By the Way...

GG has gone to Genoa, but I received a present from her in the post this morning. A CD, actually.

Has anyone heard Toward the Within, by Dead Can Dance? Because it's so breathtakingly beautiful I wouldn't even know where to start in describing it to you. Just buy it, because if ever there was music to f*ck to, this is it. Really (download track 10 - Cantara - and listen).

Random thoughts 4.

Right then. Now I’ve managed to expose a bit of flesh without getting myself arrested, I can get back to my more usual themes of s*x and just aimlessly rambling. Although I think this post is going to be more of an aimless ramble as I haven’t had s*x for a few days now. (Best not to think about that, I suppose.)

I’ve been having quite a laugh reading some of the other blogs, with those horrendous dating stories… it makes me wonder why we do it sometimes (then I remember). I’m not sure if there’s any gender distinction in this respect, and I know we can all see ourselves slightly differently to the way others see us, but there just seem to be some complete lunatics out there. It never ceases to amaze me how people can have an impression of themselves that’s so far removed from reality it can only be the consequence of a case of NPD of the highest order. This guy, though, really did make me laugh. They do say it's all about confidence...



(Don’t you love the lunch box? No... not that lunch box!)

Moving swiftly on. What with all the tragic hurricane stories over in the States of late, it’s easy to forget that here in London we’ve also had our problems, with terrorism and loss of life. It’s quite easy to lose your sense of humour with all this sh*t going on, so when I found this I was killing myself (ahem), and thought it was definitely worth sharing. Hysterical, isn't it? You've got to love the Brits.

Oh, and I just wanted to say that I've thoroughly enjoyed my very first HNT. So much so, in fact, that I’ve already planned next week's, when other parts of the WDKY anatomy will be tantalisingly revealed! I must check up on that not being arrested thing...


PS I find it fascinating to see where people have come to my blog from. One referral today was from a gay news blog. Hmmmm... can someone explain please?

HNT

Well, I decided earlier (actually, yesterday now) that - if I'm to commit myself fully to the world of blogging - I can't ignore the requirements of HNT. So... here you have it. Heavily posterised, and cut off at the most vital of places. But still enough to get a feel (excuse the pun) of the brooding, almost explosive masculinity of "The Man That Is - WDKY"! Enjoy...

(By the way, I almost never show the unposterised and unedited version to anyone. Almost never.)

Blog with pride.

I've just ordered this from the Google Store...

It's nicely retro. I like it.

A day in the life of...

I’ve taken the day off. Officially off, not like the days when I work from home but don’t do very much working. There are two main differences with this kind of day off, both of which I like:

1) I’m not taking any work-related calls on my mobile.
2) I haven’t even thought about hooking up my other (work) laptop to check emails.

So far today, I’ve got up to have some Alpen for breakfast (it’s my favourite at the moment, although my current box seems to have an abundance of raisins, which is annoying); done a little surfing; gone back to bed and watched some TV (I so love my flat panel Sony in the bedroom); got up again to make some coffee; and now I’m posting to my blog. At some point I’m going to drive to the supermarket and get a few things, but really it’s turning into quite a nice day. Even though I’m blowing my nose so much that it’s turned a bright red colour on the end. Very attractive.

I had a call yesterday that I’m going to have to return this afternoon at some point. A strategy consultancy that I’ve been dealing with (they were trying to place me in one of their client organisations) have decided that they want to talk to me about setting up a management consultancy with me heading it up. It does sound rather tempting, as I wouldn’t have to take on any risk… which I would if I carry on with the re-launch of my old company. So I’ll have to have a serious chat about this, once I get my voice back and I’m not walking around with a fluorescent nose. In fact, it’s probably fair to say that I’m… excited. Yes, I definitely am.

I also spoke to GG a while ago. She’s very concerned about me (I do sound pretty ill, to be honest) and it was nice to talk to her. I told her I won’t be going to Genoa/Florence this weekend, and we’ve just left it that we’ll see each other when she gets back (although we’ll no doubt talk again before she leaves). She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s going to be coming back to a rather more assertive b/f in the bedroom department. Much more like my normal self, and there will be no more of this tantric sh*t going on. By nature, I am very assertive when it comes to s*x, so we’re going to be on my territory now. She has some surprises coming!

Oh yes, Zoozan mentioned that she finds it strange that I can talk about GG “sitting on my face” and then asterisk out the vowels in any words that are “rude” in any way. So, for the sake of clarity, I do this not because I’m scared I might cause offence but because I know people often log on from work, and if the IT police are anything like ours it wouldn’t get passed those bloody corporate filters that seem to block every site that might be even vaguely interesting. So now you know.

Right – back to bed, then…

GG, the presentation and man-flu.

