Excuses excuses

So, the boiler has broken down. And sometimes gay people get beaten up (or worse) or being who they are.


The connection? Why that perennial favourite, the boiler breaking down. What else?

Let me start at what suits as the beginning, gentle reader:

Fella and I have had our ups and downs walking through the streets of Strumpetville. We’ve been quite lucky I think – some of the things that get reported in the news feed my imagination and paranoia (except... maybe they are out to get us). But there has been some hassle. I really get worried that Fella in particular will get hurt one day if he isn’t careful. I fancy I can handle myself and have a more forbidding demeanour you see... so I don’t like it when Fella displays affection publicly, especially when we’re out late at night. I feel it is risky. In a nutshell: I don’t want either of us to get killed.

So far so hoopy, right?

But the boiler has broken down. And what do we do when the boiler breaks down? We use our shiny Strumpetville Dabloons to purchase the services of a plumber.

Fella organises everything, and the plumber turns out to be a really nice guy. He can’t solve the problem, but gives us lots of advice. Well, he got £70 for his trouble; so fair enough.

Because this is the first time I’ve lived with someone, it’s the first time we’ve had someone in ‘our’ home who isn’t a friend or relative. So it’s the first time I’ve had to manage other reactions to my/our sexuality at home.

Fella was fine, and totally open – calling me “darling” and “sweetheart” in front of the plumber. And the plumber clearly didn’t care. So I’m writing this trying to get some insight into why I was even remotely anxious about it. Why was it necessary to be on my guard?

I wonder if I’m still a little afraid of how people will react to my sexuality; still carrying a little bit of the baggage that stopped me coming out for so long? It’s given me pause for thought... am I projecting my fears onto Fella? Why is it I worry about this? I think there must be something deeper than a reaction to homophobia. I mean there’s plenty of it about but not to the extent I should think about how I behave in my own home. To be fair there are plenty of unprecedented events in my life and it’s easier to deal with anything that life throws at me when I have some measure of control.

So be it

I’m back! And, finally, my boiler is fixed, which makes homecoming all the sweeter.

Back from two nights and a day with International at his place. The house withstood our passion; kitchen, living room, shower and of course bedroom – International has his work cut out before Ouch gets home ;-)! OK, OK I’ll stop bragging now...

International and I do so very well when we are shut away from the real world and no pressure of work or travel or the Real boyfriend snipes at our precious time together. However, we did have a row on Thursday over dinner. Which was my fault; emotional maturity is something I really must work on! Unfortunately International said he felt we shouldn’t really consider ourselves boyfriends in the strictest sense as we were only just starting a relationship and he has so much baggage to contend with. And when I demurred at this I was accused of being high maintenance. Me!

Anyway, to help ease our passage back to the real world, on Friday night I called International just to talk to him (not Talk note) and to hear his voice. Our conversation did, nevertheless, stray onto the topic of Us and we revisited some of the things that were Said on Thursday. International said he isn’t happy at home, at work, or really with anything and it will take him time to sort things out. I merely said that though whatever he does and decides affects me – a lot, a lot – I am here to help him with the pressures he feels; not add to them.

I really love International. This morning I would have given anything to wake up next to him, have him in my arms. However, it is increasingly clear that he will not leave Ouch for me; and I have listened to International when he talked and noted that we are lovers but that we shall have to see how things go. I have even had the cheek to feel somewhat aggrieved that International and Ouch are snuggled up in bed, or out with friends, or whatever whilst I am here alone.

So here am I, back in the real world. And I have decided something, gentle reader; something of which you may or may not approve.

I’m not going to continue being ‘exclusive’ with International until he’s made his mind up. I have mixed feelings about this, though not in a love=sex sense. It’s just not easy to see this as a step backward or a coping mechanism; I’m damned if I’m going to have my heart broken twice in a year. But International clearly has a lot to work through and, yes, I’m here to help. But I’m not going to just sit and wait while I sit and wait. Erm...

Spirits Soaring

As you know, gentle reader, my boiler is [still!] broken. You can, I imagine, comprehend my dismay when my kettle of 13 years – faithful kettle of mine, and my father before me - followed it onto the undiscovered circuit.

It occurred to me then that my luck has not been too good of late; but then I thought of International and I said to myself “oh, I don’t know…”.

You see, like most I potter through life slightly bad tempered, silently wishing everyone would get out of my way because I’m very busy and I’ve got lots to get on with and I need to do six impossible things before breakfast. But it’s not the same with International; when I’m with him everyone else simply disappears and I see no-one but him. When I think of him I feel like I’m flying high over mountains like an eagle… yes, alright, I’m not going to spout lovey claptrap till you retch so hard you shatter your own rib-cage. You get the idea. I’m just saying.

