A sexless menage a trois. At least as far as I know.

For someone who is struggling under the aching weight of lonliness, I seem to be spending a lot of my time with attractive single gay men these days.

Firstly there's KCG, with whom I'm developing an exceedingly odd relationship. The last time I saw him in the flesh was two weeks ago, when I took him out to a fancy and rather expensive restaurant for his birthday. Perhaps that was too much for him - since then he's made no attempt to see me. We've chatted online and by text, usually at his instigation, but the one time I asked him out, last Thursday, he was busy. He doesn't know that I know that it was because he had a date.

How do I know it was a date? Because I was with the same guy over the weekend. He's the Human Dynamo I mentioned in this post, and I've seen him on average once a week over the last month, always at his invitation. We spent the Saturday before last at a sporting event, at which I got to meet some of his friends, and we spent last Saturday and Sunday with different friends of his at a house party in the country. The house party may sound like an excuse for a dirty weekend, but absolutely nothing happened. I made a couple of subtle overtures, but I got no response. Although everyone there knew we were gay, we didn't do anything that a couple of perfectly straight guys wouldn't have done.

So there's a weird relationship triangle going on between me, KCG and the Human Dynamo. I commented to KCG a while back that this sort of thing never happens in straight dating. He responded that it could easily happen that two guys might find themselves dating the same girl... HD being the girl. And by that he clearly means that he sees our relationship as being as unromantic as that between a couple of buddies.

So HD likes me... as a friend. And KCG likes me... as a friend. I don't think that they're getting heavy with each other, but if they did, that'd be just typical.

To be honest, beyond mere lust I don't have much interest in HD. He's fun-loving and we make each other laugh, but we're very different people and he's clearly not interested in anything physical. If he wants to keep inviting me to interesting places and introducing me to fun people, I'm more than happy to go along for the ride.

With KCG, on the other hand, I'd welcome something more serious, but we both know he's out of my league and I can't offer him what he wants in a boyfriend. The sad truth is that while KCG is entertaining, intelligent, funny and kinda cute, I'd be tempted to simply give up on him if I weren't absolutely convinced that he's my passport to a better life. Yesterday as a tangent to something we were discussing online he sent me the Facebook profile of his ex-ex-ex-boyfriend, and he was perfect. Not perfect in the hard-bodied, golden-tanned sex god kind of way, but perfect for me. Not too good looking or fit, but caring and thoughtful and confident, with similar interests and values to me... exactly the sort of man I imagine when I dream of someone at my side. Unfortunately he has a long term partner now, but he's exactly the type that I never meet but KCG seems to know in abundance. If I ever want to meet a great guy, it appears I have no choice but to cultivate my pathetic friendship with KCG.

Some friendly advice for a guy I saw on gaydar.

Don't claim to have a large penis if a) you have a picture of it on your profile and b) it isn't.

We can all see through your subterfuge, you know.

The reason why I'm feeling stressed today.

There's nothing quite like the feeling you get when an advanced spam bot hijacks your email account then sends cunningly personalised spam to every guy with whom you've ever flirted, chatted, rejected or been rejected by. All of these relationships, some held in a delicate detente, are suddenly ambushed by a computer program that leaps into them like a large, brainless dog bounding into a pond full of sleeping flamingos.

Make that a large, brainless, EVIL dog.

Aim for the moon!

It occurs to me that when I mope around fantasizing about a relationship with someone like KCG, I'm being a poor excuse for a gay man. He is, after all, only kinda cute.

If I'm going to wistfully yearn for men I can't have, I should at least go for the top shelf models.







That ass is so perfect you just want to grab it and sink your teeth into it. Suddenly KCG isn't quite as important as he was...

Dial M for Moping

The last couple of weeks have been an emotionally turbulent time for me.

I haven't so much as communicated with FHBG since the night we had sex, but frankly I'm okay with that. I also had a date last Thursday with an interesting guy, but more about that in a minute.

The turbulence arises with KCG. I've seen him on a few occasions, although he's been snowed under in his studies, so I haven't been demanding too much of his time. We went out to dinner, I made him dinner at my place, we had a coffee together. And every time I see him, I fall for him a little bit more. When I saw him yesterday afternoon the urge to a gather him in my arms and kiss him was so powerful that it almost made me giddy. Since then I've been moping about wondering how to go about making my feelings known without scaring him, freaking him, annoying him or generally messing our relationship up.

