years now (can you believe it?!). In all that time I’ve focussed on meeting guy, looking for that significant other and having my fun along the way.
Actually getting that long term relationship has in many ways presented a more difficult transition than coming out. It means reconciling all the things I was doing with my life before I came out with my well established sexuality, and concentrating on life goals again wider than catching up with who I am.
It is actually a little surprising, in a nice way, that the end result of a fair amount of work, regret, trial and error is a perfectly ordinary life. I’m engaged. I have a car; a goldfish; an office based job.
But... ah yes there it is Gentle Reader, the but that prevents the Cheerful Fairy being truly cheerful.
I have had some real challenges in other areas of my life recently, primarily with work. At the end of March next year the organisation I work for will cease to exist, and as matters stand I will be made redundant. The job is really very challenging; running an office of about 30 people, many of whom are very senior, and supervising directly a significant proportion of the rest. Now, the organisation I work for has moved me from role to role when difficult projects needed someone with my dubious talent. My current role is, though, the first in a long time of business-as-usual. There’s a huge amount of work and I’ve needed to develop skills in a host of new areas... and to cut a long story short it is often unpleasant and difficult, requiring long hours working evenings and weekends just to keep up.
On the positive side I was promoted into the role based on my achievements elsewhere and I have achieved some significant successes, so it’s not all doom-and-gloom. And it has opened up a whole new career avenue, which is invaluable.
The key I think going forward, is to couch things in terms of what I want
Even writing it I hesitate, not wanting to come across as selfish – I have normally defined my career successes in terms of how well I have helped others. But there we are; it’s time to think about what I want.
So what do I want? Well, my inner project manager fairy recognises that have a defined job to do in a defined period with a defined resource is actually a fairly luxurious position to be in. I want, at the end of this financial year, to have achieved a very real cultural change where I work, including much more sophisticated programme management systems. I want to have undertaken range of training and development that positions me very well for future employment, and ideally promotion with it. And I want to have achieved a balance between my work and the other aspects of my life that will allow me to explore non-work related interests supporting my ambitions
Now, I’ve never had a long term relationship before but I know this is a normal juggling act; work and home. Between the demanding job, the studying, our social lives and last but not least supporting Fella’s own career development, there is little Us time. It would be nice to have the time to go on a date too once in a while
Oh... and I’d like to win the lottery!
I’ve never been the kind of person to have a five year plan but I have tried to keep positive and see opportunities, so having a one-year plan is refreshing and will help me avoid getting bogged down in every-day troubles. And that really is what I want.
Actually getting that long term relationship has in many ways presented a more difficult transition than coming out. It means reconciling all the things I was doing with my life before I came out with my well established sexuality, and concentrating on life goals again wider than catching up with who I am.
It is actually a little surprising, in a nice way, that the end result of a fair amount of work, regret, trial and error is a perfectly ordinary life. I’m engaged. I have a car; a goldfish; an office based job.
But... ah yes there it is Gentle Reader, the but that prevents the Cheerful Fairy being truly cheerful.
I have had some real challenges in other areas of my life recently, primarily with work. At the end of March next year the organisation I work for will cease to exist, and as matters stand I will be made redundant. The job is really very challenging; running an office of about 30 people, many of whom are very senior, and supervising directly a significant proportion of the rest. Now, the organisation I work for has moved me from role to role when difficult projects needed someone with my dubious talent. My current role is, though, the first in a long time of business-as-usual. There’s a huge amount of work and I’ve needed to develop skills in a host of new areas... and to cut a long story short it is often unpleasant and difficult, requiring long hours working evenings and weekends just to keep up.
On the positive side I was promoted into the role based on my achievements elsewhere and I have achieved some significant successes, so it’s not all doom-and-gloom. And it has opened up a whole new career avenue, which is invaluable.
The key I think going forward, is to couch things in terms of what I want
Even writing it I hesitate, not wanting to come across as selfish – I have normally defined my career successes in terms of how well I have helped others. But there we are; it’s time to think about what I want.
So what do I want? Well, my inner project manager fairy recognises that have a defined job to do in a defined period with a defined resource is actually a fairly luxurious position to be in. I want, at the end of this financial year, to have achieved a very real cultural change where I work, including much more sophisticated programme management systems. I want to have undertaken range of training and development that positions me very well for future employment, and ideally promotion with it. And I want to have achieved a balance between my work and the other aspects of my life that will allow me to explore non-work related interests supporting my ambitions
Now, I’ve never had a long term relationship before but I know this is a normal juggling act; work and home. Between the demanding job, the studying, our social lives and last but not least supporting Fella’s own career development, there is little Us time. It would be nice to have the time to go on a date too once in a while
Oh... and I’d like to win the lottery!
I’ve never been the kind of person to have a five year plan but I have tried to keep positive and see opportunities, so having a one-year plan is refreshing and will help me avoid getting bogged down in every-day troubles. And that really is what I want.
Sunday, 20 March 2011
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.
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.
Friday, 19 February 2010
Aggravation
Sometimes I worry about the state of my relationship with Fella. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to bits and while we have one or two real Issues to contend with generally things have been very good.
A while ago a very kind reader left a comment about the difficult eight to 12 month stage in a relationship, and at the time I gave it little thought but the whooshing noise our nine month milestone made as it went past has filled what might be considered a thoughtful pause.
On Wednesday Fella and I talked about where we are at the moment. We agreed that the novelty value of our relationship is wearing off – but that in itself is no bad thing. I tried to get a reassurance that he spends every Wednesday at mine because he wants to, not because he feels he has to – but that didn’t work so my fears are not allayed as well I had intended. Having said that we have a perfectly lovely evening and all was well.
The of course today, and we come to the crux of the matter gentle reader. Normally Fella and I email and text each other over the course of the day. It’s all perfectly banal; but it makes up in some ways for the fact we only have half the week or so together.
On my part it is sometimes difficult given how busy I can be at work [yawn] but I always Make The Time. Because Fella is absolutely the most important thing.
Today I emailed, texted, phone his mobile and his office in an attempt to get in touch. Over the course of the day when I hadn’t heard from him I began to get increasingly concerned – really quite worried. I recognise there’s a good measure of paranoia in there, but I was filled with all manner of dark thoughts. He’s ill. He’s been kidnapped. *Gasp* he’s found this blog!!
So, to cut a long story short, I decided to go up to the Church where he is working tonight and see him in person to check what’s up.
On arrival, when I ask, he simple tells me he was “too busy” to reply to me.
Well… good then. I’m a little shocked if truth be told. The purpose of this post therefore is not to air my dirty laundry in public – but rather to think out loud about WTF that’s all about.
I’m somewhat on the back foot; unsure how best to go about tackling what I think is pretty shabby treatment. Of course he doesn’t have to email me at all if he’d rather not. He’s under no real obligation to communicate total twaddle in the day. But a simple “I’m too busy to talk today, speak later X” should not be too much to ask. What I really don’t expect is being totally ignored when I specifically explain I’m very concerned and need to know that he’s OK.
Well, he’s on his way over here now for the customary start to our weekend. I don’t want a row, but then I don’t think I can leave it. What a tightrope to walk!
