400

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

La Soiree

Tonight Fella and I took in a show, and what a show it was. Originally it was a group of us who meant to go, get a booth, some champagne... but we never got it together. Still, Fella and I fancied a bit of cabaret; a bit of theatre; a bit of burlesque. So why not?

Burlesque it was indeed, La Soiree. The last night in town... if they didn't put on a special show, well, then their standard is high indeed.

Fella and I had ringside seats, front row. Not because we booked then; we were picked. It being the last night, there were a fair number of photographers recording the event. It sometimes pays to be engaged to a simply gorgeous guy :-)

What a view. Acrobatics, cabaret, comedy, magic, puppetry, and... delightful stimulation. The highlight of the evening was when Fella was dragged up on stage to be a dancing boy in a rip-off of Cabaret. All in all, however, there was nothing that detracted from a thoroughly good evening. If you have friends, gentle reader, as good as mine you will have had many nights when your face aches from laughter; well, it was that kind of show. My hands, too are raw from applause.

It is quite interesting, the effect it has had on us both. I think alongside the humour, and discomfort, and the amazement indeed, we have been reminded of the possibilities of our bodies; and at a time when it is not too late [perhaps] to push our boundaries. I have recently joined a new gym, and tonight helped perhaps helped focus my mind on precisely why.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't spend my evening legs crossed and hunched over. My God there was plenty of eye-candy indeed, but for all the hot hot hottentot hotties it opened more my eyes to my situation than my... disposition to be loved.

When I was very young and first set my feet apon the shore of this sceptered isle, I discovered the worlds beyonnd this world and my course the 15 years thereafter was set. Tonight this show absorbed me to the same extent; a rare thing indeed. More often than not I sit outside of things watching events unfold and picking my moment to interact, to join in. But not with this.

La Soiree will join us in Strumpetville again toward the end of 2011... look out for it if you're around.

Weekend

Well, what a weekend that was gentle reader. Over the bank holiday we had a lot of parties, my Fella and I.

The weekend began with a drinks reception at the Royal College where Fella works and I did the Good Wife thing and mingled and charmed (I think, anyway). After that fella went home and I went clubbing it with friend 'C'. I have vague memories of dancing on a table until about 3:00am so we can consider the day seized there!

On Saturday we attended a barbecue cum housewarming hosted by fellow blogger Made In Scotland. We had a lovely time, and I'm delighted to have been invited – and to have attended. I am, I will admit, semi-consciously training to be a stepford-homo and as such was on tenterhooks for the social faux-pax but I think I managed to subsume my streak of misanthropy sufficiently well.... Made In Scotland will give you an honest assessment, I am sure!

After that, well we had Eurovision. I attended a party hosted by friends of Fella's that are now in some measure mutual – but this was the first time I had seen them separately, as it were. Well, it went well enough. I like Eurovision and we all laughed a great deal. I preferred Iceland (and Ireland, Azerbaijan, Moldova, Belgium...) so was surprised, though not unpleasantly, when Germany won. What 100 billion Euro will buy you, eh ;-) ?

Sunday, well we had a jaunt to Richmond before Sunday lunch to celebrate the birth of my good friend 'A'. There were about 15 people there, mostly gay, in a crowd that would have scared the shit out of me three years ago. But all were rather lovely and it was a really rather lovely time.

Truth be told I was feeling rather worse for wear on Tuesday and glad of the opportunity to go back to work, for the rest if nothing else... I wonder if I'm beginning to approach the propinquity of passing beyond an age where one might reasonably be considered capably of bacchanalian or even saturnalian pursuits for an extended period? Hmmm....

Fella and I had good reason to celebrate of course because we finalised a lot of our plans to move in together. We know our budget (surprisingly good), the area we're looking in (roughly where I am now), and when (September or so). Timing and money are tough because of my master's degree beginning in October; but I have applied for funding from work and coincidentally my department's training budget was recently doubled because of an underspend last year... so I am hopeful of at least some support.

But I can blog more about that another time. I hope you had an equally lovely bank holiday... and are equally happy J

Queen Bee/Busy Bee

As you know gentle reader I do enjoy being busy. And for a change the cheerful fairy is a busy bee not because of work, but because of all the other things. Actually, since the election was called work has been incredibly quiet. A new financial year when there is no money and no-one knows who will be in charge in a month doesn't quite support the frenetic pace to which I have become used...

The weekend, for example, was very busy. On Friday Fella and I had a colleague of his and mutual friend over for dinner. I hadn't seen her for a little while, partly because my illness has disrupted our social plans.

