1926-2011

It has been a hectic month so far, and it is nearly at an end. I have passed my exams, and am due to start university again at the beginning of October. At work I now provide support to two teams rather than one; but I have decided to take the plunge and look for a new job when am back.

Tomorrow Fella and I are heading out to Germany. We were planning to go on Saturday and drive our little car down to the alpine region of southern Germany to visit my mother.

Regrettably plans are forced to change due to the sad death of my grandfather.

He has had heart problems since I was a small child, and last weekend he had a massive heart attack. After a short spell in intensive care he was moved to a side ward, made comfortable, sand with the agreement of the family nature was allowed to take its course.

Fella and I will be driving through the night to get there in time. For Fella it will be quite a challenge, I suppose, being that he will meet an awful lot of my family at one time, and in a difficult setting. Funny, really, as I met his family for the first time on the occasion of his grandfather’s funeral.

What strikes me is the efficient German timing of it all. We were going to be together anyway, more or less, so if you’re gonna go…

That really doesn’t do him justice! Born on the cusp of the Great Depression, raised under the Nazis, then had to raise his children under East German communism before they smuggled their young family over the border and started a new life in the West with absolutely nothing.

85 years of hard living, hard drinking, hard smoking and a lard chase took its toll of course and last weekend the music stopped.

To go off on a slight tangent, we went to see Adele in concert for Fella’s birthday, at around the time my grandfather was slipping away. This song in particular I really liked – though she is an awesome performer and a lovely person to boot – and since my grandfather passed away it has been running through my mind during the more personal moments I have taken to adjust to this loss.

Up, up and away

The up side to being in a relationship are fairly obvious. At its core there is the sharing. Chores, finances, bodies, fears... it helps get through the trials of life. I have great friends whom I adore and really don’t deserve; but when in a decent, loving relationship there is someone to talk to 24 hours a day, whether it be the most inane pet hates or ranting about a difficult day at work or... the most private and difficult thing.

If I didn’t have someone to come home to I think my life would be a lot worse. For an introverted science-type who lived alone since graduation that’s a hell of a thing. Good old Rule 14 is there for a reason – meeting guys, exploring my sexuality, especially the sexual side, was a lot of fun but sooner or later having no-one really there was... aging. Body and soul. And heart.

The downsides don’t really compare of course; I mean the only real downside to being in a relationship with the Cheerful Fairy is that Frumpella comes along for the ride!

I think it is important to consider the downsides all the same; otherwise I worry they assume in importance they don’t deserve and begin to take over my day to day feelings.

So what is there?

We have to guard against dullness, slipping into a rut/routine. It’s not really a downside that it takes effort to make it work; if it were, then we’d really be in trouble. But we need to also make the effort to be outward facing, keep up with our friends.

One potential downside is that we don’t have the freedom to socialise as if we were single; everything is in consultation. Can’t just stay out all night any more!

Another, though I’m not sure it’s really a downside, is the need to take the other half into account when planning for life in the round. Before Fella and I got together I could indulge in retail therapy to my heart’s content. Now, well it’s the wedding saving, being careful with money. Being sensible. I’ve worked for four organisations since I graduated; and only with my current role have I moved from one job with another to go to. Can’t afford that kind of whimsy in Strumpetville these days.

It’s difficult to find specific and terrible downsides to being with someone. The real issue is the need to be a bit more sensible and grown up [shudder]. Cardigans, wills and pensions, oh my. I’ve never really convinced myself that I’m much over 18; though I dimly realise I can’t really continue to act like I am half my age...

Yes, it is time to settle down. I suppose I started this blog precisely because that was the path I had set for myself. Being in a relationship is a tremendous up (when it’s the right one), and if there are a lot of downsides, then... well, gentle reader, it’s not the right relationship, or the right time to be in one.

Valentine's

Our second Valentine is coming up – it’s amazing how time flies. Last year I was more with it and organised a dinner out for us in Soho... but this year a number of factors have kept me off my game, not least my own lack of time management! However, I have managed to pull off a minor coup in that Fella thinks I will be at college on Monday night, but in fact we have the night off (half term) so I can surprise him with...


Well, something! Not sure what yet, because the plan is for us to dine at home. Unfortunately my first project, worth 12.5% of my degree, is due that day so this weekend I’ll frantically be writing up a research proposal – to show I can, before the big dissertation next year.

Work is insanely busy at the moment and so difficult I feel that I’m experiencing a significant personality change, in the sense I have to be much more assertive of my prerogatives and perspectives; demanding of others; and firm when confronted with unreasonable behaviour. Normally, big gay introvert that I am (while sober) I self effacingly tolerate a fair bit, mainly because throwing my toys out of my pram doesn’t seem like a win. I am perhaps blessed in that I can see two, three steps ahead. My experience is many cannot.

Anyway, between the job that sees me take work home some evenings and weekends, my college life, my attempts to get fit (gym, swimming, running 8k twice a week) a social life and domestic drudgery (it can be a hard life in Strumpetville, gentle reader) spending quality time with my man is hard – we probably spend less time together than we did when he lived outside London!

I’m neglecting too much I think. Our relationship is solid, because Fella understands these two years will be tough and it’s not as if we aren’t planning for the longer term. I mean my friends, myself – healthy and hard working which I like, but no me time (important for an introvert), no lie-in at the weekend, no reading for reading’s sake... And of course when I’m tired I find it difficult to listen to Fella about his day and talk to him about the things he likes to talk about, which makes me feel a bit guilty. He tends to be the one who cooks dinner, deal with the groceries, be the drudge (!)