A while ago a very kind reader left a comment about the difficult eight to 12 month stage in a relationship, and at the time I gave it little thought but the whooshing noise our nine month milestone made as it went past has filled what might be considered a thoughtful pause.
On Wednesday Fella and I talked about where we are at the moment. We agreed that the novelty value of our relationship is wearing off – but that in itself is no bad thing. I tried to get a reassurance that he spends every Wednesday at mine because he wants to, not because he feels he has to – but that didn’t work so my fears are not allayed as well I had intended. Having said that we have a perfectly lovely evening and all was well.
The of course today, and we come to the crux of the matter gentle reader. Normally Fella and I email and text each other over the course of the day. It’s all perfectly banal; but it makes up in some ways for the fact we only have half the week or so together.
On my part it is sometimes difficult given how busy I can be at work [yawn] but I always Make The Time. Because Fella is absolutely the most important thing.
Today I emailed, texted, phone his mobile and his office in an attempt to get in touch. Over the course of the day when I hadn’t heard from him I began to get increasingly concerned – really quite worried. I recognise there’s a good measure of paranoia in there, but I was filled with all manner of dark thoughts. He’s ill. He’s been kidnapped. *Gasp* he’s found this blog!!
So, to cut a long story short, I decided to go up to the Church where he is working tonight and see him in person to check what’s up.
On arrival, when I ask, he simple tells me he was “too busy” to reply to me.
Well… good then. I’m a little shocked if truth be told. The purpose of this post therefore is not to air my dirty laundry in public – but rather to think out loud about WTF that’s all about.
I’m somewhat on the back foot; unsure how best to go about tackling what I think is pretty shabby treatment. Of course he doesn’t have to email me at all if he’d rather not. He’s under no real obligation to communicate total twaddle in the day. But a simple “I’m too busy to talk today, speak later X” should not be too much to ask. What I really don’t expect is being totally ignored when I specifically explain I’m very concerned and need to know that he’s OK.
Well, he’s on his way over here now for the customary start to our weekend. I don’t want a row, but then I don’t think I can leave it. What a tightrope to walk!
Friday, 11 December 2009
A cup of good cheer
I’m here at about midnight. Fella is asleep. All is quiet. Nevertheless, it has been, to say the least, a rough night.
He likes a drink; we both do. But when he’s had too much Fella becomes uncontrollable. It’s so simple to write it but…
Tonight he really got drunk and then, in the blink of an eye, he collapsed, right there. On the floor of the bar. Unrousable, his lack of consciousness led me to call an ambulance; his friends were in tears, the other customers in the bar half-indifferent, half-concerned. The paramedics came and them the ambulance. Before they had arrived a local doctor turned up; had all manner or equipment down Fella’s throat and just about managed to rouse him by digging into his hands with his car keys.
After Fella was brought onto the ambulance he recovered; but it wasn’t him. He attacked all three members of the ambulance crew; I wouldn’t have believed it had I not been there to see it. I was lucky to get him off the ambulance before they called the police. He then marches without further ado, off into the city, I have no clue where he’s going except that it is in exactly the wrong direction… this of course is when I get stressed and a stressed Frumpella is nobody’s friend! So we really rowed, right there on Fleet Street. And at the train station I got him to. And on the train. And in the taxi at the other end.
Sometimes I really dread going out with Fella, when I know he’s going to drink. I know he’s got problems, but I don’t quite know what to do. Am I a total bastard to think I should not be a slave to this? That perhaps there are limits? I'm frightening myself with such thoughts. We exist in the zeitgeist, my Fella and I, with booze... and possibly something else, according to the professionals whose night we ruined.
The thing that really hurt me most – and I’ll be honest, we both said things, is that Fella doesn’t believe me when I say I love him. But I do, I do, so much.
He’s asleep now. He won’t remember any of this when he wakes up. He never does. I might regret writing this down for all to see but I can trust you, gentle reader. The thing is, the strange thing; for all of this, I would far rather this evening with him than, well, anything else. And he doesn’t believe that I love him!!! So how do I prove my love and improve my love? Goshdarn - it's time to sleep.
He likes a drink; we both do. But when he’s had too much Fella becomes uncontrollable. It’s so simple to write it but…
Tonight he really got drunk and then, in the blink of an eye, he collapsed, right there. On the floor of the bar. Unrousable, his lack of consciousness led me to call an ambulance; his friends were in tears, the other customers in the bar half-indifferent, half-concerned. The paramedics came and them the ambulance. Before they had arrived a local doctor turned up; had all manner or equipment down Fella’s throat and just about managed to rouse him by digging into his hands with his car keys.
After Fella was brought onto the ambulance he recovered; but it wasn’t him. He attacked all three members of the ambulance crew; I wouldn’t have believed it had I not been there to see it. I was lucky to get him off the ambulance before they called the police. He then marches without further ado, off into the city, I have no clue where he’s going except that it is in exactly the wrong direction… this of course is when I get stressed and a stressed Frumpella is nobody’s friend! So we really rowed, right there on Fleet Street. And at the train station I got him to. And on the train. And in the taxi at the other end.
Sometimes I really dread going out with Fella, when I know he’s going to drink. I know he’s got problems, but I don’t quite know what to do. Am I a total bastard to think I should not be a slave to this? That perhaps there are limits? I'm frightening myself with such thoughts. We exist in the zeitgeist, my Fella and I, with booze... and possibly something else, according to the professionals whose night we ruined.
The thing that really hurt me most – and I’ll be honest, we both said things, is that Fella doesn’t believe me when I say I love him. But I do, I do, so much.
He’s asleep now. He won’t remember any of this when he wakes up. He never does. I might regret writing this down for all to see but I can trust you, gentle reader. The thing is, the strange thing; for all of this, I would far rather this evening with him than, well, anything else. And he doesn’t believe that I love him!!! So how do I prove my love and improve my love? Goshdarn - it's time to sleep.
Monday, 14 September 2009
Communication
I’m a pretty poor communicator, it seems. That’s quite a challenge both to recognise and overcome. However things have happened both in my relationship and through my work that had given me pause for thought.
I think Fella sometimes thinks I don’t enjoy spending time with him, when I really do. We have different approaches to how we spend our time together and we’re both really busy at the moment so when we can get together it should be precious. But of course, being fundamentally flawed when it comes to expressing myself, and my feelings I find it very difficult to discuss things. Odd, really, when you consider I can talk, write, post ad-nauseum… but apparently say nothing at all.
All I can do is carry on and get better I suppose. I hope, genuinely, that Fella will stick around long enough for some kind of equilibrium to be established. I am convinced of the importance of communication but I really don’t know how to. And this in turn leads to a feedback cycle of increasing frustration till things reach breaking point.
As part of efforts to better myself I bought myself recently a book on neuro-linguistic programming (NLP). A proactive fairy am I, gentle reader. I hope that as [if] I get better at communicating I can reverse the cycle and dealing with people won’t be so draining. It ain’t easy being an introvert. NLP is something friends of mine swear by and I with a bit of luck it will let me garner some insights and solutions without getting me too down about myself!
