Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Note to self: Smile excessively when flirting
Anyways since the infusion took almost 4 hours I had quite a lot to think about and took several walks around the hospital to kill some time. On one such walk I encountered the most gorgeous looking guy imaginable. Now I was faced with several choices when I saw him, unfortunately my Gaydar didn’t bleep, or provide any evidence of actually working.
1. Do nothing and walk on imagining what life would be like with him as a boyfriend
2. Stare and hope he noticed and made a move on me
3. Ask him politely if he wanted to go for a drink some time which could have resulted in:
a. Him saying ‘YOU WISH’
b. Him saying ‘I ain’t no queer’
c. Him saying ‘I ain’t no queer’ and followed by an episode of ‘queer bashing’
d. Him saying ‘I’ve got a boyfriend. Thanks but no thanks’
e. Him saying ‘Yes I’d love to’
f. Him saying ‘marry me first’
What did I do? Number 1 of course. I really envy people able to ask out random people without knowing whether or not someone has ‘them inclinations’ or has a ‘lavender membership’.
It just made me wonder…. Are there really people out there that just go for it by asking some hot guy there and then if they are gay or not, and whether they’d be interested in going out sometime - just like that? I’d really love to be confident enough to do that coz I’m rarely spontaneous enough to do something like that. Is there a certain art to it? Has anyone mastered it yet? What to do with that bashful flushed feeling? How to deal with the thought of impending rejection? How to deal with the nerves? And finally how to pluck up the courage to ask?
Oh well I guess I’ll never know.
* a drip for medical purposes directly into the blood stream.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
1. Avoid getting Married or Engaged to a member of the opposite sex
2. Get Reiki (recommended by Redboy) or even better Acupuncture
3. Get Laser Treatment to correct my bespeckled face to normalcy
4. Get a Tattoo (larger than a dot the size of a full-stop)
5. Continually attend the Dance Lessons I have enrolled on (excluding the one-off lesson I have taken)
6. Be Healthy & eat 5 Fruit/Veg each Day (fruit flavoured ice lollies do not count as a portion)
7. Learn Sign Language (I can sign a few words and my name!)
8. Move from speaking Pigeon-Spanish to proper Spanish
9. Write a letter to someone to be opened when I'm dead (is this a touch morbid?)
10. See a Psychic/Medium to get a reading into my future (my friend Julie did this)
11. Learn to spell 'psychic' without using a spellchecker or dictionary
12. Gain some weight (look less Smurf more buff) - I'd say visit a gym but I know this will never happen
13. Pay more than the installments for my Student Loan (so I can pay if off before retirement)
14. Go watch Lion King at Theatre
15. Avoid getting involved with a complete loser
16. Write a poem
17. Tell new people I meet I'm gay
18. Attend a gay pride event
19. Find an appropriate job in the world of Audit/Forensic Accountancy - by leaving the comforts of my current job
20. Pass all my ACCA (accountancy) exams
21. Keep in touch with the friends I promised I'd keep in touch with
22. Go cruising (on a boat not in Hamstead Heath)
23. Go see Equus and see harry Potter's willy
24. Take at least 3 short oversea holidays this year
25. Get a professional photoshoot photo done
That's all I can think of right now... I'll add as necessary... I'm not gonna be cliche and say get a boyfriend/laid - it goes without saying.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Maybe I'm just quite young but I hope you know who Mario Lopez is.
He was AC Slater from Saved By The Bell, the fit one. Well here he is appearing on Nip/Tuck in the nuddy. Drool over his defined butt cheeks. Very nice...
It would also appear that everyone, including Gordon Brown, both the British & Indian Government, all tabloids and over 10 million people worldwide has had their say on Big Brother - except me... can't have that can we?
Well first and foremost... congratulations to Shilpa Shetty on winning (It would appear my vote paid off - 63% voted for her in comparison to Jermaine Jackson)
As an Indian (as an supposed person insulted or up-in-arms over Jade's racist comments) I just want to get something off my chest... I do not think that Jade's comments towards Shilpa were racist. I just think Jade is a loud mouth, someone who is rude, someone who doesn't think before she speaks primarily because has a brain about the size of a pea, but I DO NOT THINK JADE IS A RACIST. Danielle and Jo maybe to a certain degree have certain racial prejudices but Jade's mother (whatever her fucking name is) was a hardcore racist.
