Small awkward world...

Back in the day, when I blogged more frequently and had more interesting things to post, there were interesting things that happened to me that I would post about. This of course does Fella a disservice; but it is far more interesting to read about someone’s adventures in and about Strumpetville with a motion toward exploring sex and sexuality than it is to read about dinner parties and mild middle-classed angst.

Anyway, sometimes the world rolls around the past comes back to bite you in the bum, to coin a phrase.

Weirdly, this is another of those occasions that involves work. Why not, I suppose? Work is a big part of my life and I’ve always managed to avoid sleeping with friends whilst being lucky enough to make friends out of the occasional lover.

Way back when I briefly dated a guy who I met via Guardian Soulmates. The site itself is, in my view, a rather expensive way to meet the usual round of short term bijou boyfriendettes and one-night stands. Fun, but not really worth the money. At the time I had decided to try and dial things back a bit and find someone a bit saner. He lives in Hertfordshire and liked to tour abandoned nuclear bunkers. Bingo!

This particular guy spectacularly binned me in front of my friends at a Eurovison dinner party. I just wish he hadn’t eaten my food and drunk my wine before he did it. He did apologise later. I burned everything he left behind. Fair enough. No real harm done; I hope he’s doing well and is happy. Honest, guv.

Anyway, this is the guy introduced me to the good old fashioned gay sauna.

In the following months and years I did return from time to time to explore those mazes and steam rooms. I won’t lie – rule 5 (and 9) is there for a reason. I had fun.

The problem with fun of a certain type is that you don’t expect it to come out of its box and follow you around.

Yeah, you’ve guessed where this is going.

I’m pleased to be part of the LGBT group at work. Another guy who has joined recently is a German (yay) guy who, while a little older, is absolutely my type and works hard to keep it so.

Well, I recognised him and he recognised me; from a sauna, back then and back there. It’s difficult, and awkward, to say the least, to try and build a professional relationship, and in many ways common cause, with someone the top of whose head is the thing about them you remember second best.

The thing about is all, is not the salaciousness of it all – such as it is – but how to get over the awkwardness and build a working relationship with someone it turns out I really quite like. We both have partners, and there’s no way there’s a spark there. Mind you, I so wish I had not put any weight on between then and now, and I’m going to be a gym slave for a while yet…

I think I’ll have to fairy up and try and have a casual chat with him tomorrow to clear the air. I hope I can make it work. This kind of thing isn’t my forte. Stay tuned.

Hidden Depths

Who knows what goes on behind closed doors? Well, these days we know a lot of what goes on behind closed doors as people insist on telling us. I refer not just to yours truly and his fellow blogging ilk. I’m writing about the internet and the weird and wonderful ways we get to explore sex and sexuality.


And sometimes… we can get a bit of a shock.

Well, gentle reader, as you know I am on something of a diet and am a bit pleased with my progress. In order to motivate myself and ensure it really is possible for a 34 year old cheerful fairy to overcome his need to inhale vast quantities of liquid and solid calories, and buff up. However, I wanted to compare myself to something other than the airbrushed and tweaked male models in fitness magazines or Attitude.

‘Aha’ I thought ‘I still have gaydar account – I can do a search for white guys, 34, defined/muscled etc and see what I should be aiming for’.

Search duly performed I have a look at the guys this throws up, not so many to make me feel bad, but not so few as to make me wonder if anything other than Hogzilla is asking the impossible.

And then…

Well, my colleague is somewhat older than 34, but it turns out his boyfriend isn’t and their – joint – profile and their – joint – photos were one of the profiles I clicked on. Whoops.

I was actually quite shocked. I felt like I’d been caught doing something naughty – or worse; stalking him. Awkward!! I mean, I wasn’t cruising, there was a perfectly innocent reason for my search. Does he know I saw his profile? I am torn between hoping he does and hoping he doesn’t… I won't be bringing it up, that’s for sure.

He and his boyfriend can do what they like of course – it’s none of my business and I’m actually not even entitled to the opinion. The only gossip here is that I’ve embarrassed myself, perhaps a little, perhaps a lot – and definitely not for the first time.

What is perhaps a tad more salacious is another one of my colleagues who turns out to be quite a prolific porn star. Quite by chance a gay friend of mine was discussing a porn star he’s a big fan of, and he Googled the guy to guy to show me what he was going on about. Well, very impressive in some ways but what caught my eye was the guy he was with. My colleague. Well, I couldn’t be 100% sure at first, and he wasn’t using his real name! But it is him.

In many ways I’m actually quite pleased I know someone who is living that kind of life. My life is taken up by domestic bliss – this post displaces me going on about our marvellous tomatoes, lettuces and pumpkin Fella and I are growing on our balcony. I am torn, I must admit, sometimes between the times that I was being naughty. Nostalgia. Well, their secrets are safe with me, though they may wonder at the smile on my face from time to time.