Fella has an interview tomorrow so for the moment I am focussed on supporting him and so I don’t want to talk about… talking right now. And it’s his birthday coming up so I want to ensure he has a great time. If actions speak louder than words then I think I got some game…
Still, I do think I need to focus on the outcomes I want and just learn to give a bit more when I’m with him. I want him to know I want to be with him and am always sad when I’m not. Better get reading I suppose.
I think Fella sometimes thinks I don’t enjoy spending time with him, when I really do. We have different approaches to how we spend our time together and we’re both really busy at the moment so when we can get together it should be precious. But of course, being fundamentally flawed when it comes to expressing myself, and my feelings I find it very difficult to discuss things. Odd, really, when you consider I can talk, write, post ad-nauseum… but apparently say nothing at all.
All I can do is carry on and get better I suppose. I hope, genuinely, that Fella will stick around long enough for some kind of equilibrium to be established. I am convinced of the importance of communication but I really don’t know how to. And this in turn leads to a feedback cycle of increasing frustration till things reach breaking point.
As part of efforts to better myself I bought myself recently a book on neuro-linguistic programming (NLP). A proactive fairy am I, gentle reader. I hope that as [if] I get better at communicating I can reverse the cycle and dealing with people won’t be so draining. It ain’t easy being an introvert. NLP is something friends of mine swear by and I with a bit of luck it will let me garner some insights and solutions without getting me too down about myself!
Fella has an interview tomorrow so for the moment I am focussed on supporting him and so I don’t want to talk about… talking right now. And it’s his birthday coming up so I want to ensure he has a great time. If actions speak louder than words then I think I got some game…
Still, I do think I need to focus on the outcomes I want and just learn to give a bit more when I’m with him. I want him to know I want to be with him and am always sad when I’m not. Better get reading I suppose.
Monday, 17 August 2009
Down
I have had a lovely few days recently, but there are a small number of negative things that need to be packaged up in no particular order and put out there.
On Saturday after a night out Fella and I were walking back to my place when a group of youths saw us and gave us a lot of hassle. I was holding his hand as we walked, and they spotted it and we got a lot of abuse. It could have been a lot worse but I was pretty shook up. I just kept hold of his hand and we just kept walking… yes it could have been worse but it’s sad. I’ve tried hard not to get too angry about it and be philosophical. The good thing to come out of the incident is a determination never to let go of his hand again wherever we are; and a much clearer understanding that – as ever, as ever, gentle reader, gentle reader – coming out was absolutely the right thing to do.
On Sunday I saw some family who largely live in Italy – though some live in Cyprus. They all know I’m gay and they’re fine with it; though there was an uncomfortable discussion with my aunt when she explained that if I were to come and visit – as I (and Fella) would be most welcome to do – I should be better off coming without my mother as they understand her attitudes are… complex. It made me a bit sad that these delicate negotiations were necessary, but again I’m lucky to have so many good people in my family that I get that support – not in a them/us way, but a holistic we’ll-help-you-manage way. Sadly the penalty for homosexuality in North Cyprus remains life imprisonment so I think for now I choose the sun on my heart over the sun on my skin!
And today… well, International and I are still in touch and he told me today he’s from Ouch and has a new boyfriend. It makes me feel a bit weird even though we would have split up either way and he surely never thought enough of me for it to last. The echoes of past love… I feel a bit guilty as it’s not fair to Fella; and these days he’s likely to be who I’d turn to, to talk about anything. Well, anything else. I’m not sad or regretful that International and I aren’t together. I’d be the greatest fool who ever done lived to choose anyone or anything over Fella.
Tut tut. Onward and ever upward, as they say. Walk on. Think on. Read on…
On Saturday after a night out Fella and I were walking back to my place when a group of youths saw us and gave us a lot of hassle. I was holding his hand as we walked, and they spotted it and we got a lot of abuse. It could have been a lot worse but I was pretty shook up. I just kept hold of his hand and we just kept walking… yes it could have been worse but it’s sad. I’ve tried hard not to get too angry about it and be philosophical. The good thing to come out of the incident is a determination never to let go of his hand again wherever we are; and a much clearer understanding that – as ever, as ever, gentle reader, gentle reader – coming out was absolutely the right thing to do.
On Sunday I saw some family who largely live in Italy – though some live in Cyprus. They all know I’m gay and they’re fine with it; though there was an uncomfortable discussion with my aunt when she explained that if I were to come and visit – as I (and Fella) would be most welcome to do – I should be better off coming without my mother as they understand her attitudes are… complex. It made me a bit sad that these delicate negotiations were necessary, but again I’m lucky to have so many good people in my family that I get that support – not in a them/us way, but a holistic we’ll-help-you-manage way. Sadly the penalty for homosexuality in North Cyprus remains life imprisonment so I think for now I choose the sun on my heart over the sun on my skin!
And today… well, International and I are still in touch and he told me today he’s from Ouch and has a new boyfriend. It makes me feel a bit weird even though we would have split up either way and he surely never thought enough of me for it to last. The echoes of past love… I feel a bit guilty as it’s not fair to Fella; and these days he’s likely to be who I’d turn to, to talk about anything. Well, anything else. I’m not sad or regretful that International and I aren’t together. I’d be the greatest fool who ever done lived to choose anyone or anything over Fella.
Tut tut. Onward and ever upward, as they say. Walk on. Think on. Read on…
Tuesday, 11 August 2009
Sadness
I had a bit of a rough day today. All manner of petty trials and disagreements conspired against my mood. One of the nice things about being in a relationship is that I was able to turn to Fella for *hugs*. But still, not so pleasant.
Friend/colleague/evil ‘C’ pointed out to me today that I tend to flirt with office eye candy a lot more when my mood is low. This got me, as these things will, to thinking…
It occurred to me, gentle reader, that I go for guys because I have a low opinion of myself; that I feel inadequate.
Shock
Horror
Divers Alarums
Careful thought.
God knows I like my man fun - and rarely if ever feel I get enough. Is this second hand epiphany result of my journey – perhaps my only, perhaps the first of many – between one monogamous relationship and another? Or perhaps because I had bad, bad day. Is it true? Is it??
The office is pretty full of eye candy at the moment. Goodness I do like thin tall guys, slightly nerdy, and in glasses [cue friend ‘A’?] and it is raining those guys in Victoria at the moment…
So here I am. In a relationship with a great guy; but still looking at guys wanting them to want me. See what I mean (longest standing and most gentle of all readers) about only being 19 in gay years? Goshdarn. I suppose the nice thing is I’m not actively trying to sleep with other guys (though if Fella hadn’t turned up…).
I suppose it shows how things come full circle. The whole point of coming out – when I was with Darren – was to come to terms with myself and make gay friends; explore gay culture and so on. My erstwhile heartbreak over him comes from being abandoned at the start of that journey. Perhaps I haven’t grown as much as I might suppose if I still meet gay guy guys and think “sex?” not “friend?”
Well, Rules 1, 2 and 3 are on the shelf right now so low self esteem or no it’s time to just grow up about the fact nothing can happen with guy X, Y, Z and instead… I dunno… treat them like straight-plus?