One of the nicest times I’ve ever had was just last Monday; International and me, wine and candlelight – and not caring a jot - not a jot I tells ye - that the heating wasn’t working. I hope the rest of the week, spending it (well, from tomorrow night) with him, will be as nice. Right now what I really want is a hot shower! After I’ve had that he can do as he pleases ;-)

I have, in two weeks, an appointment with my bank for business related matters; accounts and cards and similar. It feels quite exciting; in the meantime I will need to brush up my accounts and business plan – so I can show off. Fortunately I don’t need any loans or credit, though I do need to jump through various anti-money-laundering hoops which make the whole process tiresome. Yet it will be nice to focus on something (work related) other than my day to day job.

In the meantime my counselling session, due today, was cancelled. So much for working on my self-esteem! In fact it was postponed for a week but even so I didn’t accept my friend’s fine offer for some beerage and I went home to get an early night and dream of being with International, tomorrow, tomorrow… When I called him to wish him goodnight it turned out he himself is out with friends, telling them all about me! Well, that’s a boost, to be sure.

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!

Silence

On Thursday I met International again – at the Retro Bar. There I told him about the ‘intervention’ of my friends the previous Tuesday. They had encouraged me to cast my net somewhat wider as International has Ouch and… as such I may not have International. And you will recall, gentle reader, T recently got in touch again. So it was time to Talk.

Well, this provided an excellent route into discussing Us and where we are and the whole Me, Him, Ouch situation. International said that, no, he could not stop me having fun with other men but to do so would hurt him. Yes, I am (my friends are) right that he is having his cake and eating it but he assured me again that he and Ouch are no longer intimate. In fact, he revealed, he was refusing Ouch’s attempts to initiate sex; one of the reasons their relationship is ending is that he no longer ‘fancies’ him.

Yes, he said, he was saying all the things some two-timing bastard might say; he couldn’t help that because he’s madly in love with me and means everything he says. International said he and Ouch had been on rocky ground for some time and he had been thinking of leaving him for a while. In fact he claims he almost ended it on Saturday (though I immediately thought ‘almost’ isn’t quite the same methinks). But he wanted to leave him for the “right reasons”

I did directly challenge precisely how open this open relationship is; and International confessed it was open largely in potentia – though of course for the two of us it has gone rather further than any reasonable definition of open might anyway encompass.

Wider reasons International hesitates to end his relationship with Ouch are what he termed lifestyle. They have a nice house (a not nice mortgage with it)… joint friends… a lot of ties that bind and to cut them is complex and difficult. In fact International suggested that should he and Ouch end they may still live together, which frankly dismayed me.

My friends cautioned me that International was living well with a rich older man, but enjoying the physical side with a ‘fit’ [cheers babe] younger man. After Thursday this resonates with me somewhat.

I am uncertain now. My feelings are unchanged; but I am much clearer that Ouch might feel more for International than he returns and that makes things all the more difficult for me. I really am the other woman… Mr T pities the fool. But - to my credit I feel - I did, quite sincerely inform International that if he is messing me around I will burn his house down.

In other news: my boiler should be up and running again on Monday and on the work front my portfolio continues to grow. I’m being asked to take on yet more work – my manager is leaving and on top of everything else her work needs cover too! And on the business front I’m starting a whole new online advertising campaign that will hopefully generate some new interest. Clients have been somewhat thin on the ground of late and I’ve been too… busy… to pursue new business. But it’s not just all about International you know.

Shivers

The boiler remains unfixed. And International is not here to keep me warm. Yes, things are on the chilly side, what with it being November and that.

Well, the work I brought home got done at least. And as for the rest of my day today – it was on of those days; the sun was shining, the birds were singing. I had a smile on my face, and the world was smiling with me.

Plus my mental health work is being received very well, which is fabulous.

And…

T has been touch again. And this time he did ask if we could meet up for fun and frolics. As, by the way, have both of my assignations from a couple of weekends ago. Oh yes, gentle reader; an IQ of 177 and an ass that won’t quit. As ever, nice to be popular.

But anyway; I mentioned before T is the one that would tempt me. T was one of the few guys that had as high a sex drive as I do. He lives in a palace with his boyfriend, with whom he also shares an open relationship. And, yes, I remember him very, very fondly indeed.

So… what to do? It would be easy. He lives near me and works even nearer. It would be fun, oh God it would. A genuine lover, oh my. Yes, even writing about it I am… well, very tempted. As I recall with him it wasn’t just sex it was conversation and dinner as well. T is not a huge fan of the open relationship thing; I think he needed the intimacy a lot too – a spare boyfriend while his ‘real’ one was playing away perhaps.

Actually I am struck by the parallel between T and international. I mean if ‘T and me’ begat a relationship you could almost interchange them.

But. Yes, gentle reader, you know what’s coming next. So much so I hardly need write about it!