Pornocracy

Porn. Well, on that front there’s so much to say and so little. I’ve never bought a jazz mag or a blue movie. On the other hand God knows, the internet saw me through some very tough times in the early naughties before I got the balls to come out.

It taught me a thing or two too. Opened my mind as well as my eyes… some people are very open about their pornographic predilections, but not me. Friends at school always boasted of their collection under-the-bed.  Childish snooping found my father’s secret stash too. When Fella and I moved in I was quite surprised by the volume of material he brought with him – gifts apparently. Popular guy.

I am writing this post because it occurred to me quite by chance that the things I have gravitated to when  I have watched porn are quite different to the things I have gravitated to in real life. I won’t go into details… but I realised there was no particular reason, within reason that is, why that should be so.

Pornography is for gay people an important expression of sexuality. I’ve heard it contended that for gay men a health obsession with pornography is quite essential. Sex is after all… what we do.

I wonder if perhaps sex is how we compete. Well, of course we do in one sense – the evolutionary impulses behind our sex drives are not diminished by the accident of our sexuality. But it is more than them there straight people a yardstick by which we measure ourselves. Sex by any other name… perhaps there is an over emphasis on youth and beauty in the gay world. Still, I’ve been going to the gym a lot more since I came out than before. So, for me it isn’t all bad.

In one sense it isn’t a gay thing – it’s a male thing. Without the brake of the female acting to control us, why would we exercise self control?

The answer must be a zen thing or similar. To win the game, get out of it… God, the hours I’d waste trawling through Gaydar or a similar site. The secret is not to take it all so seriously. There’ll always be someone better looking, more promiscuous, kinkier, bigger… you can run the race, but ask yourself: who set out the course? And what is the prize?

Great sex, learning about yourself, meeting amazing people, exploring your desires… all of these things are important elements (or at least, gentle reader, they were to me ; I might be talking bollocks in more than one way here) to growing into a gay man’s gay identity. But when they’ve helped you become a well rounded tired-but-happy gay man what comes next?

You win the game. You find your Fella. And then you move in together and then… the game begins again. Level 2!

Curiosity killed the cat

I came across this image on a website I stumbled across recently - Equalitopia (link in my blog list)

It maps the responses given to a dating website to the question "have you ever had a sexual encounter with someone of the same sex?". I wonder how much the results represent the social acceptability of homosexuality, rather than truthful responses to the question. Unless they have a great nightlife in Louisiana... one the other hand they clearly know how to make the long winter nights fly by north of the border. O' Canada indeed!

Awkward

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah.

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

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

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

Bunking up

Fella and I have lived together for nearly six months now, and so far so good. The occasional row, the occasional dinner party. Domestic bliss. Some routines have been settled into well; he cooks, I iron. Throw in a frilly apron and you’ve have a scene from the 1950s.


When we only spent a few nights a week together it was... urgent in some ways to take full advantage of the situation. In a small room, in a shared house, only a few hours together it was important to be together. However, it always being the same nights in the week there was always a risk that things would develop a routine in the bedroom as much as in any other area of life. And... not having your own place made options somewhat limited for us.

Now imagine that, gentle reader (not too graphically if you please!) – me in a monogamous relationship with my man; but we’re together two or three nights a week; and our freedom of... expression is strictly limited (though if memory serves we pushed the boundaries a few times).

Now spool forward to moving in; the opportunities are endless – or seemingly so. We’re together much more than we used to be, and can arrange our busy schedules to be together much more easily too.

But – there’s a lot more to being together, and intimacy, than the physical side of things. I like sex, I mean I really do. And I’ve put myself about a bit, as has Fella. Yet every aspect of coming out, being a proper out-there gay man has been about living life, finding love, not wanting to be alone. I’ve enjoyed the experiences I’ve had... and I’ve had them. So, like dating, moving in and getting engaged, there via the process of getting to what’s next.

Having a partner who is good in bed, adventurous and enquiring, is very nice. I will confess now that I have in my time purchased one or two special items, as I’m sure most of us have, that live tucked discreetly in a drawer. Fella, to my amazement, has a drawer veritably bursting at the seams. Very little chance there of things getting stale, sex getting samey. A full and engaging sex life is and will for a long time be a big part of my relationship.

Still, the intimacy is not fully served with sex alone. Sex, as I mentioned, is great – but I’ve always found that being with one person and learning their likes and wants is a far more worthwhile investment than being with lots of people for a short time (though it has its moments).

When Fella comes home tonight I might peel his clothes off with my teeth or we might curl up on the sofa and take in a film. Both have their merits and their attraction. And the thing about being together the way we are is, if we don’t do one thing or another tonight: well, we can do it tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.