On Saturday he treated me to a bit of culture – we went to see a play called The Little Dog Laughed. Fellow blogger Made In Scotland saw the play a few months ago and wrote his review then. The day we saw it turned out to be the last day of the run; I have to say from our perspective it was great and the cast appeared to have ironed out the issues MIS identified then. Tamsin Greig was excellent; though the male leads didn't really play with such depth she totally stole the show with her interactions with the audience (though none of them could sustain an American accent). On the other hand the male actors were hot hot hottentot hotties so it's all good.

The play was essentially about a Hollywood movie star considering coming out after meeting a guy and falling for him; and it was, naturally, quite poignant for me so I found it very absorbing. Very funny and very sad. It was very good indeed.

On Sunday I attend the Big Gay Flashmob outside Conservative Party Headquarters with Fella and a few friends. If perchance you are non-British, gentle reader, the Conservatives are the part of Margaret Thatcher. Not very socially enlightened. The party has a real chance of forming the next Government. It pays lip service to equality for homosexuals but it never quite rings true and there are scandals like the comments by a recent prominent Conservative who said, in essence, that in some circumstances people should be free to deny homosexuals services if they so wish (as a matter of personal or religious conviction). Also, the Conservatives are aligned in the European Parliament with some figures alleged to have very right wing views – anti semitic, homophobic etc, which jars with the weasel words on being gay for domestic UK consumption. The party isn't aligned with these people because it's anti-semitic; but they share the same views on preventing further European integration. I don't think that's good enough reason to restrict the rights of 10% of the population. You can see some of the coverage here.

Afterward we all went out for drinks and in Soho met up with various other people until it became quite a boozy affair – my favourite kind to be sure. It was really nice to be in a social group of just gay men. I don't do that enough. The conversation was predictably filthy; and it was a lot of fun.

So that was the weekend that was! All manner of gay stuff and a good mix too. Well, when in Strumpetville...

Evening All

This is the first evening in a couple of weeks that I’ve had to myself, in that I don’t have to work at home after my time in the office. My project has reached a phase where I’m somewhat redundant. My plans are for others to execute [lightning crashes; maniacal laughter]. Having worked so hard for so long, now seeing it pay off is bitter-sweet.

Fortunately February is a bit of a social whirlwind for me. On Saturday, for example, I have been invited to two concerts and a birthday party, so busy busy busy there. A pirate themed birthday party in Soho does call to me… but a neighbour is having a gig in town so I may do that first.

Of course it’s the weekend after that really interests me. I make no apologies for wanting a proper, proper Valentine’s day. I want a card and chocolates and champagne and flowers and some time that doesn’t involve any of those things or clothes at all. So there.

But – and this is where the Cheerful Fairy comes into his own, gentle reader – I got me a proper boyfriend and relationships being, somewhat tiresomely, about giving as well as taking I have a plan…

Since the New Year Fella’s life has been punctuated by a series of losses. Nothing major – not like family, anyway. He lost a funky pair of blue shoes; my Christmas present to him of a knitted scarf; his MP3 player… well, a lot of things. On Friday night he was in floods of tears after losing his glasses under circumstances I’ll blog about later…

Well, I can’t go back in time. But I can be romantic. Oh yes! So, here’s my plan for the run up to Valentine’s day *giggle*

I’m going to buy him a replacement for the shoes, scarf and MP3 player. But, rather than merely present them, this is what I’m thinking of doing:

On the Thursday night I intend (somehow – details are yet to be fully thought through) to put a box, wrapped in shiny red paper, and containing the new shoes on his desk for him to find Friday morning.

On Saturday I will give him the scarf.

And on Sunday at a dinner in a location to be confirmed – my treat of course – I intend to give him the MP3 player.

A series of presents to make a lovely romantic weekend. OK, so I haven’t fully thought it through and the gaps tend to be filled with champagne and flowers but it’s a start. A good start. Being gay, male and pragmatic I imagine the weekend will go rather well for me too ;-)

Lady luck

Lady luck has been somewhat fickle with her finger most recently, gentle reader; indeed it has been quite the roller-coaster ride.

Thursday and Friday were excellent! My first major project since getting promoted came to its climax. As any project manager knows, when a project has had three different project managers in four months it’s time to worry. But I managed to steer the ship into port – everything, and I do mean everything, went perfectly. I can hardly believe it now…

On Friday I was genuinely surprised to be the subject of an inordinate amount of praise. I was summoned to meet the chief executive of the NHS, no less, to receive his personal thanks; my own chief executive bought me a bottle of very nice champagne and all the directors came together to give me a standing ovation.

No, it was not a dream! It was mortifying but nice… in its own way. Of course I tried to make clear that (a) I didn’t deserve this adulation (b) I’m keeping the champagne and (c) don’t expect me to make a habit of actually, you know, getting things done.

