Pondering.

I worked extra hard yesterday and managed to pull of a little coup that will make my life a lot easier in the future, so when one of my ‘regulars’ invited himself round for a bit of fun that evening I thought there was no better way to celebrate.

This is the second time I’ve been with someone since I met Mark (he knows) and I suppose I should think about what's going to happen next with that.

Now, I’m equally happy to be in an open relationship or with monogamy – I just expect honesty and genuine commitment (whatever that is). So ironically, if my fella strayed while we were in a monogamous relationship it would probably mean the end; but if we were ‘open’ I think I’d quite enjoy hearing/sharing (maybe reliving) the juicy details!

However, it turns out Mark does want a monogamous relationship, so at some point, possibly – hopefully? – quite soon, I guess I’ll need to pack up my profiles and put my bed-hopping days to rest.

But, then what to do about the guys I’ve been seeing on and off for ’fun’: ‘T’, ‘W’ and, for want of anything better, the one I'll call New ‘V’? All already have boyfriends of their own, so I guess they can’t complain if I get one for a change!

‘T’ is great and really treats my like a prince but only sees me when his actual boyfriend is away; I’ll miss him when we part. ‘W’ is in a sexless relationship and we meet up very occasionally – it sounds terrible, put like that, but we are friends too, and are often in contact without the other thing, so I guess he and I can be just friends.

New ‘V’ doesn’t treat me like a prince at all and he is very very naughty indeed. I practice on him and he gets to practise things most definitely not on his boyfriend’s approved-list (Yes, there we have it, gentle reader, I’m a total slut), so I suppose he’ll happily move on to the next guy when I stop seeing him.

Well, if Mark wants monogamy I surely can’t demand honesty and commitment, and keep seeing these guys. But until I’m sure this is going somewhere I’m not quite ready to take the plunge. Yet, on the other hand I don’t want to have a Big Talk and demand too much of Mark too soon; instead I’d prefer to wait and see, ideally without being too pathetic and needy. Mark’s had one boyfriend or another since he was 17, and I obviously haven’t, so I feel I’m playing catch-up to a certain extent. When is the right time to become exclusive? Do I secretly want to have my cake and eat it? Cognitive dissonance, anyone?

This is the film we're going to see on Friday...

Review of the Year

But where then have we found ourselves, gentle reader, as we approach the middle of the month of June?

Well, first let’s review the stats - I like my numbers; here’s an example of the kind of equation I, hogzilla geekboy, come up with for work - (it might not inpress you but the government of Queensland will be eternally grateful. Or not!):

It turns out there were 36 men in my alphabet (including Darren) - ‘S’ covers three, and I accidentally used ‘A’ and ‘O’ twice. Finally, the letter ‘Y’ was never allocated – the only one left – so it’s covered anyone who came along recently, including Mark.

Of those 36, there are a couple of ongoing ‘prospects’; four have fallen under the general heading of boyfriend; five have been or are my phalanx of occasional ‘lovers’; one stalker (Harry’s still making his presence felt) and about a third of the rest have been… well, one off fun. More than I thought, actually.

*blushes*

Ranging from early 20s to late 50s the guys I’ve met have all be fun in their own respective ways. Good memories, and some good stories! And, I’ve been amazed by how much support and friendliness there was when I came out and how well received I was in-and-of myself... very affirming.

The last twelve months have seen a series of changes all for the good, I think, starting with giving up smoking, then taking care of my body; coming out; sorting out my work and pushing forward with self-employment. I’m closer to friends and family than ever before, I’m delighted to be in my 30s, I love being me. And I am genuinely, genuinely happy with my life.

By the same token I’ve learned a lot about myself and other things, and had some of the most wonderful experiences of my life. But, most importantly, I’ve made some good friends and experienced proper romance for the very first time. There has been so much I can look back on and laugh about, cry about, daydream and reminisce about… And I am at the very beginning of a relationship that might become Something.

So then, maybe my prince, only the very occasional frog, and a pretty fun time on the yellow brick road; “non pleure milord”. Coming out is never wrong.