Better late than never

One of the most tiresome aspects of my recent health problems – though pleasingly at a very low ebb at present – is that every test pares down the range of options away from really very immediately serious (e.g. cancer) but also away from the relatively minor (infection, etc).

This leaves us, sadly with a range of less salubrious and unpleasantly permanent possibilities. Multiple sclerosis, for example. And... other things.

On Wednesday I took the somewhat unusual step of having a sexual health check-up; unusual in two ways. Firstly I haven't had one since I met Fella. And secondly I haven't had one since well before I met Fella. The first point is important because we're in a stable, loving monogamous relationship. Why therefore would such a check up be important? Well, ever since the debacle with my erstwhile counsellor I've gone right off visiting what is the nearest and by far the best appointed sexual health clinic to my home. In fact it was months and month of fun and fun between then and my relationship beginning... and whilst always taking care to ensure a crop failure however many wild oats sown, there are no guarantees. Safer sex, not safe sex, no?

And the stupid thing is we've never really talked about it, he and I. On that Wednesday I could not put my hand on heart and say, for instance, my Fella is free of diseases!

"But why now?" I hear you ask gentle reader. Well, this is the thing. My symptoms – and this gives some measure of their unpleasantness, are what one might expect to experience when an HIV infection progresses to 'full blown' AIDS. A card in my increasingly slim deck that the standard range of tests had not eliminated.

So there was my paranoia about that but what really began to worry me was if it was by some chance the emergence of one of my worst nightmares, the risk to my man – exposing him to risk, however unintentionally, was more than I could bear.

On Wednesday my anxiety spilled into action. I cleared my calendar, went into Soho, found a rather well set up and excellent sexual health centre and within minutes the Cheerful Fairy was a big pink pin cushion and within a very short while after that a very friendly, short and Welsh nurse was cheerfully telling me all was well and – pending a short delay for my syphilis screen (!!) – there was no cause for concern.

Amusingly my own attention to safety and her determination to provide some kind of service had led the nurse, whilst we waited for the results, rally magnificently in the face of my inability to put myself at (great) risk. She gave me some excellent tips on avoiding and treating sunburn (moisturiser and hope – not unlike my anti-aging strategy).

Anyway... that night Fella and I sat down and properly, properly talked about That Kind of Thing for the first time and I am so glad we did. It led to a much wider discussion about fidelity, sex vs love, how that might evolve as our relationship does (no stone left unturned in the maintenance of monogamy; no door closed in terms of our relationship) so in so many respects the experience was a positive and productive one. But the moral of the story is, I suppose, twofold – one: I am a bit of an idiot sometimes. Two: however crass it seems some things are better discussed. Fully, early, and honestly.

Sex and sexability

Fella and I are monogamous. I’ve always protested [too much] that I would be perfectly happy in a more open arrangement, but I do appreciate our situation much more than I would have expected. Of course with International it was more open than is healthy. With Darren I was just being – perhaps out of necessity – naïve. And with all the other bijou boyfriendettes than came and swiftly went, well who knows what might have been?

My ‘red line’ is honesty. I am not, I think, under too many illusions about the traditional use for good intentions and the destination they lead us to. I saw my parents destroy various marriages with silly games; and I understand the allure – particularly acute for gay men – of a world that offers, and glamorises, easy and casual sex. I do not, however, like drama or secrets. It’s always been to me just so damned petty

Of course I’ve said goodbye to all that now; the internet based hook-ups, the saunas, etc etc… Now I have my gorgeous guy. I have to admit, as we approach our anniversary, it has dawned on me that Fella may well be the last person I ever have sex with!!

As honesty is the best policy I’ll post this: if I’d known, or realised, back in May I would have gone out with more of a bang than a couple of semi-anonymous internet arranged hook-ups between our first and second dates. Conversely a stable monogamous relationship is pretty much the only thing up to now that I’d never tried; so going for it certainly pushes my boundaries.

Don’t get me wrong, and at the risk of being a shameless self-publicist, I spent the last two years pretty much trying anything that took my fancy. Actually, to keep an air of seriousness about things, I’ve been quite lucky. Whilst I avoided anyone/thing (bareback, bondage, priests) that got my alarm bells ringing, I have pretty much trotted off into any scenario with an open mind and not much else to protect me. And, in all that time (as blogged before) I’ve never regretted sex - though the occasional relationship, yes! I’ve had a great time, and learned a lot about what I like – and what doesn’t work for me.

Now that life is behind me. And there are things I will miss. Fella is insanely good in bed and that really helps. Adventurous, experienced, he even does yoga. His talents do not stretch to all my proclivities. I have always particularly enjoyed, for example, group sex. But, and this is the important thing – in bed, as well as out of it he is enough. I find myself challenged by him sexually and I have to work hard to try and keep up, and to... make me worth his efforts.