Actually it was really, really hard work and on Friday I was a bit demob happy. After work I went to the Annual Ball at the Royal College where Fella works and we ate, drank and danced the night away. It was a lovely end to a full week.

Sadly it was then our luck began to run out. Fella had some lovely pictures taken of us at no small expense, and I left them behind at the ball; so on Saturday I went back and even rooted through the bins to try and find them. But I couldn’t. I was very, very upset because those pictures meant a lot to Fella and I really feel like I’ve badly let him down.

I was NOT best pleased to be confronted by this, though Fella was fine with it really. I on the other hand feel like a total dick. I’ve never really let anyone down as such before. Not like this.

So all in all it was a bittersweet end of the week that was for me. Fella assures me he had a very lovely weekend and I did try to make it up to him in the nicest possible way… Still, it’s time to think of something very special to help convince him to stick with me! And as our ten months comes up very very close to a certain date in February a plan doth begin to form…

Your move...

As you may know Britain has been in the grip of a mini ice age, a veritable climate catastrophe that had brought this erstwhile other Eden unto the very brink of disaster.

Also known as snow.

The thing about Britain – one of the many things that is – is that the infrastructure is crap. Thus the snow caused all transport to grind to a halt. The net result of that has been that Fella and I have spent virtually every day together again. In fact he only went home today – thus allowing me to keep you informed, gentle reader.

We’ll be celebrating nine months together at the end of next week, and, at the risk of jinxing things, things continue to go well. Not perfect – why should they be? But… well. Of course I love him to bits and the hypothetical of losing him genuinely frightens me. So it’s difficult, having spent so much time literally within a couple of feet of each other, to avoid smothering each other with love AND equally to avoid smothering each other with a pillow.

I think it shows how well we are suited that being in the same room 24/7 has resulted in no consequences whatever.

It should be borne in mind that the backdrop to this is an insanely busy return to work [as an aside I should acknowledge I often complain about being busy at work but this is something else]. I have been given a project that comes to fruition next week; next Thursday between 9am and 2pm 144 people representing 49 different organisations will come together to undertake an exercise that will ensure the fulfilment of 106 separate statutory functions. I’ve been up at 5:00 and been working till 22:00. Fella deserves a prize for his forbearance and I surely have earned my extra £54 per month (net).

Under these circumstances it is perhaps not surprising we have begun to tentatively discuss moving in together. And our decision is, perhaps quite surprisingly, that we’re not quite ready.

We both need our own space and even if we were to live together Fella is insistent of a two bedroom’d place (I think a two roomed place would fit the bill, but there we are) so we could be together but be apart. This is the key, you see – when we are together we must be together. It’s great, but after nine days together we just miught not want to watch the same thing, eat the same thing, sleep at the same time.

So when Fella moves to London things will be easier because we’ll be within a reasonable distance of each other and we can. Frankly, just piss off when we need to. And then piss back. Snow notwithstanding, of course.

There we have it then. This is working. My mood swings and the sky falling in haven’t driven us off track, even. And now I must spend a week without him… Boo!

Roasting

I genuinely had nice weekend this weekend. A coupley weekend of niceness it was.

On Friday my manager had her leaving drinks from work. I bought her a nice present – a very expensive pen, if you please, in a gorgeous presentation box – on behalf of us all, and some champagne. I owe her a lot; I’ve been lucky with managers these last few years [ahem] and my recent elevation is as much due to them as any talents I have brought to bear on the matter.

Anyway, après les drinques I met Fella at the Royal College and there were more drinks; the staff had had their Christmas party and the entire building was a-swinging. We left about 10:00 and tried to head home. Sadly, the gods of snow had other plans. Our trains were delayed! Well, I was unhappy about this and Fella impatient with my attitude so we ended up having a row. Darn. Still, we couldn’t have a proper humdinger as that would have involved parting ways and he would have walked off into a blizzard and been eaten by wolves or chavs or something. And I would have spent the weekend being bored.

So instead we had a heart-to-heart. A proper one. It was good in many ways. I think we both agreed we could talk about things. Properly. Without me descending into an orgy of self-questioning misery, if such a thing is possible.

So, Strumpetville being Happy Holiday Fun Town, we continued our merry weekend of fun with a house party on Saturday at which we hardly needed the emergency services at all. And on Sunday, as a reward, I did Fella a lovely roast dinner with real German potato dumplings that went down a treat.

And then we relaxed all afternoon – he slept and slept! And watched Soapdish to round off the evening. It’s a good film; Fella loves it.