These things will have to happen on their own I think. I will admit my problems always seem small compared to those of others and that’s reason number 17 I need my friends around me – gay or straight – but at least now I know and they do tell me that knowledge is power.
Friend/colleague/evil ‘C’ pointed out to me today that I tend to flirt with office eye candy a lot more when my mood is low. This got me, as these things will, to thinking…
It occurred to me, gentle reader, that I go for guys because I have a low opinion of myself; that I feel inadequate.
Shock
Horror
Divers Alarums
Careful thought.
God knows I like my man fun - and rarely if ever feel I get enough. Is this second hand epiphany result of my journey – perhaps my only, perhaps the first of many – between one monogamous relationship and another? Or perhaps because I had bad, bad day. Is it true? Is it??
The office is pretty full of eye candy at the moment. Goodness I do like thin tall guys, slightly nerdy, and in glasses [cue friend ‘A’?] and it is raining those guys in Victoria at the moment…
So here I am. In a relationship with a great guy; but still looking at guys wanting them to want me. See what I mean (longest standing and most gentle of all readers) about only being 19 in gay years? Goshdarn. I suppose the nice thing is I’m not actively trying to sleep with other guys (though if Fella hadn’t turned up…).
I suppose it shows how things come full circle. The whole point of coming out – when I was with Darren – was to come to terms with myself and make gay friends; explore gay culture and so on. My erstwhile heartbreak over him comes from being abandoned at the start of that journey. Perhaps I haven’t grown as much as I might suppose if I still meet gay guy guys and think “sex?” not “friend?”
Well, Rules 1, 2 and 3 are on the shelf right now so low self esteem or no it’s time to just grow up about the fact nothing can happen with guy X, Y, Z and instead… I dunno… treat them like straight-plus?
These things will have to happen on their own I think. I will admit my problems always seem small compared to those of others and that’s reason number 17 I need my friends around me – gay or straight – but at least now I know and they do tell me that knowledge is power.
Wednesday, 1 April 2009
April Fool
I’m going to make a confession, gentle reader. I haven’t really been a cheerful fairy at all recently. I think it’s time to face the facts.
Just over a year ago my world was turned upside down by Darren dumping me; and I was going through the process of coming out to friends and family and, well, anyone within earshot basically. I then embarked on a never-ending] spree of dating and casual sex that led to some short term romances and, famously, International.
Right now I feel like I’m at square one. I’ve never really explained - or acknowledged to myself before now – how much I miss International. It actually has been, recently, a real struggle not to call him and try to get him back (for a given value of back of course, given our/his situation). I feel like I’m coming out to my mother all over again! And after a couple of highly unpleasant dating experiences my confidence has been shot to pieces.
History repeating.
So, not unlike last time, it took a video I found on YouTube to break through my bright demeanour. The one below has had me in floods of tears night and day for a little while now. It’s really beautiful, both the video and the song. And, in many ways, the way forward for me is summed up by the line “I’d rather be working for a paycheque than wait in to win the lottery”.
Maybe I’m over the worst and I’ll be fine tomorrow. I think things will be alright… but I am going to take the next week and 'sort my life out'. Starting with detoxing my flat and scrubbing it from top to bottom; then reinvigorating my wardrobe; and finally really getting back into regular exercise again. Plus, of course, learning how to meet guys in the Real World and taking advantage of what Strumpetville has to offer.
Of course I can’t do that until I’m confident in myself so it might, just possibly, be a little while. Friends tell me I set impossible standards for myself and consistently recently have told me the bar is too high. But I’ve always achieved what I want, even if I am a late starter sometimes… and I need to be sure I’m right. This isn’t going to work, then, while I’m at a low ebb.
I currently have no dates lined up, though one guy has asked me out so I suppose there’ll be one soon. I may leave it a week or two till I’m more settled. And I’m chatting to a couple of others via Parship and the recently rejoined Soulmates.
I’m not a total loss it seems ;-). Boyfriend in potentia, which is nice to know. My assignation this past Monday was also exactly what I needed at that point too. Oh, I suppose I'm on the mend. It’s not all bad gentle reader. Further updates as events warrant, yes indeed. And do watch the video.
Just over a year ago my world was turned upside down by Darren dumping me; and I was going through the process of coming out to friends and family and, well, anyone within earshot basically. I then embarked on a never-ending] spree of dating and casual sex that led to some short term romances and, famously, International.
Right now I feel like I’m at square one. I’ve never really explained - or acknowledged to myself before now – how much I miss International. It actually has been, recently, a real struggle not to call him and try to get him back (for a given value of back of course, given our/his situation). I feel like I’m coming out to my mother all over again! And after a couple of highly unpleasant dating experiences my confidence has been shot to pieces.
History repeating.
So, not unlike last time, it took a video I found on YouTube to break through my bright demeanour. The one below has had me in floods of tears night and day for a little while now. It’s really beautiful, both the video and the song. And, in many ways, the way forward for me is summed up by the line “I’d rather be working for a paycheque than wait in to win the lottery”.
Maybe I’m over the worst and I’ll be fine tomorrow. I think things will be alright… but I am going to take the next week and 'sort my life out'. Starting with detoxing my flat and scrubbing it from top to bottom; then reinvigorating my wardrobe; and finally really getting back into regular exercise again. Plus, of course, learning how to meet guys in the Real World and taking advantage of what Strumpetville has to offer.
Of course I can’t do that until I’m confident in myself so it might, just possibly, be a little while. Friends tell me I set impossible standards for myself and consistently recently have told me the bar is too high. But I’ve always achieved what I want, even if I am a late starter sometimes… and I need to be sure I’m right. This isn’t going to work, then, while I’m at a low ebb.
I currently have no dates lined up, though one guy has asked me out so I suppose there’ll be one soon. I may leave it a week or two till I’m more settled. And I’m chatting to a couple of others via Parship and the recently rejoined Soulmates.
I’m not a total loss it seems ;-). Boyfriend in potentia, which is nice to know. My assignation this past Monday was also exactly what I needed at that point too. Oh, I suppose I'm on the mend. It’s not all bad gentle reader. Further updates as events warrant, yes indeed. And do watch the video.
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
Testament
As I tell you why my date today did not occur, perhaps you will see why I devised Rule Seven. Or you will think me harsh and selfish. Use the comments to let me know; please.
This morning my date texted me to explain that he had family visiting and therefore at best we would only be able to have a quick drink. Wanting to spend some good time with my date I suggested postponing. However, my date demurred, explaining he is unaccountably busy for several weeks into the future.
After my attempts to negotiate an alternative met with stony silence I suggested meeting earlier than we had originally planned in order to have decent spell together. Only a couple of hours, say, but enough.
So – and forgive me at the outset for varying a policy of not quoting, but I think this way is easier – he replied:
“I think it’s best I’m honest… I always get stuck trying to work out what is the right thing to do. I met someone last week and... would [only] like to meet you as a friend. What do you think?”