So, then I suppose I need to find something rather special for Valentine’s this year. Absent the restaurant context, the mind is focussed on what else there is – and with the opportunity to surprise...

Flowers... gifts... champagne. What will it be? Well, I must think! Perhaps inspiration will come in a dream. Or from somewhere! Any ideas?? Either way, I’ll let you know.

Bunking up

Fella and I have lived together for nearly six months now, and so far so good. The occasional row, the occasional dinner party. Domestic bliss. Some routines have been settled into well; he cooks, I iron. Throw in a frilly apron and you’ve have a scene from the 1950s.


When we only spent a few nights a week together it was... urgent in some ways to take full advantage of the situation. In a small room, in a shared house, only a few hours together it was important to be together. However, it always being the same nights in the week there was always a risk that things would develop a routine in the bedroom as much as in any other area of life. And... not having your own place made options somewhat limited for us.

Now imagine that, gentle reader (not too graphically if you please!) – me in a monogamous relationship with my man; but we’re together two or three nights a week; and our freedom of... expression is strictly limited (though if memory serves we pushed the boundaries a few times).

Now spool forward to moving in; the opportunities are endless – or seemingly so. We’re together much more than we used to be, and can arrange our busy schedules to be together much more easily too.

But – there’s a lot more to being together, and intimacy, than the physical side of things. I like sex, I mean I really do. And I’ve put myself about a bit, as has Fella. Yet every aspect of coming out, being a proper out-there gay man has been about living life, finding love, not wanting to be alone. I’ve enjoyed the experiences I’ve had... and I’ve had them. So, like dating, moving in and getting engaged, there via the process of getting to what’s next.

Having a partner who is good in bed, adventurous and enquiring, is very nice. I will confess now that I have in my time purchased one or two special items, as I’m sure most of us have, that live tucked discreetly in a drawer. Fella, to my amazement, has a drawer veritably bursting at the seams. Very little chance there of things getting stale, sex getting samey. A full and engaging sex life is and will for a long time be a big part of my relationship.

Still, the intimacy is not fully served with sex alone. Sex, as I mentioned, is great – but I’ve always found that being with one person and learning their likes and wants is a far more worthwhile investment than being with lots of people for a short time (though it has its moments).

When Fella comes home tonight I might peel his clothes off with my teeth or we might curl up on the sofa and take in a film. Both have their merits and their attraction. And the thing about being together the way we are is, if we don’t do one thing or another tonight: well, we can do it tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.

Lady Luck meets the Cheerful Fairy

Well, when I neglect you gentle reader I really do... so sorry that this is likely to be the second of only two posts in July. This is what happens when one has no broadband for a while , after the Cheerful Fairy moves in with his boyfriend! Hurrah!!

On Wednesday we're flying out to Germany to visit my mother and the my family. It will be nice to have the break, and I know Fella will enjoy it. And immediately after that of course it is my birthday! It is fortunate, then that we have made so much progress so quickly – and so smoothly. Our move has progressed with barely a hiccup.

In fact living together has promoted quite a sunny phase in our relationship; I adore him all the more even though we're together much more – being an introvert I shy away from that level of closeness because I need my own space so much. But we picked the right flat, I think, and we are already developing those little rituals that settled couples do to demarcate their emotional and physical territories.

As for the freedoms living together gives... well, we are enjoying those to the full; some things are more pleasing even than blogging. I do hope you might forgive me...

So I suppose this blog post is by way of an update; an out of office post, perhaps. But fear not, I do intend to keep blogging. There are lots of themes going on in my life: getting fit; studying; working ; developing and continuing my relationship with Fella; and still exploring Strumpetville and what it means to be the Cheerful Fairy.

I have been extraordinarily lucky I must admit. My health is sound; I have a good and interesting (if utterly demanding) job. I'm about to start a great course, and I have a lovely home. Great friends and a family that at least accepts who I am. Last but not least I have a great guy whom I adore, and who unaccountably adores me. But I cannot take anything for granted; and nor can I simply accept the largesse of the Universe without giving anything back; and I want to explore what that might mean, going forward.

So, stay tuned, do. I will be back with more; but not until August. So stay well. And have fun. And speak soon :-)

One hand clapping

So here I am. Fella is asleep; in a few short hours it will be our anniversary, true and proper. One whole year!

Much as I adore him I find myself wondering sometimes if it wouldn't be easier... to take all those opportunities for an affair, or just a casual fuck or three. I worry sometimes I still skirt that old world, not quite ready, willing or able to divorce myself. Am I just with him to spare his feelings. Whoops! Roll on the next 60 years...

Perhaps I'm being too harsh on both of us. Neither of us is perfect – and I wouldn't want us to be. But right now he's either manically happy, devastatingly sad, zombified or paralytic. None of those four states is overly pleasing. The highs and lows, stops and starts make one hell of a roller-coaster but sometimes the ride gets a bit much.

Tomorrow we're up early; off to Brighton, the first phase of our plans gets put into action. He won't remember tonight's events , he never does the morning after. I do hope the sun is shining, gentle reader: he won't understand if it's gloomy. So I must ensure it never is even though I remember everything.

He gets so unwell my default state is one of fear. Is he OK? Is he alright?? He's asleep now, frowning deeply as if his sadness infects his dreams. I wonder if he dreams what I'm typing? I wonder if I can get the blood out of the carpet. I wonder if the rest of this inferior Chardonnay and a bit of Dr Who will let me get any sleep tonight at all?

