Tired

Much as I enjoy the work I do it was one of those days today; full of little annoyances – mainly myself for making very minor, but silly errors – missing some people off an email distribution list; missing a deadline by two hours… it’s left me feeling a bit down and withdrawn!

Sadly after my weekend I am feeling somewhat unlikely to get some TLC for the time being. See, on Sunday I arranged to meet yet another guy locally – absolutely gorgeous, sorted, nearby, various other nice attributes; virtually everything I would look for in Mr Right I suppose. But, when we met he rejected me out of hand; and that of course knocked me off my stroke a bit.

But perhaps it was inevitable, and as I wrote in my last post these things will happen. I suppose it’s a lesson not to get so caught up in meeting guys for assignations! But on top of being stood up on Saturday it was a bit of a shock. It’s only natural - I like to feel attractive and desirable and that I’m considered worthwhile by people I’d would be or am interested in. Who doesn’t feel like that? Deriving as much of my sexual identity as I do from casual encounters may not necessarily be the best idea in the world; yet on any level it’s not a nice thing to happen.

Nevertheless I like, well, casual sex. And I think one of the (many, many) nice things about being gay – and out - is being able to indulge that side of me as much as I like (!) comfortably and safely. So much so, that though things have been a bit wobbly the last 24 hours perhaps I’ll get over it quite soon...

In fact while I may give myself the week off man flesh, I am chatting to three guys on and off about hooking up at some point; so no doubt there’ll be more to report sooner or later. In the meantime I was talking to a neighbour tonight about how she needs to get back out there after she found herself single toward the end of last year and I can hardly not take my own advice, now can I?

For tonight I think a glass of wine, and a film, and an early night. I'm suddenly very tired and need some quiet, restorative, time to myself; an introvert at heart I remain, gentle reader.

And tomorrow: let the diet continue, the exercise go on. Though an excuse to buy some new clothes is never really to be sniffed at… bring back that sunshine.

Learn the rules

Another weekend, gentle reader, half over. Has there been some man fun? Why, yes. Yes there has.

I hummed and hahed over going online today as I brought a lot of work home and Saturday is a deadline for a client of mine; but online I did go.

The first few guys who expressed an interest didn’t really attract me but after a while this really hot (and I mean hot) fella began chatting to me and we arranged for him to come over. Unfortunately, and this is really only the second or third time this has happened to me, he stood me up.

I don’t mind a guy cancelling. It happens. Even a guy changing his mind once we’ve met. It… happens. I’m really not into pressurising someone to do what they don’t want to so would rather people cancel and feel OK than meet me and feel bad.

What I don’t like is a guy who should be in my bed popping up in the chat room where we met without getting in touch. I only caught him out because I never logged off (I used the time to get my work done, being an efficient slattern you see) so when he came up there again I sent a sharp message discussing the merits of Rule 7 and moved on.

I know the wonderful world of cruising is not known for its manners and etiquette but a simple “sorry I’m not coming because… you’re just not that attractive” isn’t too much to ask, is it?

Well, fortunately there are plenty more fish in the sea and, unbowed, I hooked up with a guy who lived only about 15 minutes walk away. A rather charming South African in his early forties, and very nicely put together with it. His apartment has a floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river (like mine but better!) and that kind of view only enhanced the fun for me. Very nice. In fact we may well hook up again in the future given his location and… the rest.

The reason I like older fellas [and when I write older I mean born before me, not necessarily ‘old’er] is they know what they want, how to get it, what to do when they get it and don’t mess guys around. They are well mannered – I was offered a glass of wine on arrival and a shower before leaving, - and understand the concept of No Strings Attached without rushing you out of the door or making false promises about meeting again.

So, a good time so far. I really think "The Rules of Shagging" might be another money-spinner…

Confused

On Thursday I had my first counselling session of 2009. I really have grown to dislike them and am very seriously thinking of cancelling altogether.

This session involved yet another of those dreadful exercises where, on this occasion, I had to rank the things I seek from causal sexual encounters, and compare that to what I seek from a relationship. This irritated me because of the sub-text that enjoying casual sex – just meeting men for sex, to enjoy new physical experiences and essentially have a stonking great orgasm (or several) - is wrong. Of course I don’t seek a relationship, friendship, security from casual assignations. And the implication I am deficient or defective in my behaviour because of that is, frankly, infuriating.

My counsellor’s concerns, in fairness to him, were founded on the rocky point I have reached with International. He feels that I am much more closed off than I have been before because I feel hurt and my recent assignations are a reversion to past (apparently bad) behaviour.

