who would’ve thought… out of nowhere, canada becomes the third country in the world to not descriminate based on ancient religion-based homophobia allow same-sex marriage.
Continue reading ‘blame canada’
had a wicked night on on friday, surrounding myself with the gay homosexuals in soho at dinner with marky and then trucking over to .popstarz to see skin perform. she was boring and the crowd was ridiculous [crowdsurfing? how 1987!] but it was a good night. it felt good to be silly with .gregińo again. i spotted gabriel, the first guy i shagged in london [my boss's boyfriend, and the guy who ruined my 2001 ibiza holiday], in shirt and slacks as always. darian was there, soliciting. no, not his usual solicitation—this time collecting for a cancer research charity [bless!]. saw the infamous alex as well, but had nothing to say. i think i’m finally over my attraction to him… could be because it’s been over a year, or it could be that he just isn’t looking the same to me these days. oh well.
saturday camped out in hyde park for hours, only getting very slighty sunburned, with carl, andrew, marky and friends. carl and i made full use of his selfridge’s card, loading up on fizzy champagne, fizzy cava and fizzy sparkling wine. let’s just say there were corks flyin’ all afternoon. stayed in saturday night to [finally] do some work and catch up with da boss.
sunday just lounged around with stuart, watching loads of .will & grace, and chomping down some mexican food before interviewing his current all-time-favourite band, gravy train. he was so excited, bless.
lee liked his coffee black, but with a bit of cold water added so it wouldn’t be too hot. he was always appreciative. sometimes we’d have several cups in bed just to get the morning started.
chris was an all-american orange juice kinda boy, and could never finish gulping his down without jumping my bones first. then we’d have some more.
sam worked part-time at the on-campus cafĂ©… kissing him after work, smelling his hair, he absorbed coffee. i’ll never forget discovering that he tasted like coffee, too.
lars used to drink coke before bed, coke in the middle of the night, and coke first thing in the morning. he’d have to hide the 1,5L bottles from his mutter so she wouldn’t find out. we kept many things well-hidden that summer.
simon could care less about coffee… he would very often be dressed and out the door by the time i was even half-awake. i’d have a carefully-prepared cup after he was gone, to take my mind off of… things.
stuart can’t be dragged out of bed, even with a spot of morning tea. one sugar and a bit a milk, usually prepared in the kitchen while his alarm’s going off in bed.
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as each new romantic relationship unfolds, i ask myself periodically how things are going. it’s far from scientific, but, in my mind and in my heart i subconsciously score the boy i’m dating. sometimes he gets points for having so much in common with me… sometimes he scores for being so incredibly different. sometimes it’s +2 for being romantic, or -3 for being too romantic. tons of points for being great in bed, but penalty points if he’s selfish or too kinky.
on a first date or on a thirtieth date, there are things that the boy can do which can instantly make me fall in love, or make me run away screaming. but, when judging the “net net” of the relationship, what’s good enough?
like, okay, let’s start with this scenario: if i’m single when i’m 75 years old, i might very well settle for someone who’s not perfect. at that point, i’d be willing to put up with a slightly annoying personality or liver spots, so as to not be lonely. straightforward.
okay, another scenario: say i’ve been seeing someone for 10 years, and all of a sudden he develops a severe mental disorder. chances are, i’d stay with him, even if he was throwing things at me or committing crimes. you’ve both invested into the relationship, and you don’t want to give that up, because you’re confident things will fix themselves in the long run. makes sense.
okay, but, what if you’ve been dating someone for 2 weeks or 2 months or 2 years, and, in the back of your mind, you keep thinking, “this boy is 98% perfect for me, but, you know what, i can do better.” he’s stunningly cute, he’s intellectual, you have so much in common, he challenges you and surprises you, but, say, the sex is bad. or, some other combination of factors which leaves you looking for more.
i’ve had 18 relationships lasting a month or longer. of those, 5 lasted longer than 3 months—only 2 lasting 6 months or more. in almost each one, i’ve dumped him, with the hopes of finding someone better. it’s not a conscious decision, or an ego thing—even in my insecure college days i felt the same way.
what is an acceptable level of “settling”? when should i just cut my losses and settle with someone less-than-perfect? i’m not necessarily looking for perfection, sure, but i’m looking for someone who pushes my buttons [all my buttons] in just the right way. someone who i never tire talking to, who i’m proud to have mingle with friends and family, someone who challenges me and improves me, someone who i *always* want to hang out with. i won’t settle for anything less—until i’m 75.