I was very disappointed by this, particularly as it was less than two hours before our supposed date! I was particularly sad that he couldn’t have texted or emailed ideally well before the day to explain that he and I would only be meeting as friends. It would have been fine. And less angsty than a proper date!!
I replied that I was happy for him, having me someone, and I wished them both all the best. But that he should have been more up-front with me. And, as our exchange continued, I explained I was happy to meet him as a friend – if that is what he really wants – but that I remain disappointed.
My reticence comes in two forms. Firstly, his friendship feels like the booby prize. That, in my view, is the main reason he should have been more… well, honest, if I’m honest. I would have been happy to be his friend if he’d been clear that was what was on offer. As a consolation prize it doesn’t sit well with me.
Also, I feel there is now no foundation for trust. While I appreciate it was not easy for him, this whole ‘family’ excuse to leave early… again, it doesn’t sit well with me.
I’m quite disheartened. It does make me laugh, though, to think I’ve effectively had the shortest date ever at -2 hours. We left it at “Let me know Mike. You sound like a nice guy and I’d still like to meet you”.
I would welcome more gay friends (or of any persuasion); that much is certain. My instinct is in fact to meet him and see. Or do I remain perhaps too cheerful a fairy?
Well, gentle reader, what do you think?
This morning my date texted me to explain that he had family visiting and therefore at best we would only be able to have a quick drink. Wanting to spend some good time with my date I suggested postponing. However, my date demurred, explaining he is unaccountably busy for several weeks into the future.
After my attempts to negotiate an alternative met with stony silence I suggested meeting earlier than we had originally planned in order to have decent spell together. Only a couple of hours, say, but enough.
So – and forgive me at the outset for varying a policy of not quoting, but I think this way is easier – he replied:
“I think it’s best I’m honest… I always get stuck trying to work out what is the right thing to do. I met someone last week and... would [only] like to meet you as a friend. What do you think?”
I was very disappointed by this, particularly as it was less than two hours before our supposed date! I was particularly sad that he couldn’t have texted or emailed ideally well before the day to explain that he and I would only be meeting as friends. It would have been fine. And less angsty than a proper date!!
I replied that I was happy for him, having me someone, and I wished them both all the best. But that he should have been more up-front with me. And, as our exchange continued, I explained I was happy to meet him as a friend – if that is what he really wants – but that I remain disappointed.
My reticence comes in two forms. Firstly, his friendship feels like the booby prize. That, in my view, is the main reason he should have been more… well, honest, if I’m honest. I would have been happy to be his friend if he’d been clear that was what was on offer. As a consolation prize it doesn’t sit well with me.
Also, I feel there is now no foundation for trust. While I appreciate it was not easy for him, this whole ‘family’ excuse to leave early… again, it doesn’t sit well with me.
I’m quite disheartened. It does make me laugh, though, to think I’ve effectively had the shortest date ever at -2 hours. We left it at “Let me know Mike. You sound like a nice guy and I’d still like to meet you”.
I would welcome more gay friends (or of any persuasion); that much is certain. My instinct is in fact to meet him and see. Or do I remain perhaps too cheerful a fairy?
Well, gentle reader, what do you think?
Sunday, 8 March 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, 7 March 2009
Body issues
I had another date today.. and the phrase ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’ has never had as truer ring to it. I’m back at home, and truth be told I’m pretty upset. Very much so, unfortunately. Not the best start to my 200th post, but there we are.
A couple of weeks ago I had a couple over to my place for a bit of casual fun. I had a great time,. These things have always been a particular favourite of mine and in fact a good time was had by all. However – and I know there was no malice in this – as they were leaving one of the couple said, in the middle of more general conversation “you know… we were expecting somebody… smaller”
In my incredulity I asked if he meant shorter and no, he did not. He meant slimmer. So, after so much progress and genuinely feeling good about how I look, I immediately began to develop body issues again!
Since then I have been generally aware that I still need to work on my body to make further improvements. Don’t get me wrong: I actually do like what I see in the mirror but I think I have paid the price for resting on my laurels. And grazing on snacks in the office. Tut, tut.
I had very good friends over to mine last night for a not very good dinner prepared by yours truly - but they provided some marvellous wine, and excellent company so I really enjoyed myself. One thing that these friends; people I came out to a year ago, explained is that I am neither straight acting or looking – hence the lack of surprise on their part at my being a gayer. Yet over the last year I have, I think, made great strides, in becoming a fully paid up self-respecting homosexual. More about what I feel inside than out.
Hence it is very disappointing to be so sad – so badly affected really, by one bad date. Yes, I liked him; the guy who likes ‘older men’. But he was most emphatic about not liking me. To be honest the thing that hurt me most was that he is good looking, funny, charming, outgoing, stylish… he meets every standard that I would wish to measure myself against, not necessarily any future partner.
So I feel, overall, that I am back at square one, wondering what it is about me that no-one, no-one at all wants any part of. Frumpella indeed, ugly and dull but not so much a cheerful fairly today gentle reader.
Friday, 13 February 2009
Frumpella Interrupted
With perfect timing – as I was just beginning to move forward – International got in touch.
He sent me a very long, carefully worded and very sweet message explaining how, though he does not want to get back together, he still loves me; and how much he feels for me in a number of ways.
I was chatting to a friend of mine when the message came through, and it just happened to catch my eye but somehow I just knew this message (we’ve remained in touch since The Split) was somehow portentous…
After a quick glance at the content I simply couldn’t talk to my friend any more so left the conversation and headed off to get some wine, instinctively feeling this would take time and booze to assimilate. And so, sitting quite uncomfortably, I began.
It really was a sweet message, recognising that we couldn’t carry on while he was in another relationship he had no intention of ending; and that in his view I deserve someone who could give me 100% of himself 100% of the time.
I wish I could post the message here… but I shan’t because it is not fair on him. And the same holds true of my reply. But in response I did say that as he still loves me so I love him and the process of splitting up is still one we both have to come to terms with. And as for me, I feel in many ways he was too good for me and he deserves every happiness.
It remains to be seen whether we shall truly become friends. International and Darren are probably he only true relationships I’ve had in the last year – or ever when it comes to men; my constant infatuations with this guy or that in the meantime notwithstanding. So it’s not easy for me to understand what is happening or will happen as the two Endings are completely different.
For some reason, strange enough to me to mention here, I’m really angry with Darren. I vaguely suspect he either should have broken up with me properly or not at all… odd though. And I also seem to want to talk to my mother, though relations have been somewhat strained since I came out to her – immediately after Darren abandoned me, actually. Hmm.
As for the rest, I am very very sad tonight which is a pity as otherwise things have been going rather well (and I don’t mean sex, for a change; more about this later )
So forgive me if I stick two fingers up at Valentines Day this year, gentle reader. It’s the Cheerful Fairy’s night off!
He sent me a very long, carefully worded and very sweet message explaining how, though he does not want to get back together, he still loves me; and how much he feels for me in a number of ways.
I was chatting to a friend of mine when the message came through, and it just happened to catch my eye but somehow I just knew this message (we’ve remained in touch since The Split) was somehow portentous…
After a quick glance at the content I simply couldn’t talk to my friend any more so left the conversation and headed off to get some wine, instinctively feeling this would take time and booze to assimilate. And so, sitting quite uncomfortably, I began.
