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

Monday, 28 September 2015

I did it again.

"You have to take him with you."
"I can't."
"I know."

He's right though.

Sunday, 20 September 2015


I'm only one call away
I'll be there to save the day
Superman got nothing on me
I'm only one call away

My sense of self-worth took a lot of hits this week.
I don't feel I'm doing very well at work.
I don't feel I'm doing very well as a friend (am forcibly reminding myself constantly that things I consider trivial and insignificant have been called wow aspects of my friendship by 2 people in the last week)
I'm worrying a lot about the future, which is very unlike me.  Short, mid and long term futures; all of them.
I am understandably preoccupied with thoughts of this time last year, which was a pretty damned big blow to how I valued myself.

One of the things I try to do as a friend is be the emergency option at the end of the phone.  For the person who locked themselves out, for the person who broke up with their boyfriend, for the person whose world is falling apart and they can't work out why.  I have a car.  I'm up late.  You can call me and I will respond.  Living in a place with no phone signal for the last 11 months has been a big struggle with this - I've missed a lot of important calls from people and not been able to be there for them.

I'm trying hard to remember, that whatever low self-worth I currently feel, for a lot of people, I am only one call away.

Monday, 14 September 2015


I remember the day you told me you were leaving
I remember the make-up running down your face
And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them
Like every single wish we ever made

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia
And forget about the stupid little things
Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you
And the memories I never can escape
'Cause I'm not fine at all

It's going to be a tough week...

Sunday, 13 September 2015

Stamps and Cheese

#Superaggressivefb is rather obviously one of the best things to happen in my life in the last year, and one of the best people I ever could have come across.  He takes a lot of interest in me, the things that matter to me, the things that drive and motivate me, and the things that bring me down.

Months ago, he asked me about hockey.  In that way that everyone inevitably does when they first start wondering why the hell all this stuff about ice hockey is constantly in my twitter and Facebook feeds.  And then he did something unexpected.  He said he'd like to go to a game with me.  He said it very earnestly, it wasn't just a throwaway "if it makes you happy i'll join in" comment, he'd realised, very quickly, that hockey is supremely important to me and he wanted to find out why, to get involved and see what this thing was that I get so passionate about.

For the last year, hockey was pretty much my anchor, it was the thing that gave me a sense of self when I was certain of little else about the world.  I stayed up late watching hockey several nights a week and sometimes it was the sound of hockey on the radio that got me to sleep without terrifying dreams.  Hockey season ending shortly after I ended up in hospital feeling suicidal for the 3rd time in 7 months filled me with dread.  And it's probably not an accident my friendship with #superaggressivefb picked up around that time and filled in the gaps.

Hockey is something I'm proud of, that I obsess over, that I'm passionate about and that drives me

Today, #superaggressivefb is taking me to a hockey game.  It's the first time a boy has ever taken me to a hockey game.  It's only the 4th game I'll have seen live.  It's my first ever non-NHL game.  He bought the tickets.  He's determined to take me, not just go with me.  My friends are pretty good, and indulge me plenty on my hockey fandom.  But it's something that confuses them and means nothing to them in the long run, I accept that.  Chris got dragged to an NHL premier game years ago by me.  And he used to sit and watch the more exciting games with me online when we lived together.  I love him for doing that.  I was supposed to go see a game back in March with Terence for my birthday (tickets for Rangers games have to be booked a year in advance).  I went with my friend Patrick instead for obvious reasons.  No-one's ever turned around to me before and said "can I go to a game with you?"  With the exception of twitter, I've never really had someone I can sit there and talk to about hockey.  It's an accepted price I pay for loving a sport that just isn't popular and covered in this country.

I don't know much about British hockey - it's a pretty minor sport in the UK and unless you live next to a rink or are somehow involved in the sport yourself, you probably wouldn't follow it.  The premier Ice Hockey league in the UK pretty much doesn't exist south of Coventry.  But I'm excited.  Really really excited.  I'm doing a pretty good job of looking calm, but on the inside I can barely focus.  You're probably all going to hate me when my incessant hockey tweeting switches from at nice ignorable late night times to UK evening times.

Hockey is happening.  Hockey is life.  Someone else noticed what it means to me, and is taking me to a game.  He's excited too.  Not just for me, it's new to him and he's genuinely open to it.