okay, my last post was about how great my friends are. this post is about how lonely i am. i’m a bit bipolar, but that’s okay, right?
when i left san francisco two years ago, i was the coolest kid in the whole city. i had great friends, great roommates, great acquaintences, great colleagues… nothing but love! i had so many going away parties and got so many going away hugs i almost didn’t want to leave.
when i arrived in london, i quickly networked, hanging out with my überkewl scient colleagues and experiencing the gay scene for the first time in my short gay adolescence. i met people! i had friends! life was good!
lately, though, i feel like things have dried up. i love the friends i have in london, i just don’t feel like i have enough… i don’t feel like i have the breadth or variety of contacts, acquaintences and mates that one needs to succeed socially and professionally. i have nearly zero straight friends. or female friends. or friends over 30. it’s ridiculous.
everyone knows everyone. my ex-flatmate felix is dating brian, who works with james [who i fancied] and john. john is dating atif, who i dated, as did brian. james is friends with greg, who lives with josh. josh is best friends with steve, my other ex-flatmate. greg and i have the same landlord, charlie.
i can’t handle the six degrees of sexual frustration, the small-town syndrome where everybody knows everybody’s business. as such, i’ve subconsciously been branching out over the past month or so, trying to expand my contacts, and come of my i-work-from-home-and-don’t- need-to-socialize-or-even-bathe-for-that-matter routine.
first, i got signed up to friendster, a hip new social networking site, by my darling friend allison. my ego’s been inflated heart’s been warmed by flattering testimonials from my 15 friendster friends. but, it hasn’t gotten me any new friends or even any booty.
second, i joined jakeTM a haughty london-based organization of gay professionals. cruising around, everyone seems to be too old, elitist, faux rich or self-obsessed to contemplate even dropping a note to say hi. it has the worst aspects of the shadow lounge without the lovely glittery nearly-naked waiters and free champagne from your friend’s sugardaddy. can there really be that many successful-yet-socially-inept blokes in london? only a marginal step up from gaydar, with little professional networking value. yet.
most recently, my boyf stuart suggested i join him on OUTintheUK, a very well-run, very functional way for gay peeps to meet each other, socially rather than sexually. it’s free, has no advertising, and limits all ads to be non-sexual. i’m very much pro-sex and pro-sexuality, and have always been a strong proponent of sex-for-the-sake-of-sex, but i enjoy what this site offers—a chance to chat up with lads around the uk, exchanging wit and humor rather than dick sizes and nudey pics. not that i’ve ever done that [really!] but, still. as with jake, it shows you who’s been looking at your profile, which is a very interesting gimmick.
i’ve been increasingly antisocial [becoming a hermit, some might say] over the past year or so, and need to break out of my rut. quick-like.
friday afternoon, i came up with the brilliant idea of updating all my picture frames with fresh prints of friends and family. i’d never really tried photo paper in my inkjet, and well, i spent the rest of the afternoon creating prints of loved ones. so, cousin jason, dad, sister karie, mom, kim, mike, josh, stacy, cousin michael, .gregińo, marky, tye, jason and duane, my budoir now benefits from your smiling faces. hurrah!
gobbled down a surprisingly good/romantic meal at simsim in finsbury park with stuart on friday. proper service, a delightful menu and even live guitar. and, to think, i though finsbury park was only filled with crack whores and arsenal supporters. .popstarz blah blah exes blah blah tom the cute straight bartender blah blah amer blah blah cuddling. it’s been a long time since i’ve spent a majority of my nights not alone in bed.
saturday was one of the greatest, sweetest, nicest, most thoughtful days i’ve had in ages. i nearly cried several times, as my old darling former flatmate felix took me out for an exquisite seafood lunch at randall & aubin‘s. between the orgasmically fresh rock oysters [did i mention i'm turning into my father?], the refreshing white wine, some seabass and the boys traipsing down the sunny pavement under our noses, felix managed to fill my head with so much thoughtful, caring wisdom about my life.
i’ve felt so helpless the past few weeks, and felix is one of those few friends i have that has known me long enough to get the big picture of my life. after lunch, we played the fruit machine at admiral duncan, watched a helicoper land in front of the palace [les mis] theatre [pictures ], and eventually met up with some wild schoolteachers at langley’s in covent garden, rather than attending delightful darian’s housewarming barbeque. i’m a lously friend spontaneous person!