It really was a sweet message, recognising that we couldn’t carry on while he was in another relationship he had no intention of ending; and that in his view I deserve someone who could give me 100% of himself 100% of the time.
I wish I could post the message here… but I shan’t because it is not fair on him. And the same holds true of my reply. But in response I did say that as he still loves me so I love him and the process of splitting up is still one we both have to come to terms with. And as for me, I feel in many ways he was too good for me and he deserves every happiness.
It remains to be seen whether we shall truly become friends. International and Darren are probably he only true relationships I’ve had in the last year – or ever when it comes to men; my constant infatuations with this guy or that in the meantime notwithstanding. So it’s not easy for me to understand what is happening or will happen as the two Endings are completely different.
For some reason, strange enough to me to mention here, I’m really angry with Darren. I vaguely suspect he either should have broken up with me properly or not at all… odd though. And I also seem to want to talk to my mother, though relations have been somewhat strained since I came out to her – immediately after Darren abandoned me, actually. Hmm.
As for the rest, I am very very sad tonight which is a pity as otherwise things have been going rather well (and I don’t mean sex, for a change; more about this later )
So forgive me if I stick two fingers up at Valentines Day this year, gentle reader. It’s the Cheerful Fairy’s night off!
Sunday, 8 February 2009
75
I don’t know quite how to describe my low mood at the moment. I’m afflicted by some kind of ennui and while I’m dissatisfied with my state I am not motivated to do anything about it.
This is no way for the Cheerful Fairy to behave!
So being at a loose end and, somewhat unusually, not really in the mood to hook up with anyone, I thought I would write about things about which this Fairy can be cheerful:
75: I am at my target ideal weight of 75kg (11 stone and 11 pounds); hurrah. That means since starting this blog I’ve lost nearly 17 kilos. (2 stone and 8 pounds). And boy do I like what I see in the mirror!
It’s all bound up with coming out I suppose because (a) I’m looking after myself properly and (b) I’m happier with myself generally, but I really do like my body now. I toyed with the idea of shaving off my body hair to show off the rippling gorgeousness that is yours truly but decided on balance not to as guys seem to go crazy over my furry tummy ;-). So I’m really into being and keeping fit and that onward goes into nice clothes and shoes and so forth; trying to be attractive properly.
50 is another number that we can put squarely in the cheerful camp as this weekend marked fella number 50 since I broke up with Darren. You might or might not consider it a figure to boast about, gentle reader; that’s not what I’m trying to do. But I am secretly pleased because it shows that some people find me attractive at least some of the time.
Put the two together and I’m much happier because I like what I see; evidently other people like what I see; and so a rather shy and introverted closet case becomes more outgoing and confident. Much work remains to be done of course and sometimes in my darker moments I wonder how wide the streak of cowardice running through me really is…
At the end of the day there is nothing about me or my situation that is not entirely within my power to resolve. I probably need to stop being a bit scared and lazy about things and seize the moment a bit more. At the present time I’m not focussed on looking for Mr Right (though I should not say No were he to present himself, with his papers in order, for inspection). Yet there are other things I want to focus for a while. Other things to keep me cheerful!
Saturday, 31 January 2009
NOT dating
I’ve tried half a dozen times to start this post so I think the only way to begin is to explain I can’t seem to find the words to start it proper. Sorry about that gentle reader; bear with me as I try and pull my thoughts together…
Mild confusion I suppose is my defining characteristic at the moment. And the reason for that is:
International and I met on Wednesday. It is hard to believe it had been a month since we’d last made love but we made up for lost time – and in the nice, candlelit dinner fine wine romantic way too. So I really have to admit I surprised myself when, shortly after midnight, I initiated a conversation that resulted in me breaking up with him.
I can’t quite remember word for word what was discussed. But I do remember explaining that I know he was never going to leave Ouch or make the change in his life to be with me; and even if he and Ouch did split up (as International constantly alluded they might) it would not – and should not - be for me or because of me. And at the same time I cannot have “it’s complicated” as my Facebook relationship status forever. I’m 31 and one of my deepest fears is that I’ve sacrificed the best of me pretending to be someone I’m not. Therefore the open ended other-woman situation cannot stand.
A few days later and the thing that sticks most in my mind about International is his placid acceptance of what I said. His failure – refusal, even – to fight for us or what we had. This may be because it hasn’t fully sunk in yet; I have deliberately Put It Away until I had some time to digest and really think (being a Thinker). Perhaps other things will come to the fore when I really give this thing the time it deserves.
I found myself today thinking about the last time we made love and caught myself with a big grin all over my face. And God knows I do love him still – strangely in the short term I suspect this made the deed easier not harder. Right now I’m struggling not to go “I made a terrible mistake. Rewind! Rewind!!”
But there is much to be done before I can announce my total failure to get over him. I need to think about how we were totally versatile in bed; how I flew across a continent to be with him for the first time; all the silly things we did I hadn’t done before…
Well, it is done, and putting it in writing so that my eyes, connected as they are to (amongst other things) my brain, can see and my brain can think will help. As will going out with a good, good friend tonight and getting very, very drunk.
Monday, 6 October 2008
The Rain in Spain
I’m back from Spain gentle reader. The plane landed at 3:00 this morning so I am back, and I am very tired.
Everything about this long weekend was simply wonderful. Not a thought to the real world, beyond the confines of that little villa and its views of the sea. Just long days and nights of romance and passion; from swimming together in the clear blue seas of the Mediterranean to making love in the mountains above it, it was an idyll that ended too soon. The weather was perfect, the scenery stunning; sun filled blue skies and warm fragrant moonlit nights alive with crickets and cicadas. We explored ruined castles and tiny villages and I even overcame my shyness to join International on the gay nudist beach! We hired a little yellow car and drove around the empty roads to different places for lunch every day; all through Andalusia and Granada – though breakfast and dinner were always back at the villa ;-) I’ve spent every penny I had.
It was, in short, pretty much perfect - though International’s enthusiasm has caused some inconvenient injuries; and in fact he tried something I’d never done before and I rather wish he had asked permission in the first instance.
Nevertheless I forgive him utterly. It’s been such a long time since I was seriously romanced and I miss it already. And I miss International. He is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever met and his body is gorgeous – watching him wander around the villa with nothing but a glass of wine or a cup of coffee was like watching an advert for wine or coffee. One that couldn’t be shown until the very late evening. How he could have tolerated the Hogzilla frumporama for so long eludes me.
So as you will understand, I am very sad to be back today, and in fact have been pretty tearful all of the day. Not being with him now is something I find painful. Of course during our time together we Talked, and - as I had always known - there is no prospect of coming between International and Ouch (which is a good thing) and that we may not in fact see each other again after this brief romance. And if we do it is likely to be just as friends. We may even ends up running together as was the original plan before horizontal jogging became our sport.
I went into this with my eyes as wide open as could make them – I only have myself to blame if the downside has a downside – so no maudlin posts from me. Though tonight for me I think a quiet night in with some DVD’s, a duvet and some white wine. And if anyone’s around a hug is always welcome.
