What is sexiness?

What is it that makes people sexy? I know what I like. Generally slimmer guys, bookish types... yes, I could do nasty things to the Hot Gay Nerd. Or even a Hot Straight One. I wouldn’t say Fella is nerdy, not t all, but he fits the type generally well. Somewhat ironic that Hogzilla’s Goldicocks is a virtual mirror image. Slim, musical, personable, family oriented vs “athletic”, scientific, introverted, distant.

One of the things about coming out was the desire to explore what I wanted from a man, relationship, etc – rather than frustratedly fantasising about cock (and occasionally holding my nose and indulging myself). After all coming out was precipitated by the start and abrupt end of my first proper relationship. Who and what was I looking for?

Desirability is a combination of things, isn’t it? Looks, dress, income, lifestyle, social graces, sexual behaviour, communication style... comment not, gentle reader, on how easy it was for me to get into a relationship but how difficult it was to sustain it. No, that’s not for today!
I suppose the clearest way of setting out what I’m thinking is to reflect on the three relatively long relationships I have been in over the last few years.

Darren, International and Fella are all remarkably different, and my thinking or feelings for them were and are different too. I don’t feel for Fella more strongly what I felt for International; I feel other things – better things.

For Darren, well I was in thrall. He was the first person I was with and really I was mostly pathetically grateful. I look back on that with a certain measure of world-weary embarrassment. Adolescent infatuation, blind to reality – just about ten or more years too late! Still, it was a necessary step – I thought he was delightful then but now I couldn’t honestly say that he is sexy to me. A bit muscle bound for my now more mature tastes. Good but not exceptional as a lover. Apart from being my first relationship, there is little remarkable about him.

International, now he was and remains a different story. Gorgeous, charming, incredibly sexy. When I was with him the mere thought of him, his body, being with him filled me with passion. The kind of sexiness you ascribe to being with someone who definitely isn’t good for you. Breaking it off with him was sad but not heart breaking – the connection there was largely physical. He gets in touch from time to time, but without the physical connection there is not much there... with him there was and remains a real physical attraction. But that, sadly, was all.

And what about Fella? He is beautiful, and kind, and loving, and generous. Every aspect of our relationship has its positive points to help reinforce our bond. Of course there are the down sides; that’s a relationship involving two imperfect human beings. His physical attributes are balanced by other parts of who he is. Perhaps his sexiest aspect is that he makes me happy.

I suppose it isn’t really fair – possibly even callous – to compare them in this way. I suppose sexiness is defined in different ways for different people at different times. But overall, it’s safe to say, in terms of desirability what I have now is by far the best!

Is it ‘cos I is...?

Poof. Queer. Fruit. Homo. Arsebandit. Shirtlifter. Bender. Fag, fag, faggot. Batty boy. Ponce. Cock Jockey. Chutney ferret (!). Fudge packer. Pansy. Queen. Ring raider. Shit stabber. Uphill gardener. He goes shopping with his mum...

The list is virtually endless gentle reader, the names there are for us fairies be we never so cheerful as me. There always has to be a victim, somewhere, of course. By and large the old ways are still our favourite; Lord help you if you are brown. anti-Semitism is still close to the hearts of many. And do we really believe there's no such thing as women's work?

Nevertheless it seems that after reiterating the arguments for equality for a very long time it almost seems like gay men and women are the last ones left. It's difficult to come up with another group of people who face, in many countries, the death penalty for being who they are – either via the courts or extra-judicially; or who are faced with deliberate legal impediments (can't get married, can't have kids, differing ages of consent); or who are viewed with suspicion often by members of their own family.

Currently there is a bit of controversy smouldering away about the use of "gay" as a derogatory term – something "gay" is a bit crap, rubbish, shoddy. I had to pull up a friend the other day for using it quite thoughtlessly in the office. It is something that annoys me purely because it is such a throw-away term. People seem genuinely surprised that it can cause offence. I sometimes feel like saying to them: take out the world gay, put in the word black, and if you'd think twice about using that sentence then you need to be more careful generally.

Of course there are limits. "Gay" is used quite a bit by gay people or to gay people by their friends in a humorous, familiar context. A word reclaimed in that way can be an effective way of drawing its teeth; and anyway in this as in all things context is king. Also, the genuine and dangerous discrimination and harm gay people suffer around the world shouldn't get obscured in an argument about semantics. Fella and I have had our fair share of unpleasant experiences and we're not exactly winning prizes in the homophobia stakes. Still, the casual indifference, the idea that civil partnership will do gets to me.

