No broadband in the flat after BT fucked me about. GRRR. Hence the lack of posts, which is annoying because I've been out loads since my last postie, and have nice pictures and everything - there was the night at Too 2 Much, dinner in the Falcon, a mediocre night at Rebel Rebel... Lots to discuss. I'll try and get round to it soon. I promise.
Also, Boz wants me to start posting relationship advice. Relationship advice. From me.
Ahaha.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Friday, March 24, 2006
never mix work and pleasure
Twas Billy's birthday yesterday, so obligatory drinks were to be had at the even more obligatory Studio 6. Now, I really like my work pals, and I love working with them - we alwasy have a really good laugh. I just don't necessarily want to go drinking with them afterwards. Is that bad of me? But luckily some of my old work folks were in the same bar so I sat with them and had a right good catch up. I felt a bit bad for not sitting with my actual colleagues, but... well... I'm a grumpy sod and I didn't want to talk to them. So there.
And then The Kid came down and joined me for a couple of pints which was fucking lush. Really glad he came. Was home (after a horrednous tube journey) by about 11 and in bed by midnight having nice chitty-chat silliness with The Kid. Ah, boys in bed, in their pants. You can't beat it...
Out again tonight in Soho, methinks. Hmmm (rummages through wallet, desperately looking for some forgotten £20 notes).
And then The Kid came down and joined me for a couple of pints which was fucking lush. Really glad he came. Was home (after a horrednous tube journey) by about 11 and in bed by midnight having nice chitty-chat silliness with The Kid. Ah, boys in bed, in their pants. You can't beat it...
Out again tonight in Soho, methinks. Hmmm (rummages through wallet, desperately looking for some forgotten £20 notes).
Thursday, March 23, 2006
andrew, meet the kid
Well, nowt happened Monday or Tuesday: up at 6, work all day, home at 8, eat, clean, sleep, up at 6, work all day, eat, clean, sleep. Not very exciting.
Yesterday, however, got some good news at work - I'm getting to produce a show all of my own in a couple of weeks, which is cool - and then went on a date I'd arranged with The Kid.
Me and The Kid always have a cool time whatever we do, but we're both quite indecisive, and have a tendancy to um... and ar... about where we should go/what we should do/how much we should drink, so I reckoned it might be quite nice for me to book somewhere nice and keep it as a surpirse for him. Aren't I just the best??? Or just quite regular? Thought so.
So I booked this place in London's Trendy Gay Soho called Andrew Edmonds. They had to squeeze me in at 7pm, and said I had to be on time, so I arranged to meet The Kid at 6.45 near the restaurant so that we could mosey down together and I oculd do a big "ta-daaaa!" when we got there. Now, I'd spoken to The Kid the previous night and said "don't be late!" to which he got slightly offended (he's always late, but most of the time I find it kind of eye-rollingly endearing). But he assured me that because he had NOTHING to do aaaalllll day, how could he possibly be late?
So when he was late, it didn't come as a massive shock to be fari, but I was still a bit miffed. Only because I had to tell him over the phone where to meet me and it spoilt my surprise a bit. Humph. But we got and the place is lovely. Really small, but nicely romantic and quite quiet. We were both a bit nervous for some reason - I think because it felt like a real proper date, and also I think The Kid thought I was annoyed with him. But I wasn't! I think he thinks I'm a proper grump...
But we soon settled in and the meal was absolutely fantastic, and so was the Lebanese (!) wine. Do you want to know what we had? Not really? Well, I had duck for my main which was incredible. As was everything else. And not that expensive either, really - £65 for both of us, including service! Cool.
After that, we went for a Long Island Ice Tea in the upstairs bit of Element and then got a taxi home. It was so nice being home at a reasonable hour, and not being wasted. We even just had a cup of tea when we got in (and a ciggie). Oh, and we looked at houses to buy in NZ, but only for a laugh. It still made me feel all warm on the inside, though. Hoho.