I get to go to a hockey game.

Wednesday, 9 September 2015

I am ready I am ready for the floor

I've been left absolutely floored and stunned by something someone said to me earlier this evening.

It's 3 hours later and I'm still trying to process the concept of it.

My absolute dreamfantasy, Kaleb Scott tweeted me saying "You're so fucking hot."

I should probably explain who Kaleb Scott is for those who don't know.

I've been wanking about Kaleb Scott for as long as I can remember, I don't know when I stumbled across him, but I was definitely still a teenager.  He was this gorgeous, stunning, horny porn star in a bunch of piss videos.  He was the first young guy I'd come across in porn that was properly kinky and sleazy.  Not just twink-in-a-leather-harness 'sleaze'.  I've never considered age a factor.  I'm happy playing with older guys.  Age isn't even a thought process I have when it comes to whether I'm attracted to a guy or not.  But here was this young guy.  He was filthy.  He was experienced.  He loved it.  He was proud of it.  He felt normal.

I couldn't tell if I wanted to be him, to play with him, to date him, to thank him.  I still can't.

I remember having printed out pictures of him I would jack off to when I was still confused and working out my sexuality.  I remember scouring the internet for every single bit of porn he ever did.  He's still absolutely drop dead gorgeously stunning.  We got talking on twitter a while ago and I tried to meet up with him last time I was in San Francisco and he was quite up for it but in that way that life happens, things got in the way and it never came to pass

That is the guy that told me he thinks I'm hot today.

I still don't think I've managed to quite pick my jaw up.  He later reiterated his statement to #superaggressivefb in a conversation they've been having  Wow moment doesn't begin to express it.  This post doesn't.  It's not just a case of being starstruck.  It's the fact he was so formative for me.  Such a moulding factor on my idea of kink and that it was okay and that I could want to be a slutty boy and have fun and it would all still be okay and others would find that hot too.  It's not every day your teenage idol turns around and calls you fucking hot.

Completely floored.

Monday, 7 September 2015

Turn it off

I have a growing problem.

I'm unable to voice my frustrations at #superaggressivefb.

We spend an increasing amount of time together, which is good and nice.  But this means all the minor things grate more and there's less time for the irritation to fade in-between.  Sometimes its silly actions he takes.  Sometimes it's aspects of his personality that I find difficult.

Early on when we started seeing how far we could push each other, I started putting my irritations at him in a box in my mind, to be used at a later date when I was beating on him and could channel my rage into the desire to hurt him.  That worked great.  But the outlet for my rage is much less than the inflow.  The box has got increasingly bigger.  I haven't let loose at #superaggressivefb in a good while, we're both a little scared of the look in my face when we test that line and this is probably the underlying reason why.  The unresolved frustration is evident - I'm inpatient with him in the morning, I become irritable easily, my anger ramps from zero to full even quicker than previously.  It's not what I want to be like around him.  It makes too much of the time I spend with him unpleasant, and he's one of the best things to happen in my life, and certainly the life-saving grace of the last 12 months.  Of course there will be bad moments, but in my current state they happen too often for too little reason.

The problem is, most of the time when I'm angry at him, we're around groups of friends, or at the very least his husband and one of my best friends.  So you can't really yell at someone and be angry at them and vent in that situation.  So it goes into the box for dealing with later.  We actually used to spend more time alone when we were first getting to know each other.  Now its very rare for us not to be around his husband and my friend.  Which is a good thing because we've all become a group of friends with each other.  But again, less opportunity to vent, less opportunity to let my rage go.

#superaggressivefb has had a tough week.  He asked for a nice weekend.  He asked me to smile.  I tried to.  But I hit issues.

When I get mad or upset, I don't react well to things.  I know this.  I know I'm very likely to respond in the worst way possible to someone who doesn't deserve it about something that isn't connected.  So I remove myself from the situation.  I go away and calm down and when I can think about it properly I work out what actually bothered me and then go back to them and duke it out.  I still yell, I still sound pissed off, but the red haze doesn't cloud my vision, I'm not lashing out physically or emotionally, and I'm not just reacting defensively.