There I've had my say.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
So good in fact that yesterday when travelling from Elephant & Castle to Harrow & Wealdstone, the blond middle aged blue-eyed nicely dressed woman (wearing the black skirt with pink blouse and gorgeous shoes) who got on at Waterloo decided instead of sitting away from me in the empty carriage, that she would sit right next to me. To be honest I'm kinda use to people choosing to sit next to me... I normally look and smell quite nice (courtesy of River Island and Jean Paul Gaultier's Le Male respectively) but choosing to set next to someone when there are two people in the 'entire' carriage is a bit too much for even gentle smiley me. Talk about a major invasion of personal space. I was surprised she didn't grop me. She did however comment that she thought I had gorgeous eyelashes (which if I'm honest is always the first compliment I get from women - I have these long thick black lashes that make the ladies go weak at the knees) - I gently informed her that I thought her shoes were ever so chic, and telling her that she should consider wearing a smaller sized skirt as it would highlight her curves better, subtly hinting if she was interested I was gay, using an exaggerated campness to my voice, body language and the 'palms'... she smiled and kissed me on the cheek and asked if she could take me home., all the while twirling her finger in my newly highlighted hair... I replied that my vixen-like imaginary boyfriend would not take it well. She laughed hard at that. She replied her imaginary boyfriend would. It was my turn to laugh hard. To say we chatted shit from that point would be an understatement. But I was almost heartbroken when she got off at Baker Street. The hard looking spotty faced bloke across the carriage looking puzzled as why I let her get off.
At work, today I had six people (all strangers) comment that my hair looked nice - four of whom attempted to pry out of me who had done it for me. I told them I did it myself and I now have 4 customers should I decide to become a professional (or rather an unprofessional) hairdresser.
Nice things like that go a long way to boost your confidence and I must admit I'm on a bit of a high today as a result.
On the annoying side I've run out of contacts AGAIN and will need to stop by my Optician and shamelessly flirt in order to get some more. At some point I really do need to get my finger out of my arse and buy a couple of months supply.
Even more annoying was the fact that I spoke to my mate Jay who having recently returned from Australia was making me green with envy when he decided to tell me in great detail what he got up to down under and how much he had enjoyed himself. I of course now have a male doll under my bed with dozens of needles sticking in it. It may not have been actual Voodoo but it sure as hell did feel good.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Messing around aside - that is almost how fast I feel my life is shooting past me. Thankfully that is not true.
With my niece rapidly approaching her 3rd birthday, my dad approaching his sixty-fifth, and me approaching my twenty-fifth (I can't believe my dad was forty when I was born - I think I've only just realised this! Talk about a distraction - I've lost my chain of thoughts now) - honestly I can't actually remember what I wanted to end that sentence with! So I'm just gonna move on.... forty? [I shudder] OK OK I'm moving on...
My date went well. We chatted for so long I was surprised when the waiter approached our table with the bill (I hadn't asked for it yet) - he very politely informed me that they were about to close but he added 'we could stay as long as we wanted'. I paid and left - obviously taking the hint. I checked my watch (on my mobile phone obviously) it was 12pm. Whoa. I've been on so many dates with both girls and guys were time seems to stop, here was one of those rare times were time just flew by. I drop her home and found I didn't want to, I got home and we conversed via text until about 3am.
The real problem however is that I feel no animal attraction to this girl. I have no real guttural desire to rip her clothes and have my way with her - mentally we connect and I really do enjoy her company. I think James (Redboy) is right I may be confusing sexual desire and companionship, but was I naive to think they'd go hand in hand?
I'm pleased to have finally made my mind up that I'll not be retreating from HOMO to a BI status, rather I'm moving from HOMO to a SCREWED status - typical of me to find a match for my straight version - maybe in an alternate reality where I'm straight he has found a gay match!
NB: Doing a spell check before publishing this post - I was shocked to discover that the spellchecker found the word 'blog' incorrect and suggested I change it to 'bloc' - how weird?