And when I woke up this morning, not only was it a gorgeous day, but my skin's still looking alright, The Kid made me breakfast, I wasn't hungover and we had time for silly chats. Brilliant!
Yesterday, however, got some good news at work - I'm getting to produce a show all of my own in a couple of weeks, which is cool - and then went on a date I'd arranged with The Kid.
Me and The Kid always have a cool time whatever we do, but we're both quite indecisive, and have a tendancy to um... and ar... about where we should go/what we should do/how much we should drink, so I reckoned it might be quite nice for me to book somewhere nice and keep it as a surpirse for him. Aren't I just the best??? Or just quite regular? Thought so.
So I booked this place in London's Trendy Gay Soho called Andrew Edmonds. They had to squeeze me in at 7pm, and said I had to be on time, so I arranged to meet The Kid at 6.45 near the restaurant so that we could mosey down together and I oculd do a big "ta-daaaa!" when we got there. Now, I'd spoken to The Kid the previous night and said "don't be late!" to which he got slightly offended (he's always late, but most of the time I find it kind of eye-rollingly endearing). But he assured me that because he had NOTHING to do aaaalllll day, how could he possibly be late?
So when he was late, it didn't come as a massive shock to be fari, but I was still a bit miffed. Only because I had to tell him over the phone where to meet me and it spoilt my surprise a bit. Humph. But we got and the place is lovely. Really small, but nicely romantic and quite quiet. We were both a bit nervous for some reason - I think because it felt like a real proper date, and also I think The Kid thought I was annoyed with him. But I wasn't! I think he thinks I'm a proper grump...
But we soon settled in and the meal was absolutely fantastic, and so was the Lebanese (!) wine. Do you want to know what we had? Not really? Well, I had duck for my main which was incredible. As was everything else. And not that expensive either, really - £65 for both of us, including service! Cool.
After that, we went for a Long Island Ice Tea in the upstairs bit of Element and then got a taxi home. It was so nice being home at a reasonable hour, and not being wasted. We even just had a cup of tea when we got in (and a ciggie). Oh, and we looked at houses to buy in NZ, but only for a laugh. It still made me feel all warm on the inside, though. Hoho.
And when I woke up this morning, not only was it a gorgeous day, but my skin's still looking alright, The Kid made me breakfast, I wasn't hungover and we had time for silly chats. Brilliant!
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
and... relax...
And on the 7th day, He rested. Or rather, was fucking knackered, emotionally distraught and totally skint, with eyes like black voids and skin like cheap mince.
Wracked with The Guilt, and with my back/shoulders in a bit of agony from the previous night, me and The Kid managed to somehow convince ourselves to stay in bed until about 3pm which suited me fine. Now, obviously we weren’t sleeping the whole time. If you get what I mean. Eh? Wink, wink. We ate hot dogs. And that wasn’t a cheap euphamism…
I was working early on Monday, so it was thought best to head back to mine. We had a right nice walk through Battersea Park (actually rather nice, and full of all sorts of folk doing all sorts of things), into Clapham Junction (actually rather closed, but saw the digital camera that I want) and through Clapham Common (actually just rather cold). We were both totally worn out after this, but still managed to drag our arses out to Bierodrome on the High Street for some tasty nosh. The Kid had some sort of sea-dwelling creature (sea bass maybe?) and I had half a chicken in a chilli sauce and far too many chips. And no booze! Who’d have thought it. That’s like a fish saying, “I haven’t been in the water all day.” Kind of.
Boo hoo for work on Monday, but an early night after watching the totally incredible Planet Earth (no one does it like David Attenborough) ensured I was feeling nice fresh for the following morning*.