And then we slept

Yeah, that was a nice weekend. Now I miss him. I was very sad to part with him when it was work time on Monday. But that time together was oh so nice...

I’ll help myself get over it tonight by piling all the pillows into one head, sleeping right in the middle of the bed, and getting up when it suits me! So goodnight gentle reader; more from me tomorrow.

Retail (couple) therapy

Fella is at a concert tonight so I’m waiting for him to come home, and once I’m done here I’ll be cooking us dinner before we settle in for the night.

Today has been a nice day. A lie in, before a breakfast of *ahem* and a morning spent lazing in front of the television. After going into town we had lunch in a small sushi restaurant in Soho where I bumped into a former neighbour of mine of whom I was always rather fond – I hope she (a very bubbly Malaysian lady) and I can meet up again soon as she was always a lot of fun! Anyway, after that Fella and I began some serious retail therapy. Shoes; coat; watch; cufflinks. All for me! Bless his heart if Fella wasn’t following me round – entirely without complaint - some all afternoon staggering under the weight of things that had caught my eye. I do like clothes shopping, gentle reader; as some unfortunate Frenchists found out today, many a slip ‘twixt a mirror and me when I am cooing over a new purchase.

I did a bit of Christmas shopping too; a nice journal bound in leather itself inlaid with semi-precious stones for one of my cousins, and a hand-made Egyptian jewellery box for my mother. All in all I spent heaps of lovely lolly. Well, ‘tis Christmas, and in Strumpetville retail therapy is prescribed by any doctor worthy of the name…

Now all I really need to do, bar a few more gifts for the known knowns who are my friends and family, is find the something for the known unknown who is my boyfriend. Hmmmm… Asking him outright has, annoyingly, failed to yield results. I want it to be right and I have the double burden of the unknown unknown that is his family’s judgement and the bar of Paris to at least match. So I reeally do want to know at some level what to get him; what gifts he would like most.

The shopping today is also in part to prepare us for the trip to Germany next week. Time has stolen a march and in four days we shall be flung across the sky in an aluminium death-tube full of other people’s farts to confront under Why There Are No Grandchildren. To be fair it’s also largely Because I Wanted To (and that, as an aside, has been the justification for a lot of what has been blogged about this past couple of years) but really both of us are beginning to get a tad nervous and taking this time to be together, to be sure we look our best and to know how we plan to do things before we go, is proving to be very important.

November

November already! I really am letting my blogging slide. It’s something I’ve noticed of other bloggers who have entered long term relationships; but as their blogs are better than mine the relative paucity of my posts is less of a loss.

So, best start the month with a catch up, run down, and general summary of life in sunny Strumpetville since our sojourn to Paris.

I think starting with the worst; I have been increasingly unwell since we came back from holiday. I shan’t trouble you with my squishy organic symptoms. I’ve had some tests done and we shall see soon what it is that ails me. It could be any number of things, but the range of symptoms is too narrow to really suggest anything serious.

On the plus side the illness, unpleasant though it surely is, has left me with a much reduced appetite and a real aversion to alcohol and chocolate. What rare malady it is that makes me crave nothing but light salads. My weight loss is beginning to get comments!

Anyway… moving on; at Hallowe’en Fella and I went to two parties. One at a mutual friend – a gay female couple Kevin ahs known for ages but who have clasped me to their collective bosom. It was a double celebration as they had also recently become engaged to be married, which was fantastic news. I went dressed as the devil, cape horns and pitchfork. I was rather pleased with my effort. But after a could of hours we had to head home, because there was a party at my house too!

That was as expected. There were outrageous costumes and cocktails galore! There was also yet another new housemate, replacing the previous mystery housemate (keeping up?). He seemed very keen on me, so I had to try and avoid him for a while. Unfortunately his keenness has spilled over into the post-party world.

He’s another odd one [but of course]. Canadian and lacking in subtlety; my efforts to make clear I have no intention of sleeping with him led to an invitation to ‘just cuddle’. In our underwear. Hmmm. Or; not. I must admit to being somewhat bemused by tactics such as “come into my room; I’ve got something to show you *wink*” or “you’re cute. I’m horny”. Like an amazing diamond, the many facets of this house continue to dazzle!

So that’s where we are at the start of the month. This week I’m seeing Fella on Wednesday, and then we have friends over here for dinner on Friday. Later in the month we have, amongst other things another fancy dress party and of course I’m still in the throes of organising the trip to Germany. So forgive my scant attention to this blog, gentle reader: I promise there is plenty to come to hold yours !

Weekend

Well, first things first. Let me say now Oooops; I accidentally revealed Fella’s secret identity. I didn’t mean to; this is what happens when you dash off a hurried post at work in!

