Down with dating

Here we are at the end of February; spring is coming; the days are getting longer…

It was a lovely day yesterday; last week I had a series of events with NHS organisations across London and for Friday’s I hired out the 33rd floor of Citibank’s headquarters in Canary Wharf. The view was rather spectacular; out across the Dome and down the river to my home, opposite London City Airport. Check out this photo of your taxes at work:

I was in a good mood partly because I was due to see Sam in town for our date. I’d had a busy week, and we hadn’t really been able to keep in touch, but the plan was to meet at a posh restaurant on Covent Garden. I should, perhaps, have taken note when he decided he wanted to go somewhere ‘cheap’ instead. And then, later, he decided he wanted to come to my place again [yay]. And then he couldn’t stay very long as he was ill [boo]… and then he cancelled [censored].

And then he went quiet on me. I’m mystified, and not a little hurt that something that started so well has ended to abruptly and with that strange air of … why?

Saturday’s date has also been postponed; hence my ability to wallow a little in self pity tonight. However, that has happened due to genuine if self-inflicted illness on the part of my datee so this I can forgive. We are now meeting tomorrow evening Chez Moi; meaning I have two dates in one day tomorrow - assuming nothing awful happens during the meanstwhile.

I was tempted to ring round and re-jig all my other dates to fill the bounty this new slot availability could be turned into. But my instinct was that this might be considered a tad rude; I hardly need to signal on a first date to candidates for boyfriendage that they are a plan B!

I had a relatively enjoyable night in on Friday, notwithstanding an embarrassingly wine fuelled tête-à-tête with my neighbour about the synergy of 2am and Very Loud Music that finds me somewhat bruised today. I shall keep a low profile tonight and ensure that I am loveliness personified for my fellas on Sunday.

In the meantime I shall dwell not on Sam, gentle reader, but on this rather charming young man: Matthew Mitcham, an Australian Olympian, gay and…. *sigh*.

Mr Right. Who He?

It’s busy on the dating front, gentle reader, which is great news. I’m not entirely sure what it is that has prompted this surge, but I’m not going to argue – just accept it at face value and enjoy.

Friday I have what is technically my second date with Sam, which I’m very much looking forward to. But I also have dates on Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. My bank manager will be pleased ;-)

Yet with this veritable cornucopia of gorgeous guys all lining up to be Frumpella’s secret pumpkin how do I ensure I don’t let this opportunity pass me by?

I’ve never sat down and thought about who Mr Right might be; and while I know it does not pay to be too prescriptive I suspect one of the reasons I’ve never really been able to get a relationship off the ground since I came out is that I’ve not been very discerning. I’ve been just too pleased to get any interest at all; it’s turned my head and I haven’t ever considered the longer term.

Damn, it’s difficult. Am I still so new to this? Well, the only two people ever to call me their boyfriend didn’t really mean it. And while it is fun to have a string of guys come round, enjoy some naughty fun, be told that I’m fabulous and then be left to get on, I’ve always wanted…. more.

What am I looking for? It’s difficult to set out, as it’s still a moveable feast. My need to depend on an experienced gay man has diminished and so over time Mr Right has evolved.

He was a very ‘active’, mature, non-scene, out, guy who could and would very much be the dominant partner in the relationship.

Now I’m looking for more of a balance. Versatile, quite possibly late 20s to early 30s (though by no means am I excluding anyone older); someone who goes out on the scene sometimes; who is quite career focussed and can network well; someone who looks after themselves, has a number of gay friends and acquaintances etc.

In short, not anymore someone who can correct my deficiencies as a gayer; now someone who complements or balances (as necessary) who I am.

Naturally, there are things that haven’t changed. Double-plus gorgeous and an ass that won’t quit, if you please. The standards here in Strumpetville are tougher than ever!

I can be single minded when I want to be and usually get what I want through a mixture of tenacity and self-delusion. Though patience is not a virtue of mine, experience has shown that Rule One is a very important rule indeed; and instead of putting out and having an air of neediness about me perhaps it’s best to see what happens – or does not – in its own good time.

If you’d said two years ago I’d be asking men out on dates and openly flirting with other gayers I would have… well, blushed and scurried away probably. I realise I’m asking a lot, and I’m still a little uncertain what I’m offering anyone wants (well, if you’re going to love yourself it may was well be tough love). Nevertheless, I know I look good [ish] – I’m quite pleased with how things are turning out body-wise though I still know I won’t win any prizes! I have a great job that I love; great friends; I have good taste; I’m told I’m good in bed… I think I’m worth a whirl.

