Two weeks of talking and tears, confusion and fear.
After five months R and I had to move forward with our lives. After years of agonisng R had decided to tell his family that he was gay and with the release that kind of conversation brings wanted to move forward with his life - with or without me.
We had always been clear that my relationship breakdown was my issue but it was a frightening leap into the dark with no guarantees of what the future might hold.
The reasoning behind my decision isn't for here but finally one Friday in early September it was over.
The next day I met R on the roof of the Trafalgar Hilton for drinks. A new chapter.
Monday 18 April 2011
Friday 15 April 2011
Pleasure and pain
R was in the car beside me and we were heading out of London for the first time. I was going to show R my much-loved cottage and the journey flew by as we counted down the strawberry sellers by the side of the road heading further and further west.
Finally we reached the village and a day in the garden followed attacking the over-grown mess that is a Cornish garden within 24 hours of abandonment. Supper was simple - a good roast chicken and a bowl of strawberries in the summerhouse with lots to drink.
We'd been naked now a couple of times before but not like this. We took advantage of an abandanoed mattress and had sex on the summer house verandah. The sounds of raucous Saturday-night laughter from yachts down in the estuary gradually gave way to quiet as we ducked and swayed under a a great dancing Cornish sky long into the night.
The next day we drove back to London - we were way behind schedule but I didn't care - at keast not at first. I felt free and terribly happy. The full impact of what I was doing became clearer as London grew closer. I was supposed to be meeting my boyfriend of nine years from the airport and we were late. Not only were we late but he had landed and was calling to find out where I was.
R was unceremoniously bundled from car in a parking bay on one floor of the arrival car park (a boarding school goodbye with the associated ache) as I drove back to arrivals and met my boyfriend. I felt the guilt must've been written all over my face and I remember being asked why the passenger seat was so far forward a seemingly innocent question which felt laden with god knows what implications.
The next day the tension of that journey manifested itself in the fact that I couldn't walk.
Finally we reached the village and a day in the garden followed attacking the over-grown mess that is a Cornish garden within 24 hours of abandonment. Supper was simple - a good roast chicken and a bowl of strawberries in the summerhouse with lots to drink.
We'd been naked now a couple of times before but not like this. We took advantage of an abandanoed mattress and had sex on the summer house verandah. The sounds of raucous Saturday-night laughter from yachts down in the estuary gradually gave way to quiet as we ducked and swayed under a a great dancing Cornish sky long into the night.
The next day we drove back to London - we were way behind schedule but I didn't care - at keast not at first. I felt free and terribly happy. The full impact of what I was doing became clearer as London grew closer. I was supposed to be meeting my boyfriend of nine years from the airport and we were late. Not only were we late but he had landed and was calling to find out where I was.
R was unceremoniously bundled from car in a parking bay on one floor of the arrival car park (a boarding school goodbye with the associated ache) as I drove back to arrivals and met my boyfriend. I felt the guilt must've been written all over my face and I remember being asked why the passenger seat was so far forward a seemingly innocent question which felt laden with god knows what implications.
The next day the tension of that journey manifested itself in the fact that I couldn't walk.
Tuesday 12 April 2011
So now let's rewind 2 years
I'd come back from a business trip to Scotland.
Home early and disinclined to start supper I was trading messages on a gay chatline. For once there was a guy who sounded utterly normal midst a crowd of desperate sounding married men home alone and boys fantasising about dressing in ladies knickers.
We exchanged voice messages and agreed to chat. He was reserved and cautious but with a modest charm that I thought was lovely. We continued to text after we spoke that night, presenting silly caricatures of each other in a half-hearted attempt to put the other off. The next morning I texted as I walked to work "beautiful sunny morning warming my face" - his response "simple pleasures" struck a chord. We agreed to meet for a beer.
Two days later there he was outside Sainsburys. We sat in the sun outside a local pub a drank pint. God knows what we talked about but this felt like a big deal for both of us.
Home early and disinclined to start supper I was trading messages on a gay chatline. For once there was a guy who sounded utterly normal midst a crowd of desperate sounding married men home alone and boys fantasising about dressing in ladies knickers.