My lack of care tempted fate perhaps, because on Friday night he and I ended up having our first Big Row. We go through it and we’re fine; I suppose it’s a good test of our relationship that we are comfortable enough to have a row with each other and not consider falling out to be a deal-breaker at seven weeks.

So what happened? Well, a couple of days ago The Gardener moved in a 19 year old French exchange student/model who is staying for a month. That’s all fine. Except for Friday, when Fella and I are there trying to enjoy a lovely romantic dinner that he prepared. All the while this 19 year old is SHAMELESSLY flirting with MY gorgeous guy.

This of course made me feel decidedly uncomfortable though Fella responded by becoming increasingly affectionate with me so no complaints there. It just got my back up when Fella then invited the Frenchist to join us at Pride.

Fella picked up that I was miffed at this and later complained I do not trust him. I explained I DO trust him, and I KNOW he’s not going to do anything. I just didn’t want to spend my first Pride watching a repeat of that performance.

I suspect this was a “Straw, meet Camel’s Back” moment because Fella became quite upset and said I was putting him on a pedestal and I shouldn’t and he ISN’T this great guy and he’s not ready to say what he thinks I expect him to say.

I gave him a big hug and assured him I am taking things slow and though I think he’s great I’m not going to make some flamboyant declaration of undying love and I don’t expect him to do anything but I do want to be with him and see how things go.

As rows go I suspect that wasn’t too bad. A row about not so much; he was a bit highly strung after making what he thought was a terrible dinner but I know was delightful. I’m a piss-poor communicator whose brown eyes can, it seems, turn green once in a while. But as it was our first row (and, who knows? Perhaps our last) it’s kinda special. I do know that we spent much of Saturday and Sunday making it up to each other in the nicest possible way.

On Saturday Pride was tremendous fun. All the armed and emergency forces were well represented in the parade which was fantastic. In a small world coincidence Fella and I found ourselves standing next to International at the parade so I introduced them. Fella was quite dismissive, only commenting later that he is much prettier than International [green eyes all round?].

A busy weekend! Hope you enjoyed yours, gentle reader.

Moving on

So today was the day of the move. The Gardener very kindly helped me shift a lot of my things in his work vehicle. Now the room I’m in is very, very crowded but I think I’ve managed to accommodate most of what I wanted to get in there. The few remaining big pieces of furniture (sofa, tall shelving units) I’ll hire a van for and they can go in the living room for us to share. Of course, picking the hottest day of the year to exert myself so was perhaps not the wisest move – but needs must and if I haven’t lost weight with all this then I’m a – porky – Dutchman [British idiom].

I had a brief date on Friday but this didn’t really go anywhere. It was over quite quickly, and he sent me an email after thanking me for my ‘time’… he’s not for me, nor I for him. C’est la vie, gentle reader. No harm done.

After the date I went out on the town with colleagues which got messily drunk. I recall leading the night-bus home in song. There were jazz hands. So I was not happy on Saturday packing up! Have you tried shifting furniture whilst suffering Ebola? It wasn’t pretty.

Today while out shopping I bumped into one of two guys I hooked up with last Tuesday. This particular guy was also out shopping: with his boyfriend. I must admit, after I said hello and realised they are together, I felt a bit of irritation that once again I’ve hooked up with a guy who is with a guy. I mean, I’m fine with open relationships. And I decided long ago that it is not for me to manage others’ lives; how they commit and deal with infidelity is up to them. But still! I don't know this guy hadn't told his boyfriend about me, but he was awfully keen to leave...

I strayed from that path with International; perhaps the exception proving the rule. Yet, it does annoy me a bit these days. It used to be that the attention flattered me but now, not so much! I would rather meet single guys; I got some moves [he he] and it all helps in the search for Mr Right, I fancy. In the meantime if guys are in a relationship and they want to have some fun together then I’m game. At least that’s done in a way that doesn’t have the same potential to harm. Oh, yes, Frumpella has standards. Or at least would prefer to be in a relationship over merely sleeping with people who are.

Honesty

Honesty is, I think, the best policy. It is all I demand in a relationship; my only absolute. It comes from watching my parents’ various marriages disintegrate around. And this weekend is a case in point.

You may recall, gentle reader, that I had a lot of fun over the Easter weekend with a guy I’d met before, and a friend of his, for a lovely threeway assignation. Since then I have been in touch with a couple who live locally and who were looking to hook up. At the same time I remained in contact with the ‘friend’ from the earlier threeway as he wanted to hook up again and knowing my fondness for small groups, he wanted to invite his partner too.

Well, this weekend it all came together and I invited both couples to join me for some indoor sports *ahem*. Yes, Frumpella is the hostess with the mostest but it had been a wee while and I had reserved the weekend specifically for naughty fun so why not?

