A Kiss With Mr Coke

As I'm sure many gay men do, I started using Grindr, which is a gay social networking app. I've had some very interesting conversations on there. Most involve people asking for cock pics within 2 sentences, which really isn't my thing, but I have found a handful of people who are interesting to chat to, and even been on a couple of 'dates'.

I've been chatting to a bloke whose only a couple of miles away from my new flat. He seems nice enough, intelligent, politically left wing, a bit bohemian to be honest. One evening he messaged me and asked if I fancied popping over to his for a drink. Well, I'd had a couple of glasses of wine already, so was feeling sociable. One cab trip later I'm standing outside his house. Rang the bell, and the first thing that struck me when he came to the door was how short he was. Almost child like in his proportions. I was invited in but instead of the promised drink was immediately shown in to the bedroom.

Right, I'll state here that I'm not a total slag, and I dont drop my pants at the drop of a hat, but I'm also not a prude and have no problem with hooking up with random strangers.

So one thing led to another and we started kissing on the bed. After about 5 minutes I thought he may have biten my lip as they felt odd. I pulled away and wiped a finger across my lips. No blood, but odder still was the fact that I couldn't feel my lips.

"Are you on any powders?"
"Yes, cocaine."

So the little sod had been taking coke, hadn't told me and his cocaine drenched saliva had made my lips go numb. I split the scene needless to say. I'm pretty ambivilent about people using drugs, but I dont want to get involved with them myself.

If he ever makes contact again and I blog about him we'll call him Mr Coke.

A New Beginning

It's been a busy month since my last post. I have moved into a lovely 1 bedroom flat about 10 minutes walk from the house I shared with Bobbin. So I am now officially single. We appear to have dealt with the split as amicably as possible, to the extent that we shared a hug and a kiss on the day I departed. Truth be told we have exchanged more conversation, via phone and text, than we did when we lived together.

In the intervening time I have already had a short relationship with a guy I met in a pub. We'll call him Baby Demon. He's a lovely guy but he has a fair few problems, so he decided to end it after 8 weeks. That's fine though we are still 'friends' and I see him occasionally. Truth be told I'm quite hung up on him still, which to my mind is a classic rebound relationship. I'm chanting for his happiness so something will shift.

I've also started dating! Surprising how sex focused the gay dating scene is. I've only had one date where the possibility of sex was not discussed. This date, The German, is a lovely guy and we share the same taste in loud aggressive music. He's also a fantastic photographer, so I really hope to see him again.

Anyhow, now I've made a new start I hope to recommence blogging on a more regular basis.

A Weekend At Taplow Court

I'm spending the weekend at Taplow Court the headquarters of Soka Gakkai International United Kingdom. I'm attending a Buddhist training course here for the duration of the weekend.

I awoke early this morning, I always do when sleeping in unfamiliar rooms. Took advantage of this by strolling around the house and grounds. I found a lovely woodland track at the top of an embankment overlooking the River Thames. Geese were flying overhead. I feel embraced by humanity in this place. This is going to be a great weekend. I deserve it.

My Sister The April Fool

So been back at work 3 days. It's been fine. Everyone very supportive. My manager especially so, a sort of take it easy attitude.

My sister has been texting me constantly for updates. I was out with friends last night and had drunk a fair few. Impressed she was not. Worried I would piss this job up the wall. I know she's only nagging out of concern but at the end of the day it's a bit like the kettle calling the pot black. She drinks as much as I do.

Anyhow got her back this morning with this text conversation. For those not familiar with the London gay club scene, Fire is a club that stays open until well after the sun has risen.

Deep in a Hole

Been a very strange few weeks since I last posted, been in a very dark headspace. I'll blog about it one day. This is just a quick update to let you know that after 5 weeks and 6 days being signed off sick by my doctor I am today going to return to work. Getting back on the horse and hopefully I'll be facing the right way. Wish me luck, it's going to be a strange day.

All Night Lord of the Rings

Not sure about the wisdom of doing this but stayed up the whole of Saturday night watching the complete Lord of the Rings. All three extended editions, back to back. A twelve and a half hour fantasy marathon. Never sat down and watched it in it's entirety before, so an achievement of sorts.

5 On The Fifth

Another first for me. 5 On The Fifth is a photo project organised by Stephen at The State of the Nation UK. This month's theme is 'LINES'.

Bollards - Lewisham

St Johns Church - St Johns

Derelict House - Brockley

The Seagar Tower (under construction) - Deptford Broadway

Phonebox Graffiti - St Johns

Who said lines have to be straight?

Check out the other contributors at The State of the Nation UK blog.