We exchanged voice messages and agreed to chat. He was reserved and cautious but with a modest charm that I thought was lovely. We continued to text after we spoke that night, presenting silly caricatures of each other in a half-hearted attempt to put the other off. The next morning I texted as I walked to work "beautiful sunny morning warming my face" - his response "simple pleasures" struck a chord. We agreed to meet for a beer.
Two days later there he was outside Sainsburys. We sat in the sun outside a local pub a drank pint. God knows what we talked about but this felt like a big deal for both of us.
At last my own gay blog
I've wanted to try this for a couple of years since a rather dramatic break up with all sorts of discoveries (some extraordinary some just awful) along the way. Meanwhile I meet R and we begin a series of adventures that um, just keep happening.
It's not great when your boyfriend sees your Dad having a seizure on the loo
And its not great when he put up with your seizure a week earlier and you know he's still having flashbacks. Park that one for a sec and let's focus on Dad.
Only 12 hours before R met my father and stepmother for the first time. Things went well, we all drank too much and R and I had lots of sex in some part (at least on my side) loving the sheer teenage pleasure of doing it in your parents' house.
The next morning as we lay in bed (R no doubt contemplating the next stage in his family intro fest) a rather desperate shout from step-mother alerted us to poor Dad's seizure on the loo. Such is Dad's strength that R and I were called into action. I deftly pulled up Dad's pyjama bottoms as R entered the bathroom and the three of us enjoyed a rather awkward embrace. Half an hour later we were hurtling towards the hospital. Thankfully Dad was fine- this has happened before and we were all home for lunch, R meeting my gay step-sister and partner along the way in intensive care.
So one week earlier. Vauxhall on a blind date with another couple. Never one to turn down the opportunity to try something new and always keen to maintain an edginess I know I can never sustain I enthusiastically agreed to buy the white powder being offered to me. Why clarify the purchase when proffered an opportunity to snort something up your nose...direct from the bag...in some quantities.
I remember little of the next three hours other than that I was some sort of bit part player in the Matrix hurtling through an other worldly London with brave warrior R and a rather dashing figure in green who looked like a paramedic. So there we are - my first exposure to Ketamin, I hear there's a song called K-hole by the Pet Shop Boys - not brave enough to listen to it yet nor watch the rather embarrassing video on You tube R wants me to watch of someone gently quivering, locked in their private world.
It's not great when your boyfriend sees your Dad having a seizure on the loo
And its not great when he put up with your seizure a week earlier and you know he's still having flashbacks. Park that one for a sec and let's focus on Dad.
Only 12 hours before R met my father and stepmother for the first time. Things went well, we all drank too much and R and I had lots of sex in some part (at least on my side) loving the sheer teenage pleasure of doing it in your parents' house.
The next morning as we lay in bed (R no doubt contemplating the next stage in his family intro fest) a rather desperate shout from step-mother alerted us to poor Dad's seizure on the loo. Such is Dad's strength that R and I were called into action. I deftly pulled up Dad's pyjama bottoms as R entered the bathroom and the three of us enjoyed a rather awkward embrace. Half an hour later we were hurtling towards the hospital. Thankfully Dad was fine- this has happened before and we were all home for lunch, R meeting my gay step-sister and partner along the way in intensive care.
So one week earlier. Vauxhall on a blind date with another couple. Never one to turn down the opportunity to try something new and always keen to maintain an edginess I know I can never sustain I enthusiastically agreed to buy the white powder being offered to me. Why clarify the purchase when proffered an opportunity to snort something up your nose...direct from the bag...in some quantities.
I remember little of the next three hours other than that I was some sort of bit part player in the Matrix hurtling through an other worldly London with brave warrior R and a rather dashing figure in green who looked like a paramedic. So there we are - my first exposure to Ketamin, I hear there's a song called K-hole by the Pet Shop Boys - not brave enough to listen to it yet nor watch the rather embarrassing video on You tube R wants me to watch of someone gently quivering, locked in their private world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)