I adore my man. I'm so pleased we've got to an anniversary. I'm living a dream I barely dared to dream even three years ago; but can I make him happy? We're becoming co-dependent he and I. He knows instinctively the sun does not always shine in Strumpetville so he lets in the rain... and the clouds above us both get ever deeper.

Bugger I'm a miserable fairy tonight; maudlin perhaps. Onwards and upwards is the only way forward; and damn it all I shan't go back. Time to make things that little bit tougher... a bit of gay meets Zen. I don't quite know what it is that binds me to him but it is not severed yet.

I'll let you know how the anniversary goes. And how we go about planning for number two!

Show me love :-)

Fella and I show our love in different ways. He likes the quiet-night-in, with cuddles and hugs. And he's very affectionate when we are out and about. Actually he and I have had some hassle when out and about and my feelings for him can manifest as an extraordinary protectiveness (I sometimes need to remind myself he's an adult and can probably make it to the shops by himself if he wants to)

I don't find it easy to discuss the depth of feeling I have for him and when I'm experiencing things with him. I try to show my love through the grand gesture; romance, passion. I am far less subtle than him. I do think, though, we have a good balance: the hugs and cuddles at home; the intimate moments that could come at any time; the cultural and social exploration we embark on together.

Along the way there are the usual milestones. I think Fella in particular takes great delight in making his and our friends vomit themselves into a desiccated husk at how 'loved up' he is... and of course our One Year Anniversary is coming up. Fella boasts of some wonderful gift that he has bought. In my mind it assumes massive proportions of wonderousness. What am I to do, gentle reader?? I cast about and rack my brains. I am on the lookout for the Grand Gesture that will mark the anniversary's passing in appropriate style.

Fortunately events have given me a little bit of a break. You see, Fella rather amusingly booked a trip to Brighton with friends on the very day of our anniversary (15 May). He's never been good with dates, bless 'im. So when I tentatively pointed out the clash of dates he was quite distraught at his spontaneous thoughtlessness. I'll admit I did enjoy twisting the knife just a teensy bit... but the truth is it didn't bother me too much. I'm going along to Brighton with them. It's Strumpetville on Sea, you see, and I haven't been since I was a teenager and spectacularly failed to get into any venues of interest (oh my).

The deal, to "make it up to me" is Fella and I take a couple of hours out for a nice lunch or perhaps dinner, just him and I: and we take a day off either the Friday or the Monday, to celebrate properly.

In many repsects this a but a temporary respite. I still need that gift of gifts. Yes, flowers and chocolate. The infrastructure underpinning the giving of the gifts. I saw some hand-made champagne flutes on the South Bank engraved with hearts, and I thought a pair of them might be a good start. I was tempted with a trip to Berlin but we're going back to Germany in the summer to revisit my motherette anyway... and after Paris it has the air of the Been Done about it. I did think, as Fella likes his wine and his chocolate, about a trip to Vinopolis – a wine theme park in London for a chocolate and wine tasting evening; I am farily sure I'll go for that but it lacks the proper "wow" factor about it.... oh, I don't know. What do you get for someone who isn't materialistic and loves you totally and is content to lie in your arms of an evening?! Ideas on a scented lace postcard, please.

Sex and sexability

Fella and I are monogamous. I’ve always protested [too much] that I would be perfectly happy in a more open arrangement, but I do appreciate our situation much more than I would have expected. Of course with International it was more open than is healthy. With Darren I was just being – perhaps out of necessity – naïve. And with all the other bijou boyfriendettes than came and swiftly went, well who knows what might have been?

My ‘red line’ is honesty. I am not, I think, under too many illusions about the traditional use for good intentions and the destination they lead us to. I saw my parents destroy various marriages with silly games; and I understand the allure – particularly acute for gay men – of a world that offers, and glamorises, easy and casual sex. I do not, however, like drama or secrets. It’s always been to me just so damned petty

Of course I’ve said goodbye to all that now; the internet based hook-ups, the saunas, etc etc… Now I have my gorgeous guy. I have to admit, as we approach our anniversary, it has dawned on me that Fella may well be the last person I ever have sex with!!

As honesty is the best policy I’ll post this: if I’d known, or realised, back in May I would have gone out with more of a bang than a couple of semi-anonymous internet arranged hook-ups between our first and second dates. Conversely a stable monogamous relationship is pretty much the only thing up to now that I’d never tried; so going for it certainly pushes my boundaries.

Don’t get me wrong, and at the risk of being a shameless self-publicist, I spent the last two years pretty much trying anything that took my fancy. Actually, to keep an air of seriousness about things, I’ve been quite lucky. Whilst I avoided anyone/thing (bareback, bondage, priests) that got my alarm bells ringing, I have pretty much trotted off into any scenario with an open mind and not much else to protect me. And, in all that time (as blogged before) I’ve never regretted sex - though the occasional relationship, yes! I’ve had a great time, and learned a lot about what I like – and what doesn’t work for me.

Now that life is behind me. And there are things I will miss. Fella is insanely good in bed and that really helps. Adventurous, experienced, he even does yoga. His talents do not stretch to all my proclivities. I have always particularly enjoyed, for example, group sex. But, and this is the important thing – in bed, as well as out of it he is enough. I find myself challenged by him sexually and I have to work hard to try and keep up, and to... make me worth his efforts.