Come hither

Saturday’s date went well enough; as I wrote before this psychometrics business works really well. Over my octopus (very nice by the way) in Soho we put the world to rights once again, and afterward we went for a drink to talk some more… and something occurred to me.

I’m still so new at this I rely on the other guy to make his move. I was really quite keen for muches smooches with this one but because he didn’t initiate it didn’t happen. God knows I gave enough ‘come hither’ signals but, ho hum, nothing doing.

When we parted, a lot later than I intended, we did kiss, but lips not tongues. Ho hum indeed. And I waited so long for even that I missed my last train! Anyway, I sent a text saying what a great time I had and that next time we’d have to kiss properly; no reply yet – we’ll see.

But that leads us nicely onto today, and today of course was the third date with Mark. Well, that’s what was planned anyway.

This morning I sent him a text message explaining that I like the cut of his jib and speculating about today’s activities. He’d been out of London visiting friends and was on his way back to meet me, but sure enough he replied positively... Sadly, he left a little late and got stuck in traffic on the way so by the time he got back to London we were confronted with either having a very rushed time together somewhere in town, or postponing. So, over the phone, we agreed to postpone. After all I’ve fallen so far behind with work it would be a good time to catch up and… yeah, and…

And then it hit me: what the hell are you doing? You like this one, so why play the coy minx and act the courgette?!

So I called him back, suggesting we should have a nightcap at his place and, what with him being nearby and all, I was there in a flash with a selection of nice new world wines and my finest bedroom eyes.

I knew I couldn’t stay long, but I’m still really glad I went. Yes a lot of fun was had but there’s more to it.

We’ve now been to each other’s place, which feels symbolically important (mainly because Darren usually used mine; What’shisname and Harry used mine; and with my other erstwhile ‘regulars’ it’s always one place or the other, never both).

Most importantly though a chance to say how much I liked him and how much I want to keep seeing him. I wanted to let him know because he makes me feel like I should make an effort to be nicer, take care of myself, clean the flat more, and just generally prove myself worthy; with others it's been more "do you slot into my life, or not?" whereas now it's more "my life has to change for this to work". I have genuinely prayed please don’t let me fuck this one up please don’t.

Of course one of the things I need to bear in mind is I’m, right now, more into him than he's into me - to be sure, gentle reader, I know he does like me - and I need to be a bit canny here. But, OK, with time and effort it will become… Something.

And the next step to Something is the cinema on Friday. Five whole days… dangnamit.

Can I keep him?

To help bring the naming thing under control I have decided to tell you that Mr Tuesday’s name is Mark. I’ve revealed it now, thus risking the Curse of the Wereblog upon us both, because I really like him. And the topic of today’s post is how much I hope he likes me.

Mark and I met on Friday for drinks at the Tate Modern (he is a member and they have a members’ room, which was really nice – both the décor and the views) and then we went for dinner around London Bridge where, in what I think is a good sign, they only charged us for two glasses of champagne rather than bottles. And, eventually, as dinner and drinks progressed we reached a tentative understanding that it was time to be a bit more intimate - and so we jumped on a train and headed back to my place.

Though it was not my intention, yes, OK, things ended up getting very intimate indeed… but that’s not the point. The point is Mark seems perfect in every way. His body puts me to shame and he’s a cultured, intelligent, passionate guy. It felt so comfortable lying in his arms in bed last night I wish we were still there right now.

In the cold light of day, of course, I realise the flat’s a total state, I look a shocking mess, and after all that champagne I probably made an idiot of myself. The long-and-short of it is he could do a lot better.

So though we are due to see each other for a third time on Sunday, I’m genuinely worried that it will be a kind of “well, nice knowing you” kind of meeting rather than a ‘third date’ leading to a ‘fourth date’ leading to…

We’ve exchanged some texts to day and I’ve asked him to call me later. Mark wants to go to the cinema, I think, but if I tidied the place up and made a fantastic meal, possibly to be eaten by candle-light, then I can keep things on track. But if he doesn’t want to see me again after tomorrow, then for the first time in a while I’ll be quite put out.