As for his feelings, who knows? He's not a demonstative person and he doesn't tend to take the initiative, so for all I know he could feel exactly the same way or not romantically interested at all.

I'm also trying very hard to discern the exact nature of my feelings. Am I latching onto him just because he's the first reasonably acceptable guy I've come across? And am I being realistic? He's a little out of my league. He's had three serious boyfriends before, and I've had zero, so he's probably a bit choosier than me. I find myself wishing that I knew more about his ex so that I could judge how I measure up against him, to see if I have even a remote chance.

And it occurs to me that this is a huge gulf between us. He mentioned, in passing, that a year ago he and his ex had gone to his sister's wedding, and it struck me that I've never been to a wedding with anyone. It must be fun, not to mention romantic, to go to a wedding as part of a couple. I've always gone to weddings by myself or with my family. And there's the issue: he's done the holidays together, going to weddings together, waking up in the morning together thing... and I haven't. I'm so literally retarded, in a romantic sense, that I've never done a lot of the most basic activities that even casual couples do. Why would he want a retard like me?

Why would anyone? Indeed, would I myself want someone like me?

So while I was wallowing in self-doubt and recrimination, I was contacted by a guy on gaydar who, after a few message exchanges, asked me out for coffee. I'm still not quite sure why. He's a very good looking, awesomely fit, larger-than-life human dynamo. I'm a lazy, flabby, uncoordinated idler who prefers to think, observe and discuss rather than "do". So I'm not seeing that we have a lot in common. However we had a good chat and a laugh over drinks in a suburban cafe, and after I texted him the next morning to give him the appropriate "thanks for a nice time, great to meet you" line, he texted me back to tell me that I was funny, cute and smart and he'd really like to see me again. So there you go. Apparently I can make a good impression occasionally. I don't see much of a future in it, but I may as well enjoy it while it lasts.

The ironic thing is that it turns out KCG went out with him, twice, a few weeks ago. They didn't click, but this kind of spoils things for me. I suppose every halfway presentable gay man in this city has, at some point, dated at least one of the gay guys I know. Still, I don't want to have that shoved in my face.

There's a reason why "hook up" and "hooker" have the same root

On Monday night FHBG and I got our schedules aligned and hooked up at his place. While it wasn't quite what I'd had in mind, what it lacked in romance it made up for in hot, heavy action.

I stand by my earlier assessment of FHBG as a sweet and good-natured person. However he is also promiscuous, amoral and fairly shallow. The majority of his partners are married men cheating on their wives, or couples wanting some extra action. He's no stranger to the threeway or the sex party. The idea of going for two and a half years without penetrative sex, as I have since parting ways with BN2, was baffling to him. "Why didn't you just go on gaydar and find someone?" he asked, as if the personal qualities of the various men there had no bearing on the issue.

I'm not drawing from a vast reservoir of experience, but the sex was good. He wasn't up for any repeat performances, but his one showing was a good, long, hard shag. The best compliment he offered was to appreciatively moan, halfway through, "What stupid fuck let you go?" It occured to me that the lack of claim on me is mostly my own fault, but I was too busy trying to brace myself against the headboard to say anything coherent.

The telling part of any sexual encounter is in the aftermath, and so it was with us. We chatted and nuzzled for a while, naked on his bed, but I noticed that he was looking at the ceiling rather than me.

After sex there's three basic modes of expression. There's Hostile, which is the scenario in which your partner makes it quite clear he wants you gone right now. There's Affection, which is the lying together all night scenario. Then somewhere between the two there's Mild Embarassment. Suddenly being naked, sweaty and spent with another person seems odd, and rather off-putting. He's too polite, or relaxed, or grateful to want you gone, but then the absurdity and awkwardness of having had such intimacy with a virtual stranger is still there.

When I had sex with BN2 he always wanted me to stay around and spend the night with him, so there was genuine affection there. With FHBG, there was the sense that a mutual itch had been scratched. As I was driving home I almost felt like a hooker who wasn't getting paid. So while I wouldn't be averse to another good, long, hard shag with FHBG, I'm not in any hurry.

All of this reinforces what I already knew: I want sex to be a natural extension of the meaningful relationship I have with another man, not the core of that relationship. Now I just have to find a meaningful relationship with another man.