Okay, I’ll start with GG. In my more lucid moments today, when not in a drug-induced daze – and I’m talking about cold remedies here – I’ve been giving matters some thought. Firstly, she invited me to join her in Florence for the weekend as a guest at a friend’s wedding. Well, it’s just outside Genoa, but we were going to visit Florence while we were there. I’ve decided, though, that I’m not going to go… mainly, I think, because I just want a bit of space between us for the next week or so. Maybe I’m mad, but Florence is only a cheap Easyjet fare away, and it’s not going anywhere.

Secondly, I was thinking about something Surviving Online Dating said to me about just being comfortable around each other, and I’m going to tell her that I want sex to take a back seat for a week or two. The thing is, I do like her company, and we have lots of things in common (sense of humour, music, a kind of spiritual thing going on, penchant for the odd spliff, etc etc) and it would be a shame to just walk away from it. So, we’ll see how it goes. We haven’t spoken for a day or two, and I’ll email her in a minute and suggest that we speak tomorrow. Feel free to tell me if you think I'm being a complete moron...

Thanks, incidentally, for all your positive thoughts/words of advice about the presentation today, and this horrible bout of man-flu. I think we did okay… no real cock-ups by any of the team, which was bordering on remarkable, and I must admit I even managed to crack one or two quite outstanding jokes which brought a few chuckles from the assembled audience. We’ll know in a couple of weeks if we’ve progressed to the next stage, so keep your fingers crossed for me, please! Aside from that, I feel like complete and utter cr*p and will be lucky if I sleep for more than an hour or two tonight as I can’t breathe at all.

Oh, before I go seek out more, and stronger, cold remedies (actually, I'm going to try tequila now as the more conventional approach hasn't proved to be very successful) I was asked what was going on with regard to the PAG situation. Well, I'm both happy and relieved to report that the calls have stopped. Completely. Sometimes doing nothing can be the right thing to do. It’s just a case of knowing when, I suppose.

Random thoughts 3.

Okay, firstly I just want to say a bit more about this marathon, six hour non-come fest that I participated in, albeit unwittingly, over the weekend. Because, for the last couple of days, and as much as I don’t want it to happen, I can feel myself becoming more distant from GG, less communicative… not as in tune as I was with her. And whilst this change isn’t one that I want, I have a feeling the damage has been done.

S*x has become an issue, and whist it might be something you’d work hard to resolve within the context of an established relationship I’m not sure I want (or expect) to be thinking about this kind of stuff after three dates! I want s*x to be spontaneous, and I want it to be fun. I’m not sure it will be now, and if that really is the case I need to think about what I do next. What a complete sh*t.

To add to my woes, I have to deliver one of the biggest presentations of my life tomorrow and I’m so ill I can barely speak. For this, I should thank O, my daughter. She’s had a nasty cough and cold for the last few days, and finally I’ve succumbed. So, I need to decide, when I get up tomorrow, one of two strategies:

1) Don’t take anything, cough and sneeze my way through the presentation, but be reasonably aware of what’s going on around me. (That’ll definitely piss them off though.) Or
2) Drug myself up to the eyeballs so that I don’t give them the impression that I’m filling the room with nasty little germs, and risk staring at them blankly every time I’m asked a searching question. (Which will also piss them off.)

Whilst I don’t want to come across as a whinger, I CAN’T F*CKING BELIEVE THIS HAS HAPPENED. AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!

That’s better.

Anyway, today I decided to tell my brother, who was at football with me tonight (yes, I know I shouldn’t have gone) about my blog, and he promised to pay it a visit. I’ve only ever told one other person I know that this site exists (she does pop in quite regularly, too), and now I await his first comments with interest. Although, of course, he might not comment. (I did tell him not to bullsh*t me, though, as I can track my visitors. So if he forgets about our conversation and then tries to bluff when interrogated, I’ll know immediately.)

Right, that’s it for tonight, as I’m really feeling like cr*p. I am more than aware that I’ve failed to live up to my usual standards but, frankly, it’s not bad considering how ill I am. Do you have man-flu in the States, by the way?

Scrabble, anyone?

As planned, I picked GG up from her place at about 8.45. Not quite as planned, actually, because the traffic had been the pits driving into town, and I was a bit later than I’d intended to be. (At one point, three fire engines sped past me, lights flashing and sirens shrieking, and I thought there must have been another “incident” somewhere.) So instead of going into Soho and eating at my favourite Vietnamese, we ended up finding a tiny little Thai restaurant just off the Edgware Road. Lovely food, quiet but not empty, and we just chatted about “stuff”. Lots of eye gazing and meaningful expressions.

She’s like a waif, and really doesn’t eat very much at all. I’d fancied some soup to start but GG wasn’t going to have anything before the main course, and I was still kind of hungry when I’d finished eating. (I’d run too, earlier in the day, and always have an appetite when I’ve been pounding the pavement).

“Mmmm… that was lovely”, I said, after the plates had been cleared and we were sharing a cigarette. “What do you fancy for desert?”