It’s completely different being in a relationship; making love rather than having sex is a whole different ball game – as it should be, because in many respects it was the object of coming out. I’ve been sensible enough, if that’s the right term, to avoid confusing sex with intimacy but my observation is a lot of guys use casual encounters to experience a deeper connection however fleetingly with another man. I think that’s why I can be comfortable in a group situation; it’s just sex. Of course that isn’t a panacea; being able to rationalise it all away hardly helped me, for instance, when I was with International.

In order to have all the experiences that I have had, and try all the things I wanted to try, I needed to be brave. I’m not so gorgeous that I could walk into/log onto anyplace and be deluged with offers (and Fella is); things needed effort. Motion towards – my goals weren’t coming to find me. I think the same attitudes I brought, if somewhat belatedly, to my sex-life are also worth applying to my relationship. Of course to treat Fella as merely a lover would do a monumental injustice; and be pretty stupid.

What I have really done is learning through play and ultimately the importance of sex to me, and to my relationship, means that with Fella I can’t divorce sex and love as the Rules might suggest. Instead I apply what I have learned, and recognise that I’m still learning.

Sex etc

On 16 March I’m going into hospital. Basically I’m having a camera crew up my bottom to check why the world keeps falling out of it. It did occur to me then to wonder if they could tell, to put it coarsely, if there is any tread left on the tyres of whether it’s like throwing a hosepipe down a hallway.

I am being coarse, gentle reader, I know. Not least because I have a dedication to my pelvic floor verging on the obsessive. But there has been a fair bit of traffic this last couple of years and while it isn’t done to kiss and tell I think I’ve given a good account of myself.

So, a while back I decided that I wanted to have a lot more sex with men, and therefore pretending not to be a massive ‘mo would have to go. And while I’ve had cause to consider my erstwhile relationships a bit of a roller coaster, I’ve never regretted encountering any of the people I’ve chosen to have sex with. Sometimes it’s been fantastic; sometimes… interesting. But worthwhile.

I don’t particularly regret that the first time I had sex with a man it was under the stairs at a party. I’m not sorry that a large proportion of my sex life has consisted of casual fucks. I’m glad I’ve pretty much been super careful and that I’ve gone into any situation informed and when I felt ready to.

The reality is someone somewhere will always have had more sex, better sex, will be considered sexier, be better at seducing guys, whatever… I’ve never wanted to treat sex as a competition. Nevertheless I like sex and enjoy indulging in it frequently; and I’ve let – as a consequence, known if not wilfully sought, of coming out – sex be a big part of my sexuality.

But! I’ve always preferred sex with someone I know, rather than a one-night-stand or casual assignation. I don’t know why – causal sex is great fun and can be a lovely way to pass the time. Nevertheless, it has struck me that a lot of gay men treat causal sex as a way of getting intimate, not just getting off. I myself have always refrained from confusing sex and intimacy – God forbid, love. Come and go, as it were – within the bounds of common good manners. I think that’s why I’ve been fond of group sex in the past, and had a range of friends-with-benefits in one form or another.

Now I’m in a stable, monogamous relationship. The Bad Boyfriend part of me would argue that the average man has sex 165+ times a year; and from experience getting up the average when single takes quite a lot of work. The Good boyfriend part of me argues that it’s worth sacrificing casual sex for a lifetime of making love. All the Cheerful Fairy knows is that Fella is by far the best lover I’ve ever had, and knowing that things will get better and better is no small help in smoothing the bumps on the rocky road of love.

As Dan Savage put it gay men don’t have sex like this because they’re gay; they do it because they’re men (a whorehouse staffed with volunteers is a rather apt phrase he uses). We need a restraining influence to manage sex healthily. No regrets and I’m not yet done swinging from the chandeliers. But that cup of tea would be great round about now. And afterwards, take your clothes off…

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.

Gentleman's Area

After a lovely weekend with Fella he has now gone home; I am therefore on my own and to make matters worse I shan’t now see him until Friday. I’m used to seeing him in the week, and this will only be the second week that I shall be entirely without him. How sad :-(

So, I thought to myself, as I’m at a loose end why not write about penises? Well, I sometimes have strange thoughts… but since this bog was started I haven’t discussed greatly cock; banana hammocks; one eyed trouser snakes; the wedding vegetables.

Fear not, gentle reader, this wurstfest is not some self aggrandising soliloquy, eulogising my God give talents. No, I never claimed to be anything special in that department.

