Banbury Cross

The Academic lives in Banbury. That’s fine in terms of time; not much more than 90 minutes on the train. Not so nice in terms of cost/planning. The hoops I have to jump through helps me dimly understand why long distance relationships often don’t work. One can’t choose when to travel and manage costs at the same time (one or the other; the Eisenbahn Uncertainty Principle), which means one’s sex life, love life, social life are in the hands of some outside agency – in this case Chiltern Railways. For example, Chiltern Railways seems to consider the privilege of staying the night with The Academic should command a surcharge of £27.

Actually it’s not so bad, though I wish I knew when I would get paid next so I could plan ahead – the baseline scenario I’m thinking about, pending things developing nicely, is alternate weekends (him to me and me to him). Maybe I should use the excuse to buy a car… but there’re ways of minimising the cost should things settle down into a relationship/routine.

It’s going to be tough in any event to juggle a hugely busy job, business clients (which with luck should start becoming more frequent from the last quarter of this calendar year) and a long distance relationship plus gym (honest guv’), friends etc.

Is this infatuated blouse Mike as per usual? No, no… I’m just willing to start a relationship with the Academic – so being a Thinker this is what I’m Thinking about. We’ll see how it goes. Careful planning and dollops of maturity is what this will require, if ‘this’ turns out to be something.

The first step to that is our next date; Wednesday evening and it is at the Academic’s place. He himself said he would come to me the next time “if we got that far”, as he put it. This business with Gareth has left me feeling uncertain about whether I should go 'all the way' with the Academic on Wednesday or leave it a while yet. Well, events will take their course – believe me I get far too excited to care about the proprieties and conventions; but then that may be my undoing!

On Sunday Gareth called as arranged and he ultimately explained that having had time to think he sees no future for us (despite me being very nice and his enjoying our time together). I suppose him taking the time to explain that to me does him credit; though my tip for anyone thinking about doing the same is never never never tell the dumpee you regret having sex with them (on a first date in this instance but the principle is a general one I would suggest).

How did I take the news? Rule 4! Rule 4! I was calm, though very upset on the inside. I am, in fact, quite angry – I feel robbed that someone could make that kind of decision about me so precipitately. But I suppose I haven’t got space to dwell; a new job tomorrow, the Academic on Wednesday, another date in London on Thursday and then a weekend in Edinburgh… if not a smitten kitten then still a busy bee. No time for feelings!

Duality

After getting more exceedingly good advice I decided to send a follow up message to Gareth so that (a) he wouldn’t think I am so angry things can’t be fixed and (b) to ensure that he really does know how I feel – I was pretty sure he knows but he claims not to have received the emails I sent him and so on so a lot of the evidence is [conveniently] lost to the ether:

Hi. I know I said in my last [message] that I’d wait to hear from you – and after this I will – but I realised you may not know how much I like you and how much I enjoy being with you. Which is lots! Till Sunday x

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I have some fight left in me, gentle reader, but not for a hopeless cause. So Till Sunday!!

On Friday I went to Oxford to meet a guy I’d been chatting to for a while on OUT. For a non-dating website that really has thrown my way a lot of prospects! In truth his pictures were pretty dreamy and it kind of evolved into a date as we made our plans. I arrived a bit early so I wandered a bit and did the touristy thing. It was a relatively summery afternoon, and the dreaming spires were beautiful indeed (hence the pics).

He and I met, and had a couple of drinks, and he showed me a few more interesting sights in the town, and we happened – by pure coincidence, to be sure - on a gay bar (a converted Tudor townhouse painted pink with a rainbow flag hanging above the door and burlesque statues dotted around the outside. Not subtle!). Once settled in there, there were muches-smooches indeedy. So much so I now have quite a rash around my face as he hadn’t shaved. And we pretty much agreed that intelligent cute guys who made him feel relaxed and made him laugh are pretty OK; and that tall, slim, beautiful academics with blue eyes I could drown in are just fine too. And perhaps best of all, though I was all for a 'Rule Two' by this point [so what else is new?], was his insistence on a strict adherence to Rule One, which has all but guaranteed a date two…

Of course that didn’t stop him kissing me all the way back to the train station which was mighty fine indeed.

Maybe I should wait for Gareth to make up his mind; or come to terms with his mind; or whatever it is – maybe I should give myself a break. But I play by my own rules, nobody else’s; not even my own. And I do go out with dudes.

Grazie

I love the comments and feedback from people who read this blog. These comments, I find, often challenge my views and help me reassess my perspective.

My personality type a la Myers Briggs is Intuitive/Introvert (though I have become much more extrovert since coming out it must be said). This supposedly means I am: original; driven; purposeful; organised; critical; independent; demanding; determined; and have an ass that won’t quit. Well, maybe the last one isn’t part of the Myers-Briggs constellation. But my strongest trait is Thinking: I base my decisions on logic, objective analysis, and deliberation upon cause and effect.

