So we were really good all week.
Then on the Thursday we skiied all afternoon with two great guys from Germany drank too much and ended up in bed with one of them - let's call him Hot Guy From Berlin (HGFB). Anyway next day James of the salopet insults (you can see where this is going) gets wind of our scandalous behaviour bides his time and as we take to the dance floor for some final night fun, moves in on HGFB with a very focused kiss.
History.
As a couple you don't really have a leg to stand on do you? I mean this is two single guys getting it on but, but what made it doubly galling was that James ended up going back to HGFB's room which means HGFB's less hot room-mate was forced to exit and ended up crashing in our room. Gritted smiles all round the next morning.
Might be some time before we hang out with James again.
Saturday 14 January 2012
Wednesday 11 January 2012
Gay Ski Week
250 gay men in a small Swiss village who all ski - giddy.
We agreed to join our friend James for Arosa Gay Ski Week a few weeks back. R and I have a tendency to conjure up a reality that is far more hedonistic than the actuality and I don't think either of us had pictured classical concerts listening to Beethoven piano sonatas in the parish church or glasses of Chianti in front of a roaring fire Russian oligarch spotting,
Anyway - the evening entertainments are hotting up. After tonight's night-time tobogganing and fondue in the mountains there's a "spa party" in our hotel (the spa fits 25 at a push - not sure how that will work). Anyway - the smiley Croatian in our ski group asked if he could change for the spa in our room and he's clearly committed the number that we gave him to memory - right.
And the skiing? Amazing - we're being guided through the mountains with 15 other guys by a charismatic Frenchman called Sebastian. Gay men notice your ski wear and the blue 90s Columbia salopets that my brother didn't want have been a sensation, James suggesting earlier that the high waist line (they're really long) give me a trouser style that even Simon Cowell would be proud of.
We agreed to join our friend James for Arosa Gay Ski Week a few weeks back. R and I have a tendency to conjure up a reality that is far more hedonistic than the actuality and I don't think either of us had pictured classical concerts listening to Beethoven piano sonatas in the parish church or glasses of Chianti in front of a roaring fire Russian oligarch spotting,
Anyway - the evening entertainments are hotting up. After tonight's night-time tobogganing and fondue in the mountains there's a "spa party" in our hotel (the spa fits 25 at a push - not sure how that will work). Anyway - the smiley Croatian in our ski group asked if he could change for the spa in our room and he's clearly committed the number that we gave him to memory - right.
And the skiing? Amazing - we're being guided through the mountains with 15 other guys by a charismatic Frenchman called Sebastian. Gay men notice your ski wear and the blue 90s Columbia salopets that my brother didn't want have been a sensation, James suggesting earlier that the high waist line (they're really long) give me a trouser style that even Simon Cowell would be proud of.
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