Diet Angst is even more pathetic than Diet Coke

I had a couple of drinks last night at the pub with KCG, and it made me realise that our immediate future isn't rosy. He's friendly enough, but his position appears to be something like this: "You're a nice guy. Not really what I'm looking for, but hey, I don't see the harm in letting you hang around. On the periphery."

This isn't the absolutely worst thing that could have happened - that would be if he decided he never wanted to see me again - but it's not far off the bottom of the list of preferable outcomes. I accept that I'm unlikely to be able to have a romantic relationship with KCG, but my sights are aimed lower than that. KCG's wider social circle seems to include the kind of thoughtful, accepting, good-hearted gay men I want to know but have been unable to find on my own, and it seems logical that there'd be potential for meeting someone suitable for me in their ranks. For example when he described the ex with whom he parted ways earlier this year ("attractive, deep, caring, intelligent"), it took all of my self-control not to blurt out, "Well if you're finished with him, can I have his phone number?"

Unfortunately KCG is a bit of an introvert, and apparently not given to hosting dinner parties or gatherings at which I might meet any of these wonderful men. I find myself tantalisingly close to a paradise of possibility, but I can't quite reach it. The only course of action at the moment appears to be one of patience: eventually he'll slip up and actually introduce me to somebody. I just have to not come on too strong and freak him out with my neediness before that.

And that's how pathetic I am. Normal gay men get themselves worked up over a guy they love who only wants to be their friend. I get myself worked up over a guy I like who only wants to be an acquaintance. It's like romantic angst with only half the calories.

Notes from two realities

So... my report on last night's date:

Last night was the worst date ever. FHBG, when he eventually turned up, was nothing like his pictures... and he had the audacity to suggest that my picture put me in a good light! The conversation was boring and stilted, as if we were both going through the motions and secretly thinking about something more interesting, like our tax returns. When we parted barely an hour after we met, we saw me off with, "Well, I guess I'll see you around," which is quite possibly the lamest thing one can say after a bad date. What a boorish, unattractive, unpleasant man, I thought. I am lucky to be rid of him.

Or at least that's how the date went in a parallel universe in which my life is a lot simpler.

The TRUTH is that the date was wonderful. Besides being smokin' hot, FHBG is also a delightful person. Within ten minutes of meeting we were bantering back and forth like old friends. I felt comfortable enough to ask him about bisexuality, and it seems that he really is genuinely sexually attracted to both genders. His gay friends tell him that he's wrong and just in denial, but to me that's the equivalent of Westboro Baptists telling them that they've made a lifestyle choice to be gay. FHBG's personal experience is the best measure of who he is and how he feels, and it's a little patronising to make blanket judgements from outside.

We chatted about life and work, bitched about gaydar and the freaky men within, and discovered a mutual devotion to martinis. And over the course of the evening there was a definite, and mutual, increase in flirting and attraction. After coffee we walked to another cafe and had some food, then I walked him back to his car, and got him to give me a lift back to mine.

Then I gave him a flash of the old GTR charm and demanded that he prove to me that he really was interested in men as well as women.

So we kissed, and it was the sort of rough, fierce, passionate kiss that left us both gasping. I'd forgotten how good it can be to kiss a guy who knows what he's doing. He dragged me into the crook of his shoulder, so that his bicep was pressed into the back of my head, while his hands stroked my shoulder, arm and my thigh. I ran my fingers through his hair and caressed the line of his jaw, and teased the hairs at the hollow of his throat. We kissed so hard and so long that my lips are still chafed. And when we pulled back and gazed into each other's eyes, it was pretty clear that we were both buzzing with the same thought: we need to fuck, at length, as soon as humanly possible.

If we'd been anywhere near a bed, rather than in his cramped Toyota, we probably would have gone for it then and there. As it is we'll just have to see how our schedules align.

So there you have it. A month ago I was aching with lonliness. Now suddenly I have two sweet, good-natured men stepping into my life, one who makes my head spin and my heart yearn, and one who makes me weak at the knees. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

Why now? Why not three months ago? DAMN IT!

Like an irritating older sibling, my life seems to be intent on teasing me to breaking point.

I spent yesterday getting gradually more and more wound up about KCG. He hadn't communicated with me other than a couple of texts on Saturday morning, even after I emailed him on Sunday afternoon. We've established that I really like him, and the thought that he might be ambivalent about me fills me with pain and dread. Having glimpsed what it might be like to know someone I really care about, I was becoming not so much "interested" as "obsessed".