We don’t like to talk about penises openly; by which I mean debate rather than discuss loudly on our morning commute. You can't avoid it when cruising - that's what you're after, after all. Still, I have been genuinely taken aback when someone has initiated a conversation with an enquiry about my size; or sent me a range of intimate photo’s of themselves entirely unprompted. Good people, you are mistaken; for I am the puritan whore!

Nevertheless, we all worry about our endowment to a certain extent as we are growing up. In the end, of course, 99.99% of us are absolutely fine and when push comes to shove, as it were, we realise there was little to worry about after all. Nevertheless, you go on gaydar and it’s ‘cock-size’ section seems remarkably well populated with large, nay, extra large gentlemen seeking to make each others’ acquaintance. My personal experience is often the ‘larges’ are prone to exaggerate whilst the ‘averages’ are paragons of modesty (if, ideally, not virtue).

Of course we rarely truly believe adages such as ‘it’s what you do with it that counts’. In reality it is what you do with it that counts, very much so. It’s just that if you are a luckier man than most… well, *ahem* you may not have to do quite as much.

Still, I have been with my fair share of men. the nights of 1994 spent largely in the carpark behind the bus-station in Salisbury; my now-married college housemate whenever he fancied a round of what he termed “the duvet game”; a sizeable proportion of gay men between the ages of 20 and 50 with a postcode beginning SE… and I would say that there is a “goldicocks” size out there: not to big, not too small, but juuuust riiiight. One of my exes was prodigious not only in his enthusiasm to the extent there was a period when I genuinely could not sit down. And whilst sometimes that’s fine, sometimes there’s something alarming as well as genuinely aesthetically displeasing at some enormous great thing looming out of the dark at you.

Still, it’s funny how important this kind of things seems to be. I do think how good someone is in bed is an important part of what future I may have with him; but at the end of the day I think referring you to rule 7 is the best way to end this post.

Monogamy

Fella and I are monogamous. It seems odd posting what must have appeared to be a given, but nevertheless; it is so.

The real reason is that he insisted on it from the outset. His Rule. And very sensible he was too. However, I’ve always said I don’t mind open or monogamous – I don’t equate sex with love. I need honesty.

This is the only monogamous relationship I’ve been in. OK; I’ve only had three ‘proper’ boyfriends amongst a series of boyfriendettes, regular gentlemen callers and the casual assignation. I never slept with anyone else for the sixth months I was with Darren before being so spectacularly binned but, as with so much in that relationship, I put that down to my own naïveté. As International has other boyfriends I carried on sleeping around with abandon – not reckless, but still…

And then, somewhat unexpectedly and rather unintentionally I stumbled across Fella. What marvellous luck; I rarely do so well in matters of chance!

Apart from a bit of bank holiday fun – which Fella knows about and is fine with because it was between our first and second dates, before we started our relationship proper – I haven’t slept with anyone since I met him. Nevertheless, because Fella has tended to go for relationships while I have tried, but failed to do the same… I’ve slept with many, many times as many partners as he. Fella’s fine with it. International, if memory serves, was always insanely jealous of my past.

Fortunately, whether it makes me seem base or no, our sex life is great. As with so much in our relationship it took work. Ironically I never felt a one night stand (or equivalent) leads to the best in sex. Still pretty good; but relationships are better. You will recall, gentle reader, that Fella and I recent went through a crisis. How better to make up than assign an… activity to each card in a deck (each house representing a certain type of activity) and inviting him, at various points over the weekend, to pick three cards at random?

Fella is probably the best fantasy I’ve ever had. And that’s a new thing for me; to put my current partner as the locus of desire (or lust or whatever you want to call it).

Monogamy isn’t therefore a challenge for me. I’m glad of that. After this most recent challenge to our relationship I am at least certain he’s the one I want; and I’m confident my trust in him is not misplaced. This kind of relationship is exactly is exactly what I want. Most of this post describes the bonus material on this DVD of love [bleurgh]. But I really wouldn’t have it any other way.

Casual fun

Being with Fella is great…

Wait! Wait, Gentle Reader: this post is different, I promise.

As I was posting: being with Fella is great but sometimes I miss causal sex.

And, before you ask: no, I’m not having casual sex. As I’ve intimated before the sex with Fella is fantastic, and keeps getting better. Which is great; not only in and of itself, but because sex is a huge dimension of any relationship for me and I have a high sex drive in any event.

I ended up spending the weekend with Fella after all; he invited me up on Saturday afternoon and I ended up spending Saturday and Sunday nights. This in turn led to a walk-of-shame scenario on Monday when I had to buy shoes, shirt and shoes anew before going into the office. I remember looking about his house as we left this morning and - apart from the kitchen, which as the gourmet Fella is, he was somewhat reticent about defiling – I think we gave a good account of ourselves.

*ahem* anyway… causal sex, wasn’t it?