*said freshness lasted about an hour. After that, my usually grumpy twat self resurfaced…
Wracked with The Guilt, and with my back/shoulders in a bit of agony from the previous night, me and The Kid managed to somehow convince ourselves to stay in bed until about 3pm which suited me fine. Now, obviously we weren’t sleeping the whole time. If you get what I mean. Eh? Wink, wink. We ate hot dogs. And that wasn’t a cheap euphamism…
I was working early on Monday, so it was thought best to head back to mine. We had a right nice walk through Battersea Park (actually rather nice, and full of all sorts of folk doing all sorts of things), into Clapham Junction (actually rather closed, but saw the digital camera that I want) and through Clapham Common (actually just rather cold). We were both totally worn out after this, but still managed to drag our arses out to Bierodrome on the High Street for some tasty nosh. The Kid had some sort of sea-dwelling creature (sea bass maybe?) and I had half a chicken in a chilli sauce and far too many chips. And no booze! Who’d have thought it. That’s like a fish saying, “I haven’t been in the water all day.” Kind of.
Boo hoo for work on Monday, but an early night after watching the totally incredible Planet Earth (no one does it like David Attenborough) ensured I was feeling nice fresh for the following morning*.
*said freshness lasted about an hour. After that, my usually grumpy twat self resurfaced…
totally bowled over. sorry.
I was clearly “on one” this week, and my weekend was taken no prisoners either. The Clapham Irregulars had managed to somehow actually get their arses into gear and actually arrange something that wasn’t either a half-arsed piss-up or a dinner party/piss-up. After a throwaway conversation between Suzy, Pete and yours sometimes-truly, a chance remark at my work and a bit of blagging by Pete, we found ourselves on Saturday going… BOWLING!
Right, now, before you get into your minds that we rocked up to some hideous “mega”bowl in some God awful arse end part of London – let’s say Streatham for the sake of argument - we’d actually rolled all the way to Bloomsbury to Allstar Lanes, which is this absolutely fucking awesome 50s style diner/cocktail lounge/bowling alley that just completely rocked (and rolled) my world.
Now let’s get this straight, when it comes to organised team sports, the Clapham Irregulars are, well, shite. But we actually managed to pull the ten-pin thing out of the bag. Well, most of us did. To be fair, Maria got beat by a 6-year-old girl, Dani may as well have had her hands replaced with wet sponges and The Kid wasn’t amazing in the first round (and boy did he show it, the grumpy little sod – note to self: always let him win or, if feeling particularly cruel, always let him lose). After a few bottles of surprisingly nice house wine (though for £16 a bottle it should have been okay) we all found our stride on the lanes, and The Kid had found his smile again. We soon retired to the bar area which again was fantastic and by eleven o’clock we were dancing by the bar, whilst other normal patrons just gawked, slack-jawed. Och well.
The Gays went on to Ghetto for Wig Out, while the Normals went to crash a 30th party of a friend-of-a-friend. It gets a bit blurry after that, but suffice to say The Kid had to take me home as I was a little… shaky. Bummer. Been a long time since mister twitchy came out to play, and I must say I’m not too keen to see him again for a while. He not only give me knots in my back the size of cricket balls, but he also makes me feel the worst Hangover Guilt in the world the following day. Awful. But The Kid was amazing, and not the least bit anything other than totally love him. If I was a teacher, and he was in my class, he would have lots of big gold stars by his name.
Was the teacher analogy slightly inappropriate?
Right, now, before you get into your minds that we rocked up to some hideous “mega”bowl in some God awful arse end part of London – let’s say Streatham for the sake of argument - we’d actually rolled all the way to Bloomsbury to Allstar Lanes, which is this absolutely fucking awesome 50s style diner/cocktail lounge/bowling alley that just completely rocked (and rolled) my world.