The kind of guy for whom the road to love is destined to be smooth, n’est pas?

Anyway, the comments I got on the previous post gave me some sort of foundation to begin the Thinking process and I decided that instead of excoriating Gareth across the ether I would send a more measured response to bridge the gap between last night’s unpleasantness and Sunday’s, well, unpleasantness:

Hi. I’ve thought about it and I’m still not clear on what you were trying to say last night; I don’t know whether you’re dropping me or you want to take things slow or what? I have a lot to say so do think about what you want, and want to say, and I’ll wait to hear from you.

The truth is I really don’t know whether he’s saying that this is the end; but my Thoughts are that anyone who has sufficient doubts to raise them at four dates/one month isn’t aiming to be Mr Happy-Fun “panting love slave” Boyfriend.

And that, at the core of it, is what makes me angry; I feel really hard done by that instead of taking things as they come, seeing how things go and giving things chance to grow and evolve (because I really was trying) I’m in a position where things have to be measured and defined and pigeon-holed. Comments give me a more rational basis on which to move forward, and for that I am grateful.

I also remain fully committed to not hanging round like a lovelorn damsel waiting for her errant knight to return, and to that end I did have a good trawl on gaydar, and breakfast on Thursday was a rather attentive Portugese architect built to a very high specification indeed. Yummo! And I had dinner/drinks with a great friend (my fabulous former boss in fact) that did wonders to cheer me up. AND I’ve begun a series of blisteringly flirtatious emails and texts with a guy from OUT.

Memo to self: is that a phone in your pocket or are you just in a surprisingly good mood to be here?

PS found a great blog today that, annoyingly, seems to be written by a rather better and more articulate version of me. Hate him already; check him out.

Best laid plans

Gareth travelled back today from a long weekend away, so I wanted to make our date/meeting this evening as hassle free [and special] as possible for him. However, when we spoke this afternoon Gareth instead wanted to meet in town, and a bit later than we had discussed before; I reluctantly agreed, and in fact I was at the time a bit disappointed because I was secretly looking forward to snuggles and the rest at Chez G!

Anyway, Gareth and I met on the South Bank (Benugo’s this time) and we had a couple of drinks and he seemed quite affectionate, and I thought the evening was going really well. But then, about 10pm, my world came crashing down.

Gareth seemed quite on tenterhooks all evening, and kept saying how this was the fourth time we’d met, etc. And I thought that things were going to take a great leap forward – but sadly not.

It seems Gareth is uncertain and consumed with doubt about whether or not he and I could build a relationship. He wanted to let me know now so I wouldn’t get hurt later, allegedly. He said he regretted the fact we’d gone to bed on our first date. Charming.

In fact he was articulating himself very poorly and presumably my rapidly evolving demeanour did not help the words trip off his tongue. I tried to press him on whether he was saying he didn’t want to see me again, but he would not be drawn. Instead he’s going to think about things and call me on Sunday. Or maybe we’ll meet up. Oh joy.

In truth I can’t decide whether I’m more angry or upset (I’m a lot of both right now). To have someone essentially try and set out that he couldn’t decide if I’m too unpleasant to keep seeing as my, apparently regrettable, sluttishness was getting in the way is pretty galling. To have him do it whilst holding my hand is something else.

It’s all I can do not to call, text, or email him to tell him exactly what I think of him right now. Normally that isn’t a problem for me; I have my pride! But this time: well, thank God for brand-spanking-new Rule 4: let no man take away your dignity.

I did make clear to Gareth that I’m not willing to sit in Limbo while he makes up his mind (and in that I am quite sincere). I know he’s going to drop me on Sunday, so what’s the point? What annoys me particularly, though, is that I’ll be analysing and conjecturing all the way from can to can’t until he deigns to get off his arse/cloud and make up his mind. And quite possibly beyond…

Memo to men generally: much as we appreciate cock, it would be even better if you grew some balls as well.

Ask!

On Sunday I was reading Postsecret, which is one of the most beautiful sites on the internet – and which regularly brings me to tears; I urge you to visit it. And it occurred to me, seeing all these people publish their darkest secrets, that when I start my new job it will be the first totally new situation/environment I’ve experienced as an out gay man. Because so many of my former colleagues are also my friends I’ve had an incredible crutch to support me both in and out to help me shake it all about. And now… that’s gone. They’re still my friends, of course, but this time my little boat is making its voyage all alone and I don’t know what storms and monsters it will face. Well, I still have to captain my boat well and I’m sure I’ll steer a course somehow.