Coming out was, and still is, for me the expression of realising it's OK to be gay – more than that, it's no reason to feel less than who I am: not second class so much as some kind of failure. Fortunately for me, for us, the world is slowly changing and compared to what it was like when I was a teenager it's much much better. And it will continue to improve. More gay politicians, more countries recognising relationships and dismantling the hurdles toward full and open participation in society, more (non-stereotyped) gay characters in soap operas and main stream movies. We're here, we're queer (ahem), and... we have quite a lot of money. Need I say more??

Voyager

Voyager II was launched within a few days of my birth. I have felt an affinity to that lonely spacecraft, the farthest man-made object in existence, for many years.

When my family and I first came to Britain in the 1980s I started, as one does, at a new school with new people, speaking a strange language and observing peculiar customs. The very first thing we did after I started in my class was a project on that spaceship. I was hooked; the beautiful pictures of worlds I had never dreamed of; the idea of travelling so far into uncharted territory, and being so utterly alone. And the promise of the future;, discoveries and revelations beyond the wildest fantasy of science fiction.

At that point I decided I wanted to be an astronaut. Well, what boy doesn't? But the chances of being an astrofairy were very slim, not least because we did not go into space then. Nevertheless, my dream persisted and it eventually drew me down the path of science. I eventually began to read physic, moving to Strumpetville almost 15 years ago (15 years, gentle reader: already!!). and studying the stars myself. That time, too, was an exciting time for we began to discover worlds around other stars as well as take a vigorous and new interest in our neighbour worlds too. I was very lucky to be involved in a small way in both, and for a time Voyager was forgotten.

Now Voyager has left near space and for the next 15 years – as long as its systems are expected to keep functioning – it will feedback data on interstellar space; or as near to it as we are likely to get in the near future. And eventually its power cells will die and it will drift ever on until... well, perhaps forever.

That little craft out there has been, in a sense, almost an intrepid representation of my own little life. It was launched when I was born; it passed the last of the worlds it was to survey as my childhood began to end, and it left the Solar System about the time that I came out. I hope my power cells last beyond 2025, of course, but it is amazing to think how much that craft has not only had similar milestones – in a sense - but inspired me to follow my own.

Reading this who would wonder, whether gay or straight, that my obsession with space and science found me single for so long? But still, gentle reader, nothing has been quite so inspiring to me as that tiny piece of our world out there among the stars.

Addendum

Further to my post, below, I have decided to write a short addendum. I am sitting here at home: it's 9:00am on Saturday, and I should be working on some job descriptions. Unaccountably, gentle reader, I was distracted by some Paul Brumby photos. Yum yum yum...


This, this here, is ultimately what I aspire to:



Tasteful airbrushing notwithstanding, I'm not a trillion miles from this - which is rather cheering. I wonder if my friends who read this are laughing themselves into a coma right now; but it's good to have a goal! And I think the above is far more achievable than some twink hairless fat-free homonculus. Why would I aspire to that? That would just make me feel bad; and the object is to feel good.


So here goes; a toast to becomming a little less gross every day. And now... back to work.

Hogzilla Returns

I've put on weight gentle reader; there's no denying it. Not lots, but it's all fat. Boo!

It's not really surprising. The holiday in Germany – bratwurst, beer and dumplings oh my – didn't help; plus I wasn't taking much exercise over there. Also, Fella is an in insanely good cook. I'm not bad, I will admit – but I may as well serve up a raw stoat with swastikas shaved into its fur. Finally, since I got better, my body no longer enjoys calories solely from the whooshing noise they make as they passed through une system digestif grand vitesse.

The thing about living with a great cook is a routine of rowing, running, swimming and resistance training is only enough to stand still. And the thing about yo-yoing in weight due to my illness is I lose rippling gorgeousness and gain lard. So... Hogzilla remains Hogzilla. I've almost come full circle; although I'm still about 15kg/33lbs less than I was when I came out. Now that's progress!

Well, what can be done to tone up? Diet and exercise of course! Well, not just that. There are wider issues at stake here. I've been feeling a bit like a shambling oaf this last few weeks and think I need a general tune up to shake off that frumpy feeling.

Once I've toned up a bit more I can look at other areas of my life. So first things first:

• Running twice a week after work with friends and colleagues. We're up to eight km (five miles) per run. Our little group has become the organisation's official running club so there's quite a few of us lumbering around the parks of Strumpetville now
  
• The gym three times a week – resistance training to add the soupcon of rippling gorgeousness
  
• Swimming and using the rowing machine to do a few km as well.
  

Plus; lifestyle.

• Booze – only on Tuesdays (I love Better Off Ted) and Fridays/Saturdays – and not more than 10 units a week regardless.
  
• Low calorie! Sorry Fella, gourmet you may be, but my wobbly bits are getting too wobbly.
  