Now let’s get this straight, when it comes to organised team sports, the Clapham Irregulars are, well, shite. But we actually managed to pull the ten-pin thing out of the bag. Well, most of us did. To be fair, Maria got beat by a 6-year-old girl, Dani may as well have had her hands replaced with wet sponges and The Kid wasn’t amazing in the first round (and boy did he show it, the grumpy little sod – note to self: always let him win or, if feeling particularly cruel, always let him lose). After a few bottles of surprisingly nice house wine (though for £16 a bottle it should have been okay) we all found our stride on the lanes, and The Kid had found his smile again. We soon retired to the bar area which again was fantastic and by eleven o’clock we were dancing by the bar, whilst other normal patrons just gawked, slack-jawed. Och well.
The Gays went on to Ghetto for Wig Out, while the Normals went to crash a 30th party of a friend-of-a-friend. It gets a bit blurry after that, but suffice to say The Kid had to take me home as I was a little… shaky. Bummer. Been a long time since mister twitchy came out to play, and I must say I’m not too keen to see him again for a while. He not only give me knots in my back the size of cricket balls, but he also makes me feel the worst Hangover Guilt in the world the following day. Awful. But The Kid was amazing, and not the least bit anything other than totally love him. If I was a teacher, and he was in my class, he would have lots of big gold stars by his name.
Was the teacher analogy slightly inappropriate?
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
yeah, yeah... i'm gonna network
Right, so Friday night I had two choices of Fun:
1) Go to Hip Hip with The Kid for Emma's birthday, or
2) Go to The Bear in Farringdon with Pete for Rachel's birthday.
Oh, and quite coincidentally, it was my 3rd anniversary in London Town! Yey me for still being solvent after three years of hard liver-punishment! But what to do, what to do... Well, seeing as I'd spent Tuesday and Wednesday with The Kid, I thought it'd be cool to go for drinkies with Pete in Farringdon. There were going to be lots and lots of telly-type people for me to network with and I'm out of a job in 7 weeks so I thought I might be able to schmooze at the same time. Obviously just ended up getting wankered, though, and by eleven o'clock I was feeling the need to see The Kid.
Having not randomly appeared at a club to "surprise" The Kid for a while, I decided that texting was NOT the answer, so just turned up. Reception? GREAT!!! Ah, it was very fun. Now, normally I'd obviously wax lyrical about how good the night was. But I was so shit-faced I can't remember it. But it was good. We snogged lots (The Kid and I, obviously) and he had to sleep in the cab on the way home (he was much drunker than I - he kept falling off the stage, fnar).
Sleeps, more sleeps, rudies, sleeps, goooooood.
1) Go to Hip Hip with The Kid for Emma's birthday, or
2) Go to The Bear in Farringdon with Pete for Rachel's birthday.
Oh, and quite coincidentally, it was my 3rd anniversary in London Town! Yey me for still being solvent after three years of hard liver-punishment! But what to do, what to do... Well, seeing as I'd spent Tuesday and Wednesday with The Kid, I thought it'd be cool to go for drinkies with Pete in Farringdon. There were going to be lots and lots of telly-type people for me to network with and I'm out of a job in 7 weeks so I thought I might be able to schmooze at the same time. Obviously just ended up getting wankered, though, and by eleven o'clock I was feeling the need to see The Kid.
Having not randomly appeared at a club to "surprise" The Kid for a while, I decided that texting was NOT the answer, so just turned up. Reception? GREAT!!! Ah, it was very fun. Now, normally I'd obviously wax lyrical about how good the night was. But I was so shit-faced I can't remember it. But it was good. We snogged lots (The Kid and I, obviously) and he had to sleep in the cab on the way home (he was much drunker than I - he kept falling off the stage, fnar).
Sleeps, more sleeps, rudies, sleeps, goooooood.
Friday, March 17, 2006
ohmygodwhatastressfuldayineedadrink
Well. No one saw that shit-storm coming. You know those days when you're totally calm because you know that you're totally prepared for your day at work? That's how I felt yesterday. And then suddenly everything went tits north and the space/time continuum ruptured, causing everything to shift into retardo-gear. Awful. Truly awful. But a post-show glass of vino and half a pack of Luckies later everything was aaaalll alright.