“A f*ck” she responded immediately, looking at me expectantly. “That’s what I fancy.”

Minutes later, we were in the car and heading back towards north London. No traffic now, and within about half an hour we were closing the front door behind us. Music on, spliff rolled, wine poured, cushions on the floor… all seemed to be going exactly as required. Except that, after kissing, and just kind of touching, and kissing again, I wasn’t allowed to remove even my belt. Just my shoes, which had come off as soon as I walked into the house.

“We’re going to play a game”, she said. “Do you like games?”

“What… like Scrabble?”

“No, not like Scrabble. More like a sex game.”

“Oh, okay. Do I get to know the rules?”

“You’ll pick them up as we go along. They’re my rules.”

Okay, by now I was getting interested, as you can imagine. I’d played games before, and I liked them. Most of them involved some kind of accessory, usually studded, but almost certainly black. And leather. The kind of accessories that you put in a place where no-one’s ever going to stumble across them by mistake. But this wasn’t that type of game. Oh no, that would have been too simple… this was the type of game where (wait for it...) no-one gets to come. I don’t just mean for a while, I mean no-one gets to come, period. Not only that, but it was meant to utilise the full might of the human imagination. I knew that because we were both fully clothed about two hours later. And every item that did, finally, come off required careful negotiation and - at times - unashamed, and unambiguous pleading.

We’d got home at 10.30, and at 4.45am (let me repeat this bit… “at 4.45am”) I decided that this was one game that I was no longer enjoying. “F*ck this for a game of soldiers. I’m going to bed” I finally said, by now unable to maintain the connection between salacious thoughts and physiological response.

“What do you mean? We haven’t f*cked yet.”

“No, that fact hadn’t escaped me. What do you call this game, by the way?”

“Tantric sex.”

“Oh. Do me a favour, will you? Next time you feel like playing this one, call Sting.”

So, this morning we woke up late, as you can imagine. We had a little chat about the previous night’s activity, and I told GG that – in future – we’d be playing my kind of game. She asked me what kind that was, and after I showed her she agreed with me that it was a much, much better idea.

More random stuff from me later, I imagine.

Note to self.

I‘ve spent a great many years getting to understand myself. Really understand me, I mean. I think I described myself as an existentialist by nature, but a lot of my thinking time is also focused on questioning my own behaviour, and what motivates me to do the things I do, say the things I say, and act the way I act. And to understand how these things impact on other people who I come into contact with, either regularly or occasionally.

I pretty much like the person I am. Yes, there’s always room for improvement, but someone said to me the other day (over a spliff, when these sorts of conversations usually take place) that me, my house, my children, my cat, my music…in other words, me and the environment that I’ve created for myself are in perfect harmony. I like that idea, and I’m comfortable with it.

So when a voice in my ear is whispering quietly, but constantly, “Slow down. Take it nice and gently, one step at a time” I know I should listen. Trouble is, sometimes we can know something and ignore it anyway. And that’s what I think I’m beginning to do. Not for the first time, and not (I imagine) for the last.

Sunday morning edit: I'll be posting about date no. 3 later, believe me!!

Yes, I know...

I just fancied a change. What do you think - is red the new black?

Post-lunch edit: Still playing... I might prefer this one. (Then again, I might go home and change it back to black. The template's mine, all MINE...)

Random thoughts 2.

Here I am, then… nearly 1am, and I’ve just been reading. And reading. What a fascinating world it is out there. One site (no idea where I found it, a link from a link from a link..) sucked me in so completely I don’t think I took a breath from the moment I started until the moment I finished. I still can’t get it out of my mind… just a series of thoughts and copied emails that didn’t require comment (and there were none). I'm not even sure how much of it was real and how much was just a beautifully woven dream-of-an-almost-relationship... whatever, I feel like it’s going to haunt me for a little while.

It was a strange way to end what, for the most part, has been a really crappy day. The workshop at the office was just a hard slog. We achieved almost nothing in three hours, and we’ve had to go back to the drawing board and start again. Sometimes these things work, sometimes they don’t. Today it didn’t, and tomorrow we’ll pay the penalty. Oh well…

Pain in The Arse Girl has been ringing again tonight, but not as frequently. I haven’t decided if I’m going to tell her to f*ck off or just let her ring herself out (I’d like to wring her neck, actually). I’ll see how it goes tomorrow. Oh, and GG rang to make arrangements for Saturday. Not sure what we’re doing, probably going to a restaurant in Soho for a bite to eat. There’s a Vietnamese next door to Ronnie Scott’s that I really love. The waitresses are all beautiful, and they seem to remember me when I go there, even though it’s no more than once every couple of months. Then back here, I imagine.

Hmmmm. Lots of things buzzing around in my head at the moment, it seems to be one of those days. I think I need a holiday.

Random thoughts.