Clearly I am high maintenance and do not deserve human relationships. And I'm nuts. But you've probably already worked that out.

So when I left my office and went home I looked for distractions. I did some hard digging work in my garden until it got too dark, then went on gaydar for a while. I noticed that a guy I'd looked at a while ago had tagged me as "nice". I messaged him to say thanks and to return the compliment, since he was, not to put too fine a point on it, hot. Before I knew it he was asking me out.

I actually messaged him back saying, "Really? I'm not sure I'm your type." But even after I sent him a clearer picture of what I look like, and stressed that any meeting we had definitely wasn't going to segue into a hook up, he was still keen. So we're meeting at a local cafe this evening.

If KCG is the Kinda Cute Guy, then I think this man will have to be FHBG... Frankly Hot Bi Guy. That's one of the reasons why I'm interested in meeting him. I don't think I've ever met a genuine bisexual before, and I'm intrigued to know how it works. Scientific studies have suggested that true bisexuality is extremely rare, so I'd like to know how he identifies as such. There's nothing like the spirit of scientific enquiry... mixed with the appeal of rugged good looks, a charming smile and a tasty body.

So, mission accomplished - I spent very little time last night thinking about KCG. And naturally within a couple of hours of setting up a date with FHBG, KCG had sent me not one but two emails, including an adorable in-joke photo that more or less melted my heart. Then two more messages this morning.

DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!

I have to remind myself that seeing FHBG tonight doesn't mean anything. KCG and I are nothing more than new friends right now. FHBG might not show up. He may show up, take one look at me and suddenly remember that he needs to be somewhere else. Or he may be a complete asshole. And it'll probably do me good to have my attention divided for a day or two, as we've already seen how crazy I get when it's focused on one person.

But if FHBG turns out to be a nice guy? Well, let's just say that it would be outrageously cruel of Fate to introduce me to a guy who appeals to my mind and my heart, then go and throw me a different guy who appeals to a somewhat lower part of my anatomy.

Still, on the bright side, I don't seem to be lonely any more.

Gays v Homosexuals: only one of them has "sex" in it

Some time ago I came across this fascinating infographic representing responses to the question of whether homosexuals should be allowed to serve in the US military.



As you can see, when the term "homosexuals" was used, the Strongly Opposed was more than 50% higher than when the term "gay men and lesbians" was used. Similarly, the Strongly Favor vote was considerably higher when "homosexuals" was replaced with "gay men and lesbians". Apparently people don't like homosexuals being in the miliary, but they have less of a problem with gays.

It's an interesting quirk, showing just how much good marketing can affect prejudices in the community. In the popular imagination, "Gays" are the fun, fabulous creatures you see on sitcoms and romcoms, spouting bitchy one-liners and helping straight girls choose a new outfit in a montage sequence. "Homosexuals" are the creepy old men who stare too long at your teenaged son at the beach. It's as if "Gay" is the spicy fashionable image, while "Homosexual" is the icky unfashionable reality.

Loving the way he makes me feel about myself

The Kinda Cute Guy and I had our second ‘date’ last night, starting at a bar and ending up later in the evening at a café. I say ‘date’ in inverted commas because romance is not officially on our agenda – we’re just gay guys looking to expand our social horizons and find a new friend. Officially.

Our first “date” lasted three hours and had several awkward pauses. The second “date” lasted six hours and flowed pretty smoothly (especially after we’d packed away a couple of martinis). And I’m pretty sure I didn’t imagine the faintest thrum of sexual tension between us.

Naturally I’m delighted by all this. He really is wonderful. He’s cheery and thoughtful and intelligent, good-hearted and generous, and… well, kinda cute. I recall at one point, fairly late in the evening, he was telling me something and I wasn't paying a blind bit of attention because I was gazing into his eyes and noticing how they seemed to sparkle, and how the day’s worth of stubble he wore gave him a little hint of grrrrr that he hadn’t had the previous time.

Later as we walked back to our cars I had a strong urge to put my arm around him. Not to initiate some sort of sexual activity, or to lay some claim to him, or to affect some sort of “buddy” thing. I just wanted to have a sense of physical contact with someone who was touching me in an intellectual and emotional sense.

But I resisted, because I don’t want to screw this up. Instead we said our goodbyes and agreed to meet up again in the middle of next week.