It turned out that that the first couple included one guy from the threeway at Easter; and the second couple included not only the other (as I already knew); but I’d met his boyfriend before for some naughty fun too. Hmm… leaving aside the fact that this means there’s only a 1 in 4 chance that any random guy I pick up is someone I haven’t slept with before; it all was still a bit awkward. Mainly because none of these guys, the ones in relationships I emphasise now, had told their partners about their extra-curricular activities so all three separately swore me to secrecy. Strumpetville was descending into farce!

Nevertheless, a good time was had by all. And today one of the guys – the only one I hadn’t met before - contacted me looking for further, discreet, fun. He’s pretty hot so I had him over and again much fun was had! But it was only afterward that he revealed to me – as part of a request to join my select group of regular gentleman callers – that he and his partner are HIV positive.

This annoyed me somewhat as, well, he, his partner, and their friends and I have been engaged in a lot of sex. And truth be told a few times various of them had been pushy about not using a condom. I always play safe; yet while I know there is no harm done to me personally I am a bit put out by it and would have preferred a more up-front approach.

Yes, honesty works for me. A great weekend but; welcome Rule 23.

And next...

Well, it’s the weekend gentle reader; and what a fine weekend it’s turning out to be. Sunny and warm. So there’s the chance to get lots of things done and enjoy the outdoors and simply relax – which is something I haven’t done for a little while.

On Thursday I had a date with a Scottish lawyer who lives not too far from me and works in the City. We went to a nice oriental restaurant on Soho called Ping Pong and then afterward for a few drinks. It was very nice and we said we should see each other again… Today I texted him to say I would be walking along the river on Sunday past the area where he lives so perhaps we could grab a coffee/have lunch/something. So we’ll see.

On Friday I had dinner with friends, hosted by one of us who is currently enjoying a period of self-enforced sobriety for charity! She therefore had the misfortune to have to cook [fabulous food] and then watch the rest of us get tiresomely drunk until the early hours; and that was the springboard into my weekend.

In between times I got a rather curt message of a guy on gaydar who had messaged me quite out of the blue asking me out. I hadn’t really had a chance to reply up to that point, with an affirmative. He took the delay as an indication on my part that I wasn’t interested. I replied back that I was but hadn’t had a chance to respond fully/nicely. I really didn’t like having to do that as it has a touch of the Rule 15 about it and to honest I resented being put in that position; especially as it had only been about 36 hours! But instead of saying “sorry, I’m looking for balls not nuts” I explained what the situation was. That seemd to work; he got back in touch and the long-and-short of it is we are going out a week on Wednesday. No doubt you’ll read about that in due course…

So there we have it. Yet another first date to look forward to! The week between then and now will be a quiet one, some self-enforced discipline on the man/booze/late night front (though I suspect the occasional assignation will be on the cards). Some quiet time in Strumpetville.

I hope, aspire if you will, to sooner or later get some second dates under my belt. Performance has been lacklustre in that department since International and I split. But there’s no urgency and I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see and just enjoy the sunshine.

Down with dating

Here we are at the end of February; spring is coming; the days are getting longer…

It was a lovely day yesterday; last week I had a series of events with NHS organisations across London and for Friday’s I hired out the 33rd floor of Citibank’s headquarters in Canary Wharf. The view was rather spectacular; out across the Dome and down the river to my home, opposite London City Airport. Check out this photo of your taxes at work:

I was in a good mood partly because I was due to see Sam in town for our date. I’d had a busy week, and we hadn’t really been able to keep in touch, but the plan was to meet at a posh restaurant on Covent Garden. I should, perhaps, have taken note when he decided he wanted to go somewhere ‘cheap’ instead. And then, later, he decided he wanted to come to my place again [yay]. And then he couldn’t stay very long as he was ill [boo]… and then he cancelled [censored].

And then he went quiet on me. I’m mystified, and not a little hurt that something that started so well has ended to abruptly and with that strange air of … why?

Saturday’s date has also been postponed; hence my ability to wallow a little in self pity tonight. However, that has happened due to genuine if self-inflicted illness on the part of my datee so this I can forgive. We are now meeting tomorrow evening Chez Moi; meaning I have two dates in one day tomorrow - assuming nothing awful happens during the meanstwhile.

I was tempted to ring round and re-jig all my other dates to fill the bounty this new slot availability could be turned into. But my instinct was that this might be considered a tad rude; I hardly need to signal on a first date to candidates for boyfriendage that they are a plan B!