An Overflowing Cistern and Another Lunch With Fifi

The bathroom toilet cistern has been overflowing. The overflow pipe outside has been dripping for the last couple of days. As the overflow pipe is positioned directly above the centre of the back door, this has made going into the garden problematic. I've had to slink out sideways against the opening edge to avoid getting dripped on. So, today I thought, I must fix that. Not a big job, just a case of slightly adjusting the ballcock (don't you love English). So I've tinkered with it a bit, but it seems it wasn't enough, as about an hour after flushing it still overflows. I'll give it another tweak tomorrow. If that doesn't work a plumber may be required.

Went for another pub lunch with Fifi. We both agreed that it would be great to work part-time so that weekday lunches with friends could be a regular habit. There's a flexible hour system at work, so most people tend to take short lunch breaks as it means they can leave earlier, so even lunch with colleagues is a rare thing.

Today, I opted for the Full Veggie English Breakfast, as the salad was the same as I had last week, presumably it's a house speciality. I hadn't actually eaten all morning, so even though it was well past 2 o'clock by the time we ordered, the breakfast seemed a logical choice to me. I was not disappointed. The most amazing veggie sausages I think I've ever had the pleasure of eating and two eggs done to perfection on a toasted slice of ciabatta. Along with the baked beans, mushrooms and herbed tomatoes it was all just - Mmmm. It was the first complete plate of food I've managed to finish in the last 2 weeks - I just haven't had an appetite lately.

I thought I'd include this cartoon. Em is one of my favourite cartoons. It used to appear daily in The London Paper before that folded a couple of years ago and since then Maria Smedstad - the creator - has continued producing the strips online. Its the story of a group of 30-something friends struggling with all the things that everyone struggles with in a big city - love, life, friendship. This latest one so resonates with my own life - it's so embarrassing lining up bottle after bottle of red wine at the checkout ;-)
Check other Em Cartoons here.

Click to Enlarge

Thoughts, Food, a Quiz and Paul Temple

Well, it's been a nothing sort of few of days since I last posted. I have slept for an inordinate amount of time and I'm viewing this as some form of self preservation, either in the fact that it allows me to totally avoid examining any of the greater issues affecting my life, or that it's some sort of down time from the mind games that I appear to be inflicting on myself.

I was reading a blog post by 'the feeling inside' entitled drugs are bad m'kay. It got me thinking about the affect on my state of mind during most of my adult life that my own youthful flirtations with cannabis and other drugs may have had. Did I sacrifice my joie de vivre in later life for a misspent youth toking in graveyards, listening to Tangerine Dream, Gong and Hawkwind? From my research on-line there does appear to be a link between depression and cannabis use, although as with the chicken and the egg, it's never been clearly demonstrated whether dope causes depression or if people with mental health problems naturally incline towards using dope to relieve the symptoms. My gut feeling is that I may have inflicted my 'glass half empty' viewpoint on myself. Drugs are bad m'kay, indeed.

I haven't had the energy, or the spirit to tackle any relationship issues with Bobbin. So we're just coasting along. Not arguing, but not exactly enjoying each other's presence either. Just sort of tolerating. I do think he has been exceptionally kind in not pushing the issue during my current fraught period though. We've even been eating together and exchanging pleasantries about ours days. I got my arse out of bed yesterday and actually cooked for us both. Nothing stunning, a pasta, vegetable and mozzarella bake.

Fifi, more or less insisted that I join her and her American lodger, Vixx, for the local pub quiz at The Talbot. I thought it would provide a break from bouncing off the four walls that are currently being used as my bedroom, so I agreed. I was slightly miffed, therefore when only Vixx turned up. Now she's a lovely woman, and I really like her company, but when we get together it invariably becomes a bit messy. So what should have been an hour or two spent at a pub quiz turned into a late night at an Open Mic session in another local bar. Fiona knows that Vixx and I are incorrigible together so I wonder if this was some sort of plan to get me drunk in an effort to 'cheer me up'. Either way, it didn't work, terrible guilt the next morning. Don't think getting hammered on scotch is particular helpful to my state of mind. I'm probably just being paranoid, no-one forced me to drink the bloody scotch - only got myself and my right arm to blame for that. Anyhow, we came second to last in the quiz with 23 points - it's the taking part that counts.....

I've been listening to quite a few radio plays since being off work. BBC Radio 7 is a comedy and drama station available on digital in the UK. They've been broadcasting an old detective series from 1961 - Paul Temple and the Margo Mystery. I've really been enjoying it, possibly because it harks back to a time, before I was even born, when a certain amount of civility existed in society. All the characters talk with very crisp Received Pronunciation. Very very British.

Rapidshare link here - although I can't vouch for quality or providence of the source files and I'd imagine downloading will infringe copyright.

GUM update. All tests proved negative. However, due to incubation times for various nasty STDs I'll probably have to have the whole lot done again in another couple of weeks just to be on the safe side.