Enough metaphor! Back to whimsy and caprice. I’ve been considering starting going swimming again, and maybe *gasp* going to the gym – my weight loss programme has plateaud at 80kg, which was my primary goal, but I want to get down to 75kg and turn them kg into something more useful. Therefore I’ve been looking at what’s available locally and I have been pleasantly surprised by the facilities available, if not by the price. I hope Gareth will be suitably appreciative of the results ;-)

I once promised Gareth that I would answer his questions honestly, which he promptly derided as hokum! So, having seen others do it, I now extent that courtesy to you, gentle reader. Since I may not have a great deal to blog about for a little while, do you have any questions? Feedback? Hints and tips for the anxious and frumpy gay man about town? Alternatively I would love to hear the story of how you and your partner met, and got together… how quickly did you decide to become boyfriends? How long was it till you moved in together?

Inspiration greatly appreciated!

Self Control

I have a terrible inability to keep things – that is, matters of the heart - in perspective. Hence The Rules, and their being more honoured in the breach than in the observance.

This coming Wednesday will be only the fourth time that I will have seen Gareth. I’m sure my ramblings and ravings have made it seem longer; though there have been the online messages (via Guardian Soulmates), text messages, emails and telephone calls too. Still, whoa-Betsy! You can see what I mean by infatuation:

Infatuation is the state of being completely carried away by unreasoned passion or love. Infatuation usually occurs at the beginning of a relationship. It is characterised by urgency, intensity, desire, and/or anxiety, in which there is an extreme absorption in another. It is traditionally associated with youth.

Then again, I suppose that shows that I’m young at heart!

I had my ‘leaving do’ yesterday and as a parting gift (one of many) my former colleagues gave me a large peace lily, now named Esmeralda, and taking pride of place in my living room. I’m glad to move on and I know I’m taking with me life-long friends (and some not – one of my former colleagues has already ‘unfriended’ me on Facebook!).

I have indulged in a bit of retail therapy today too despite being somewhat hung-over. But it got me out of the house and gave me a chance to think whilst not thinking, if that makes sense. It certainly helped me have a bijou epiphanyette:

I’ve realised that going from dating someone to being in a Relationship with them (I use the upper-case correctly; I have a relationship with everyone – even my postman, but that is one of mutual loathing and that is not quite what I mean here) involves moving from the periphery of their life – an add-on if you will – to being the core; no more new experiences to be had alone, and nothing old that isn’t shared.

It has been rare indeed to meet someone as willing to put me at the centre of their lives as I have for them, and dealing with that made me forget recently that going out on a limb has never really back-fired on me… Gareth knows how much I like him, I think. I should trust him to let me know how he feels in his own good time. And good time it will have to be – all this after not quite four dates? I must seem like a fool! All my friends caution me it is early days but do I listen? Well, it is time to be a bit more mature and let Gareth grow into Mr Right as and when he wants to. Or not; we shall see.

So now I start my week off, with my list of things to do: a rising heart supporting a sinking head.

Sonnenblumen

I’ve suddenly realised what the problem was! I feel unattractive and uncertain. Last Saturday put me in a bad mood because I dented my already fragile self image. My slutty phase is coming to an end and I have nothing to replace it with 'except' Gareth, who is more than adequate, but it feels a bit all-eggs-in-one-basket. Still, I never did have my month off (or man detox as my friend rather more succinctly puts it); that’s life though. I plan to take August off and on 31 July I meet a gorgeous guy!

Also, I realise I haven’t been very busy lately, and being busy is important to me. Usually the combination of a frump-attack and spare time on my hands means I look for assignations but this time I am staring at (to paraphrase the late Douglas Adams) The Long Dark Bank Holiday of the Soul. I wish I was spending it with Gareth... but no, Mr Man has to have a life...

Well then: here’s the plan; sort out the balcony (my sunflowers are finally coming up but I’m overrun with gladioli); treat myself to The Dark Knight at the cinema; get up to speed with the new job; drum up some new business clients; and finally, catch up with old friends. And, possibly, with new ones – I’ve been invited to Oxford for a day trip on Friday next.

Plus of course I have planned out next Wednesday's date with Gareth with meticulous precision – and there’ll be more about that later!

So a nice week off with lots of ‘me’ time, and things to enjoy.

I went into my new workplace yesterday afternoon, and let’s just say I can see why they asked me to come in early. It sounds like a tough project for various reasons but they picked me to do it so I guess I have that je ne sais pas ce qui. Enough to get the systems so that in place that eight million people can all get state financed medical treatment on the basis of need regardless of what hospital or doctor they go to, or what is wrong with them, within 18 weeks of referral, and that it is of a quality they are satisfied with – and to do all this by November. Not all by myself of course - there'll be six of us! Daunting – I may not have time for lurvin’! Still – I do like to be busy [be careful what you wish for].