Monday, January 22, 2007
As complicated as one's sexuality is, there is normally a refined simplicity too. When I was about 10, regardless of my sexual preferences I was straight (I knew no better), then as I moved into my teens, things were no longer black or white and I considered myself bisexual (god forbid I were gay at that stage - I stunk heavily of denial), and finally as I moved into my mid-late teens I moved firmly in my mind from bi to gay. I liked boys... I liked girls... Just in different ways. I fancied and lusted after boys and hung around with girls. Simple you'd think... I was gay, well obviously not.
I'm now... I'll very carefully say this... in my mid-twenties... and I feel the angst of those years of turmoil back at school. Truth is I haven't considered myself straight or bi for almost ten years now, so over the last few days as I mentioned earlier I'm having a kind of quarter-life crisis.
I've met a girl (she forunately has not been introduced as a prospective bride - rather just someone life has thrown my way). Now that in itself is not what has my insides twisting, I meet hundreds of girls on a day to day basis, but the fact that I really relish spending time with her, and most worrying is I look forward to spending time with her. She has me in stitches and I've really connected with her. We have so much in common and she is for lack of better words 'kinda the person I've been looking for' - problem is - she doesn't have a penis. What to do?
There is no way I can quash/closet the gay aspect to my thoughts, personality and desires, yet just because she doesn't have a penis do I walk away. Do I tell her... I'm probably comfortable enough to actually tell her, but will I regret it? Am I considering moving from gay back to bi? I'm so very confused.
I recall High School and the refusal to date girls (and how many times I was asked to justify my single status - esp with a different girl on each arm most weeks) - back then I felt it wasn't fair on a 'girlfriend' to be in such a strange relationship, especially considering I was not ready to wear my sexuality on my sleeve so was straight on the outside and majorly gay on the inside. I've been in a handful of relationships with guys but I'm hardly really to give up and turn straight. So what to do?
We've arranged a date on Wednesday evening, I hoping to talk to her, maybe get some of these issues out in the open. If she is willing to accept a bi status, am I? How do I proceed? Arrggghh. Confusion confusion confusion.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
My holiday was fantastic, in the sense I was bored shitless but that in itself was the best part. Its been a long time since I last sat back and did nothing.
I found myself in the middle of nowhere for a week, seriously. I flew to Murcia San Javier Airport (south of Alicante) and traveled north to Villamartin which is a rural area being transformed into a suburban community of rich fuckers. Seriously everyone in the vicinity was retired British Ex-Patriots who could afford to own a house in the UK and a Villa in Spain. I think I was the only person under the age of 50 in a 25 miles radius.
People out there are really friendly but I couldn't shake the feeling of people thinking 'look a brown person' everytime I crossed someone's path. I always make an effort when I go aboard to get a phrasebook and use a jumble of words in the hope I can string together a coherent sentence. I spent a good few minutes trying to speak to someone in Spanish to later discover the person actually spoke English when the person behind asked him the price of something in English. And there I was blubbering 'Quanto es?' and him replying in Spanish - 'Catorce Euros'.
I realised fairly quickly that any hope I had of getting into some Spanish guy's pants would be slim to none. I think in total I saw maybe 5 people I though were hot and all were tourists from UK. I think I'm getting to a point were my virginity is growing back. Give it a few more months and I can probably honestly state I'm a virgin again. Although I did make up for the lack of anything sexual during the week, on the flight back to London. I was flirting outrageously with the flight attendant and insinuated oral sex. God only knows why, I didn't even think he was all that. But here is how the conversation went.
Arman: Would you like any drinks or snacks?
Me (leaning in and whispering in his ear): I wouldn't mind a taste of your sausage, but not the kind you'll have in the trolley.
Arman: (clearing his throat and turning a bright shade of red) Excuse me?
Me: (looking around to see if anyone was paying me any attention - nobody was) You know what I mean, don't you? I'm up for it if you are. Although you'll need to arrange for a private place. (I may have completely inappropriately 'touched him up' at that point)
At this point the look of shock on his face made me think he might have been straight, and I truly wished a hole would appear to jump into. A few seconds past and I wasn't sure what the hell he was gonna do or say. Those few seconds lasted an eternity.
Arman: I'll see what I can do. (a tiny grin appeared on his face)
As he walked off - I checked out his arse - it was quite nice and pert. I could have done better but I didn't now why but I wanted him there and then. Its not usually like to to do something as spontaneous as that.
A little while later he approached me looking a bit sheepish. And sat down next to me... 'There isn't anywhere we can...' he said letting the sentence drop as the old fogie in the seat across looked our way.