Nevertheless today International and I met for the first time since his holiday. He wanted to meet because he was feeling pretty low and needed “hugs”. So, somewhat against my better judgement, we met at a gay bar local to my office and, fortunately or unfortunately [take your pick], we were very quickly all over each other and saying how much we love each other. Muches smooches indeed. And so it seems things are, well, something, again.

Now, of course, I’m thoroughly confused. It really has begun to amaze me, the difference between my cold Teutonic intellect and the heart that slowly but surely lays its plans against me.

I adore International, I really do. And in many ways he’s been so good to me. Spain, ice skating… silly though it may read no-one’s done things like that for me before. Yet he has Ouch; Ouch whom he loves and who loves him and they still have sex, and no they really don’t have an open relationship at all… so I’ve become what I didn’t want to be and I get annoyed with my self. And yet, and yet…

On the other hand of course there is Christmas. My counsellor was particularly, almost inordinately some might say, excited by my relationship with Christmas, and for some reason saw the dinner we had between Christmas and New Year as particularly good news. Well, he’s a great guy – not perfect but who wants that?

So the question we have to pose is this: why is it that I am enamoured by someone so manifestly unsuitable in that he will never, can never be ‘mine’; and I am so smitten I am unable to fully seize the opportunity in front of me?

Frumpella's a one man idiot, that's why!

Midweek

My goodnesss, I had a horrendous day today. Caught between a rock and a hard place – I had to give a ministerial briefing on something that made my employer look like a tit; this resulted in a few sharp exchanges in the office and a fairly unpleasant morning. Being very tired – I had a client at 6am too – I ended up feeling quite miserable and so, as my working day drew to a close, I was faced with a choice between wine or man flesh. And I plumped for wine.

What’s this? Frumpella not getting over a hard day by getting under a hot man?? Such omens and portents should surely be accompanied by comets and earth tremors!

No, none of that; although it has been snowing a lot – does that count? Well, let’s be fair – if the rule is no more than one (new) guy a week I’m pretty sorted until about mid-February… so no real rush (though, yes, I did have a look around!) and this will be the last drink till I see Christmas on Sunday.

He and I have been exchanging messages on and off since last we met. He’s very gregarious! I’m quite introverted, so sometimes it can be a bit wearing, but that’s no criticism – it’s nice to have someone keen on me. Really nice, actually – though I’m determined to let things progress on their merits and not push things one way or another.

Nevertheless, I have, recently, been thinking about International. His impending return to the UK fills me, somehow, with a great deal of angst in that whilst far away I had no need to acknowledge… this thing… and the closer he gets… it’s all less and less certain [if that's possible]. The thing is gentle reader I still think of him often and wonder how – when the truth of it all dawns even on my dissonant head – I’ll handle things.

Bring on the wine.

There’s nothing much more I can say about International really. I can’t change how I feel, or where I find myself. I suppose it has to be: New Year; move on. No time for self-pity and I think Christmas deserves a bit more than me obsessing about another guy – especially if we become a proper couple at some point.

However, before the monogamy begins...

I have been propositioned tonight by a 19 year old couple who live locally (yes, my online look-around yielded results after all; Strumpetville is full of friendly guys) but normally I wouldn’t go for. Yet, since I’m feeling good-looking and buff at the moment, and we all know I’d never turn down an intimate gathering… well then, why not?

Smarter than the average...

I own a book called “What might have been”; a collection of essays about how history might have turned out had this been different or that. You know the style of kidney - the Nazis winning World War II etc. But it occurred to me that there is money to be made publishing all the unheard speeches and unread musings – concessions by winning candidates; love letters by the broken hearted; patents never submitted; charges never brought.

In my old age, my senescence (that much closer, it seems, having today found the first grey hair in a place there weren’t none before), I think I will be able to fondly review a number of my assignations and reflect – speculate, really – not only on what occurred, back in the good old 21st century, but also on how things might have been.

The reason for all of this is of course today. You see, gentle reader, I can safely report that I ended my holiday on a high note. Oh yes. In the usual way, I saw a bit of gaydar (it’s one of my home pages, OK? It comes up every time I log on, that’s all) and after an unsuccessful attempt to construct a threesome with a near neighbour of mine today’s fella popped up in a window all his own.

Today’s fella is exactly my type. Slightly taller; slightly older; slim - not undefined though, but not muscular. He also has two blue eyes I simply drowned in – like sapphires they are – and after a last kiss my last words to him were how beautiful they look. And a smile to match no less *sigh*.

And last, but in no way least, an expert he is at yoga.