It’s completely different being in a relationship; making love rather than having sex is a whole different ball game – as it should be, because in many respects it was the object of coming out. I’ve been sensible enough, if that’s the right term, to avoid confusing sex with intimacy but my observation is a lot of guys use casual encounters to experience a deeper connection however fleetingly with another man. I think that’s why I can be comfortable in a group situation; it’s just sex. Of course that isn’t a panacea; being able to rationalise it all away hardly helped me, for instance, when I was with International.

In order to have all the experiences that I have had, and try all the things I wanted to try, I needed to be brave. I’m not so gorgeous that I could walk into/log onto anyplace and be deluged with offers (and Fella is); things needed effort. Motion towards – my goals weren’t coming to find me. I think the same attitudes I brought, if somewhat belatedly, to my sex-life are also worth applying to my relationship. Of course to treat Fella as merely a lover would do a monumental injustice; and be pretty stupid.

What I have really done is learning through play and ultimately the importance of sex to me, and to my relationship, means that with Fella I can’t divorce sex and love as the Rules might suggest. Instead I apply what I have learned, and recognise that I’m still learning.

little fluffy (pink) clouds

I try to have some measure of insight; the reality is I’m probably as selfish and blinkered as most other people. Plus a tad over-sensitive on occasion, but unremarkable beyond that.

Nevertheless sometimes events force a shard of light to pierce the rose-tinted cloud surrounding me as I cheerfully breeze through life; and, as you might have guessed gentle reader, this id one of them there times!

As you know I have been ill for a wee while and am being poked and prodded by a variety of professionals, presumably as poetic justice for the jobs I’ve done over the last few years. Well, it seems on 1 April (see what I mean?) I need to go into hospital for a procedure that will involve sedation – and therefore I need someone to look after me, take me home once it’s done.

The thing is… Fella and I had plans on 31 March and he had plans in the evening of 1 April. Him looking after me would involve him changing and cancelling those plans respectively . I feel terribly guilty for being a burden on him: I don’t want him to miss things he’d enjoy just to play nursemaid to the Cheerful Fairy…

Well, actually let’s be honest. It’s a paradox really. I don’t want to be the kind of boyfriend that would expect his man to change his plans to look after him. But, and this is the thing: I want to have a boyfriend who would want to to change his plans to look after me, and not out of no sense of obligation neither.

Fortunately for you, gentle reader ,no angst ridden crisis to report today – no, this post is about insight and epiphany!

Normally I am very busy at work, but I pride myself on making the time to give Fella as much time as he wants and needs, by text, email or on the phone. But whilst I have been on leave our roles have reversed to some extent – he is also, coincidentally very busy at work – and so breaking the news of my upcoming appointment and all the changes that needed to be made was quite tough. He didn’t’ have time to talk; and he really wasn’t best pleased – I could tell – about having to change his social plans. All in all I felt that I was intruding on his time. Making a nuisance of myself if you will.

Well, talk about the boot being on the other foot! I did realise that I can be quite like that with him from time to time. Well, actually a lot more than that. And I felt very sad about that. He’s never complained but I think I probably shouldn’t be so proud of my time management skills. Hell/crap/damn; I probably shouldn’t be time managing my relationship at all!!

With our big plans and the things we both want to do together in the future, I am absolutely committed to working hard and doing something with my life not just for me, but for us. I just didn’t realise there was a risk of damage to our relationship in the short and medium term, in that ambition and sheer sticktoitiveness may lead me to neglect the work a relationship needs to succeed.

Funnily enough Fella felt bad about being short with me on the phone; he needn’t have of course. But it is good to know that I can do better and we can do better. And that I have a man who wants to look after me – just as I want to look after him.

Domesticity

Right now both Fella and I are looking for places to live. It’s a peculiar dance that we do; who will move first?

He needs to move back to London, out of the (very salubrious and welcoming, to be sure) parental home: for the convenience; to be near to me; work; friends (not necessarily in that order).

I would like to move because after a year with the Gardener his ways are beginning to grate – as those of you who are friend to me on Facebook may know perhaps too well! Suffice it to say, kind and generous though he is in so many ways, his lack of consideration and peculiar ways in others makes me think it is time to get going.

Today both Fella and I looked at a number of properties; and no doubt we will make our respective choice in due course. Doing this has been most helpful for me in one respect – that of the Next Step of the Big Plan.

You know the Big Plan right, gentle reader? We all have one – the mortgage/marriage/children/death plan. I have alluded to mine – or, perhaps better, ours – when I occasionally lift my rose-tinted glasses to spy the glitter of diamond rings in the distance.

Anyway, anyway; what does occur to me is that the bestest best thing is for Fella to get his London pad.

Yes, that’s it. Sometimes we needn’t make more sophisticated arguments than the ones right in-front of us. When he’s in London the pressure of careful planning when and how we can be together is lifted; plus a couple of days at mine a weeks translates to a couple of days at his – and a couple of days apart.

Thus the less good pressures on my domestic situation are ameliorated somewhat. I have an escape clause and a lesser need to need the Gardener to my will [oo-er].

Fella wants his own space. For an angst ridden yet Cheerful Fairy like Strumpella this desire is normally guaranteed to make me Angsty McAngst. But it’s reasonable. He needs HIS space and it’s ideal that he’d be a few short minutes away from me (our proximity a precondition you see).

Anyway, anyway, I alluded to a plan, a plan… And here it is. A plan within a plan if you will: He moves, takes a year lease and at the end of the lease… well then we move in together. I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to make it two years hehe! But the plans remains...