We were supposed to be going to an opening of a bar in London's Trendy Shoreditch. But we were all fooked off and tired and stressed, so we headed back to Cla'am for beers-a-plenty in The People's Republic. It was just me and Dicky to start with, but soon we were joined by Pete, Jacqui and Billy. I smoked my way through an inordinate amount of ciggies, but the music was good and the chairs really comfortable. We talked work, nonsense and fun times and I was thankfully in bed by midnight.
Nothing else of note really happened, though, to be honest. Although I did get the chance to chat quickly with Dicky about the whole Xian thing. Xian being Dicky's ex boyfriend, and an ex-datee of mine from a loooong time ago. Anyhoo, it turns out they broke up because Xian was still kind of obsessing about me and thinks that I'm amazing blah, blah, blah. Dicky's fine, and so am I. Although I'm perplexed as to why Xian felt the need to email to tell me exactly why they broke up. Strange little man.
Anything else? Oh, The Kid went to Brighton to meet his mate. Mate didn't turn up or answer his phone, so The Kid ended up eating fish chips and going to the cinema on his own. Awww... By the way, The Kid says don't watch Date Movie. It's "possibly the worst movie of the year". Who'd have thought?
We were supposed to be going to an opening of a bar in London's Trendy Shoreditch. But we were all fooked off and tired and stressed, so we headed back to Cla'am for beers-a-plenty in The People's Republic. It was just me and Dicky to start with, but soon we were joined by Pete, Jacqui and Billy. I smoked my way through an inordinate amount of ciggies, but the music was good and the chairs really comfortable. We talked work, nonsense and fun times and I was thankfully in bed by midnight.
Nothing else of note really happened, though, to be honest. Although I did get the chance to chat quickly with Dicky about the whole Xian thing. Xian being Dicky's ex boyfriend, and an ex-datee of mine from a loooong time ago. Anyhoo, it turns out they broke up because Xian was still kind of obsessing about me and thinks that I'm amazing blah, blah, blah. Dicky's fine, and so am I. Although I'm perplexed as to why Xian felt the need to email to tell me exactly why they broke up. Strange little man.
Anything else? Oh, The Kid went to Brighton to meet his mate. Mate didn't turn up or answer his phone, so The Kid ended up eating fish chips and going to the cinema on his own. Awww... By the way, The Kid says don't watch Date Movie. It's "possibly the worst movie of the year". Who'd have thought?
Thursday, March 16, 2006
sunshine and fine wine
Bleurgh... 6am starts aren't ever that much fun, but it's even less so when you've been out a-drinking the red wiiine. Twas the last night I had chance to see Hol before she heads off to Thailand for two weeks (jammy bitch - give me a job that gives you a yearly bonus of a few grand, please).
Me, The Kid, Boz, Newman, Maria and Hol all headed down to the Sun for a quick drinkie and a chit. Obviously it turned in to several bottles of Merlot and a pack of Lucky Strike (and a pack of Camels for The Kid). It was a lovely, chilled night. Everyone was really quiet, but it was nice because of that. Me and The Kid are okay I think. But I think he was a little bit tired. Still, it's always nice to be able to leave him in my bed when I've got an early start. Dunno why, but giving him a kiss on the cheek before I leave the house, and knowing that he's still in my bed when I get into work, makes me feel all warm on the indisde. I don't really know why, to be honest. Aah...
Me, The Kid, Boz, Newman, Maria and Hol all headed down to the Sun for a quick drinkie and a chit. Obviously it turned in to several bottles of Merlot and a pack of Lucky Strike (and a pack of Camels for The Kid). It was a lovely, chilled night. Everyone was really quiet, but it was nice because of that. Me and The Kid are okay I think. But I think he was a little bit tired. Still, it's always nice to be able to leave him in my bed when I've got an early start. Dunno why, but giving him a kiss on the cheek before I leave the house, and knowing that he's still in my bed when I get into work, makes me feel all warm on the indisde. I don't really know why, to be honest. Aah...