Well, I think the way out is to talk to International and see how I feel and how he feels. I’m not arguing I should meet other guys, though I actually do miss these encounters. I am one of those people who does like - that is, enjoy - causal sex; in fact I don’t really ‘get’ people who don’t. I enjoyed being promiscuous and occasionally I get a bit nostalgic for those days [er… two months ago…]. I don’t mind not sleeping with other people; I’ve studiously rejected all offers since International and I became proper boyfriends. But the fact remains He has two boyfriends and I suppose I have half of one. I’m not sure, to put it crudely, getting some cock will redress the balance. I’m not sure, feeling for International the way I do, I’d really want to or enjoy it were it to happen. But we do need to talk. To settle things.

PS International has just cancelled Monday...

Shine

So International spent the night last night. It was, as always, very pleasant; candlelight and wine. Music and smooches. Whispered promises of love everlasting between moments of utter breathlessness… I tell you one thing gentle reader, he is an attentive lover.

One thing he is not is a morning person, which his something I will have to get used to I fear. International was Mr Moody Pants, and got in a temper when I called him Mr Moody Pants. So I amended it to Mr Gorgeous Pouting Moody Pants. But I myself was still somewhat irritated so in town we went for a coffee before we parted to ‘make up’.

No, it wasn’t a row. But it was something that I realised later I do with all of my ‘boyfriends’, which is this; I get very irritated when they first insinuate themselves into my space. And when irritated – or having had but 3 hours sleep - ‘my space’ extends for about 3 miles in any direction. Harry is one notable victim of this trait. So, in many ways, I’m glad it’s done.

Nevertheless, I am somewhat dismayed that International may not now be visiting me on 17 November, his birthday, as he may be ‘too tired’ after flying in from Strasbourg. Though we still will be spending some time together that week, as Ouch is away - thus allowing me to temporarily occupy the geist of Ouch. But yes; dismayed. Enough to ask if… well, are we gong to see each other again? The answer I am assured is yes… for now.

A couple of close and dear friends staged an Intervention as Das Boot tonight. They expressed deep concern that International was trying to have his cake and eat it; that I was being manipulated; that International was going to break my heart. In many ways the voice of experience cautioning me – quite reasonably – about repeating their mistakes. Trying, as it was put, to be the friend they wish they’d had.

I was, I will admit, very occasionally irritated by this intervention. But they raise valid issues and I appreciate the care and attention. Honest. But what can I say? Rule Six is there for a reason and… I have no defence. Rule Five is there for a reason too. So I may be setting myself up for a fall. But to my own personal credit these are arguments I am unafraid to raise with himself. This I did not dwell on tonight, but no-one knows how much it means to have someone say to me “I love you”. And how much it means to be able to say it back.

My team was consumed with work today and the appointed hour passed us by unnoticed. For shame. Yet ill remembered is still not forgotten…

Strange

I have had one of the strangest experiences of my life today, gentle reader.

After getting a bit more work done this afternoon – work that, though challenging, is very exhilarating and fills me with a real sense of achievement once done - I had an afternoon nap; something that I have developed a peculiar fondness for as I have aged.

Anyway, after a couple of hours I woke up – at 5:30.

The problem was I had completely forgotten that it was Sunday. In fact I assumed it was 5:30am on Monday. So, I rose, breakfasted and selected my clothes for work, pleased that I could get in early and tackle the tasks of the day.

At 6:30 a fellow blogger and friend sent me a message asking if I’d had a nice weekend and advising he had just opened a bottle of wine.

Of course, thinking it was 6:30 in the morning I was genuinely shocked and was really worried my friend had a drinking problem. When I replied that er... it was 6:30am, so ermmm... he, somewhat confused, asked me if I was in Britain or abroad or what? And at that point, after a mental gear change, I realised my mistake.

It is fortunate indeed that he contacted me when he did – or I would have been 14 hours early for work. As it was, though, I instead had an extra weekend evening. Tempus redux; a chance to live again.

So despite the fact I had had breakfast I made dinner, was a bit domestic, selected a nice merlot and settled in for an enjoyable evening.

It is a stormy night and the wind and the rain are driving against my window. The parts required to fix my boiler are only now undertaking their perilous journey across the Solar System so the apartment is a little chilly. In many ways it is ideal snuggling weather and I wish International were here to snuggle with me. Of course I am in a position where I can’t be with him every day and for the first time that made me feel a little sad. Tomorrow will be the only time this week we have planned together; next week it is three nights and one day – almost justifying the 50% share in him I currently have.

But for tonight I’m suffering a bit from loneliness. It could be worse; I could be suffering from the flu or gout or Licky End. Yes, I miss him. And in 48 hours I shall be missing him again… though in the meantime I fully intend to [censored]