He’s like no other guy I’ve ever met, and more importantly, he makes me feel like I’ve never felt before. He fills my mind with possibilities and potential, and makes me feel as if good things might happen. So I hope he genuinely likes me, because I’m sure as hell falling for him.

But I’m mindful of the pivotal line in ‘There’s Something About Mary’: “You don’t love her. You just love the way she makes you feel about yourself.” And I worry that this is exactly what I’m projecting onto Kinda Cute Guy.

When the milestones are all blank

I'm sure I'm not the first person to wonder what effect the lack of romantic milestones in gay life has on gay people.

This has come to my mind because of the Kinda Cute Guy mentioned in the last post. He recently broke up with his partner of two years and, as a result, had to move out of his ex's house. There's no messy divorce because there wasn't a marriage to begin with. Unlike a married couple, with their shared bank accounts and shared ownership of everything, the breakup appears to have been no more complicated than a couple of housemates going their separate ways.

I'm full of questions that are not, at this stage, appropriate to ask. How did he decide when it was right to move in? What was the goal? How did it even work? Was he just some sort of sexual houseguest? But it never occurs to me to ask these questions of my straight married friends, because it's perfectly obvious how it will all work. They are following a clear and ancient script.

Consider the milestones in straight romance. First date, first kiss, first girlfriend, school balls, meeting the parents, engagement and engagement rings, wedding, marriage, anniversaries, pregnancy, first child. Cuddling up in the cinema. Sending flowers to her workplace. The lazy or unimaginative man can virtually sleepwalk through the whole thing and still have a pretty good idea of where he stands.

Now consider the milestones in gay romance. There aren't many. Instead there's an ongoing, amorphous sense of something contrary to social expectation. There are no engagement rings and no pregnancies. Things like anniversaries are arbitrary, and "weddings" are hollow. School balls are sociopolitical minefields. Meeting the parents or cuddling in the cinema could end in a beatdown. If a girl flirts with a hot guy on the bus the worst she can expect is rejection: if a guy does it, he could get the shit kicked out of him. Even the language rebels against gay romance: the equivalents of "wife" or "fiance" sound trite and feeble. "Hello, I'm Dale, and this is my life partner Sean." Ugh.

Even in these enlightened times, there isn't the sheer weight of historical tradition, or the vast numbers of participants, to guide gay men through romantic activities. If there are gay rites of passage, they remain underground, largely ignored by mainstream culture. Gay boys don't learn the romantic rites of passage from their parents, or TV, or pop songs, or advertising, or architecture, or cliches, or greeting cards, or (ironically) fairy stories. If they are lead (rather than finding their own way), it'll be at the instruction of an older gay man whose intentions probably aren't entirely altruisitic.

This lack of deep, old, unspoken example makes life difficult. For example, there's a difference between telling your mother that you're enagaged to a wonderful girl and telling her that you've decided to commit to your boyfriend. One fits perfectly with the accepted narrative. The other is a forced fit: a gear that doesn't quite mesh. Even the most accepting mother in the world will find her delight muted, if only because she has to mentally rein herself in before sharing the good news with her friends and colleagues. However happy she is, somewhere underneath, it's not quite the RIGHT thing to happen.

It seems that gay men travel a road with few signposts, and have few shared understandings other than those based in sexual attraction. Simple things like taking your date a bouquet of flowers aren't a given as they are in the straight world. EVERY SINGLE THING needs to be appraised, negotiated, assessed... not just once, but every time you encounter someone new.

It's exhausting, but it appears to be unavoidable.

The Brioche Potential

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Getting older: much worse than you think

Just recently I've felt an incredible sense of lonliness. I think it stems from the realisation that my social circle has shrunk dramatically over the last couple of years.

Here's an example. Ten years ago I threw a cocktail party, inviting a very select group of guests whom I thought would appreciate this swanky affair. More than 40 people showed up. One year ago I threw another cocktail party, inviting every single person I knew. Barely 20 people turned up. I put out double the number of invites... and got half the guests.

I get the impression that after the age of 40, most people don't want friends per se. They have spouses, children, and the parents of their childrens' friends. Those that do want friends demand that they be fabulous and entertaining, and while I can hold my own at a dinner party I am never the life of it. I get the impression that for most people being friends with someone over the age of 40 is just too much effort. And sort of icky.

I've even broken down the demographics in order to understand it better.