Double plus Kapow

Well, I hardly know where to begin…

Date One, the South African – whom we should really call Sam from this point on – visited me today…

Eagle-eyed as always, gentle reader, you will recall we were due to meet on 27 February. What gives?

Well, Sam and I have been chatting online; texting, calling and emailing too. We’ve been calling each other several times a day and it had become our custom to call each other to say goodnight. Today he texted to ask if he could see me, if only for a little while… And, do you know, I thought to myself “why not”?

A little after 5pm (the efforts of TfL to transcend its usual caprice ridden whimsy and finally prevent anyone getting anywhere, ever, notwithstanding) we met: I’ll admit, as an aside, my first face-to-face sight of him left me (mentally) clicking my heels together and going ‘yippee’…

Anyway, we opened the wine he brought, and sat on the sofa. And we talked. And, my God I was nervous. Really nervous; more so than I’ve been on a ‘first date’ for quite some time. Me being me, of course, I burbled incontinently about inconsequential matters until, seemingly impulsively (though I suspect to shut me up) he leaned over and kissed me.

Well, if it was to shut me up it worked. Anyone who knows me would – if given the chance of course – happily confirm that very little leaves me speechless. But this did.

One kiss led, as these things will, to another and another – each of us breathlessly exclaiming throughout that Rule One was not! No! Never! To be broken.

Yet after the wine, when I went to put on some coffee, and he followed me into the kitchen, wrapped his arms around me and begun to nuzzle my neck it was that exact moment I decided I simply don’t care about rules any more.

Fortunately Sam is in better control of his baser nature than I and despite us both reaching a state known as dishabille, we – by a hair’s breadth to be sure - managed to keep to the letter of Rule One.

It wasn’t just the you-know-what though. We each talked about various things; he’s been so open with me, it really makes me want him more: The death of his father, his life growing up in South Africa as a non-white person (half Indian, half Indonesian, all yum) his [to be revealed another time]. Also, I think it rather civilised that we managed to end what I suppose we’d call date zero with a coffee and game of chess…

Well, I’m sold. Actually there’s nothing here I don’t like (at the risk of sounding crass, we pushed the boundaries of Rule One sufficiently for me to be quite sure of that) and apparently he feels the same… so until 27 February, then, let us raise a toast to South African food technologists named Sam.

Meme

Meme... me me me me me

I stole this meme from a friend (with permission):

Kissed any one of your Facebook friends? Yes. A couple of lovers and exes on there.
Been arrested? Yes!
Kissed someone you didn't like? Then or now?? And yes!
Slept in until 5 PM? No, but nearly.
Fallen asleep at work/school? Yes.
Held a snake? No. Unless that’s a euphemism.
Ran a red light? Yes.
Been suspended from school? No.
Totaled your car/motorbike in an accident? No. Other people’s...
Been fired from a job? Taken voluntary redundancy once.
Sang karaoke? Yes. A few times, always badly!
Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? Almost always.
Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? Yes.
Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Yes.
Kissed in the rain? Yes.
Sang in the shower? Yes.
Sat on a rooftop? Yes. The rooftops of London allow for many an adventure.
Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes? No.
Broken a bone? Yes. Collarbone/Stairs; Nose/Fight; Foot/Idiot
Shaved your head? No, but am thinking about it.
Blacked out from drinking? No. I seem to have the capacity to get very very drunk without any kind of real memory loss. Not such a blessing really.
Played a prank on someone? Oh yes. I've often been described as a pranker.
Made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry? Oh, I hope not. I can’t stand the thought of doing that to someone.
Had Mexican jumping beans for pets? Erm… is that another euphemism?
Been in a band? No. Wish I had though!
Shot a gun? Yes. long story.
Tripped on mushrooms? Not that, no.
Donated Blood? No - believe it or not homosexual men aren’t allowed to donate blood in Britain.
Eaten alligator meat? Yes, at college.
Eaten cheesecake? Yes. Yum!
Still love someone you shouldn't? I don’t think there’s anyone I shouldn’t love. At the risk of sounding trite everyone in my life has had their place, even if that place has been a difficult one.
Think about the future? Yes, always. The trick is not to be frightened of it. I'm still learning!
Believe in Love? Yes. I hope it believes in me!
Sleep on a certain side of bed? Yes, actually I do.

Datesville continued...

Let me tell you more about another one in particular of the lovely meN who seem to be just dying to take me out; double-plus hurrah!...