It’s funny how this blogging takes hold of you. Isn’t it? And so quickly, too. It used to be that I’d get up in the morning wondering if I’d got any interesting emails (although sometimes even the interesting was negotiable) from the dating site I was on… now, though, I have to decide whether to post something or just have a skim through the other blogs I like to read. Decisions, decisions.

Stats too… I’ve really only been up and running for 10 days, but my stat counter is telling me that there’s some interest being generated now (64 hits yesterday, beating my previous record by one!). So thanks for reading, returning to the site, posting comments, linking me, etc etc – it does mean that there’s some motivation to keep posting regularly. You must all be very, very bored, mind you.

Back to GG for a minute or two. That weekend is now a distant memory, although obviously we’ve been on a daily speaking/texting/emailing routine. We’re seeing each other on Saturday, but whilst it’s going incredibly well so far, I’m now getting into my usual mind-set as soon as something looks promising. Thinking about the impact that a relationship will have on my life (I really like my independence); thinking that I have to stop myself from getting involved in gratuitous sex (I really like sex, gratuitous or otherwise); and thinking about how long I wait before I let her meet the children (I’m very protective of the children… too protective, some people would say). Looks like I’m doing a little too much thinking again.

I’ve decided to work from home again today. The upside is that I don’t have to shave, I can wear anything I want, I don’t have to buy those crap sandwiches and I can have music playing – all day. The downside is that I don’t actually do much work. You might think it’s a no-brainer, but in reality I just heap pressure on myself for later. Like midnight later.

Right, I’m going to change the CD, give Puss a good brush as she’s moulting everywhere, and then try to apply myself. At some point I need to get some practice in on my sax. Oh, and do a little surfing.

Oh dear...

Sleepless in Seattle?

Then this is rather cool. Try Haunted Cello with Funky Beats for starters…

If that doesn't send you off, play here for a while. Just keep clicking till your eyes shut...



Edit: You guy's are unbelievable... if a post doesn't have something about pussy you're just not interested...

Self-indulgence.

It has been said that, amongst other things, I’m a thinker. By which I mean, I think (quite a lot, really) about my, and our, place in the scheme of things. An existentialist, in other words. So I thought I’d share this with you before I get myself pumping a bit of iron, jump in the shower and go into the office to actually do what I’m paid to do. It seemed to sum things up nicely when I read it a while ago.

"When we contemplate the unimaginable vastness of the universe, the incredible diversity and complexity of life on Earth, the sheer tenacity of life to survive, the wonderful beauty of nature, we are filled with a sense of amazement. 13,000,000,000 years or so in the making, and here we are, wondering why.

In this unbelievable universe, with its 100 billion galaxies, each containing 100's of billions of stars, we inhabit a small world circling one ordinary star. One star amongst 10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000.

And we wonder why."

You’ll have to forgive me for this… call it self-indulgence. I’ll get back to the more usual themes of sex/love/lack of sex and love/bikes shortly.

Anonymity.

The subject of anonymity has cropped up on various blogs lately, and it occurred to me this morning that I was feeling slightly uncomfortable that - in my naivity when I first started this blog - I posted a photo of myself. As if it matters what I look like.

Just the fact that someone, sometime, might recognise me was enough to make me think carefully about what I was posting, and that didn't seem "right". So the photo's now been removed, and I feel much better now, thank you for asking. I do email one or two people quite regularly who read this stuff, and if they - or anyone else - want to see the face behind the blog, pictures are available on request, and for what really is a very modest fee! Although if it's for sexual gratificication you'll have to let me know so I can give you something appropriate ;-)

In the meantime, this is my new bike. That's as good as it gets.

The return of GG.

The plan was that GG would text me when she was a few stops from the station, and I’d leave to pick her up. For some reason, I knew that she wouldn’t and she’d wait until she reached Barnet, so when she did text to say she was waiting I was already parking, and could see her. She was wearing a black top and check skirt… with her dark hair she looked very Spanish. Or maybe French.

We drove to my house, and I could feel her eyes on me. We talked, but it was as if the conversation was just a smokescreen, and you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. We went inside, and I put some music on & poured a couple of drinks. We chatted about Spain, and I gave her some presents (perfume – Bulgari – and a Tricky CD) that I’d bought for her birthday. Then we just looked at each other, waiting for one of us to make the first move.

Within seconds she was pulling at the buckle on my belt, and she expertly removed my jeans and boxer shorts and pushed me to the rug that covers my lounge floor. Taking me in her mouth, she sucked me for what seemed like hours, finally lifting her skirt and turning her body so that she was poised above my mouth. Then she sank down onto my face, and slowly gyrated her hips. She was already soaking, and it wasn’t long before she needed something more. She sat astride me and sank down onto my cock, skirt around her waist and knickers pulled to one side. She came almost immediately.