Fella is my Nth lover this year; and my tally for 2009 runs to N+2 because of some fun with a couple of guys shortly after our first date. Now, we’re proper boyfriends and that and we’re totally monogamous. Fella has made absolutely clear his expectations and as I’ve always posted, I’m fine with things either way.

Before I met him I was toying with the idea of trying some ‘proper’ cruising. There are quite a few places very near to where I live and with the long summer evenings… plus I was thinking about gyms and saunas and clubs other places I could go for casual fun. Expanding my horizons beyond the online assignations - perhaps a reflection more of budding confidence than sinking depravity? I think so.

A lot of my gay friends aren’t into causal sex. The single ones I encourage to enjoy themselves, on the grounds you are only young once, and sex is rather nice. Fella and I joked this very weekend that for gayers (much as it was for us) it’s sex first; relationship later. Should things with Fella not work out I will happily return to that way of things – and it seems an appropriate back-up plan!

As much as the physical side of a relationship is important to me, love and sex aren’t the same thing and I never got infatuated with someone because of sex. However, after coming out and getting dumped by Darren I did measure my attractiveness and thus a huge part of my value as a person through casual encounters. Should I go back to being single, I guess I’d be back to square one…

Right now, though, I try to show my attractiveness by being a good boyfriend [yay]! But alongside that I’ve realised I need to keep working on my health and wider social life. For the first time I realise the amount of work that needs to go into make a relationship work. Fun; but not casual.

Secrets

Sometimes I really want to talk about my sex life with Fella in more detail because it’s great and it keeps getting better and in many ways – uniquely in my experience – our sexual intimacy imitates the intimacy we experience in other dimensions. But even now the full and frank admissions I was going to make, I’ve had second thoughts about… hell, I’ll answer honestly if anyone really wants to know!! Anyway, we’ve had a perfectly lovely weekend and now he’s gone home and in a few days I shall see him again and…

As our relationship grows and we get closer and closer sometimes we hit… limits. I think perhaps the test of any worthwhile relationship, however long it may last, is not time but whether those limits may be overcome. After all, we could last forever but never really get to know each other. Or we could burn out in a flash of passion a couple of weeks/months/years down the line but nevertheless look back on this time with fondness for decades to come.

On Friday we had a very drunken evening with his colleagues that was good fun. As the evening wore on a friend of Fella asked him the significance of the rings he wears on his right hand. He described them one by one, the last of which being his former engagement ring.

Now to his friends that was quite clearly his former engagement ring. To me it was, and is: his former engagement ring.

Breathe, Frumpella. Breathe; Trust; have more booze…

Truth be told I’ve put this new information away for the time being. Fella is reticent about his past relationships and I'd gathered already the last one was a big one. I’ve speculated about being rebound boy before, but I can’t imagine how my determination to make things work through sheer effort could be so adversely affected by this revelation. Baggage, I do believe, ain’t always a bad thing; half the reason I came out of the closet was to make room for some :-)

So I graciously allow him to keep his secrets. For now.

It just goes to show how much more there is to show and tell between Fella and I. For all the ease with which we had fallen into this relationship – a testament to his grownupheit, an area in which I trail somewhat – there are likely to speed bumps ahead. It’s amazing to me how central Trust has become, and how quickly. I think what I’m trying to get across is; I recognise some secrets are inevitable but I Trust that it’s OK. For two reasons. The first is Trust is part of my contribution. This blog, for example, is [currently] secret from Fella. This is my space. Yet it Does no Harm. If I'm careful; hence paragraph one. The second is, if that Trust is betrayed: I’ll burn his house down. Which is something I have told him!

Temptation

Now that Fella and I are an item it does seem that eye candy is just everywhere. Are all the beautiful men solar powered? I’ve been quite put to shame by all the hotties on display.

Unfortunately this has led to Fella accusing me of having a roving eye; and that got me to thinking. Am I less or more likely to appreciate the male form now I’m comfortably in a relationship? As you well know, gentle reader, I have not since Darren been faithful/monogamous/able to keep my trousers on while seeing any of the guys between then and now. But with Fella it is different.

Of course, because fate likes a laugh as much as anyone, this means past dates and assignations past are cropping up all over the place. Remember the guy who did yoga? He got back in touch recently. The Portuguese guy with whom I had the best sex in the history of everything ever? He wants to go our for a drink at some point. Even a guy I had just-one-date with a while back started sniffing around. Plus of course I’m living with the Gardener and one of his ‘friends’ of our mutual acquaintance wants to move in. As Fella spends a couple of nights a week at mine now that seems a dreadful prospect to me (he doesn’t know you see…).

All quite tempting and of course at this stage of our relationship I am a horny little bugger. Fella stayed over last night unannounced so once again I find myself massively sleep deprived but raring to go at the same time. Nevertheless I intend to reserve myself for him only.