I’m not sure how I’ll feel tomorrow but I have spent a lot of the afternoon being coaxed into whole new positions that oh Lord, absolutely hit the spot. To the point that, at the risk of sounding crass, it was insisted by him more than once "Not Yet" (if you catch my drift).

Apparently he spends each December in India learning under expert Yogi and, freshly back, I’m quite glad he chose me to help him over his jet-lag.

So you can well imagine how I might speculate on something more than three hours of blue eyes and contortionism. And how I might think of that when I’m recovering from a hip replacement. And how, (though of couse in the meantime I'll be working on how things will be!) in that nursing home on the moon, whatever else happens, I'll always be the little gay engine that could.

Naughtiness

Well, gentle reader, at the outset I must confess to being a very naughty Frumpella so if you would prefer to maintain your image of me as chaste and pure then look away now…

Now my cold has begun to recede, I yesterday decided to visit gaydar [surprise, surprise] as I wanted to see if anyone was about for a bit of afternoon fun. And whilst there a guy I’d met previously, a casual assignation from June, got in touch.

This guy likes his threesomes/groups even more than I do so, as he wanted to have a group session, we worked together and found some other guys to join us; and before I knew it I was hosting four fellas at my apartment for an evening’s entertainment second to none.

I never appreciated how difficult it was organising a group even with the bounty that is the internet; it takes time! But I have to be honest, the hard work really paid off… I had a really, really good time and since then I’ve felt so sexual and invigorated. I was all aglow for quite some time afterward. It was a fantastic night, and Frumpella is now a very cheerful fairy indeed.

Today I’ve had two guys over, separately, again from gaydar – making the most of my membership as you can see – and again it was great. Maybe it is feeling better, or maybe it’s the New Year but I don’t recall being this horny before. Now I’m completely out of all the essentials! But I think it’s time to take a wee break as the neighbours probably find the revolving door of men coming and going at all hours somewhat tiresome. So until my new batch of supplies arrives (thinking it might not be a bad idea to order in bulk) I’ll be taking it easy. Or at least, travelling rather than accommodating…

Happy New Year indeed.

I genuinely don’t know what it is that has got me feeling like this. Maybe it is the psychological boost of the New Year. Perhaps it’s just the relative freedom of not being in a relationship (or at least being between them) and not really looking for the moment. Yes, OK I do feel a bit slutty but whatever it is, I’ll take it! I even liked the new pictures I took of myself to update my profile with them, and anyone who knows me knows how much I loathe being photographed.

As for Christmas, he’s back in London next weekend so we shall meet up then; probably Sunday to go for a drink at one of a couple of nice pubs near to where I live. By then I’ll probably be well and truly back in the real world (back at work etc) and over this little phase… or will I be?

Who can say?

Ambition

Today Christmas and I had dinner at my place.

We met on Tuesday too, as a last minute thing, and he treated me to a quite expensive Thai dinner at the Hays Galleria. Thus today was the fourth time we have met (though Christmas will insist on fifth preferring to count Christmas Day and Christmas Eve as two dates not one) and returning the favour, in a small way, is the least I could do.

I have caught from him a stinking cold and am not at my most sexual at the moment so, although we welcomed 2009 with a bang, I asked him not to spend the night. Well, it’s still very early days, after all, and I explained most people wouldn’t be having sex at this point. But you know me by now, gentle reader…

Christmas is away for three weeks but said today before we parted that he’d like to keep seeing me and I said I’d liked that too; so when he’s back we shall most certainly see how things go. I’d like to let things take their time. Things will happen or they won’t. No infatuation or emotional immaturity. If I can help it. Erm...

Turning now to my slutty side; as a treat to myself I rejoined gaydar as a member. This morning I was hoping to get some pre-Christmas action after having slept off my hangover – I was at a great party in Gypsy Hill till about 3:00am but got a text from International describing swimming naked with his boyfriend off the coast of Cape Canaveral with some kind of “nice knowing you, look after yourself in 2009” attached to it.. He did hurt me a bit with that and my NYE enthusiasm then waned somewhat. It made me realise how much I do need to make a fresh start.

Anyway, got a fair bit of interest on gaydar and lined up two future shags today and two future possibles, so a productive 1 January. But with the cold it’s probably best to hold off the magic roundabout for the time being.

Speaking of being sexual I have decided for 2009 to cut way, way back and have no more than one or two partners a week [would that he were joking]. A friend described me as ‘cock crazy’ today, which isn’t entirely fair I think - but then I am trying to persuade him to get back out there and have some fun following a recent break up, so possibly regale him with my ribald wit a tad too much. Nevertheless a nice steady flow of man-flesh rather than gorging may not be such a bad idea.

Until at least it’s Christmas every day.