What can I tell you? It’s so good to be here. This point in my life works; everything’s coming together nicely. I’m no fool – much more a coward than an idiot – I know there’ll be downs as well as ups. But, and this is the very thing about the plan; it averages out as UP. And I’m never happier than right up Fella ;-)

Das ist Gut!

Another week between posts! I hope you will forgive me… I fear I neglect your lovely eyes; it’s just that I’ve been busy … fortunately it hasn’t been with work so much – indeed, as I’m due to go into hospital for my *ahem* close up next week I have taken a few days off so I can relax and enjoy myself.

Running and swimming is going well. Indeed, I’ve lost a bit of weight and fancy my swimming has benefitted me a bonny bit of boobage already – but permit me my conceit! For all is well, so very well, with the world*

Yes, I do fear the Cheerful Fairy finds Strumpetville a happy place gentle reader. And for that I apologise. You see, from a position of loved up contentedness it is difficult to contrive the cut and thrust of… well, “being stabbed in the heart by the cruel knife of relationship angst punctuated by repeated bouts of agreeable, if casual, sex” (I put quotation marks as I briefly considered that as a title for this blog; but it doesn’t quite trip off the tongue!)

What is the cause of my contentedness? Why – and I appreciate you may vomit yourself into a desiccated husk at any moment – Fella of course.

C’mon; this blog does sometimes occupy the niche between Jane Austen and “two girls, one cup”. I can’t believe it’s a shade under 10 months that he and I have been together, and so far things are going great. Lord knows I tried, but bless his heart I can’t seem to shake him. Lucky I adore him, no?

On Friday he and I went to a party; friends of his that are now friends of ours – two ladies who are engaged and saving every penny for their wedding. They earned my heart by organising Fella’s 30th birthday party; and it was our turn to return the favour.

Of course a great time was had by all… indeed, there is a good four-hour portion of my memory entirely absent, that I am assured during which I was ‘hilarious’. Uh oh. Then on Saturday we went out to the Green Carnation in Soho for another now-mutual friend’s birthday, and on Sunday a quiet day in punctuated by a visit to view a charming and ideally-located house I am interested in moving into (more on that later).

Presumably Fella enjoyed the weekend at least as much as I did because he did something that meant a disproportionately large amount to me: he updated his Facebook status to indicate he is in a relationship with me.

His profile had always been studiously silent on his orientation and other related matters and while I deeply desired it to be similar to mine – as open as the moon and skies, indeed – I could hardly complain or fuss about something so inconsequential to proper grown ups :-(

The change caught me by surprise and pleased me absolutely enormously; as did his status promise to be more appreciative! Well, I showed him I appreciated him oh yes…

Long and short of it is - I must be doing something right! Yay!! Now, have you finished being sick yet?

Sex etc

On 16 March I’m going into hospital. Basically I’m having a camera crew up my bottom to check why the world keeps falling out of it. It did occur to me then to wonder if they could tell, to put it coarsely, if there is any tread left on the tyres of whether it’s like throwing a hosepipe down a hallway.

I am being coarse, gentle reader, I know. Not least because I have a dedication to my pelvic floor verging on the obsessive. But there has been a fair bit of traffic this last couple of years and while it isn’t done to kiss and tell I think I’ve given a good account of myself.

So, a while back I decided that I wanted to have a lot more sex with men, and therefore pretending not to be a massive ‘mo would have to go. And while I’ve had cause to consider my erstwhile relationships a bit of a roller coaster, I’ve never regretted encountering any of the people I’ve chosen to have sex with. Sometimes it’s been fantastic; sometimes… interesting. But worthwhile.

I don’t particularly regret that the first time I had sex with a man it was under the stairs at a party. I’m not sorry that a large proportion of my sex life has consisted of casual fucks. I’m glad I’ve pretty much been super careful and that I’ve gone into any situation informed and when I felt ready to.

The reality is someone somewhere will always have had more sex, better sex, will be considered sexier, be better at seducing guys, whatever… I’ve never wanted to treat sex as a competition. Nevertheless I like sex and enjoy indulging in it frequently; and I’ve let – as a consequence, known if not wilfully sought, of coming out – sex be a big part of my sexuality.

But! I’ve always preferred sex with someone I know, rather than a one-night-stand or casual assignation. I don’t know why – causal sex is great fun and can be a lovely way to pass the time. Nevertheless, it has struck me that a lot of gay men treat causal sex as a way of getting intimate, not just getting off. I myself have always refrained from confusing sex and intimacy – God forbid, love. Come and go, as it were – within the bounds of common good manners. I think that’s why I’ve been fond of group sex in the past, and had a range of friends-with-benefits in one form or another.

Now I’m in a stable, monogamous relationship. The Bad Boyfriend part of me would argue that the average man has sex 165+ times a year; and from experience getting up the average when single takes quite a lot of work. The Good boyfriend part of me argues that it’s worth sacrificing casual sex for a lifetime of making love. All the Cheerful Fairy knows is that Fella is by far the best lover I’ve ever had, and knowing that things will get better and better is no small help in smoothing the bumps on the rocky road of love.

As Dan Savage put it gay men don’t have sex like this because they’re gay; they do it because they’re men (a whorehouse staffed with volunteers is a rather apt phrase he uses). We need a restraining influence to manage sex healthily. No regrets and I’m not yet done swinging from the chandeliers. But that cup of tea would be great round about now. And afterwards, take your clothes off…

Looking ahead...

It’s almost February. Yes, this is the first of many startling revelations in this post!

No, nothing remarkably new to report. Work remains busy, but I dimly perceive we’ve passed the peak of this particular project so I can get back into a more regular work/life balance.