I’m trying to avoid becoming infatuated like I often do; I’m hopeful and a bit anxious. But I don't normally worry (to my own detriment I'm sure) about the effect last night will have on tomorrow. So if he calls me later I think I will try to explain how I feel. Yes/No???

Well, fingers crossed!

Man Friday

Thursday night was when I met the guy I discussed on 28 May, who’s main interesting feature from the point of view of this blog is that his is in his 50s.

After the great date I had on Tuesday – which was followed up by some lovely emails where he confessed the idea of fuzunjulation had seriously crossed his mind and I replied in the positive in that regard too – I was a bit reticent about meeting Mr Thursday. But, with the help of a friend I picked the absolute perfect venue and he was there when I arrived, sitting at the bar and sipping champagne. Nice. He actually looked good; clearly takes care of himself and is very elegant. If I’m like that in 25 years (count ‘em) I will be very pleased.

Anyway we got talking and a couple of bottles of wine later he took me to a more scene venue he knew, and things began to get a bit more passionate. In fact in the cold light of day I’m a little shocked at my antics (methinks he doth protest too, much gentle reader). Anyway, by the time I’d come up for air I’d long since missed my last train so – what a pity! I’d have to go back to Mr Thursday’s place to spend the night. And so, after giving the taxi driver quite a show we arrived back at Mr Thursday’s flat.

Unfortunately, at that exact same moment so did his son.

The son, only slightly younger than me, was not best pleased to have revealed certain elements of his father’s lifestyle so publicly, and a blazing row ensued where, almost like before, I played the interlocutor and tried to patch things up between them. And that wasn't easy!

To be clear, Mr Thursday is divorced, he has two adult children, and the son is living with him while doing some post-graduate degree. They know he’s gay. But he’d never brought someone back to the flat before, so I think the issue was being confronted by it in the raw, as it were.

Certainly the son’s initial reaction was very rude and aggressive - but he did apologise to me later and I think we got on well enough (eventually) under the circumstances.

Mr Thursday and I did eventually make it to bed, and we had a lot of fun. It was slightly odd to have it interspersed with a father-son heart-to-heart but there we are. Of course, in the morning we could concentrate on each other much more…

We went out for breakfast in the morning, partly I suspect to avoid Thursday Jr., and eventually we parted ways on his commute into work with a promise to see each other again – a sincere one on my part.

His chest hair is white. It’s sooooo cute!

But enough of that for now. Because, tonight, I have a second date with Mr Tuesday, the banker. Oh joy! We’re going to the Tate Modern and later – who knows? He seems really keen; we’ve been emailing and texting several times a day and he’s already proposed a third date on Sunday. Nice, but we’ll see, shall we?

As for Saturday; that’s when I’m having a second date (dinner etc) with the guy I met last Sunday.

Wow! Mr Tuesday's the one I'm most excited about though - just don’t make me choose…!!

Twosday

No, not a misprint gentle reader; Twosday. I call it Twosday instead of Tuesday for fun. It is a pun, or play on words, you see – and once I explain it you’ll laugh till you poop I’m sure.

Tonight, after much ado at the bank I finally got my new account number and sort-code; card and cheque book on the way. My life can get going again! Well, I’m still going to be down a few hundred squid; and my credit file has more red flags on it than a soviet flag factory. But it’s OK; I’m liquid again!!

And not a moment too soon.

Tonight I had a date at a lovely bar in Greenwich called The Union where they sell lovely organic beers. Tonight's fella was the banker I mentioned before ( I really do need a new naming system. Ideas, please!!) – he lives not far from me; only about ten minutes away, and I met him through the Soulmates website. Problem is he was flying into the UK Tuesday afternoon, and his flight got diverted after an unexploded WWII bomb was found near City Airport so he was going to be a bit late. He dashed into town, barely pausing to dump his bags, before coming to meet me. How sweet! It's not often a man makes that kind of effort for me.