1. Straight couples. They don't want anything to do with singles. Look at it from their perspective: what are they supposed to do with a 40 year old single man? It's weird. Where will he sit at dinner parties? The table will be unbalanced. Easier to just not invite him. Plus (in the more extreme cases) do we really want someone like that around the children? I mean, he's 40, no girlfriend or boyfriend, no kids of his own... it's all just a tiny bit suspicious.

2. Straight singles. Our ancestors took long-term bachelors and spinsters in their stride, but nowadays it seems that to be single is to be suspect. With relaxed class and social norms and ease of travel and communication, many of the old excuses for singledom are gone... leaving only the excuse of being a loser. Most of my straight single friends are significantly flawed: casting my mind over my social circle, there's a bipolar, two clinical depressions, an Asperger's Syndrome... the only reason that most of them aren't partnered up is because nobody wants them. Straight singles also tend to be lousy hosts who throw parties about as successfully as I throw Volkswagens.

3. Gay couples. They regard the single man as a threat, a resource to be exploited for threesomes or, perversely, an embarassment - a deviation from the white picket fence version of coupledom that a lot of gay partnerships create. They attempt to be even more cookie-cutter perfect that the straights, meaning that they MUST have the golden retriever, the luxury compact SUV, the designer tableware and the Martha Stewart dinner parties with exactly the right other couples.

4. Gay singles. You would think that gay singles would tend to befriend each other, but it seems that most want boyfriends, not boy friends. I've had a couple of single gay friends who've hung around for a while, but once it becomes clear that a "relationship" isn't going to form, they drift off in search of one.

While I'd love to have someone to love, I find that when my social life is thriving I don't feel any sort of aching need for a lover. I guess I'm easily contented. However the rest of the world appears to believe that without someone by your side, you're nothing.

If only I could control this stuff I'd rule the world. Or at least gaydar.

Perhaps it's just our human quirk of seeing patterns where there's really only coincidence, but I can't get over the feeling that my appeal on online dating sites ebbs and flows like the tide. It's like there's some sort of electronic pheremone that I occasionally give out, and it's totally beyond my control.

Take last week. I hadn't done anything out of the ordinary, but I suddenly found myself in communication with three separate guys. Firstly, a fashion designer who wasn't my type but seemed to be very interesting. Secondly, a rough-around-the-edges charmer who seemed willing to have a decent conversation. And thirdly, a hunky miner who if nothing else seemed to promise the possibility of hot hard sex.

Too many times in the past I've had a flood of interest come out of the blue, and ignored all but the most appealing one. Then of course when that appealing one faltered I had no other irons in the fire. This time I decided to work smarter. I made sure to chat with all three of them as if they were the only one, turning on the old GTR charm, asking pertinent questions, demonstrating interest but not desperation. They all responded with eagerness.

And suddenly, like a portcullis slamming down, all three of them fell silent. No warning. No suggestion of waning interest. Just silence. At the same time.

My supply of pheremone must have run out.

Be careful what you wish for

My post of March 12 was about a first date I'd had with a nice guy I met online. I ended the post with a note that we'd agreed to go out on a second date. Well, the second date went ahead, as did the third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth and so on.

"Whoo!", you may be thinking. And yes, as far as it goes, Whoo! indeed. But unfortunately it doesn't go very far.

Neither of our hearts seem to be really in it. It's like we're playing at being in a relationship. I don't know why he continues to put up with me, but I suspect it's for the same reason as I put up with him: the alternatives aren't exactly thick on the ground.

Does this happen in straight relationships? I imagine that most women would be sensible enough to have ended things already, or determined enough to just put their heads down and plough on into the respectability of coupledom.

I like him. I find him attractive. But I can go days or even weeks without seeing him and not care. Our emails don't exactly bubble with enthusiasm. We get on well, but we don't click. In all areas - personal priorities, movies, alcohol, travel, kissing, even sex - we don't quite mesh. We function, but it's not easy. At this stage in the relationship, it should be easy. I want to see many of my friends at least every second day, but not my... er... dating partner. If that's what one calls such a person.

So it would seem that we're just keeping each other around in case no one better turns up, because it's better to have someone barely adequate than to have no one at all. It's also fractionally less depressing.

Beer goggles for the soul.

Last night I went to a party in a cool city bar, hosted by a friend of mine. This friend knows everybody in the world who is cooler than anyone I know, which means that he has a vast social circle. I always meet interesting new people at his parties, and since most of them are gay it's always a good way to make connections.