When it comes to temptation I think International is a good cautionary tale, don’t you agree? We’re still in touch and the other day he fairly strongly intimated he has himself a new Frumpella. That brought back a lot of guilty feelings about Ouch; and I would hate to play either role with Fella… even the thought of it makes me strangely sad.

I should add, just for clarity, all of these people have names of course – but I have found that using a guy’s name here on this blog almost invariably becomes the kiss of death for our relationship. It may be simple superstition, or something subconscious about the time it feels right to reveal said guy’s secret identity. But Fella will stay Fella, OK?

History

It’s been a few days, gentle reader, and I just know you’ve been on tenterhooks to find out more!! So where were we?

If you want to picture Fella and I, think of me as Chris Pine and Fella as Zachary Quinto… of course, Pine is far better looking than I – and Quinto holds nary a candle to my Fella’s loveliness. But you get the idea ;-)



Post the Star Trek Date Three, Date Four was dinner at my place. I was lucky to get any cooking done at all as things got a bit en flambé between us… but I managed to calm us down enough to do a lovely bit of pork in a wine and mushroom sauce that, gourmand though he is, Fella quite liked.

Tonight we’re at Date Five – going to see Drag Me to Hell. Fella’s spending the night at mine so that we can go straight on to Date Six; a party he’s been invited to...

You know what? I’m going to draw a line, stop saying we’re dating and just that we’re seeing each other. Though I’m still trying to keep it real (not quite a month since Date One after all) I will admit to a hint of the smittenesque about me. I have begun to feel a lot for him in a short space of time and, well, I’m amazed that he’s tolerated Yours Truly for this long.

I am trying to organise events to celebrate the period from 15 (one month since we met) to 24 June (two months since his first message) and introduce him to my friends. A first for me; but I’m meeting so many of his... Nothing particularly romantic – the London Acquarium; a Jack the Ripper Tour; the Baroque exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum – but as he’s already invited me to another party on 20 June I think that’s enough for those 10 days.

Of course with my communication style I may yet ruin it all. I really wish I knew how to say, in a good way:

- I’m not making a declaration of undying love;
- I do like you a lot;
- I enjoy spending time with you;
- that enjoyment includes, but is in no way limited to, rogering you silly;
- I really want to keep seeing you;
- I am a terribly flawed human being in far too many ways to mention now but;
- I promise I’ll get better at talking dirty;
- if you dump me I’ll burn your house down.

Ho hum. Give it time; perhaps the words will come.

Fortunately Fella is much more emotionally mature than I am and that gives me the space to make sure I like him and not just the idea of him liking me! A friend of mine has suggested that I am in love because I haven’t slept with anyone else for weeks. But the truth is I genuinely don’t want to. I’ve tactfully declined the other guys that were asking me for a date. I’ve even stopped flirting with the office eye-candy. I’ve never been monogamous with anyone since Darren but somehow it feels entirely natural with Fella. It helps that no-one has ever turned me on the way that he does.

So, in short, all continues fine in Strumpetville and for the future Frumpella keeps fingers (and toes) crossed!

Waiting

Fella and I had been texting and emailing virtually constantly over the days leading up to our meeting (and also, recently, become ‘friends’ on Facebook) so it really began to feel like we knew each other quite well. In fact we were texting right up to the time I had to leave the apartment to get there!

I arrived at the Church in good time, wanting to meet him before the concert began. And there we were, face to face for the first time. As gorgeous in real life as he looks in his pics!

We talked for 10 minutes or so before the concert was due to begin. Vivaldi; Sibelius; Weber; Brahms. The last piece was described by the conductor as a love song, full of the moods of love... what could be more perfect?

Once the concert was finished ad the church locked up, we went into Soho for a drink. By this time it was 10 o’clock and Eurovision was just finishing, and we managed to find a seat in the Duke of Wellington where we could talk.

So engrossed we became in conversation that 11:30 quickly rolled around and with it the prospect of his departure to catch his last train (not living in London, you see). But I selflessly offered him the use of the my futon in the living room and he, charmer that he is, said he was having such a good night that he would prefer to do that so we could have more time together. And so, after the pub closed we went to The Edge for more drinks and more talk and… a little before 1:00am a wild impulse came over me that I could not resist; and I kissed him.

I held his hand all the way home, and once there - after a nice merlot and some pain au chocolat - we made love till dawn.

We rose at 11:00. I made us a big breakfast and then we spent the rest of the day in each others’ arms on the sofa, naked, watching DVDs and breaking only when overcome with passion until at 5:00pm it was, sadly, time for him to head home.