The loo I suggested. He explained it would be obvious. Ryanair's Airbus' are quite small and the toilets are in plain view, no obstructions. At that point I didn't care. 'An empty seat?' I suggested. Thankfully we found something, fairly isolated, if someone needed the loo and decided to walk past they'd have been in for a shock, especially when he had my penis in his mouth. I would have given him head first but he seemed more hungry for my cock than I was for his. I must admit he gave pretty good head, he whispered that he loved the fact that I was both big and cut. I told him I wasn't that big, I felt it prudent to leave out that rather he was just small. I was about to return the favour when I looked up and saw his fellow air hostess approaching and we decided to call it a day, but obviously not quick enough as when she got to our seats we were both still in the process of belting/zipping up and she quickly excused herself fully understanding what has just occured. Oh well.
So thus my holiday ended quite nicely.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Having figured out exactly what clothes I'd like to take to Spain with me, I wasn't surprised when the scale read 27kg. That's not the worst of it, I haven't included my grooming products, towel, Nintendo DS charger, mobile phone charger, camcorder charger, digital camera charger, or any boxers/socks. Which if I'm being serious is definately no less than 8kg.
Oh well it's only 5.5 Euros per extra kg and I do have more Euros than I'm acutally gonna use. Maybe I should just pay a bit extra and look dapper all 7 days. Besdies I can't imagine wearing the same things twice within a week esp if there are any dashingly hot men nearby.
I'm all geared up and ready for Spain, excluding most obviously being actually ready. I should be packing right now, as the flight is some early Tuesday morning, flying from Stansted and I have a thousand other things to do today (why the fuck is it called London Stansted? - it's nowhere near London) - It makes me laugh that Luton Airport is closer to my house than London Stansted.
In typical Indian style - my Aunt has found the cheapest flights in existance to Murcia (5 Miles South of Alicante) and I'm fuming that I can only take 15kg in my baggage. How is a BIG FAT (metaphorically speaking of course) Queen like me expected to take 15kg on holiday - my grooming products weights 10kg alone I'm sure.
Oh I better run along now.
Oh I miss London already and I haven't even left yet. What a sap!
Friday, January 05, 2007
You know how Spiderman has his spider-sense to save his ass when he is in mortal danger, well sometimes it would be nice to have something like that. Today at lunch, I was invited around to my mums. Now I must admit my mum is quite nice, and fairly naive, so this is very much something she would do, just call and offer to feed you. If I'm being honest with myself she has been feeding me since mid-December, during which I may have only eaten at home on maybe 3 occasions, or maybe just 2. Could be once. Not sure now.
Now something, which I can only describe as A-Very-Unspidery-Gay-Tingle, told me something wasn't right, for one whilst talking to her, she sounded very fairy-like, and I could hear my father in the background (Gosh I didn't think he's been home during the day since the 1980s). I cold hear him ask her how long I'd be.
Of course me being ill and all, I haven't bothered shaving since New Year's Eve, so to say I've got a beard now is no understatement (in fact I should have a shave now before work tomorrow), and sensing something might be up I decided to really dress down, almost chav-like. I dug out my old tracksuit bottoms, my old sneakers and a FCUK T-Shirt that my mum's old washing machine burnt holes in and put them on. A T-Shirt I use to wear in the late 90s, so it hangs off me. Quite a picture I hope I'm painting (very un-professional-young-Indian look), I even dung out a fake earring from my Aunt's stuff and put it as a ring between my nose bridge (man did that hurt)
If I was gonna be in for a shock (I had sensed a potential introduction) so were they.
My quess wasn't spot on. There was no girl. But there sitting like a lamb to the slaughter was a potential girl's mother.
Let's just say she won't be offering her daughter hand in marriage to me. The look of pure outrage and shock will see to that. My Dad didn't half looked pleased either (I did however). My mother surpressed a giggle (I think I get my sense of humour from her) and all went well. The story of me explaining in great detail how I spent New Year's Day with my face in a toilet went down very well.
Suffice to say I won't be invited to any surprise lunch dates without a formal request of such again.
I did kindly and politely inform them (both parents) that I hate surprises and such surprises are likely to be as disasterous as the one today.
Point made I think. Yippee me.