Tomorrow I am seeing Fella. We’re having a quiet night in, a film, a nice dinner. I want to buy him a present of some sort because helped me find a restaurant for Thursday night too. That is when I’m out with ‘A’ and ‘F’ and – this is how long it’s been – I can give them their Christmas present; I picked them up in Germany and I got them each a book too so I hope they will like them.

Friday we’re going out to a club… I’m not sure of the details ,but Fella won it in some kind of competition. It’s important I reign in my work commitments as I’m on strict instructions to have my dancing legs on!

This in turn leads us to a quiet weekend…

My mission for February is to spend as little money as humanly possible. I need to save and because Fella has a much lower income than I do I feel guilty when he buys things. To stray off topic for a moment; he and I visited friends for lunch on Sunday and we alighted on the topic of living together. I’ve got a rough idea of how much he can afford to spend on rent; and he seemed keen on paying half the rent were we ever to share a home. Unfortunately if what he can afford were half the rent, then the rent would be no more than what I can pay on my own.

I therefore suggested he pays what he can afford; I pay what I can afford and we both get to live somewhere nice than we could have had separately.

Anyway, I have a decent income but rarely have much left at the end of a month. So there must be more discipline.

I am sure you have identified the exception to this, gentle reader; Valentine’s day. Made up holiday? Perhaps. Saccharine sweetness that in past years has made me vomit myself into a desiccated husk? Sure. But this one time, dangnamit, I want a proper Valentine’s day. With my man.

So that’ll be a bit of money – and well worth it too.

... and

It’s 30 December and as I’m hurriedly typing this Fella is fast asleep. He looks like an angel when he’s asleep…

We had a lovely Christmas, at his parents’ place outside London. I got on very well with everyone in the family so we can definitely mark it as a successful visit. I felt very much welcomed by them all. It really was nice,.

Fella got me a new DVD player (my old one was very much on its last legs so well observed by him) and his family gave me a cookbook. The gifts I got them whilst in Germany went down very well too. There was even snow on Christmas Day. All in all it went much better than I could have expected.

I’ve been thinking a lot about New Years resolutions. I am amazed by how well my relationship is going and we’re both talking in terms of the years ahead, not just weeks or months. So in many respects 2010 will be focussed on building that up. Hence I am resolved on matters pertaining to that:

Work – keep working hard, and trying to do well. I’m not sure yet quite what that looks like; but it’s great to mix things up. Experience new challenges.

Education. In keeping with the above start my master’s degree. The people I deal with on a daily basis inspire me; I aspire to their example. It will be a challenge because I will have to give a few evenings a week to study and classes; time I would spend with Fella. Plus he wants to go back to bar work to make some extra money. That’s going to really hit our time together. BUT (customary preposition notwithstanding) I am keen to take our relationship forward to meet these challenges because I really think we’re in a good, strong place.

Domestic: it’s time to move. Things here with the Gardener are fine, but not really suiting me. So, I’ve decided to try and get a place of my own again . No great rush of course; but given the challenges I’m introducing I do think having a place all my own, that Fella and I can share, will help ameliorate the effects. Before you ask, gentle reader, we aren’t ready to move in together. No: not at all. What we do need is a place where we can be together, but in separate rooms – if that makes sense.

Legal: hints have been dropped. I know, for example, which of these Fella would most prefer. And indeed, it has been made clear that were certain questions to be asked the order of things would be I should do the asking… so while 2010 might not quite be the year in which the question is in fact asked, in the next 12 months we do consider that the decision to ask it will be made.

So, stay tuned... and in the meantime:

Happy New Year

I hope 2010 brings you almost everything you desire ;-)

Fast Fashion

Fella has gone out ice skating this evening, leaving me with a couple of hours to write a new post before I join him and his friends for dinner in Soho tonight. Most of these friends were there, the other night, when Fella had his… episode.

Since then he’s been trying to make it up to me in the nicest possible way, which in turn has begun to get a bit tiresome… I’m just glad he’s alright.

So what happened? Well, it seems that on occasion (I’ve never seen it before) a minor hormonal imbalance combined with sufficient alcohol flips the off switch in Fella’s brain – and when it resets hew goes into full-on panic mode. Now, that is understandable and to be sure none of his friends or colleagues judge him wanting in any way because of it. Perhaps, then, Fella shouldn’t drink so much. Well, that’s up to him. He can certainly drink. He doesn’t drink every day, or all the time – and he doesn’t like (any more) those late nights painting the town red that neither Frumpella nor Strumpetville have quite forsaken… Still, he does on occasion get very very drunk and getting him home in circumstances like that have put the greatest, and indeed very dangerous, strain on our relationship.

So, not a Problem Drinker but drinking can be a problem. Maybe I’m dancing in distinction-without-a-difference land. Or maybe I’m being too grown up a fairy. But he’ll have mo on tenterhooks from now on when we go out and there’s alcohol involved and an Emergency Taxi Fare will never be far away from now on.

Goodness, those are a lot of words to describe not very much. Time for succinctness:

What does this mean for my relationship then? For all my concern there is absolutely no prospect whatever of us finishing over this. I was somewhat surprised by how resolute I am about that. I am totally certain; we’re solid as a rock. Perhaps he is surprised too: this last couple of days whole new words have begun to be heard in Strumpetville. Marriage (maybe). Cohabitation (even more maybe). Children (NO). This is all a bit ‘heat of the moment’ to truly excite me. Though I do now know what kind of engagement ring he would like; diamond set into the band; which will be silver, if you don’t mind gentle reader.