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
vagisil and vegans
Oooh... It was my first ever birthday meal out with some of The Kid's mates and I was nervous as hell. Luckily enough, we were staying well within my comfort zone - a non-smoking vegitarian restaurant :-| . Okay, so maybe I wasn't too thrilled about the prospect of going to Mildred's in Soho to celebrate Emma's 32nd birthday, but I try and tackle everything with gusto. Gusto wasn't in, though, so I had to tackle it on my own. A-boo-hoo.
I rocked up to The Kid's with a bottle of champagne - he's just got a new job so I thought I'd help him celebrate - but we didnt get chance to drink it as we were already late. Which isn't like us. At all.
We made it to Mildred's by about 7.30 but Emma and Pals hadn't been seated yet, so with a rumbling in my stomach we perched at the bar, necked a botle of house red and waited for a table. We'd polished off the vin rouge before we ordered and I was absolutely ravenous, so decided to go for a starter AND a main. Wowsers. My logic was that a) I was hungry and b) there was no meat involved so it couldn't possibly fill me up. Could it?
Cut to 45 minutes, one plate of humous and flat-bread, a tomato and cabbage "burger" and chips and half of Emma's vegan wheat-free stir-fry and both The Kid and I were rolling about in agony. I think my body went into vitamin shock. the Kid suffered more, claiming to have experienced a 4 minute fart in the gents. 4 minutes. A very specific amount of time. Images of Norris McWhirter holding a stop-watch whilst The Kid broke a constant stream of wind and Roy Castle tap-danced in the corner sprang to mind. But The Kid assured me this was not the case. Damn. The experience was non-too-horredous, either. Apart from having to share the table with oh-my-god possibly the two most boring girls I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Jesus. I can't even remember their fucking names, they were so painfully dull. And at the end of the meal, I dared suggest that we all chip in to pay for Emma's birthday meal and the daggers I got from them! Arseholes. And they live in Clapham as well, so there's a distinct possiblity that I'll end up bumping into them every two minutes. Well, that would be a concern if my clever little mind hadn't wiped their completely non-descript faces from my mind...
Suitable full and de-gassed, we obviously weren't willing to call it a night and headed to Two Floors which was dead, and only had one floor open so was also slightly misleading.
Then follows the obligatory "shall we stay out longer" discussion with The Kid. Both of us know we're going to go out. Both of us know we're going to end up in the Ghetto. We could have saved a good three minutes by just going straight there.
I'll skip the boring bits - got there, paid in, drank booze, smoked fags, danced a bit to slightly crap music, danced to some much better music. Got home. Good night in all. Well, kind of. Hmmm. Is it worth writing out? Me and The Kid have been together for about 5 months now, and God I love him to bits, but recently things have been going a bit... odd. Not bad. Definitely not bad. He just flirts with folk. And fancies lots of people. But we think about boys in different ways I think. He sees people and thinks "ooh, they're attractive" and he flirts with them. And I know it's harmless. I do know. But it still makes me feel a bit weird, I guess. I think it's made worse by the fact that when we're out he's quite openly flirting with other boys, but I never really feel as though he's flirting with me. And I don't just want it to be all ME! ME! ME! but it wouldn't hurt to have a little bit of attention thrown my way.
But don't get me wrong - when we're together he flirts, he touches, grabs and kisses me. Even in restaurants and bars. But the moment we set foot into a gay bar, I kind of feel a little bit... left out. Now, I'm the first to point out that I'm a paranoid little fucker and that's emotionally unstable and needy. But surely that can't be the real problem can it? Oh, fuck knows. The Kid's done a couple of daft things that have annoyed me and caused us to have a couple of "chats", which I hate. I just want things to be fun, but I know that there's gonna be some rough shit as well as all the amazing stuff that we'll do. I'm over it now. Or, rather, I'm over it for now...
