Mr here,
So I decided to go on a date wit the nice Geordie fellow. It turned out he was cycling all the way from Newcastle to London (impressive I know) and stopping off in my town for the night. So we decided to meet up so I could 'show him the sights'. Before we met he called to warn me that, as he was obviously travelling ultra-light on his travels, he would be a bit scruffy. 'Cool' I though, he's not going to be a prick.
We met in a pub, got along great, and...AND I actually fancied him. For the first time in 2 years I was on a date with someone I fancied and could not believe it. And even nice, wa sthe fact that he didn't seem to have a cynical bone in his body. He was so happy and sweet and innocent that when he asked me if I wanted to go up to his hotel room for a drink, it really was just for a drink. And a soft one at that. However when we'd gotten into bed, his innocence showed in other ways...
Ok so basically I just don't get how a man can get to the ripe old age of 30 and still not decided if he fancies fannies or cocks. He claimed to be bisexual, yet had never even kissed a bloke (and refused out-right to kiss me). He claimed to have slept with girls before yet acted completely and totally gob-smacked when, well, I think this choice quote sums it all up: "Eee I cannae believe you're sucking me cock like, tha's champion that is pet". He literally gave a running commentary all the way through. And then after he'd cum and I lay there wallowing in self pity at the thought of adding yet another morbidly fascinating though horrifically eccentric notch to my bedpost, he took the matter into his own hands and talked himself through the motions like a kid tying their shoelaces. I very nearly screamed 'Just fucking toss me off already!' Fortunately I didn't, instead just swatting him away like a pesky fly, leaving him to enthusiastically comment on his sexual awakenings.
Feeling a bit that woman off that programme who deflowered that poor 40 year old virgin, I left the hotel the next morning and crept into my bed hoping nobody would notice I had been gone. It wasn't long before I had a text from the Geordie telling me what a great time he'd had and how I made him feel 'elated'.
Elated.
Since then I have had numerous drunken texts from him telling me he can 'still smell [me]' Clearly I have created a monster and it's such a shame because he had an amaaaaazing body.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Win a Date With Mr Worst Gay
Hi, Mr here,
So, turn up for the books, I have 3 people asking me for dates. And I need your help to decide which one to go on. To cut to the chase the options are between:
1) Some guy I got off with about 3 months ago in Popstarz. He has been bugging me to go down to London to see him ever since. I, for love nor money, cannot remember what he looks like. On the phone he sounds posh and nice. But that's on the phone. My friend F say she was nice in person, but she is genereally unreliable. He is rich and has a good job and a lovely family by the sounds of it.
I did however manage to coax his surname out of him so I do believe that a social networking site stalking mission will commence in order to find further information.
2) A significantly older gentleman (43 no less) who I have been chatting to for well over a year. We have never met but do have an awful lot in common (I, having significantly older siblings, have always favoured the older campanion). He is rich and well travelled and I want to be rich and well travelled. He has already offered to take me to Milan, Amsterdam and Australia. Thing is, I - having already decided that at the age of 43 there could not possibly be any physical attraction there whatsoever - have never even dared glance at a photo of the guy (despite them being readily available). Thing is though I will quite readily sleep with people in exchange for financial/material gain. I do believe this is called prostitution. However when at universiaty and you are in desperate need of a hot meal and a 20 deck of marlboro lights you over look this fact. Even when you and your flatmate are bored on a bank holiday monday and have a sudden urge to watch the Lion King, sleeping with a horrifically overweight and sweaty ex-boyfriend purely in order to acquire said DVD seems acceptable. So in conclusion, he is a definite option. Poor guy.
3) Last and by no means least is a guy I have recently been conversing with via a dating webiste. He lives rather far away (Newcastle) but is actually good looking would you believe. And aren't all Geordie's lovely? Cheryl Cole - check, my best friend up north (C) - check, Jimmy Nail, Check. Anyway he is 'stopping by' in my little town for one night next weekend and really does want to meet up.