It was as if we had set the scene for the weekend… we went upstairs and carried on where we left off, coming down to eat a couple of hours later only to end up frantically f*cking again on the rug as soon as we’d finished. By now we’d shared a bottle of wine, so I rolled a spliff and we smoked and listened to some music… Nick Cave, Tom Waites, the Cowboy Junkies… it was as if everything outside the house had ceased to exist. Then we went to bed, around 2 in the morning, finally going to sleep at just before 5.

Today just flew by. We had some breakfast, went back to bed, and then (when I was exhausted) lay in the bath for what seemed like an eternity. Even then, she wanted me to come in her mouth (GG is almost obsessed with oral sex) and watched my face with her huge brown eyes as I did. I finally took her back to the station (she wouldn’t let me drive her home) late in the afternoon. She kissed me, looked into my eyes, and got out of the car, looking backwards just once before disappearing from sight.

You must be having a laugh.

I was just reading Dating Is Hell (rather funny) and was reminiscing about an Internet date of a few months ago that was so shockingly awful that I still shudder when I think about it. “Journo” had sent me an email on a site I was playing on at the time, and when I checked out her profile she seemed quite nice… smart, funny, a bit of a non-conformist – and “petite”. Well, her photo was taken from about 200 meters away – up a mountain, looking wistfully out into the distance – but she seemed okay, so I thought I might as well email her back.

Second email from her, and she was asking for a date… now, I don’t generally invest weeks of my time in writing (been there, done that, and can’t be arsed any more) but at that time I was taken aback at the speed of her moves. Wow – this woman had spunk. (Well, that’s what Grandma used to say, although generally about tomatoes if the truth be told. I never really worked that one out.) So we arranged to meet in a pub behind Piccadilly Circus station, and then go on for a bite to eat in Soho.

I was on time, but only just, when she texted me to say “I’m near the window. Trust me, you’ll know it’s me”. Okay, sounded relatively normal, I thought, just mildly worried as to what would make her stand out from the crowd to such an extent. Believe me, though – she wasn’t kidding. As I walked in I saw her – enormous shock of the frizziest bright red hair you’ve ever seen, face so white it was dazzling, a very, very strange hat (kind of like as trilby, but definitely not a trilby) and BIG. I’m not talking a little overweight, I’m talking f*cking huge. And this was the woman who described herself as “petite”!

“Well, I’m here now” I thought to myself, and went to the bar to get a couple of glasses of wine. And then, with a strange churning sensation in my stomach, went to sit down. We talked – or rather she talked – for a while, but every few sentences she let out a shrill maniacal laugh that stopped everyone in the pub in their tracks. And, presumably because she was nervous, she was sweating profusely, mainly around her forehead and eyes. So profusely, in fact, that every once in a while she’d run her finger along her head and flick the droplets she collected onto the floor.

I was getting increasingly closer to bolting for the exit when she said “I think this is going well. Don’t you think so?” At that point I’d really had enough. “Look” I said, “It’s been really… interesting. But the truth is, I’m going to call it a night.”

“WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, CALL IT A NIGHT”?

“Errrrr… look, it’s just not working for me… nothing to do with you… errrr…” (Well, what was I meant to say… “You’re f*cking enormous, you’re sweating buckets, I’m bored senseless and I’d rather stick pins in my eyes than sit here another minute”?)

With that, she got hold of me by the jacket, and started shaking me for all she was worth. In the pub. With everyone watching. To cut a long story short, she started texting as I walked to my car, then phoning. Each text, and each call, was becoming more abusive, and by the time I got home I had 4 or 5 emails. This went on ALL night until, in the morning, I called her. “Right, listen to me, because I’m only going to say this once. If I get ONE more call, ONE more text or ONE more email, I won’t speak to you about it again, I’ll just report you to the police. And I’ll show them everything you’ve written. NOW F*CK OFF.”

I didn’t hear from her again. I imagine she's in a mental institution, somewhere very, very secure, by now.

WTF???

I've just discovered Strange eBay





Sometimes I wonder...

Christmas is coming.

I was thinking about plans for Christmas today. No idea why (oh yes, GG mentioned it last night) but I can’t believe it’s come round so quickly.

Last year, I decided to do something constructive with my time, so I volunteered to help out at Crisis Open Christmas, a UK charity that provides shelter and stuff for the homeless right the way through the holiday. With more than a little trepidation, I ended up doing a couple of 12 hour shifts on the 27th and 29th, ending at around 11pm, and got up to all sorts of fun – from security at the front gate to helping out in the entertainment tent. Other people were cooking, cutting hair, checking teeth… quite amazing the lengths that some of the volunteers went to.

