No longer as truthful as should be deserved, some names, places and events deliberately vague to protect identities that aren't mine

Monday, 1 March 2010

Just a boy, standing in front of a boy....

So the weekend was interesting....

I went to see the bf on Friday evening, overslept so was late, but I got to his eventually.  And he graciously met me at the station to carry my bag so I could hobble just that little bit faster (see previous post).  We didn't really get up to much, I spent most of it fixing his computer.  Though I did take my new toy bought in amsterdam over and we had much fun playing with that and each other (I'll let you boggle over what said toy might be).  I got Ben's Cookies, and a walk back to the station, and he even had the sense to ask how I was in such a way that it demanded a proper answer, which I did wonder if he'd do this week, and sure enough he came through, so well done to him.  He's slowly learning how to deal with my long term depression.

Anyway, 10 minutes from Paddington on the return train, my friend Patrick texts me to see what's up.  He's over from the US for the week and says he's in Baker Street, so its not far to go visit him.  I was planning on seeing him on Sunday anyway to watch the USA/Canada Hockey Final, but it was only 2000, so figured why not.  Off I stumble, fairly slowly, and eventually find his place complete with him standing at the front door all ready.  In his small, but nice flat he's hired for the week, there is him, a mutual friend Nick (AKA his British Boyfriend), a small quiet korean boy hiding in the corner with the duvet, and Terence.  Terence the 6'4", buff, tattooed american jock boy Patrick decided to drag over to Europe with him.  My jaw almost falls to the floor.  I realise I look like shit and have just got in from the pissing rain, with a slight hobble to my gait.  Fuck.

There's drinking, there's socializing, there's scaring the corner gremlin.  And then of course there's the plan to go to GAY late, cause it's cheap, and easy to get to.  Terence and I go charging off down the street at the speed of light, the normal walking pace for both of us, whilst the other 3 trail behind miserably.  About this point Terence and I discover we're as fillthy, bad minded, immature and childish as each other  A night is spend in GAY, dancing to shit music and drinking as much as I can, as quickly as I can (incidentally, I discover at this point I seemingly down my drinks 3x faster than the other 4 people in my company.  Considering I'm not a drinker, this seems odd).  Terence and I also seem to discover we're the only two with any balls, as Nick is always quiet, and Corner Gremlin has become column hugging gremlin, and of course Patrick is doing the doe eyed routine over his british bf.  So Terence and I end up being the only two brave enough to dance on the podiums, and to go all out on it.  3am arrives, and with a nice alcoholic buzz, we all head off to TCR to find a taxi, which fails to materialize and we walk halfway to Baker Street in the soaking wet.  Which of course, then being a flat full of 5 gay guys, means we all procede to take off our sodden jeans as soon as we get through the door.  Despite some obvious flirting between me and Terence, which Patrick commented on, (to which I retorted he knew exactly what would happen the second he invited me over,) the sleeping arrangements meant the corner gremlin was also with us, and we were lying across the bed as it was the easiest way to fit three of us in it as it was quite small.  And further luck eluded me, as I got not so much as a spooning hug from Terence in bed, and I then proceeded to pass out swiftly as I let the alcohol take a hold of me.

I was to find later, the reason Terence didn't hug me, was because he knew if he touched me just once he wouldn't stop.  The boy spent all night lying awake next to me, and then proceeded to spend half the morning on his laptop sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor in attempt to avoid me and I wish to god he wasn't so stupid...

Finally all stumbling out of the Baker Street flat around noon, with Nick headed home, Patrick and Terence off to see some tourist london in the form of tower bridge, and the Gremlin doing whatever gremlins get up to nowadays, I headed home to a roast dinner, with plans for the american boys to come over later to watch the game.

Roast eaten and flatmates suitably shooed away from the living room at the prospect of both sports and american sports fans being present, and some haphazard bus journeys later, 2 hockey fans appeared at my front door, and we proceeded to lambast the players like any good couch referee and generally tell them how shit they were playing and what they should be doing.  (seriosuly though, the game was shit, on both sides, let alone the fact canada won, and even if US did equalize in the last 24 seconds of play).  And then despite my protestations, the americans demanded I accompany them to GAY late yet again, to see off their last night in the UK, and who was I to refuse to alcoholic pleadings of a hot jock?

The music was worse, the drink came faster and harder and Terence proceeded to shop around the floor as best he could (which to be fair, being hot, and also american, and therefore far more forthcoming than any english gay boys, was pretty damned good).  Again, later discovered, this was another ploy to avoid me (anybody would think he didn't like me), in the hope some other boy would come home with him, in which case I would be forced to shack up in Patrick's bed instead.  No such luck for him, even the boy who offered him ass on a plate as we were leaving was a nogo, as he turned out to be Terence's youngest sister's best friend and man of honour at the upcoming wedding, which made it a no go area apparently.  Damn southern catholic families...

HOwever this all worked quite nicely to my favour, as the flirting between me and Terence had stepped up given it was his last night anyway.  I ended up fighting with him across the dancefloor, being pinned against the wall by my throat, and forced down onto the ground by 3 fingers.  As the boy said: "There are 87 points in the human body that can cause orgasm, 84 of them are safe... I just got you in one that can cause death, and you went and bought me a drink.  You can stay!"  Hey I've fully accepted I'm an out and out masochist, and when the perfect jock also knows exactly how to choke you without you passing out you don't say no.  If you're lucky you don't get the chance to....

So of course all this ended up with me and Terence in Terence's bed at the end of 2 drunken nights.  We fought, we scrapped, bit, clawed, scratched and gave as good as we got against each other.  I was slammed into the wall, the mattress, the counter, the shower wall, and I have the marks to show for it.  And he fell for me.  And I'm trying so very very hard not to for him.  Seemingly, emotional fidelity is not something I'm doing great at, just like physical, as this would make it the 3rd that I've gone down this route with, since I started going out with the actual bf, you know, that whole love of my life, only one for me kinda person that is supposed to be the only guy I see in a room.  We cursed each other to hell and back, its so easy to be mean to those you ache for.  He told me why he avoided me for 2 days, he told me why he hated me, and why he loved me, he told me why he couldnt do either.  He said: "You're perfectly flawed; you're 23, you know what you want, you know what you can get, and you know how to get it... you're beautiful, and I love you."

Not that I'm complaining that the perfect american jock has fallen for me, I just hate that I want to fall for him, that I have for another guy, and I almost did for a third.  And that I shouldn't be falling for anyone, because it's the one simple rule I have to follow above everything else, and I can't get it right.  Multiple times.
So here's to you, my perfectly flawed jockboy. I hate you, I'll fight you till the end of days, and I'd chase you the 4500 miles you're now away frrom me, with your own boyfriend, just like I have mine.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?  In love, it's just a case of with who.


And it's typical that this, and another issue have come up just as the whole depression thing and general not enjoying relationshipness was actually getting better.

Mood: In Hate.

Music: (this is a long one, it took me a fair while to write this!)

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