Tiger, sat in my lap

The No Show on the Big Return

Monday morning. Heart palpitations, rising sense of fear. Should go back, should go back. Can't.

Went back to doctor. Got signed off again. I feel guilt, but keep trying to remind myself I need time to heal my broken brain.

Lunch With Fifi and the DC22 Animal

I can understand why every single person I know advised against getting signed off work by the sympathetic doctor for a week. I am the laziest person I know, and lo and behold, the week has flown by in a daze of somnambulism - OK, I haven't exactly slept walked, but fuck, I may as well have. I've started to feel like my father, stumbling from one doorway to the next, trying to turn the corners but not quite managing it.

Friday - I spent a wonderful morning in bed reading everyone's blogs on the iPhone. Tiger (my darling cat) curled by my side, snoring occasionally. Afraid to say, but as soon as I hear her start to snore I cuddle up close and then inevitably wake her. She has a very deep purr anyway, so you can imagine the racket when she starts to snore. She is the love of my life, I would beat off rampaging youth to protect her, and bearing in mind I live in Deptford (American Vogue* describes Deptford as the 'wild west' of London, even though Deptford is in the south east of the city) the chances of me having to protect Tiger from rampaging yobs, probably with fireworks, is relatively high. She's lush though! Only downside is that she is white and I wear only black or grey. I have a rather expensive habit in roller brushes.

(I've decided that I'm not going to call people by capital letters in my blog anymore, they'll be known by pseudonyms or nicknames. So for all that have read what went before, R is now Bobbin - in-joke, don't ask.)

Whilst dozing in bed, I got a text from Fifi. She's 'working from home'. Now being a public sector employee I've never got this working from home malarkey. Surely you're either at work or not? Working from home, to me, means you're available but what you're actually doing is the housework, putting washing on the line, or indeed, going for a pub lunch with your depressed, mid-life crisis happening friend. So bring on the lunch with a depressed, mid life crisis friend....

Fifi, is a dear dear friend. The best. Totally with the programme as far as Bobbin and I are concerned. She originally lodged with Bobbin at University in London, they had a falling out - surprise surprise - but after a 10 year abstinence they re-acquainted, and wasn't I the lucky one, instant BFF.

If I was straight....

So we meet for lunch at The Talbot, an OK foodie pub in one of the more middle class areas of Lewisham (near to Deptford but really really wild west). We both decided on the Chicory, Walnut, Apple and Stilton Salad. It was delicious. Especially with the glass of Viognier that Fifi recommended - she's a wine connoisseur. I'm a 'glass of house' sort of guy, but when you're with a wine snob you have to up your game a bit. We had a chat. Exhibit A) the state of my relationship with Bobbin and what the fuck is going on in my life. Well there's an opening. Back after a cigarette and a think...

Back... I'm not really sure. Really not sure. I love the guy dearly. But am I in love? I haven't the words to describe how deep my love for Bobbin goes. But I'm not sure I trust him. I know for a fact that he in no way trusts me. I'm bang to rights, got previous, done the dirty again, and probably will do again and again. So what sort of love is that?

I live with him, but I just cannot let my guard down. I feel unable to expose myself emotionally to him. Every wayward evening out is not discussed, nothing mentioned - apart from a cursory "what time did you get in?" "Oh, about 5.30". I feel unable to tell him my darkest thoughts and fears. He doesn't ask either.

I'm here reviewing this post listening to 'She Wants Revenge' and well, Bobbin would just think - "go to bed, wanker".

I have a gothic tendency, if I wasn't 44 and gay, I'd probably be painting my face white and wearing 8 inch platforms with metal bits on the front. I don't feel as if I can reveal who I am really am to him, thinking back I'm not really sure if I ever did. Perhaps I just stepped into his slipstream 21 years ago. How does one begin to explain your inner most thoughts to someone? I cut myself off. I built the wall and then was surprised when I couldn't hear him anymore, the wall was just too thick. Really thick. With an insulating layer of doubt. Pink Floyd lyric coming up...

"Is there anybody out there?"

I haven't a clue where the blame should lie, if anywhere. Fuck it, most of the time I've been too drunk to give a toss.

The DC22 Animal?

Yep. I vacuumed a bit.

* Italian Vogue thinks Deptford is the place to buy, buy, buy. And it has to be said after living here for 14 years I would.

A Bit of Springcleaning, Emphasis on Bit

Finely managed to summon the energy, although not necessarily the enthusiasm, to start a bit of cleaning, only a bit though. Have changed and washed my bedding and weather appears mild enough over next day or two to even try drying it outside on the washing line. The kitchen got a thorough wipe down too. Also got round to replying to some emails and texts which I just haven't had the motivation to respond to. Perhaps the Prozac is starting to kick in. Not feeling so negative and "what's the fucking point" today.