I had a relatively enjoyable night in on Friday, notwithstanding an embarrassingly wine fuelled tête-à-tête with my neighbour about the synergy of 2am and Very Loud Music that finds me somewhat bruised today. I shall keep a low profile tonight and ensure that I am loveliness personified for my fellas on Sunday.

In the meantime I shall dwell not on Sam, gentle reader, but on this rather charming young man: Matthew Mitcham, an Australian Olympian, gay and…. *sigh*.

Loose end

Harrumph. Harrumph I say! For it’s the weekend and I am at a loose end. All dressed down and nowhere to go.

I blame International for this intolerable state of affairs; if I were not in a relationship with him – or at least still casting a roving eye – then I could roam across the internet and meet guys for some double plus naughty fun. But no, that option is closed to me. In my mind’s eye I picture he and Ouch getting up to all manner of fun; shopping, the cinema… smooches? Grrr! Advantage, International. While I sit here alone. Harrumph.

Of course there are things I could do – the distinction between having things to do and boredom has been the subject of many a frank discussion with past employers over the years – but writing all my Christmas cards and tidying up my YouTube favourites etc seem like chores.

So, I am in a relationship; and the duller for it then. I will admit, as we head for our three month anniversary, that the initial headlong rush is calming down a bit, as is only to be expected. But it’s nice to replace that with getting to know him better and find out more. We really don’t know much about each other at all well right now, which makes this romance all the more preposterous. But when he was here last we did talk and I learned more about him and his upbringing and family. Make no mistake, I still crave his presence in my arms and the thought of him is guaranteed to put a smile on my face. Oh dear, Mike’s got it bad!

We continue to text or message each other several times a day. But as yet we have not fixed a time/day when we will see each other again. I am pretty sure we’ll have at least a day together before Christmas – which of course isn’t enough, so we’ll have to arrange something more then, won’t we?

I’m hoping for a subscription to The Economist from International for Christmas; I dropped some pretty heavy hints. Like “buy me a subscription to The Economist for Christmas”. So we will see. Today I bought for myself a subscription to Gay Times and Men’s Health, so there’ll be plenty to oggle while I wait for my brain to be stimulated. In the New Year I am keen to properly tackle my body and get some proper rippling gorgeousness going – I dare but whisper it really, but there is a hint (just a hint) of a six-pack after all my weight loss. Oh yes, gentle reader, we likey.

As for the portion weekend that remains: dinner, wine, and (one of my favourite shows ever) the West Wing.

Saturday

A cold weekend in Strumpetville gentle reader; I wore my favourite scarf which is universally acclaimed as very Dr Who and normally leaves me far too hot – but today it was just right. Brrrr.

I met International on the South Bank at about 2pm and we walked via Blackfriars Bridge into Soho. Along the way we discussed various things including whether or not his expectation of fidelity is a way of avoiding STIs (it isn’t) and, most importantly, what happens next for us.

Ouch Suspects, it seems. He queries, for example, International’s ever more frequent absences and visits to friends who have no apparent recollection of seeing my beau (today I was a meeting of International’s book club). To that end International has resolved to have the first of what I suspect will be a series of discussions. The theme of discussion one is Where We Are. International wants to discuss the state of play of his relationship with Ouch and what his feelings about it are. Essentially is Ouch ‘up for’ for sharing. This will in itself of course reveal much to Ouch; therefore some discussion of the consequences was needed today too.

So, then, over a lovely Japanese dinner and drinks in The Yard we talked and schemed and planned and even found time for smooches…

The mortgage will be tricky. International and I could cover it but we would be ever so poor. And I don’t ‘do’ poor. Obviously it will take time to sort out – even without the pressures of the current market. After that International wants to get his own place for a while. I’m not a huge fan of that idea, but I can’t force him to live with me. Well, I could but it would not bode well. In the meantime if things get a bit hairy I’ve invited International to stay with me for as long as he needs to.

This scenario still assumes much; but I am genuinely worried for Ouch now. I made clear to International that I wasn’t pushing him or pressurising him but International seems resolute in his wish/recognition of the need to sort things out. He says he wants to ‘do right’. The immortal words of Mandy Rice-Davies notwithstanding I asked him to keep me informed of what happens.

I love him so very much and wish there was a way I could make him happy… easily. But fool that I am, I have fallen head over heels for a manifestly unsuitable man.

So there we have it; progress of a sort. Further updates as events warrant. In the meantime happy Weasel Stomping Day.

Sauce

True to my word, gentle reader, I have had a very naughty weekend. You may recall I had recently heard from T and I was tempted to respond positively to his overtures. Well, in the end I did get in touch with him to say we should indeed meet up. So hopefully I shall get a response soon.