When I arrived I bought an expensive martini from the cute gap-toothed barman and found a friendly acquaintance to catch up with. After a while he in turn introduced me to a flamboyantly charming man with a pronounced beer gut that he was given to stroking, with a sort of absent-minded tenderness. He also chattered entertainingly at high speed in almost non sequiturs that you could only follow if you were paying attention. When I finished my expensive (and exquisite) martini he grandly bought me another one, probably without realising just how exhorbitantly priced they were.

The host came over and I caught up with his life, as I haven't seen him in nearly six months. He introduced us to a friend of his who was visiting from overseas, a tall, drawling blonde with a short scruffy beard and raw sex appeal oozing from every pore. After we'd all chatted for a while, the host and his visiting friend drifted away to do some more mingling. A few minutes later, I looked over and saw the friend standing by himself in a corner.

I'm usually very shy, but it's amazing how forward I can be with a couple of martinis in me. I got up and went over to talk with him. I felt it was a kind thing to do, since he didn't really know anyone there. The fact that he was golden tanned, hot bodied and head-spinningly gorgeous had nothing to do with it.

Interestingly enough, he matched a suspicion I've long had about the very good-looking. Firstly, he was boring. He talked endlessly about the minutae of his work and his opinions about the world. Secondly, he seemed to assume that I held exactly the same social and political views as he did. Perhaps he'd never been contradicted before - everyone he met just smiled and nodded and said, "Hmmm, you're so right."

I wasn't quite that bad. Sure, I smiled and nodded, but if I didn't actually tell him he was wrong, I at least suggested that there were alternate ways of looking at things. All while thinking, Yes, yes, whatever, enough of this; I just want to tear your clothes off right here and now.

Eventually tedium overcame even the advanced case of lust I was experiencing, and I introduced him to some other guys in order to ditch him. Then I went off to find someone ugly and fascinating to talk to.

In which I follow my own advice.

Last night I had the first date I've had in weeks, and the first in more than a year that didn't leave me feeling as if I'd just wasted several hours of my life. It was a coffee date with the chat guy from my last post - following my own advice I'd boldly asked him out for a drink, and fortunately he'd agreed.

As I walked down the street to the cafe at which we were meeting, I felt that rising terror that you get on first dates. Would he be weird, or painfully stilted, or a living testament to the power of flattering lighting and camera angles in profile photos? I'd forgotten how strong that nervous fear can be. You'd think it would get easier as you get older, but it's actually worse. Maybe because the opportunities are fewer and further apart, or because it brings back to mind all of the pain of previous rejections.

I actually took a risky route down a dark alley to the cafe rather than walk along the well-lit street, because I dreaded bumping into him and having to spend those awkward first few seconds in the noise and bustle rather than in a nice cafe. I arrived dead on the agreed time, but didn't see him there. When I bought a coffee my hands were visibly shaking as I reached over to pay.

He arrived about two minutes later. We barreled through those awkward first few seconds, then slowly relaxed and got to chatting. He was a little taller and more wiry than he appeared in his picture, and his hair was cut differently, but he was still good looking. His smile, when he gave it, was small but gorgeous.

To my mind the purpose of a first date is to establish whether the other guy is overtly unsuitable. Is he a swishy, lisping queen, for example, which is a bigger turnoff than him actually being a woman? Are there long, horrible silences in the conversation? Does he have a nasty sense of humour, or display signs of having a cruel heart? Does he simply smell bad?

Fortunately my new friend passed on all these counts, and all the other important ones. He's not a big femme, the conversation flowed smoothly, he seems like a nice guy and I didn't notice any lingering scents of unpleasantness.

After a couple of hours we parted, with the awkward last few seconds you get on a first date. Should we shake hands? Should we kiss? Should one of us suggest something else? The tension of not knowing what to do, wanting to be neither offputtingly familiar nor seemingly aloof, is like a thick syrup infusing the air.

We settled on an agreement to go out again next week. We both seemed genuine. Since then we've traded emails reiterating this.

I think that only time will tell how far this relationship goes. I like him, and I'm attracted to him. At the very least I'd be happy to be his friend.

You don't learn anything in the chattering classes‏

I've been in communication with a nice guy who contacted me on gaydar, and while it's been very pleasant trading quips back and forth, it makes me feel old.

I often get this feeling when communicating with guys over the internet. You see, I really don't do "chat". I like a good chat, but only when it's backed up by some sort of relationship. I can chat with my friends, but chat with strangers via websites just seems pointless. This is why I'm not on Facebook, and why I never spend time in chatrooms.