It was an eye-opening, and chastening, experience and nothing at all like I expected it to be. There was no “us and them” – everyone mingled and chatted, and there was a sense of real camaraderie. The people staying in the shelter were grateful for the help, but didn’t feel in any way inferior because they were homeless and down on their luck. Or, for that matter, obligated to like us... in fact, it felt like we had to prove we were worthy to be there ourselves, in some way. And some of the stories were amazing, and thought provoking. Life can be turned on its head so easily. The series of events that clearly lead some of these guys to destitution, alcoholism, drugs and prostitution you could see happening, potentially, to absolutely anyone. And it really did feel a bit too close to home in some ways, remembering back not all that long ago, and what might - just might - have become the downward spiral that was the beginning of the end for so many of the people I was speaking to.

It really had a profound effect on me last year, and I’ll be putting my name down again. I don’t do nearly enough, most of the time, but this much I can do.

Passion.

Well, a week’s gone by, and GG is back from Barcelona, with her beautiful accent and cheeky, suggestive comments (and that cute bum). I must admit I’m a bit confused. About what may or may not be happening, considering we don’t really know each other that well, at least not in a real, tangible way. But, in another way, we seem to know each other so intimately.

A snippet from her email today… ”I've felt the same since the moment I've met you. I go to bed thinking of you and I wake up thinking of you and hugging you. Yes, I too think we possibly have met in a previous life. It must have been a wonderful one too...”

Okay, I'm not a complete fool. I know its madness, but I can still feel myself getting sucked in, as if I never learnt any of those lessons, never made any of those mistakes, never asked myself why the f*ck I don’t just take things more slowly. But you know what? I don’t think I care. I mean, what’s life without passion?

A poem.

A while ago, I was thinking about how it felt when I first struck out on my new life. It could have been so easy to become consumed with bitterness, but I knew I wouldn't let that happen. Just for a while though - when I was getting by on vodka and tranquilisers week after week, when I was unable to hold a conversation because I couldn't think straight enough to form a sentence - it was pretty bleak.

I was lucky, because I have some good friends. And I’m strong. But sometimes, I think there but for the grace of god…

And, of course, I have my children.

The Window

Edited for reasons I can't explain

The sexual imperative.

I was chatting to someone this evening, and got to thinking about gender stereotypes. You know… the whole concept of men being from Mars and women from Venus. (Or was it the other way around?) Anyway, I thought I’d just ramble on about it for a while, as it’s a subject that has the capacity to amuse me at times, bemuse me at others, but fascinate me constantly. (Then again, I find most things fascinate me in one way or another… I think it must be a character flaw. Or a gift from god, I’m not really sure.)

Anyway, I was reading a forum on a dating site the other day (okay, I lied when I said I hadn’t been looking at them, but I was only reading the forum on ONE particular site!), and someone was decrying sex without love. You know, sex for sex’s sake… f*cking for the sake of f*cking. I think the argument was along the lines of (yawn) if you’re not in love, sex is a soulless, unsatisfying and empty experience. And you won’t find women doing it – oh no, it’s a male preserve. Because men are unable to think unless it’s with their dicks, and we don’t give a toss about morality or self-respect. Because we’re men.

And I got to thinking about the rollercoaster that’s been my life for the last year or two. Not just the realisation that sex is out there if you want it (and I’m not saying that because it’s out there I always want it, either). But that, now, the sexual agenda is being set as much by women as it is by men, or more so. Not just the understanding amongst men that women want sex as much as they do, but the awakening to the fact that they always have. It’s just that now there’s no stigma. No pretence that sex has to be hidden behind the veil of love. Hallelujah, praise the lord!

And is it just me, or is sex without commitment (love?) often the most incredibly liberating experience? It was a rhetorical question… I know it’s liberating, because there’s no agenda, no guilt, no obligation. The fact is that – from a physical perspective – love is simply not a requirement. Yes, for anyone yearning for that emotional connection, that feeling of touching souls, then – after the last flush or orgasm fades - there might be something missing, some intangible sense of loss… but it’s not physical, it’s spiritual. And it can be there one day, and gone the next. And it applies to men and women alike. Well, it does - doesn't it? If not, why not?

The strange thing is, despite this little vent of mine I’m a romantic in the true sense. When people tell me love is just the consequence of endocrinal or chemical reactions, honed by evolution to ensure the bonding process and the survival of the species through procreation, I just want to laugh. I don’t care why it happens, I just know it happens. But whilst I may be a romantic, I’m not a hypocrite.

Reality bites.

Just got back from the run I should have done yesterday (I’m "working" from home today). Just a few miles, but I was experimenting with my new iPod. Strangely, with the music playing I couldn't quite get into the zone, or regulate my breathing properly. Oh, and I nearly got hit by a car. This is going to take some getting used to.

Anyway, soon after I left home I saw a gorgeous black kitten lying on the verge, looking like it was sunning itself. It was there when I was on my way back too, so I thought I'd stop to stroke it for a while. But I pretty quickly realised that it wasn't asleep... I think it must have suffered an impact with a car although it was completely unmarked. No address tag, so I guess all I can do is call the Environmental Health Dept and ask them to take it away before the birds and foxes get to it. Someone's going to be so upset.