So there we are, then. Dinner, drinks*, and a steady hand on the tiller of our relationship, steering between the rocks… whatever they’re made of ;-)

Mirror

Conversation regarding baby photos:

Fella: “you’re not allowed to see the ones where I’m drooling and looking dopey”.
Mike: “well, to be fair I see THAT first thing every morning”.

Fella sulks. Cheerful fairy congratulates himself on wit. Diverse alarums…

I have heard it said, Gentle reader, that art holds a mirror up to life. And if so the two films Fella and I saw this week reflected a lot back to me.

The first was Away We Go. One of my favourite films ever is Happy-go-Lucky, and Away We Go is in a similar vein. However, it’s much more of a laugh-out-loud comedy and brilliantly acted. In it the main characters go on a journey and meet various friends and family members. Each relationship they encounter is flawed in its own way but as the couple struggle to come to terms what might become with them they, perhaps, realise they need to make their own paradigm that celebrates and encompasses their flaws…



Well, I hardly need Freud to point out the parallels between this and my posts here on this blog. It touched me in many ways and I loved it. Hooray for the Haymarket and Orange Wednesdays!

On Sunday we saw Up. A new Pixar animated adventure that, in all honesty, Fella and I had waited to see for an absolute age! And so, there I was, in a room full of four year olds, with tears running down my face. Gosh-darn. That’s no way for a cheerful fairy to behave!



You see, at the beginning a couple meet, fall in love, grow old and eventually die. Ordinary people, whose lives were touched by ordinary tragedies and yet never lost their sense of adventure. Very beautiful; and obviously very touching. So why did I cry? Well, two main reasons.

The old couple reminded me very much of my (maternal) grandparents. The finest people I ever met; now in the winter of their lives, they are universally loved, raising four fin children under fascism and then communism and still somehow being good people. I love them to most in all the world; we don’t even speak the same language! Yet I don’t know how I will bear their loss when, in perhaps 10 – or more – years time (well, their 85 or so, and it’s been 70 years of beer, cigarettes and lard… you do the maths…) when they are gone. They’ll never know, of course, but it’s respect for them and the family they built that gave me the strength to come out to my family at all. Better late then never, I suppose!

But also, I saw the potential to be like them and have that “forever”. Soppy old fairy that I am. But, well, you know… when you fall in love with someone it’s an adventure all its own and, really, do you want to have every adventure all by yourself? Things aren’t just mirrored in glass after all.

Monogamy

Fella and I are monogamous. It seems odd posting what must have appeared to be a given, but nevertheless; it is so.

The real reason is that he insisted on it from the outset. His Rule. And very sensible he was too. However, I’ve always said I don’t mind open or monogamous – I don’t equate sex with love. I need honesty.

This is the only monogamous relationship I’ve been in. OK; I’ve only had three ‘proper’ boyfriends amongst a series of boyfriendettes, regular gentlemen callers and the casual assignation. I never slept with anyone else for the sixth months I was with Darren before being so spectacularly binned but, as with so much in that relationship, I put that down to my own naïveté. As International has other boyfriends I carried on sleeping around with abandon – not reckless, but still…

And then, somewhat unexpectedly and rather unintentionally I stumbled across Fella. What marvellous luck; I rarely do so well in matters of chance!

Apart from a bit of bank holiday fun – which Fella knows about and is fine with because it was between our first and second dates, before we started our relationship proper – I haven’t slept with anyone since I met him. Nevertheless, because Fella has tended to go for relationships while I have tried, but failed to do the same… I’ve slept with many, many times as many partners as he. Fella’s fine with it. International, if memory serves, was always insanely jealous of my past.

Fortunately, whether it makes me seem base or no, our sex life is great. As with so much in our relationship it took work. Ironically I never felt a one night stand (or equivalent) leads to the best in sex. Still pretty good; but relationships are better. You will recall, gentle reader, that Fella and I recent went through a crisis. How better to make up than assign an… activity to each card in a deck (each house representing a certain type of activity) and inviting him, at various points over the weekend, to pick three cards at random?

Fella is probably the best fantasy I’ve ever had. And that’s a new thing for me; to put my current partner as the locus of desire (or lust or whatever you want to call it).

Monogamy isn’t therefore a challenge for me. I’m glad of that. After this most recent challenge to our relationship I am at least certain he’s the one I want; and I’m confident my trust in him is not misplaced. This kind of relationship is exactly is exactly what I want. Most of this post describes the bonus material on this DVD of love [bleurgh]. But I really wouldn’t have it any other way.

Birthday treats

I have a new phone! It’s a Nokia 5800 and it does everything I want. I still haven’t quite sorted out how voicemail works… or set it up on my PC (so no pics for now) but I am nevertheless pretty satisfied.

Fella was rather bored of my constant twiddling with the device at the weekend. He’s not a fan of technology generally so my cooing over my precious did not impress him overmuch. Fortunately that Friday we had a fabulous dinner at friend ‘F’s – so good I was distracted enough by marvellous food and company to socialise at least a little bit. Plus I gave him his own account on my PC and he finally has a drawer, so I reckon he did OK.

Also on the plus side I am getting £58 for recycling my old one and that will come in handy for Fella’s birthday weekend. Yes, he reaches the grand old age of 30 this Saturday and even in Strumpetville that counts as a proper grown up fairy so there will be celebrations indeed.