Tomorrow I'll reacquaint myself with the vacuum cleaner. Tiger is shedding fur badly. White cat fur and black clothes - not a good mix. Love her though.

A Family Gathering

Spent last few days out of town, staying with my sister for a couple of nights and then with my parents for the final night. I have two sisters and I get along with them both. The sister I stayed with I get along with really well. We like going off the radar together, she visits me in London and we haul ourselves round the gay clubs until well after the sun has risen. We've also spent 2 wayward weekends at music festivals, Glastonbury in 2008 and Bestival last year. We enjoy gigs together as well, 3 or 4 times a year where possible. She has a family so doesn't do all these things as often as I do, but when she does get away she really let's her hair down. My other sister is really great too but slightly more sensible. Sunday we all got together at the wild sisters house near Maidstone, Kent. It was great to catch up with them both and my two brother-in-laws.

I 'transferred' to my parents on the last night as I needed to catch up with them away from the noise of the family gathering. They both seem quite supportive of me during this current crisis I'm going through.

My father suffers from Parkinsons Disease. He was diagnosed about 4 years ago but over the last year his 'shuffle' walk has worsened, despite the medication. He has trouble turning corners. It's almost like when a cartoon character runs off a cliff, their legs keep stepping but they go nowhere. He's very determined however. He spent this morning before I left chopping up branches in the garden. I offered to help but he wasn't having none of it. Way to go Dad!

GUM And The Sound Of One Hand Clapping

For one reason or another I have kicked against and stomped on my relationship with R. I have felt the need to drown my sorrows in drink and seek company in the comfort of strangers. As far as R is concerned this is the main factor in the deterioration of our relationship, whilst I see a deeper more disquieting dissatisfaction with how we connect as two individuals.

So after a number of drunken fumbles with a couple of strangers I thought it best to have a sexual health check up. So here I am sitting in the reception area of a Central London GUM Clinic. Just got out of initial consultation with the doctor and I've been advised that what went on was low risk. I'm not really into anal as, frankly, it's a bit of a pain in the arse.

This clinic is well amusing. It's slap bang in the centre of Soho - "Londons Gay Ghetto" - so 99% of the clients are men. And 99% of them are so hot. Shame we're all on this particular ship of fools.

Been back in for full set of checks. It appears I have a NSU (non specific urethritis). I've got to wait for other test results. Thankfully only thing required at present is a single strong dose of antibiotics.

No guilt about R either as nothing gone on since this particular episode of jumping off the rails began. I may not be the most faithful of boyfriends but I'm not a total bastard.

Procrastination and Prozac

Well, things haven't really moved on a great deal on the home front. Neither R, nor I, have come to any firm decision as to whether I should move out of the house or not. I've been looking on line at apartments to rent and to be honest the cost of even a small studio apartment freaks me out. I'm so used to living rent and mortgage free that the thought of having to use half my salary on rent is, frankly, shit scary. By the time I factor in bills and food, there won't be a lot left to spend on good times. So I'm trying to get my head around a life where my wants, rather than my needs, are severely curtailed. I have thought of renting in a house share as it'd be cheaper, but to be honest I think that'll just be undignified for a man in his 40's. I'm such a misanthrope anyway, that I don't think I'd be able to put up with other peoples shit. I could just about share a bathroom but having to share a kitchen would be beyond the pale.

My minds in overdrive, so one thing led to another, and I found my self sitting on a bench at Cannon Street Station phoning my boss to say 'I think I may be having a breakdown.' Thankfully, as a public sector employer, the organisation I work for is very forward thinking about mental health problems. Never one to not face life full on, screaming blue murder at it as I rush dauntlessly forward with broken bottle in one hand ready to slash and hack at it's pretty face, I arranged to see my doctor. I normally hate this as I don't think he's very good, but luck was on my side and I got booked to see a different doctor. She was very sympathetic and to cut a long story short, I've been put on Prozac, signed off work for a week and am being referred for counselling. Sounds perverse but I think this is a good thing.

Late Night Lewisham

Back late from a My Chemical Romance gig. Some homeless bloke at garage wanted £3.50. Said no but I'd buy him a sandwich. Got into Tesco and he asked for two. WTF! I bought them. Better than giving him money for smack. The worst thing about the whole episode is that it highlighted what a fucking middle class snob I am. He's homeless on the street, probably with drink/drug issues and all I could think was 'god how typical, he's picked sandwiches with white bread not wholemeal'. Sometimes I really really hate people 8-(

The Beginning Of The End

Well, it starts here I suppose. 21 Years with R and we've decided - mutually I suppose - to call it a day. Lets face it we've been flogging this particular dead horse for at least two years, possibly longer, hard to remember through the fog of drink. Self medicated of course, nothing like an alcoholic. Feel relief more than anything, and a not so urgent desire to find a niche for myself.

More to come.....

I hope.