I mean seriously, why would anyone want to spend hours trading subliterate messages with people they don't know and have no intention of ever knowing? What's the point? If it's not leading into something more intimate, in any sense of the word, why do it? Do other people really find endless smalltalk that engaging?

There's something about trading messages with this particular guy that makes me suspect that he's content to just send snippets of news and gossip back and forth, while I'm regarding our conversation as the precursor to something more tangible. I'm conversing in order to establish that he isn't a loser or a bastard, with the intention of eventually seguing into going out for a drink. But I'm aware that a lot of guys (especially the much younger ones) regard chat as an end in itself.

The odd thing is that he's only one year younger than me. Perhaps he's just hip to the vibes of Gen Y in a way that goes over my head.

At some point soon I'm going to have to email him and say, "Look, are we just spinning our wheels here, or are you interesting in actually taking this somewhere?"

I too am thinking about congress.

Gays in the United States tend to vote Democrat, but sometimes there can be inducements to go over to the other team. Such as Adam Kinzinger, Illinois congressional hopeful, currently giving serious wood to every self-respecting Log Cabin Republican.



University graduate, Air Force Special Ops pilot, heroic good samaritan, and smokin' hot hunk. Oh, and he’s single. Be still my beating heart burning groin.

Of course, you may argue that Washington is no place for an inexperienced Illinois politician cynically using his good looks and personal background to win a top level government position that’s probably beyond his abilities. But I think we should leave Obama out of this – this is Adam’s moment.

Adam, I suspect you’re against gay marriage. I say don’t knock it until you’ve tried it… and I’m happy to help in any way I can.

I finally start posting again, and THIS is what you get...‏

The good thing about an anonymous blog like this one is that it allows perfectly honest expression. There's no need to be trying to make a good impression, or spare someone's feelings, or maintain a facade.

Ever since the start of the year I've been in a bad way. Having bloated up on idle feasting over the Christmas holidays, I've put myself on a hard diet. Perhaps it's the low blood sugar levels, but I've been in a sour mood ever since. Always tired. Always hungry. And as a result, always curt, misanthropic and unhappy.

I've also been to three weddings in two months, and had two long-time friends, on whom I'd thought I could rely to be my companions in singledom, suddenly fall into separate serious relationships. All of my remaining single friends are at least ten years younger than me. ALL of my gay friends are partnered. I find myself walking down a once crowded path that has suddenly been cleared of everyone but me.

I did go on my first date in several months a few weeks ago. He wasn't overblessed in the looks department. He was a little swishy. We struggled to find things to talk about: he had no interest in books, and his tastes in movies and music could best be described as "pedestrian". He probably would have been up for a shag if either of us had raised the possibility - in a you know, hey, why not, it's not like I have anything else I need to be doing kind of way - but it would have been a pointless one night stand, and I don't want to be that kind of person. In the end the most intimate we got was simply a little peck goodnight, which only served to remind me how much I miss kissing.

Human beings are comparative. Right now I feel as if all I want is a good fuck buddy. But of course, if I actually had one, I'd be pining for a proper boyfriend. If I had one of those, I'd be wishing I had a partner. And if I had a partner, I'd just want a better partner. Once I settled into each style of relationship, I'd only be moping after the next one up the chain.

Or at least that's what I tell myself. In most areas of my life I tend to be contented with what I have. My job is a little boring but I like it. I have a 12 year old car but it suits me and it's fun. I have a couple of niggling health problems but I'm intensely grateful that I don't have some of the conditions that my friends suffer. Maybe in matters romantic I'd be the same. "Sure, Mr X has a spare tyre, and he talks too much, and he's a bit of a cheapskate, but he's fun in the sack and he has a good heart."

As we close in on the two year anniverary of The Last Time I Had Sex, I have moments of thinking, "Why did I let things fall apart with BN2? He was nice and he wanted to have sex with me. Let me repeat that. He was NICE! He wanted to have SEX! With ME! Why did I think that there might be more to life than that?"

Of course it's possible that I'm fooling myself. Perhaps the reason why we drifted apart was because he was begining to tire of me, and my hesitation about the relationship just hastened the process? But I can't know. I doubt we could have ever fallen in love, but at least we could have had a lot of fun together. I could use a bit of fun in my life.