• Not letting work pressures disrupt my routine.
  

That should do it, though I'm realistic enough to know there won't be speedy results. What I really want is to feel a bit better about myself. The heavens may well be slack jawed in wonder at my temerity, given how lucky I have been over the last couple of years, with my relationship, career and so on. Nevertheless, it isn't nice to feel frumpy and unattractive a lot of the time, especially after having made so much progress. And therefore things need to change. And making the change is half the battle, no?

Another year...

On Sunday it was my birthday. Another year older! The Cheerful Fairy has graced the stage for 33 years, even if for most it was as an understudy ;-)

For my present Fella got me goldfish, and – with some neat foresight there I might add – a tank to keep them in. We're collecting the fish on Saturday as apparently the tank needs to settle for a few days, water and all, before the fish can be introduced. I'm very excited, gentle reader, to be having fish – which I've wanted for so long. I did have fish once before, ad three were gitfted to me as a Christmas bonus from my first job – but I killed them with love. I aim to do rather better this time!

Also, Fella arranged a surprise birthday lunch for me with our friends on the day itself which was rather special. It was great to have so many people come out to celebrate; Fella must have worked very hard! I am racking my brains about what to do for his birthday next month...

So, here I am, over the threshold of another year. A worthwhile and busy job, a loving family, great friends, starting my degree in September, living with my gorgeous guy, and engaged to be marrificated.

How about that?

Yeah. Engaged...

OK, cards on the table. Objectively, in my heart of hearts, I think it's a bit soon. Or maybe that the timing is a bit out. Well, if that's my opening gambit maybe I don't quite know exactly what I think! But still.

I adore my Fella but I wonder if you too have pondered on the fact that we have been together for only 14 months and have lived together for about two. Indeed, we have had our ups and downs to say the least. I have wondered if Fella has a timetable all his own on which my feelings, or indeed some practical issues, have little impact.

For example, I'm about to start a very expensive two-year post-graduate course of study. As such, saving for a wedding is going to be difficult and probably impossible. I refuse to borrow against the cost, as married life will impose its own costs

Having said that a long engagement is helpful – 2013 ahoy! – because it gives us a chance to work on being a couple. It means we can get our other commitments out of the way – Fella is on a two year career development programme himself. And it means our friends who are engaged now can get married without us stealing their thunder!

Plus I need time to get used to the whole... grown upness of it all. In gay years I'm still only about 25; I'd not quite realised my days as a young man about Strumpetville were so soon to be permanently over!

Most of all waiting a while gives me a chance to plan. Being surprised with the proposal is really the issue here – I like to plan and be in control. It will give me a chance to be a full part of this wedding lark, and ideally beyond... everything is going well; domestic bliss to be sure. I'm looking forward to getting started on our life together J

Encore

So here we are, back again from our trip to Germany. I'm sitting here, on the last day of my holiday, feeling somewhat sorry for myself – but that's only because of the somewhat sizeable electric shock I got from a poorly wired electrical fitting in the flat. Fortunately my luck held out and several amps of 240v current arcing across my heart, a minor burn on the arm is all I sustained.

Returning to the matter at hand, we had a lively time in Germany, visiting lots of sights and generally relaxing. It's the first time Fella and I have had a proper holiday for a holiday's sake, and we did enjoy it. I've certainly put on weight – back on the diet on Monday for me Gentle Reader.

One particular place he wanted to visit, my Fella, was Blaubeuren. It's a village nestled in the Schwabian alps; it's exceptionally pretty and also marks the start of a series of water-filled caves that remain unexplored. As such it is an area of fame and fascination locally; as well as a lovely place to visit.

We wandered around the village, and as it was such a sunny day, we had some ice cream, before going to the lake that marks the source of the river Blau, a tributary of the Danube. It was there that Fella suggested that he and I take a wander along the lakeside, leaving my family behind to enjoy the view. And it was there where he sat me down on a bench by the water's edge, and got down on one knee. And it was there that he asked me to marry him.

Well, to cut a long story short I said yes.

Who'd have thought it? Less than three years since coming out and I'm engaged to be civil-partnered! From Hogzilla to Bridezilla in but the blink of an eye. Fortunately both families are very pleased; and our friends are full of congratulations. We have a lot of planning and work to do but for the moment let us content ourselves with that we are very happy.

So, Ta Daa!! That's some news, right enough... obviously there's a lot to think about, out loud if you will, so much more by way of this blog. In the meantime domesticity is blissful, by and large, though we're still settling into the flat; much to do there too. All in all we glide toward the Cherrful Fairy's 33^rd birthday with suspiciously plan sailing :-)