This song I heard for the first time in Spain... it captures my mood perfectly
Everything about this long weekend was simply wonderful. Not a thought to the real world, beyond the confines of that little villa and its views of the sea. Just long days and nights of romance and passion; from swimming together in the clear blue seas of the Mediterranean to making love in the mountains above it, it was an idyll that ended too soon. The weather was perfect, the scenery stunning; sun filled blue skies and warm fragrant moonlit nights alive with crickets and cicadas. We explored ruined castles and tiny villages and I even overcame my shyness to join International on the gay nudist beach! We hired a little yellow car and drove around the empty roads to different places for lunch every day; all through Andalusia and Granada – though breakfast and dinner were always back at the villa ;-) I’ve spent every penny I had.
It was, in short, pretty much perfect - though International’s enthusiasm has caused some inconvenient injuries; and in fact he tried something I’d never done before and I rather wish he had asked permission in the first instance.
Nevertheless I forgive him utterly. It’s been such a long time since I was seriously romanced and I miss it already. And I miss International. He is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever met and his body is gorgeous – watching him wander around the villa with nothing but a glass of wine or a cup of coffee was like watching an advert for wine or coffee. One that couldn’t be shown until the very late evening. How he could have tolerated the Hogzilla frumporama for so long eludes me.
So as you will understand, I am very sad to be back today, and in fact have been pretty tearful all of the day. Not being with him now is something I find painful. Of course during our time together we Talked, and - as I had always known - there is no prospect of coming between International and Ouch (which is a good thing) and that we may not in fact see each other again after this brief romance. And if we do it is likely to be just as friends. We may even ends up running together as was the original plan before horizontal jogging became our sport.
I went into this with my eyes as wide open as could make them – I only have myself to blame if the downside has a downside – so no maudlin posts from me. Though tonight for me I think a quiet night in with some DVD’s, a duvet and some white wine. And if anyone’s around a hug is always welcome.
This song I heard for the first time in Spain... it captures my mood perfectly
Wednesday, 1 October 2008
Three strikes
The last three guys I’ve gone on dates with I really enjoyed meeting. I had a great time on each and every occasion; I really felt positive about the way things went and genuinely hoped to see them again.
Nevertheless in each case each guy has felt differently to me and in each case I’ve been left feeling somewhat bewildered about why. Is it really possible to have a great time with someone who isn’t? Am I really missing the cues, body language, hints?
Each of the three dates I’m talking about was Rule 1 compliant but beyond that there were few common themes: weekdays and weekends; daytime and evening; ‘scene’ and non-scene. Really, the only common factor was yours truly.
I’m an introverted scientist type who’s spent an entire career analysing, investigating things, and just generally Thinking. But in the final analysis insight about what it is about me that is the problem is proving elusive, and that runs the risk of generating a feedback loop where I get more anxious about being unattractive, more desperate to be attractive, more and more needy and eventually as ill adored as I am ill starred.
One of the problems with not coming out till relatively late is that I never got to learn the rules the same way other people did. Hence, in part making up (and breaking) my own. You know; the unwritten/unspoken rules that make other people seem to effortlessly to get boyfriends and girlfriends and have all the things I never knew I missed. And I think people can, subconsciously, tell.
Yes, as you may have guessed it’s got me feeling a bit down – serves me right for not sticking to the detox!
Actually to be fair there has been more than one occasion when someone has liked me and I have not felt the same way. But that has been rare. And in fact I tend to be quite surprised too when someone does like me! There’s that dissonance again…
I really can only try to be the best person I can be – work hard, keep healthy, live life; still a work in progress, this gayer. But I really do need this break! This time tomorrow I’ll be in Spain, ready to enjoy a bit of sunshine and cuddle up in the arms of my lover.
In the meantime, a poll (on the right here): do you think I should re-start my month off from dating as I fell off the wagon, or do you think I should get back in the game on 14 October as planned? Let me know.
Nevertheless in each case each guy has felt differently to me and in each case I’ve been left feeling somewhat bewildered about why. Is it really possible to have a great time with someone who isn’t? Am I really missing the cues, body language, hints?
Each of the three dates I’m talking about was Rule 1 compliant but beyond that there were few common themes: weekdays and weekends; daytime and evening; ‘scene’ and non-scene. Really, the only common factor was yours truly.
I’m an introverted scientist type who’s spent an entire career analysing, investigating things, and just generally Thinking. But in the final analysis insight about what it is about me that is the problem is proving elusive, and that runs the risk of generating a feedback loop where I get more anxious about being unattractive, more desperate to be attractive, more and more needy and eventually as ill adored as I am ill starred.
One of the problems with not coming out till relatively late is that I never got to learn the rules the same way other people did. Hence, in part making up (and breaking) my own. You know; the unwritten/unspoken rules that make other people seem to effortlessly to get boyfriends and girlfriends and have all the things I never knew I missed. And I think people can, subconsciously, tell.
Yes, as you may have guessed it’s got me feeling a bit down – serves me right for not sticking to the detox!
Actually to be fair there has been more than one occasion when someone has liked me and I have not felt the same way. But that has been rare. And in fact I tend to be quite surprised too when someone does like me! There’s that dissonance again…
I really can only try to be the best person I can be – work hard, keep healthy, live life; still a work in progress, this gayer. But I really do need this break! This time tomorrow I’ll be in Spain, ready to enjoy a bit of sunshine and cuddle up in the arms of my lover.
In the meantime, a poll (on the right here): do you think I should re-start my month off from dating as I fell off the wagon, or do you think I should get back in the game on 14 October as planned? Let me know.
Thursday, 28 August 2008
Best laid plans
Gareth travelled back today from a long weekend away, so I wanted to make our date/meeting this evening as hassle free [and special] as possible for him. However, when we spoke this afternoon Gareth instead wanted to meet in town, and a bit later than we had discussed before; I reluctantly agreed, and in fact I was at the time a bit disappointed because I was secretly looking forward to snuggles and the rest at Chez G!
Anyway, Gareth and I met on the South Bank (Benugo’s this time) and we had a couple of drinks and he seemed quite affectionate, and I thought the evening was going really well. But then, about 10pm, my world came crashing down.
Gareth seemed quite on tenterhooks all evening, and kept saying how this was the fourth time we’d met, etc. And I thought that things were going to take a great leap forward – but sadly not.
It seems Gareth is uncertain and consumed with doubt about whether or not he and I could build a relationship. He wanted to let me know now so I wouldn’t get hurt later, allegedly. He said he regretted the fact we’d gone to bed on our first date. Charming.
In fact he was articulating himself very poorly and presumably my rapidly evolving demeanour did not help the words trip off his tongue. I tried to press him on whether he was saying he didn’t want to see me again, but he would not be drawn. Instead he’s going to think about things and call me on Sunday. Or maybe we’ll meet up. Oh joy.