For all my inability to communicate Fella’s protestations that he does not want a fuss, or presents, or for anyone to do anything special are a thin façade and so the plan is as follows:

Friday – drinks with colleagues

Saturday: family brunch; then into London where Fella, his mum and I will spend the afternoon doing whatever Fella’s big ole’ heart desires. Then (sans-mere) in the evening he and I will have dinner.

Sunday I have organised his friends to have a surprise party for him in Greenwich (I woe his friends big time for getting together at such short notice).

And at some point, presumably Saturday night, he will get his presents I bought him:

A Futurama DVD (it’s a joke present because we were, shall we say, distracted from these particular episodes one weekend recently)
A polari dictionary
A ‘Round the Horne’ compilation CD
A very nice bottle of very nice
champagne
Some chocolate (of course!)
An exquisite presentation box, inside which he will find:
Tickets to Paris.

Yes, the oft mentioned trip has been booked! It’s from 17 to 20 October, train, hotel, all my treat. Well, mostly my bank manager’s treat but he’s not to know. Would you swoon, gentle reader, over this cornucopia of gayer gifts? Would you?? I surely hope so. My worries about things recently are in part due to a fear I’ve gone a bit overboard. But why not, eh? I may be new to this relationship business but I didn’t arrive in a turnip truck; I’m determined to give him a really great birthday!

I was somewhat reassured when reminded of my Dante, and indeed came up with a brand new rule: if you can see the road ahead it probably isn’t worth the trip

*If anyone has any fairy-friendly hotel tips please drop me a line x

Boring!

Fella has gone home and left me with nothing but my knitting. Well, as I don’t knit it would seem he has left me with nothing at all :-(

I know I seem melodramatic, gentle reader, but it seems without him here – now that I’m used to having him around three or four nights per week - I am at a loss.

What I should be doing is the background reading I brought home to do for precisely this reason. I knew he couldn’t stay and the extra time to catch up on a bit of work is hugely useful. But instead I think of my loneliness and that there’s nothing on the tele’ and the takeaway isn’t open on a Sunday and yet there is wine in the fridge.

The week ahead will be busy, of course; work and exercise and work and on Wednesday Fella and I are going to the cinema and work and on Friday he and I are attending a dinner party with friend ‘A’ and friend ‘F’ and all three respective partners. The first time we’ve all been partnered up at the same time! My friends all love Fella – quite rightly, more than they like me *nervous laugh*. So it promises to be a good evening; and then the weekend next again.

I have grown more and more dependant on Fella’s presence around me. I do not sleep so well when he is not here. This pains me as he hogs the bed terribly and exudes an insane amount of heat… but, no. It is his presence I need.

Internet dating is often unsuccessful – and I go on the experience of fellow bloggers and friends as well as my own – because we expect the SPARK; a frisson of love-at-first-sight without which we, like kids in a candy store, continue profile shopping…

My relationship, then, is one that continues to grow. At first things were on occasion difficult. We didn’t communicate well. It was hard to work out what the other liked. I genuinely though I’d ruined things on more than once occasion and only a wilful decision to Trust him and me kept me going. Now I see us becoming ever closer; becoming one in our likes and the way we think. Friends remark, given how comfortable we seem together, it hardly seems possible it could only be four months.

Dull and unromantic perhaps, like a quiet Sunday in over going out on the razzle! But I am very very pleased that I took my time to fall in love and decided it was best, this time, to take things slow. Even Trust evolves and much work remains to be done. I begin to dimly appreciate how lucky I am to be with someone who though I may just be worth a bit of time and effort. How could I not respond in kind?

I do miss him though. I may even be forced to take up knitting.

The 'L' word

I’ve given Fella the night off. It seems only fair that we both take a little rest; we spent Friday night through to Tuesday morning together after all. And as I explained before, Tuesday nights are my night!

Since Saturday I’d been a tad miffed with my Fella because much of the long weekend has been taken up with preparing for, attending, and a follow up visit to his best friend’s birthday. Nothing major; just that for this event we were treated to an exquisitely timed three day operation set out with military precision. Yet I can barely make it to work on time when he stays over because he is not, to put it mildly, a morning person. In fact these days I’ll get up an hour or two before him and get some work under my belt before making him the obligatory mug of tea in bed.

Anyway: one of the biggest learning points about what I increasingly consider my first proper relationship, is that it rarely pans out in the gloriously earth-shatteringly romantic way one might hope. And so it goes with the ‘L’ word.

So, after leaving his friend’s birthday – all his friends are lovely, and I had a great time to be sure – we ended up bickering and he accused me of not enjoying spending time with him; and I responded by saying I adore spending time with him, because I love him. And, to cut a long story short, he said he loves me too.

How typically me! It wasn’t said in a restaurant, or in bed, or with flowers. No; on a street corner in Greenwich in the dead of night…

And there we have it. I resisted saying it for quite some time; and I am not sure how I feel about saying it then and there. Nevertheless, it is done and I gone done it. The learning point for today’s post is, I suppose, reality trumps romantic dreams. And there will be plenty of opportunities, fingers crossed, to show I mean it as well as say it in many much nicer ways.

Not the least of which are the tickets to Paris – I’m going for Thursday morning to Saturday night and I’ve found a nice gay friendly complex of studio apartments. The trip is one of four presents; four because his birthday coincides with our four month ‘anniversary’. But I can post about those another time.

I’m still anxious and inexperienced and unsure and worried but happy and tentatively optimistic and… me. And now we have a new word for our lexicon, gentle reader. And it begins with ‘L’.