So I think, gentle reader, we might safely say we had a good first date. As for what’s next…

I’m fine with taking things slow; that’s certainly what he would want. I’d really just like this not to be the end of it. Though not perfect I am sold on him and would like to give things a chance to develop. So here I am waiting anxiously in that post-first-date broke Rule 1 again No Man’s Land - to text or not to text? That is the question. Four hours sleep doesn’t help. Time to be cool and let things progress one way or another; fingers crossed though.

Chill pill

Well, once again the world has turned, causing me to leave behind my anger issues. As day surely follows night, so surely feeling like a one-man-idiot follows losing my temper.

It’s a number of things really. Most importantly, I think, a couple of friends are having a tough time with affairs of the heart. In particular one is finding it difficult to deal with the end of his relationship. It’s all been recent but do I worry about how unhappy he is. My friend recognised and shares my rage issues. We talked last night and he pointed out how difficult it was to get over International; an uncomfortable truth to be confronted with, but there we are. His experience and that of my other friend show me I should perhaps wind my neck in a notch.

Gay dating is a very a crude form of evolution. I feel every time I begin something with someone I’m jumping off a cliff. The more I feel for them the higher the cliff is I leap from. Yet every time so far I have hit the ground; and of course the further I have fallen the harder and more painfully I have hit. One day I shall leap off the highest cliff of all and – if I’m very lucky – grow wings, and fly. If not, then I shall hit the ground for the final time.

As you might have gathered, gentle reader my not-date on Friday was not a good one. I just didn’t like him, and I felt foolish for giving him a second change (that silence you hear, by the way, is all my friends absolutely not saying I Told You So, bless ‘em). I got very annoyed because he reminded me too much of International and my own failings and really, I realized hadn’t a clue what I was really expecting.

Today things are much better. I’ve actually spent most of the afternoon with an insanely good in bed guy. Ironically it was a guy I had chatted to on Out a while ago but I didn’t really think he was my type, so nothing came of it. Then, by coincidence, we cyberstumbled over each other on gaydar and, as my way of helping him over exam stress (university student you see) we had an assignation.

Talk about not seeing the wood for the trees! He seems a really great guy; I felt very comfortable with him and really enjoyed his company in more than the usual way. Well, though I’m done dating* while walking him back I suggested we should go out for a drink and spend time engaging in not-sex in some significant way.

Of course Strumpetville remains, and some other things have occurred that I shall blog about next time; until then, I wish you the best for the rest of the weekend!

The Regulars

One of the many ways in which my life has changed as an out gay man is that, alongside the occasional boyfriendette and the more frequent assignation, I have built up a small portfolio of what I term regular gentleman callers. Others might call them fuck-buddies or friends-with-benefits.

Of the current crop the first is ‘T’. You may recall, gentle reader, he is one of the very first guys I hooked up with after Darren disappeared. He already has a boyfriend, who is keen for an open-relationship whilst ‘T’ is not. So when said boyfriend is away, as he often is, and enjoying his freedoms I am called on as the spare. ‘T’ lives close by, in an absolute palace, and always treats me like a prince. I shall remember ‘T’ with the greatest fondness because of when we met; and so it pleases me greatly that we still hook up from time to time. He sets the standard in, oh so many ways. I consider myself very lucky.

Next on the list is Mr Cake; a guy who lives near to me and I first met a few months ago via the magic of gaydar. He’s a very nice South African and lots of fun. Since first meeting we have kept in touch and have each other as a kind of “are you available right the pardon the pun now?!” option when the need *ahem* arises.

Of course there is Nick, my neighbour who I have blogged about before. He and I met via OUT, and went on a date that resulted us being friends, with the attendant benefits. We infrequently get together at weekends to have dinner at my place (he shares; I live alone), watch a DVD, drink some wine and… though when I’m seeing someone he maintains a respectful distance which is really sweet of him, and I much appreciate.

Number four at the top-table is The Gardener. Now, I’ll be totally honest: he is simply the best. I mean so good I sometimes feel like I can’t cope with how good it is. He’s got quite a few guys like me on the go; why ever not? As a bonus The Gardener has a Friend whom he occasionally brings along to join the fun. They’re both great and very considerate – often giving the place a bit of a tidy on their way out which is touching, if also somewhat amusing.

And last but not least we come to the one that got away. A very young private stationed at the barracks just up the road. We would either meet at my place or outdoors near his base. Rather lacking in charm or tact, I assure you he makes up for it in other ways. Yet his imminent posting to far-far-away-land means that for quite some time we shall not meet again. Which, thinking about it, leaves a vacancy. Hmmm...

So there we have it, five different guys; unique in terms of what attracts me to them and the circumstances under which we meet. It is very nice to have them to call on instead of having always to jump on gaydar or whatever. Though of course I still do, from time to time. Whenever Mr Right comes along I’ll have to put him on special vitamins; he’s got a lot to live up to!