I'm going to have to be even more careful not to let Lola go out the front. I'm always worried about her when she goes off on one of her adventures.    

Sex.. seriously casual.

Little Scottish Girl emailed me a few months ago from a dating site I was on for a while, and we seemed to get on pretty well online and when we spoke. Well enough that we decided to meet for a nibble in Crouch End in north London to check out that old chemistry thang and see if we reckoned there was some potential for seeing each other “properly”. In fact, it was fine in a lot of ways… conversation flowed, there was enough eye contact to hint at something more to come, and I even let her go home with one of my favourite CD’s that I happened to have in the car at the time (check out Nirvana Lounge… very cool compilation along the lines of the Buddha Bar stuff). We met a few times after that but I realised with increasing horror that I didn’t fancy her, which for me is a major requirement if sex is going to be on the agenda at some stage. Anyway, by then if it hadn’t happened it wasn’t going to!

I really do have quite a lot of stuff going on in my life at the moment (and did then), what with constant showdowns with my f*ckwit of an MD at work, trying to sort out my old consultancy so I can re-launch it sooner rather than later (with an appropriate fanfare and press interest), and some ex crap. By which I mean crap from my ex. So I wasn’t really feeling over-enamoured with the prospect of getting involved with someone just for the sake of it. I ended up telling her that I wasn’t dating – not exactly smart considering we’d been… well, dating – and that it was probably best if we just accepted that and stayed friends. I know it was an absolute crock, and so did LSG, but we kind of got used to our newly-defined relationship and saw each other now and again. Drinks, cycling, stuff like that. I thought the situation was under control, which is always a bad sign. As soon as you think you’ve got things sorted they come straight back and bite you on the nose. And that’s if you’re lucky.

So, a few weeks ago she started phoning me to discuss why precisely I wasn’t dating, when I might be ready to date, and if I was whether there was anyone else I’d rather date than her. Eeek! Being a sensitive soul I really didn’t want to say to her that, actually, I’d love to be dating but…, and so I kind of skirted round the issue a little. I also went on holiday around then, to Tenerife, and got a couple of really strange photos sent to my phone. Of LSG’s naked bottom with the words “I LOVE **** *****” tattooed across the cheeks in henna. Weird stuff indeed. Anyway, when I got home I decided to take the bull by the horns, so to speak, after she suggested that we get together for a bite and a chat. We did, and after a pretty decent meal ended up popping back to mine for a spliff (I don’t smoke much, and NEVER alone, but always have a little grass stashed away for when I have company!). So we smoked, listened to some music, and around the time I was going to tackle the subject head on she lay on top of me on the sofa and started kissing me. And wouldn’t stop.

Now, it’s true I could have thrown her to the floor and told her to leave, but she was also rubbing my crotch in a not too unpleasant way, so all the while I was telling her that this was a really BAD idea, what she was feeling through my jeans was telling her otherwise. And I was stoned by then too, which wasn’t helping matters at all. Eventually, she successfully wrestled with my belt, and soon enough she was giving me a rather skilled BJ whilst I was breathlessly telling her that I was NOT going to date her, whether we slept with each other or not. And we did – in fact, we f*cked once on the floor, and twice more in bed, by which time it was beginning to get light and it was clear I was going to be going to work on about 2 hours sleep. If I was lucky.

Where’s this leading? Well, casual sex (don’t you hate that expression?) is fine when it’s exclusive. By which I mean, I’m happy to be "seeing" someone on the basis that it’s JUST sex if they are too. And if neither party is conducting a similar non-relationship with anyone else at the time. Now, though, GG is on the scene and on my mind, and LSG seems to want a replay. I’m going to have to explain the situation to her, which brings me to the point of this post in a kind of roundabout way… I have a feeling it’s less casual for LSG than it is for me, and I’ve allowed the whole thing to become more complicated that it needed to be. I should have just told her in the first place that I didn’t want to “see” her. As if I didn’t know that anyway!

On a more positive note, GG gets back from Barcelona on Wednesday, and she sent me another lovely email yesterday in her faltering English… “As for our next meeting, maybe we should start the evening in the reverse planned order. You better sleep well this week and have a lot of energy for me!” Mmmmm…

Comments and links.

As a new devotee of blogging, it seems to me that I need as many people to read and contribute to this little piece of cyberspace as possible. So, leave a comment - any comment please - but also feel free to link me without asking. (Well, telling would be good, just so I get that warm glow...)

This could be my salvation. I haven't looked at a dating site for... well, days!! (Actually, I blame GG for that.)

Galicia Girl.

Just got back from football, and I had two nice surprises.

Firstly, NYM had left a comment, and as the two earlier ones were spam I guess I now officially have my blog up and running. So... hello, NYM, and thanks. I like you, or the you I've seen so far, by the way.