I rocked up to The Kid's with a bottle of champagne - he's just got a new job so I thought I'd help him celebrate - but we didnt get chance to drink it as we were already late. Which isn't like us. At all.
We made it to Mildred's by about 7.30 but Emma and Pals hadn't been seated yet, so with a rumbling in my stomach we perched at the bar, necked a botle of house red and waited for a table. We'd polished off the vin rouge before we ordered and I was absolutely ravenous, so decided to go for a starter AND a main. Wowsers. My logic was that a) I was hungry and b) there was no meat involved so it couldn't possibly fill me up. Could it?
Cut to 45 minutes, one plate of humous and flat-bread, a tomato and cabbage "burger" and chips and half of Emma's vegan wheat-free stir-fry and both The Kid and I were rolling about in agony. I think my body went into vitamin shock. the Kid suffered more, claiming to have experienced a 4 minute fart in the gents. 4 minutes. A very specific amount of time. Images of Norris McWhirter holding a stop-watch whilst The Kid broke a constant stream of wind and Roy Castle tap-danced in the corner sprang to mind. But The Kid assured me this was not the case. Damn. The experience was non-too-horredous, either. Apart from having to share the table with oh-my-god possibly the two most boring girls I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Jesus. I can't even remember their fucking names, they were so painfully dull. And at the end of the meal, I dared suggest that we all chip in to pay for Emma's birthday meal and the daggers I got from them! Arseholes. And they live in Clapham as well, so there's a distinct possiblity that I'll end up bumping into them every two minutes. Well, that would be a concern if my clever little mind hadn't wiped their completely non-descript faces from my mind...
Suitable full and de-gassed, we obviously weren't willing to call it a night and headed to Two Floors which was dead, and only had one floor open so was also slightly misleading.
Then follows the obligatory "shall we stay out longer" discussion with The Kid. Both of us know we're going to go out. Both of us know we're going to end up in the Ghetto. We could have saved a good three minutes by just going straight there.
I'll skip the boring bits - got there, paid in, drank booze, smoked fags, danced a bit to slightly crap music, danced to some much better music. Got home. Good night in all. Well, kind of. Hmmm. Is it worth writing out? Me and The Kid have been together for about 5 months now, and God I love him to bits, but recently things have been going a bit... odd. Not bad. Definitely not bad. He just flirts with folk. And fancies lots of people. But we think about boys in different ways I think. He sees people and thinks "ooh, they're attractive" and he flirts with them. And I know it's harmless. I do know. But it still makes me feel a bit weird, I guess. I think it's made worse by the fact that when we're out he's quite openly flirting with other boys, but I never really feel as though he's flirting with me. And I don't just want it to be all ME! ME! ME! but it wouldn't hurt to have a little bit of attention thrown my way.
But don't get me wrong - when we're together he flirts, he touches, grabs and kisses me. Even in restaurants and bars. But the moment we set foot into a gay bar, I kind of feel a little bit... left out. Now, I'm the first to point out that I'm a paranoid little fucker and that's emotionally unstable and needy. But surely that can't be the real problem can it? Oh, fuck knows. The Kid's done a couple of daft things that have annoyed me and caused us to have a couple of "chats", which I hate. I just want things to be fun, but I know that there's gonna be some rough shit as well as all the amazing stuff that we'll do. I'm over it now. Or, rather, I'm over it for now...
Monday, March 13, 2006
first things first
The events of the past few days would, you think, have put me off blogs for life. But it's rather oddly had the opposite effect. That's been happening a lot recently - things that 6 months ago would have caused me to have one reaction, have been having the opposite effect. Which is rather strange, but oddly comforting. I feel kind of secure, but whilst still teetering on the edge of insecurity. Odd.
But I've got work to do, so all this will have to wait.
But I've got work to do, so all this will have to wait.
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