This time I refer to a guy from gaydar who asked me out on Valentine’s Day. I referred to him as date 2.5 because I think he’s very good looking indeed, and that we would not go out because of how exceptionally beautiful he is. How could he sustain an interest in Frumpella?

Nevertheless, as I said to friends in the week, I think I’m due a touch of the exceptionals, and here we are; date still on.

He works for a major national fashion retailer co-ordinating their window displays (I don’t think I can describe the job in a way that does it justice) and so travels all over the country. Thus he has a fair bit of time to text and chat and so we’ve also been in pretty much constant contact. I’ll admit he has a filthy mind – perhaps as filthy as mine - and we’ve exchanged more than just casual chat but we won’t actually be meeting till 28 February: dinner at his place!

Date 2.5 really made me smile recently. He asked me why I was single and I explained, briefly, that whilst at that precise moment I wasn’t technically looking, I was open to offers.

So, gorgeous romantic type that he apparently is, he later sends me a mock CV with covering letter in application for the position of Mike’s Boyfriend. What a lovely thing to do! As soon as I saw that a number of positions came to mind that might provide a suitable opening…

Dear me, gentle reader; I’m very lucky. I wonder what it is about February that makes a young gayer’s heart turn to love? Well, whatever it is, it’s most welcome.

Again, I’m glad I didn’t just rush off and jump into bed with him. And while the tone – in marked contrast with the South African – suggests after dinner there might be quite a show (pending the final test of actually meeting of course) our interaction done with an emphasis on building or starting a relationship.

Assuming all goes [very] well I’ll need to pick one of them eventually, but for the moment I’m enjoying the attention from these great guys… it’s certainly keeping me smiling!

Rant!

It didn’t work out… you need to not exist.

That’s usually been the way with me and my ephemeral boyfriendettes. But with International I was hoping it would be different. Perhaps it still can be, but he’s annoyed me such a lot today.

We were friends on Facebook, but he’s decided not to do that anymore. And that’s fine. Well, it isn't actually. But what really riled me was his explanation to me that it was in case he found happiness and that, through the medium of status updates and similar, touched a nerve with me as I’d still be, at this unspecified time “raw” after the break-up.

How dare he?!

Thoughts of Rule 7 rose unbidden in my mind and in my terse reply I set out my disappointment at his presumptuous projection of his feelings onto me.

How the very dare he?!

There. Rant Over.

And none of this “two sides to every story” business, I beg you, gentle reader. The distinction between his side and mine is that I’m right and he’s wrong ;-)

Datesville

I was going to write about a couple of funny experiences I had with guys on various sites who became a little… obsessed I suppose, and in one case seemed to follow me from place to place for a while. I found that a bit unsettling but it seems to have stopped, so no harm done!

This is good, gentle reader, because I can tell you more about one in particular of the lovely me who seem to be just dying to take me out; double-plus hurrah!

I refer of course to the food technologist from Wanstead. And I will admit to you gentle reader that Frumpella is, for the first time in some time, quite the smitten kitten.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall tell you the story of the smiting…

We’d continued exchanging messages after he’d asked me out. And so it went, back and forth, in the usual manner… until Monday. After I got home from what was a truly challenging day at work, he suggested – not a welcome suggestion, I’ll admit – that we chat over MSN messenger using the webcam. Being a bit ticked off by the experience of the day I was not keen. Nevertheless, not wishing to put him off I reluctantly agreed to his proposal and so set up, began streaming, and…


Double plus gorgeous! His photos just don’t do him justice. To go with the gorgeousness he’s very sweet, very kind, very fit. Very much my type (tall; slim; not so far up his own arse there isn’t room for anyone else; and apparently afflicted by very poor eyesight!)

Poor eyesight, you ask? Well he seemed unaccountably taken with what he saw – and the camera does not love Frumpella. Yes, 27 February is still on for our date…

We chatted and chatted for hours and hours... and I’ll admit our conversation did tend to Rule one. Yes, the rule still stands; but we did carefully explore what the boundaries of rule might be, as it was agreed that we were mutually predisposed to some friendliness on the occasion of our meeting.

Since then we have called each other, texted, exchanged emails and he even 'phoned me today at work to see how my day was going.

What a sweetheart! Yes, he makes Frumpella a very cheerful (and very friendly) Fairy indeed.

I shall, of course, tell you about the other guys in due course… but in the meantime I must admit I’m glad I didn’t just rush off into an ill advised Rule 2 type date and took my time, insisting we stick to the end of the month. Well, even on this blog there’s a first time for everything!