So we met, hurrah, and we got talking. He bought me dinner as an apology, too, which was completely unnecessary but a nice gesture. It was, overall, a really nice date, and we talked about nearly everything. He wasn’t too camp, but was also nicely flirty; I think he liked the look of me, which was pleasing – in truth he’s quite the looker himself. Not that that matters at all, of course…

But he’d been travelling all day, and had any early start on Wednesday so about 10 we left and headed to our respective places, which mainly involved travelling together so that was nice.

The absolute nicest thing, however, was that he asked me on a second date straight away! How fantastic. Of course the answer was yes, and we’ll be seeing each other again Friday; but just to be sure I sent a text when I got home to say “thank you for dinner and a lovely date. Hope to see you Friday…” and he replied “Hey, you beat me to saying the same! See you Friday…”

And, to cap it all, the guy I saw on Sunday also wants to see me for a second date too (this will be dinner on Saturday). Of course, he’s asked me where we should go. I hate having to pick the venue! But I guess it’s worth it. I'm thinking Japanese, maybe.

Second dates all of a sudden. Have I suddenly become more attractive? Is the medicine finally working? Or am I becoming better at dating? Actually I think that the rules people set out for dates are, up to a point, tosh. Don't talk about this, don't do that; you either click or you don't I think. One trick is being robust enough to handle that properly.

Of course when you do click... Twosday; get it?

This video is particuarly good by the way

It's a hard life... ;-)

Dinner on Friday with friends, at a nice Portuguese restaurant, and once the beef and beer had been finished it was time to pay.

But my card is declined. Twice. Mike is mortified.

Well, a friend covers some of my bill (many thanks again Mr.) but I was, of course, really worried. It’s a new card, so maybe it’s broken? I've just been paid...

Anyway, I check it out and, well, to cut a long story short, it turns out I’m the victim of identity fraud! I’d been cleared out, gentle reader, and had zero pounds left!! And right before a week of dates!!!

Of course it will be sorted - stoicism is our watchword - but in the meantime (the bank has actually been really good about it) I dashed into town on Saturday and got some emergency funds to tide me over. Phew! Dating still on. I cannot tell you how relieved I was not to have to cancel any of the events lined up for the first week of June.

Sunday, Sunday… and instead of doing any work in the morning (which I really needed to get on with) I lazed around the flat until it was time to get ready, meet my neighbour, catch the ferry, and head up to the O2 dome for Sex and the City.

My neighbour had arranged for a couple of her friends/acquaintances to join us at the dome for the film; a slightly unusual turn of events as we’re all friends of friends - so as well as catching a film, we were all meeting new (or new-ish) people. But, over mai -tais and Thai food before the film we ended up getting on famously and having a bit of a riotous time! And the film was rather good, actually – had me chocked up in a couple of places, laughing out loud a lot.

Of the four of us, one other was a single gay man too. Well, my neighbour did let slip she’d asked him in part because he and I are both single and she was slightly apologetic at trying to, in a small way, fix us up. On the contrary, I insisted, all assistance welcome!

But after the film there was only time for one more cocktail before I had to dash into London for my date! Yes, a last minute thing; one of the people I’d been messaging on Parship bit the bullet and asked me out. And what a thrill it was to be asked; normally I'm the one pursuing.

We met at Royal Festival Hall, and he took me down to a nice parade of arty shops, galleries and restaurants called Gabriel’s Wharf. There we settled down with a few glasses of wine and talked the night away. And, God, we talked! What can I say? Psychometrics work! We’re supposed to be 82% compatible, whatever that means, but I think I could tell the difference – he would say what I was thinking, etc; we’ve definitely got minds that work along the same lines. It's amazing how we liked the same things, got each other's jokes and so on...

After Gabriel’s Wharf we went on to the Skylon Restaurant in the Royal Festival Hall itself for a bit more wine and eventually, after having put the world to rights, we had to go our separate ways.

So, a good date! I texted him to say I wanted to see him again, and he replied in the positive, so we shall have to see what occurs. But it was really nice to meet him.

In the meantime onto the next guy…