A few weeks ago this caused a big problem.  Walking away and shutting someone out is the worst reaction to have to #superaggressivefb.  So after the dust settled from 2 bad reactions, he asked me not to do it in future.  I'm trying, but I'm failing.  On Saturday I got angry and I left.  That's not to say I'm not making progress.  I came back.  I came back quicker than I otherwise would have.  I come back when the red haze is gone, but I haven't done my thinking, when some of the rage is still there, I can just stop it from lashing out inappropriately.  Its progress, but its not what was asked of me or what he needs.  I told him this weekend (making the realization myself as I said it), that I hold myself to MY standards around him, not his.  That's actually very rare for me.  My standards are unfairly high on me, and currently only one other person gets that privilege.  So to my mind, I failed in my reaction.

Failing once, I then did try to talk to him.  And came very close to shutting him down again.  The anger and hurt in his face, and the fear and regret it instilled in me would stop me from doing it a third time you'd think....

Sunday my head did something stupid.  It decided it wanted something.  It demanded and expected it.  And when it didn't get it, it ignored and forgot about all the good things that had happened this weekend, and sulked.  And because others were around, I couldn't tell #superaggressivefb what was going on.  I got stuck with endless thoughts in my head.  Thoughts that kept me up even when he had me pinned within his arms in bed to stop the rage from spilling out and assure me I was safe and he cares for me.  So I got up out of bed and walked away.  I didn't run like I wanted to.  I went to the other room and started blogging.  He eventually came and found me.  I sheepishly asked if I could come back to bed, ashamed at failing him for a third time.  Frustrated at him, myself, the situation, but especially that I couldn't just lie there in bed with him even if it meant I was angry.  My way of not running.

I'm struggling to find a way to deal with the bad parts of my rage that doesn't involve walking away, to tell #superaggressivefb when I'm upset and why, .  They're my problems to sort out, they're big ones, ones I'm failing at repeatedly.  Ones that are are causing big problems, as they end in resentment and bitterness.  If I don't learn how to do these things I'll fuck up a really good friendship,

He needed a nice weekend from me, he specifically asked for it, he asked me to smile.  I think he got that.  I struggled to give it to him, and at points I certainly failed, probably because I wanted to try so much.  But he fell asleep happy Sunday night, his husband on one side and me on the other.  He struggled when I tried to tell him things on Saturday night, because his week had been tough enough.  I didn't tell him any of the stuff above because that definitely would have been too heavy.  He stopped me from telling him something big, that I rarely admit, that I can't even remember now I suppress it so much.  I wanted to tell him at one point, but he (fairly) wasn't able to deal with that at the time.  I'm trying to make the change from the boy who desperately needed support from him for months, to one who can support him back.  He reads my blog.  He'll read this.  I hope he reads it when he has memories of a nice weekend in his head.

Post script:

Some of the good things this weekend:
- The understanding and forgiving smile on his face when he came in the bedroom Sunday night.  It's exactly why I want to find a way I can fix my problems and not fuck up a good friendship.  Even confused and angry, I appreciated his action so much.  Apparently this equally showed in the smile on my face when he walked in.  He pisses me off, he's a best friend of course he does.  But even with one or both of us reacting badly, there's a connection that works.
- The three way sleepy hug with me, #superaggressivefb and his husband in bed on Sunday afternoon.  It a wonderful demonstration of trust, acceptance, and privilege to be invited to join a couple like that.
- Faith.  Inviting someone to see such a personal aspect of you is something that again, offers great privilege.  I count it as a significant moment in the development of our friendship.
- When I couldn't sleep, or get comfy, and was fidgeting non stop at 5am disturbing everyone, #superaggressivefb rolling over, ordering me to cuddle up and letting me be the big spoon (I'd mentioned how much I like this to him earlier that day).  Asleep 20 minutes later.

I have concerns.  Increasing concerns about many things.  Ones that #blondie probably thought of months ago in his perceptiveness.  But there are continued good things.  Things worth fighting for.  Things worth hurting for and writing blog posts about.  We're both still learning.  Blogging helps.

Saturday, 5 September 2015


I find myself in a situation needing to choose one of 2 options - my instincts or my head.

Every time I've chosen my head over my instincts it's gone catastrophically wrong. My instincts are always right.

But my instincts, whilst suitable for me, will produce the worst possible consequences.  Ones I've expressly been asked to avoid.

I'll follow my head, I'll try to give it a chance.  And I know with certainty I will regret it come tomorrow.