In the meantime on Saturday and Sunday there have been three assignations arranged via t’internet. All were guys I’d been in touch with peri-International; but because he was on the scene, pardon the pun, nothing came of it. However, while I was online on Saturday all three got in touch. The first I had been flirting for months. He wanted some al-fresco action but I felt it was a tad on the chilly side for such activities; so on Saturday night I met him and we went back to mine. My that was fun; it’s amazing how things that may not be your favourite, if done right, can still drive you wild ;-)

And on Sunday a guy came over from Greenwich for an afternoon shag, to be followed in the evening by a nice long 'session' with another, who likes to party and play - though I prefer not to mix fuzunjulation of the vududium with much more than a glass of wine if I can help it. (thinking it’s pretty darned fabulous on its own account). Not even poppers for me gentle reader though I indulge my men-folk if they really must have that helping hand (as if I’m not enough… cheek!).

Yes, I let my trouser department do the thinking this weekend – and it was most marvellous to our eyes! The weekend ended with a tempting invitation from a very young (late teens eeek!) couple from nearby for one of my favourite activities; a threesome. I’m not sure yet – I’m comfortable in a range 25 to 45, and prefer guys at least my own age; but as a cardinal rule of threesomes is that they’re just about sex, there may be no harm in it…

Of course this comes alongside work; I have had two clients this week which is fantastic and quite timely! And my ‘proper job’ is keeping me busy as always; my current projects have been reviewed and it has been decided that they are too important/I’m doing too well [flattery will get you everywhere] to hand the over to someone else. Well, I’m keen to see my projects through and as some colleagues are definitely moving on I’m going to be leading on more projects from now too. Thus some catching up on Sunday was necessary.

Raise your glasses to sex and projects!

I strangely don’t feel bad about my nominal infidelity to International. I do, however, feel comfortable that I’ve rebalanced the various portfolios in my life more equitably. Until International and I make some progress he remains my love-life (we’ve been exchanging the usual messages today too, awwww), just not, for now, all of my sex life.

Scrooge

I finish the weekend somewhat ill at ease. I feel like I haven’t achieved anything. I dislike not seizing the day and getting things done.

Is that fair? I did a mind boggling amount of shopping, resurrected this blog from the ashes of Google’s maladministration, sorted out my business banking (or at least started to), chatted to friends online, reviewed the (frankly inadequate) advertising proofs for my new campaign, and even managed to have a bath (24 hours till the boiler is fixed... oh I hope).

But. I didn’t do any actual work; and I have been alone all weekend. Next week is a bit crammed as my next counselling session – self esteem, if you please – is on Tuesday then Wednesday to Friday I’m with International. So the opportunities to get things done are limited.

In fact the real reason I’m dissatisfied is a general lack of ease about my current situation. Not on the romance side – International and I as we ever were. No, it’s the whole thing. An holistic malcontent, gentle reader, is your correspondent.

I am fortunate, though – and perhaps it is my Teutonic origins shining through – that I can usually identify point A (where I am), point B (where I want to be) and define the obstacles to overcome to get from one to the other. In other words I generally know what I want and how to get there. This of course is something that gets easier with time, which incidentally is the main reason I like being in my 30s.

So, here am I at point A (not enough money) and I want to be at point B (lots of lovely lolly). I do have a good income, one that allows me to indulge my tastes and whims quite freely; yet I fear I am not in a position that I can take advantage of the opportunities that may arise over the next couple of years. The fall in house prices bringing bricks and mortar at least nominally within my reach, for example.

What solutions has my incisive and efficient deutsche Kopf given me? Increase income and reduce outgoings! Aber natürlich.

The income bit will be in part helped along by finding an advertiser that can write in whole sentences. And the outgoings? Ah, hence the Scrooge bit. I am determined to cut back!

Up to Christmas I am going to see how little I can live on – excluding the social life, as it’s that time of year of course. But I reckon certain premium elements of my lifestyle could be trimmed… we shall see. On those occasions when I have identified point B I rarely have failed to reach it. It can take me some considerable time to recognise point B – as this blog amply demonstrates – but now our course is set. Wonga Ahoy!

Swap

Shift, substitute, switch...

Well, gentle reader compared to when you last saw it you will notice a difference in this blog. Why the change? Because blogger decided to decimate my blog for no reason and when rebuilding it I decided to experiment with my template. I hope you like it. Essentially on the left you will find my fevered imaginings, and on the right the rather more reasonable external sources and sites that keep me grounded.

It's almost done, though I'm sad to say anyone who recently voted will need to do so again; sorry. Believe me, it's taken hours of work (spent largely raving like a madman about the cruelty of it all) to get back to this point. And now I'm done and will post again soon.