Here are my parametres:
I am saving like nothing else to go travelling next year and have already bought my round-the-world ticket. I can afford but one social night a month and this means 2 pints down the local. Ergo I can only afford to go on one of these dates. Posh guy wants me to go to London which, fair enough I would gladly do, but would easily get wrapped up spending time with Miss and the gang. Older guy wants to take me to all sorts of after parties and cool places but, again, it means going to London.
Geordie Racer is coming to my town which means no excessive spending. Plus I actually fancy him. But he is VERY keen. Which is rubbish. Right?
Ideas? Thoughts?
So, turn up for the books, I have 3 people asking me for dates. And I need your help to decide which one to go on. To cut to the chase the options are between:
1) Some guy I got off with about 3 months ago in Popstarz. He has been bugging me to go down to London to see him ever since. I, for love nor money, cannot remember what he looks like. On the phone he sounds posh and nice. But that's on the phone. My friend F say she was nice in person, but she is genereally unreliable. He is rich and has a good job and a lovely family by the sounds of it.
I did however manage to coax his surname out of him so I do believe that a social networking site stalking mission will commence in order to find further information.
2) A significantly older gentleman (43 no less) who I have been chatting to for well over a year. We have never met but do have an awful lot in common (I, having significantly older siblings, have always favoured the older campanion). He is rich and well travelled and I want to be rich and well travelled. He has already offered to take me to Milan, Amsterdam and Australia. Thing is, I - having already decided that at the age of 43 there could not possibly be any physical attraction there whatsoever - have never even dared glance at a photo of the guy (despite them being readily available). Thing is though I will quite readily sleep with people in exchange for financial/material gain. I do believe this is called prostitution. However when at universiaty and you are in desperate need of a hot meal and a 20 deck of marlboro lights you over look this fact. Even when you and your flatmate are bored on a bank holiday monday and have a sudden urge to watch the Lion King, sleeping with a horrifically overweight and sweaty ex-boyfriend purely in order to acquire said DVD seems acceptable. So in conclusion, he is a definite option. Poor guy.
3) Last and by no means least is a guy I have recently been conversing with via a dating webiste. He lives rather far away (Newcastle) but is actually good looking would you believe. And aren't all Geordie's lovely? Cheryl Cole - check, my best friend up north (C) - check, Jimmy Nail, Check. Anyway he is 'stopping by' in my little town for one night next weekend and really does want to meet up.
Here are my parametres:
I am saving like nothing else to go travelling next year and have already bought my round-the-world ticket. I can afford but one social night a month and this means 2 pints down the local. Ergo I can only afford to go on one of these dates. Posh guy wants me to go to London which, fair enough I would gladly do, but would easily get wrapped up spending time with Miss and the gang. Older guy wants to take me to all sorts of after parties and cool places but, again, it means going to London.
Geordie Racer is coming to my town which means no excessive spending. Plus I actually fancy him. But he is VERY keen. Which is rubbish. Right?
Ideas? Thoughts?
Monday, August 4, 2008
It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding
Hi there, Mr here
This time of year means only 1 thing. Actually 2. Gay pride festivals and wedding season. Gay pride perhaps being the antithesis of the celebration of the nuclear family, but because it's hot and sunny and that, they seem to occur around the same time.
This year I didn't have a choice on which to attend as perhaps my nearest and dearest family member was finally tying the knot. After years of listening to her bitch, moan and cry over men I finally got to see her walk up the ailse and commit the rest of her life to the man of her dreams.
However proud this might make me feel I have always had a bit of a problem with attending weddings. I'm not sure if it's a bit of jealousy that I will never really be able to experience it myself, a general uncomfortable feeling I get when faced with such a grand public display of affection (bleurgh) or, most likely, just general boredom at having to stand around so much. Either way I'm just counting down the minutes until I can get my hands on the free booze.