In truth I can’t decide whether I’m more angry or upset (I’m a lot of both right now). To have someone essentially try and set out that he couldn’t decide if I’m too unpleasant to keep seeing as my, apparently regrettable, sluttishness was getting in the way is pretty galling. To have him do it whilst holding my hand is something else.
It’s all I can do not to call, text, or email him to tell him exactly what I think of him right now. Normally that isn’t a problem for me; I have my pride! But this time: well, thank God for brand-spanking-new Rule 4: let no man take away your dignity.
I did make clear to Gareth that I’m not willing to sit in Limbo while he makes up his mind (and in that I am quite sincere). I know he’s going to drop me on Sunday, so what’s the point? What annoys me particularly, though, is that I’ll be analysing and conjecturing all the way from can to can’t until he deigns to get off his arse/cloud and make up his mind. And quite possibly beyond…
Memo to men generally: much as we appreciate cock, it would be even better if you grew some balls as well.
Anyway, Gareth and I met on the South Bank (Benugo’s this time) and we had a couple of drinks and he seemed quite affectionate, and I thought the evening was going really well. But then, about 10pm, my world came crashing down.
Gareth seemed quite on tenterhooks all evening, and kept saying how this was the fourth time we’d met, etc. And I thought that things were going to take a great leap forward – but sadly not.
It seems Gareth is uncertain and consumed with doubt about whether or not he and I could build a relationship. He wanted to let me know now so I wouldn’t get hurt later, allegedly. He said he regretted the fact we’d gone to bed on our first date. Charming.
In fact he was articulating himself very poorly and presumably my rapidly evolving demeanour did not help the words trip off his tongue. I tried to press him on whether he was saying he didn’t want to see me again, but he would not be drawn. Instead he’s going to think about things and call me on Sunday. Or maybe we’ll meet up. Oh joy.
In truth I can’t decide whether I’m more angry or upset (I’m a lot of both right now). To have someone essentially try and set out that he couldn’t decide if I’m too unpleasant to keep seeing as my, apparently regrettable, sluttishness was getting in the way is pretty galling. To have him do it whilst holding my hand is something else.
It’s all I can do not to call, text, or email him to tell him exactly what I think of him right now. Normally that isn’t a problem for me; I have my pride! But this time: well, thank God for brand-spanking-new Rule 4: let no man take away your dignity.
I did make clear to Gareth that I’m not willing to sit in Limbo while he makes up his mind (and in that I am quite sincere). I know he’s going to drop me on Sunday, so what’s the point? What annoys me particularly, though, is that I’ll be analysing and conjecturing all the way from can to can’t until he deigns to get off his arse/cloud and make up his mind. And quite possibly beyond…
Memo to men generally: much as we appreciate cock, it would be even better if you grew some balls as well.
Sunday, 17 August 2008
Pouty
I’m in a bad mood today gentle reader. In fact so much so I am experiencing one of the vanishingly rare occasions when I would prefer to be someone else.
Last night I went out for a neighbour’s birthday. He is gay too as were virtually all of the people that were also out celebrating. On the one hand there was a really nice couple who were the loveliest people and really into each other; and on the other was a very tall, thin good looking guy who was bang up to date with fashion, knew how to accessorise perfectly, and looked a lot younger than he was. Making me a jealous bitch twice over.
After dancing the night away the lovely couple went home to be adoring and adorable at home; the good looking guy went home with a lot of other good looking guys and yours truly? Was too drunk to talk, and my neighbour and I got a taxi home.
Certainly everyone was drunk; but I thought about it today – in between bouts of cradling my sore head and wailing like a banshee somewhere on the autistic spectrum - and I realised I was essentially behaving like a straight bloke; I got drunk, danced like a prat, had a fracas with a guy hassling a lady at the bar, and didn’t 'go home' with a man. And I feel very disappointed in myself; that somehow I’ve let myself down.
Of course, I’m still learning the ropes at it were and in many respects all the experiences I’ve had over the last 6 months have been wonderful, or at least worthwhile. But I don’t like being made to feel (even by myself) that I am nowhere – or, more accurately, reminded that I’m not the tall thin good looking fashion and scene savvy gay guy OR part of a rock solid relationship. Is there perhaps some kind of course for the ill-adored and self-deluding that I am unaware of? Course as in study or medicine, I'm not fussed.
Then of course I feel selfish and stupid because other people overcome genuine adversity and I’ve never had a really tough time in my whole life. But sometimes it is really difficult to realise I’ve wasted so much time and the flip side of all the joyous highs I’ve had is that sometimes I get very down – desperately sad.
Still, I don’t suppose crying myself into a dessicated husk is going to help. I think it is nearly time to make up my mind about exactly what I want; apart from going back in time to me at 18, and smacking myself in the back of the head of course. Do I want to be one half of a loving couple or do I want to play around? I think I know the answer; I know I can't really do both.
What I want right now is for Gareth to be here and give me cuddles and tell me again that I’m cute.
Oh well, I’ll be resolute again tomorrow. In the meantime any man fitter and better looking than me can piss off.
Except Gareth.
PS: t'aint work safe
Last night I went out for a neighbour’s birthday. He is gay too as were virtually all of the people that were also out celebrating. On the one hand there was a really nice couple who were the loveliest people and really into each other; and on the other was a very tall, thin good looking guy who was bang up to date with fashion, knew how to accessorise perfectly, and looked a lot younger than he was. Making me a jealous bitch twice over.
After dancing the night away the lovely couple went home to be adoring and adorable at home; the good looking guy went home with a lot of other good looking guys and yours truly? Was too drunk to talk, and my neighbour and I got a taxi home.
Certainly everyone was drunk; but I thought about it today – in between bouts of cradling my sore head and wailing like a banshee somewhere on the autistic spectrum - and I realised I was essentially behaving like a straight bloke; I got drunk, danced like a prat, had a fracas with a guy hassling a lady at the bar, and didn’t 'go home' with a man. And I feel very disappointed in myself; that somehow I’ve let myself down.
Of course, I’m still learning the ropes at it were and in many respects all the experiences I’ve had over the last 6 months have been wonderful, or at least worthwhile. But I don’t like being made to feel (even by myself) that I am nowhere – or, more accurately, reminded that I’m not the tall thin good looking fashion and scene savvy gay guy OR part of a rock solid relationship. Is there perhaps some kind of course for the ill-adored and self-deluding that I am unaware of? Course as in study or medicine, I'm not fussed.
Then of course I feel selfish and stupid because other people overcome genuine adversity and I’ve never had a really tough time in my whole life. But sometimes it is really difficult to realise I’ve wasted so much time and the flip side of all the joyous highs I’ve had is that sometimes I get very down – desperately sad.
Still, I don’t suppose crying myself into a dessicated husk is going to help. I think it is nearly time to make up my mind about exactly what I want; apart from going back in time to me at 18, and smacking myself in the back of the head of course. Do I want to be one half of a loving couple or do I want to play around? I think I know the answer; I know I can't really do both.
What I want right now is for Gareth to be here and give me cuddles and tell me again that I’m cute.
Oh well, I’ll be resolute again tomorrow. In the meantime any man fitter and better looking than me can piss off.
Except Gareth.
PS: t'aint work safe
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