Secondly, GG had sent an email from Barcelona, in her lovely Spanish-English. I quote... "I am thinking about you a lot and am looking forward to seeing you soon. It seems our last (and only?) meeting ocurred such a long time ago. Was it really last week? All that is related to you keeps some surreal feeling attached to it."

She has this lovely knack of writing from the heart, and what she said kind of sums up how I was feeling too. It is surreal... have we really only met once? So strange when the connection with someone new is really, really strong. I haven't yet worked out how or why it happens, but it's to be savoured when it does.

Anyway, she gets back on Wednesday and she's coming over to me (inches north of London) this time on Saturday evening. I think I'll take her to this gorgeous Morroccan/Turkish/Eastern fusion kind of place for some food, and then she's staying over. I'm wondering how it'll feel on Sunday morning... always the test, because I usually end up feeling like a sardine.

A proud father.

Well, here it is then... the first time - ever - both my children will be coming to Tottenham with me. A father's dream? Too right.

Ususally I go with Dan (brother) and Dave (ex-business partner) but today one's stuck in Brighton and the other's working in Geneva. But I'm meeting an old school friend with his two sons, and probably Steve from "the site" and his son too.

Not sure about tonight - GG is in Barcelona until Wednesday... she did ask me to go out there with her but I have too much work on. More about GG later, anyway.

Didn't sleep well last night. I feel rough, but nothing a good thumping of the Reds shouldn't put right!

Time warp.

God, has it been that long? And so much has happened... I wouldn't really know where to begin.

I suppose the usual stuff has been going on at work, and I've decided that I'm going to have to do something about it. I had a meeting with my MD and that terrifying phrase just seemed to escape my lips... "voluntary redundancy". So... it's done, and the process has started (eek).

If it comes off, I'm going to re-start my old consultancy and see if I can make my millions that way. I'm nervous, but excited and confident. I won't say too much about it for now, but no doubt I'll shed a bit of light on what I do some time soon.

More importantly, and just when I was becoming so jaded from the whole online dating thing... a completely unexpected turn of events. I'm not really sure if I found Galicia Girl or if she found me, but we kind of looked at each other, liked what we saw, and started talking. Well, messaging... but before long we were talking on the phone, her with her lovely, slightly confusing Spanish accent, and me... well, being me.

Funny thing is, when she first wrote to me she said she felt this strange connection, but despite that we couldn't meet. She said wants a child, and I don't really want any more, and it would be trouble if we did... "dangerous" actually. So we agreed to stop writing, but I knew something more was going to happen. It was just a feeling, but it was strong, and in a way it seemed that there was an inevitability about it. Every time I saw she'd logged on to the site, my stomache turned. I started thinking about her when I was drifting off to sleep, and at odd times during the day. It was becoming disconcerting.

Just when I was about to email her, she wrote again, and to cut a long story short we had dinner last Saturday in a tiny Turkish restaurant off the Edgware Road. Well, we found this beautiful little pub first - GG was nervous and I wanted her to relax. There were lots on intense gazes and we held hands a lot, and we talked really easily as if we were deliberately ignoring the physical attraction we were feeling. After we finished dinner, I walked her home and we kissed, then she asked me if I wanted to stay... neither of us intended it, but we both wanted it to happen. So I did.

I don't know yet, but I feel funny.... this isn't just going to be a few dates. I guess time will tell...

Pissing down.

Talking to myself again. Anyway, lots to think about at the moment, including the job interview last Friday afternoon (Service Development Director... hmmm!).

It was sunny when I left the house, and absolutely pissing down by the time I got off the train at the other end... consequently, I looked like a drowned rat by the time I pressed the buzzer on the front door. Still, nice area - Farringdon - and a relatively easy journey, especially when Thameslink meets in the middle again in May. Damn those Kings Cross works!

About an hour and a half later, I left feeling pretty positive, and confident that I've got past the first hurdle. I think I'm lucky that my background is unusual enough to ensure that "they" don't see anyone else who offers the same mix of skills and experience, and there was enough chemistry going on to suggest we both liked what we saw/heard. So, two weeks to wait, and then we'll see.

Just heard that I won't be seeing the kids tonight, as they're bowling and are going to be late back. Actually, I'm shattered and a bit hung over, so it probably isn't a bad thing - I can slob in front of the TV and get a bit of an early night. I hate it when I go to bed and they're not in their rooms, though. Makes me sad.

A blog virgin.

Here it is then!

My very first post on my very first blog... what comes next, that's the question - which thoughts do I share, and which do I keep to myself, private and unexposed to the harsh gaze of the outside world. How do I develop my page from a couple of posts to the story of my life? And who might stop by and contribute to this tiny and insignificant piece of the cyber universe?

Stay tuned. Time will tell, no doubt.