Apart from the general awkward situations of elderly, kept-in-the-dark relatives asking me when I would be getting married I had to face other demeaning situations. The worst occurred during the photo taking bit, when it was demanded that a photo be taken of 'all siblings and their partners'. Of course, I am the only one without a partner. So I had to stand on the end, alone. I even got the sense the photographer would have preferred me not be in it as I was ruining the symmetry of the shot. My sister tried to make some joke about enlisting the services of one of the cute waiters to act as my partner but I think she was missing the point. I hadn't not brought a 'plus 1' to the wedding because I'm gay. It's because I'm just unloveable.
So in order to keep my morale up for the rest of the night I decided there was only one thing to do to see me through. Get drunk, turn on my own unique charm and make a bee-line for the older, fun-loving single females, who always love me.
It helped somewhat that I had pulled off an absolutely awesome (and wonderfully camp) tongue-in-cheek reading previously at the church and had been congratulated on my perfect comic timing since. However come the wrapping up of the ceremonies, and after the bride and groom had had their first dance, the attention of the guests were starting to draw towards their other halves in slow dances and not the bride's pissed little brother. So, in order to regain that attention I performed an absolutely spot-on 'Dirty Dancing Lift', courtesy of a couple of big strong men who paraded me around the dance floor like something out of the 'Material Girl' video. Needless to say it was very well received.
Of course I joke somewhat and realise that it was indeed the bride and groom's special day. However come 6am when literally everyone has gone to bed bar the gay younger brother, the single mum in her 30s, her teenage daughter and her honorary 'auntie', and we all have to crash in the same hotel room in order to save money, making prnak phone calls to reception while all the couples enjoy each other's compnay in their nice double rooms; I couldn't help but think that weddings just don't favour the single.
This time of year means only 1 thing. Actually 2. Gay pride festivals and wedding season. Gay pride perhaps being the antithesis of the celebration of the nuclear family, but because it's hot and sunny and that, they seem to occur around the same time.
This year I didn't have a choice on which to attend as perhaps my nearest and dearest family member was finally tying the knot. After years of listening to her bitch, moan and cry over men I finally got to see her walk up the ailse and commit the rest of her life to the man of her dreams.
However proud this might make me feel I have always had a bit of a problem with attending weddings. I'm not sure if it's a bit of jealousy that I will never really be able to experience it myself, a general uncomfortable feeling I get when faced with such a grand public display of affection (bleurgh) or, most likely, just general boredom at having to stand around so much. Either way I'm just counting down the minutes until I can get my hands on the free booze.
Apart from the general awkward situations of elderly, kept-in-the-dark relatives asking me when I would be getting married I had to face other demeaning situations. The worst occurred during the photo taking bit, when it was demanded that a photo be taken of 'all siblings and their partners'. Of course, I am the only one without a partner. So I had to stand on the end, alone. I even got the sense the photographer would have preferred me not be in it as I was ruining the symmetry of the shot. My sister tried to make some joke about enlisting the services of one of the cute waiters to act as my partner but I think she was missing the point. I hadn't not brought a 'plus 1' to the wedding because I'm gay. It's because I'm just unloveable.
So in order to keep my morale up for the rest of the night I decided there was only one thing to do to see me through. Get drunk, turn on my own unique charm and make a bee-line for the older, fun-loving single females, who always love me.
It helped somewhat that I had pulled off an absolutely awesome (and wonderfully camp) tongue-in-cheek reading previously at the church and had been congratulated on my perfect comic timing since. However come the wrapping up of the ceremonies, and after the bride and groom had had their first dance, the attention of the guests were starting to draw towards their other halves in slow dances and not the bride's pissed little brother. So, in order to regain that attention I performed an absolutely spot-on 'Dirty Dancing Lift', courtesy of a couple of big strong men who paraded me around the dance floor like something out of the 'Material Girl' video. Needless to say it was very well received.
Of course I joke somewhat and realise that it was indeed the bride and groom's special day. However come 6am when literally everyone has gone to bed bar the gay younger brother, the single mum in her 30s, her teenage daughter and her honorary 'auntie', and we all have to crash in the same hotel room in order to save money, making prnak phone calls to reception while all the couples enjoy each other's compnay in their nice double rooms; I couldn't help but think that weddings just don't favour the single.
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