shared some long island spiced teas with spikey james and aussie brian and some girls, whilst oogling the very-likely-underage barstaff. felix [being my flatmate] was one of my first friends in london… atif most definitely my second. atif scooped me away from felix’s care, and we proceeded to paint the town pink. i’ve been bemoaning to atif for a while that we don’t get to spend enough quality [1-on-1, non-clubbing] time together, and we made up for it that evening.
i figured after a giant seafood lunch [with oysters], some wine, some beer, some designer cocktails, and some sunshine, that we should pick up the pace to vomitaciousness. at g-a-y bar i smoked and danced, at friendly society i avoided maria’s mullet and simon the biter’s [too-]friendly pokes, and at village we [got] chatted up [by] some random boys, just to take their pictures. concluded the evening with stuart at .ghetto.
atif nearly made me cry with a loving gesture he sprung on me in the midst of all the drunken silliness. i sometimes forget that i have some amazing amazing friends. i’m on a high from a weekend well-spent, with a slightly better outlook on how i might be able to survive my london life for a bit longer.
i’ve decided to throw away my outdated homemade cassette tape collection. apparently, this was the entirety of my music collection circa 1993:
what’s your fave? enya? perhaps the sountrack to my high school musical performance of joseph and the amazing technicolor dreamcoat? don’t worry, i already have all of the bad mid-nineties german pop & hip-hop on mp3. :wink:
after sleeping a total of 24 of the past 36 hours, i woke at 9am this morning, quite dazed. my first instinct was that it was saturday morning. did i go to .popstarz last night? no, okay, it’s not saturday. then, i was certain that it was 9pm friday night. i had to switch on my mobile phone and wait for it to tell me that i’m living in the am and not the pm. i’m a champ.
had a very detailed dream about being on a very long flight, then taxiing down this long, humid runway, and then disembarking at an modern spacious airport in singapore. i’ve never been to asia, have no plans to visit asia, but, there i was, strolling around this airport in singapore. checking out the shops, making a few phone calls, anxiously checking the computer screens. for what? no idea. i remember some gaggle of english oaps asking me for directions and making idle chit-chat.
i feel very trapped right now… i’ve always loved the idea of running away. when i was 15, i ran away to germany to escape the crap of high school. after high school i ran away 2000 miles to california to leave small-town indiana behind. ditched the stresses of university in 1998 to escape to london for some youthful fun. and, i moved back to london in 2001 to enjoy my european adolescence. i think i’m ready for what’s next, but i’m not sure what will be next…
i can’t quit my job, because i can’t switch jobs in the uk without some crafty [expensive] work-permit maneuvering. i can’t retreat back to the states, cuz i’m too broke to afford a move and deposit on a new place. it’s ironic that, at the age of 26, i’m worse-off financially then i’ve been in my entire adult life, even when i was a starving college student.
i’d like to think that the reason i’m so unhappy right now is solely because of finances. i also feel, though, that i no longer enjoy my job. initially, working for the magazine seemed like my dream job… i envisioned sitting in a fun, young, funky office, changing the world, gossiping about gay celebs, doing wild photo shoots, interviewing amazing people, having off-the-wall lunch arguments with my colleagues.
in actuality, my job for the past year has been me sitting at home—all day every day—by myself, trying to motivate myself to organize magazine content, or make strides to get the next issue done on schedule. instead, i spend all day emailing/IM-ing people on the other side of the world, who are inevitably flaky or pissed off. or, if i’m feeling really adventurous, i’ll stay awake late enough to actually call these writers/colleagues/columnists/celebrities/peeps on the phone, at which point i realize i have no desire to interview them, or commission an article, or hear about how tragic gay life is for 16yo boys in nebraska. i shouldn’t feel this way, i know. it could be a great job. yeah yeah at least i’m not digging ditches…
finances. work environment. my tasks & responsibilities. i’m a smart boy, and i like to strategize and look at things logically… i think if one of these things were to improve, i’d feel less hopeless. in the meantime, i’m gonna just be numbly patient and try to just survive until my future becomes a bit… clearer.
on blogging:
only the shallow know themselves.
on morning people:
only dull people are brilliant at breakfast.
on my job:
but what is the difference between literature and journalism?
…journalism is unreadable and literature is not read. That is all.
on britain:
to disagree with three-fourths of the british public is one of the first requisites of sanity.
on america:
america is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between.
on friendships:
i always like to know everything about my new friends, and nothing about my old ones.