But that aside I'm quite happy.
1. I've finally recovered from the New Year celebrations. All I recall of New Years Day was throwing up to the early hours of Tuesday morning. But my stomach seems to have settled into a state of normalcy. I keep telling myself I'd not drink myself sick, but the occasion appeared to warrant it.
2. I've finally managed to find an affordable car insurance quote - although this time I may have lied slightly. Oh well it saved me £300 quid.
3. I've booked a holiday for a week. Spain here I come... I jet off Tuesday.
4. I was searching for my passport and I found 238 Euros that I didn't know I had from a holiday 2 years ago.
5. I've accumulated £300 cash/cheque from Christmas presents of which I'll convert some into 200 Euros, at work for a preferential rate of 1.4357 (more money to spend). I'm thinking about 450 Euros will be fine for me for a week (I have a silly habit of always taking more money than I'm ever going to spend on holiday with me - why should this be any different - plus most of my purchases will end up on my credit card anyway)
Now with the pain of my bitten tongue fading my good mood seems to be increasing.
I've also got me some books I've been meaning to buy/read for ages but exams and their prep made them a secondary thing. I love reading biographies especially one's of abuse etc where nice things happen at the end - one of my favourite authors is a Educational Psychologist & Spec-Ed Teacher by the name of Torey Hayden. Her books are scary when they chronicle how much abuse young children go through and it often leaves me in tears (which is why I have, still do and will always support NSPCC).
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
'Hey I thought it was you. How are you?' he asked me hugging me.
'I'm fine. And you?' I responded slightly rigidly... Now when a stranger knows your name and hugs you in a public place, there is a very high chance he is not a stranger. I carefully, in as much detail as I could manage (without staring) scanned his face. It was unmistakeable, but this guy looked very much like someone I knew in Secondary School, albiet about three times larger than he was last time I saw him. But it definately was him.
'Lee? Oh my God... What the fuck happened to you?' I said pointing to his belly - I'm sorry to say but this was my reaction when I realised. I tried to recover but the damage was done.
'Let's just say it's all beer' he replied smiling. That smile, that smile had made me weak in the knees back at school. Everyone had at least 1 guy back from high school that looked like a Greek God, and that you fancied the pants off them. Well here standing in front of me was mine, although there was none of that animal desire to rip his clothes off. Well truthfully there was nothing more than shock.
I spent a few minutes catching up with him, he lives with his dad in Kensal Rise now (was not effected by the tornado) and helps run his father's shop also in Kensal Rise.
It's been over 24 hours and I've still not recovered from the shock of seeing him so. Deep down I just don't think I would ever have pictured him so, and my brain seems unable to process the idea that that really was him, or that I have stomach that resembles more of a six-pack than his.
So shocked was I, that it did not occur to me to ask for his number or give him mine.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Friday saw pregnant workmate's wedding - which was beautiful considering it was all arranged at such short notice. Set at St Mellon's in Castleton it was really a beautiful setting. Credit to groom's parents *(mostly the mother) for taking on such a huge amount of responsibility.
I'm been pondering a question since - at what point does a workmate become a friend, and what point does a friend become so close that you start considering them akin to family. Pregnant workmate no longer seems appropriate. I've become quite close to her over the years - the first time I met her, words exchanged were dagger-like so we've definitely come a long way.
I deeply sympathise with her current plight... what I have not mentioned yet it that pregnant workmate is Indian and the father is White. Pregnant workmate has been married before to a tosser (Indian guy) who was a real arsehole, to she divorced him, much to the horror of her family. Then obviously she mets Andrew going back 3 years, who is a real nice guy, and they hit it off. They move in together and all is well. Her family of course is oblivious to this (they are told she is living with someone she works with - which he does in a very loose way) so when about 8 months ago she told them that she was in fact seeing him - well suffice to say 'shit hit the fan'. So when she announched that they were getting married - they (her family) refused to accept it (which is understandable to a certain degree - as far as they were concerned she'd only been seeing him less than 6 months). So her fmaily was not present at her wedding in Cardiff - where Andrew's family is based. Her younger brother was present as well as a handful of cousins.
It obviously involved some hard decisions. Choosing between Andrew and her family being the hardest of them all. Her brother gave a heart-rendering speech that had me in tears. I feel closer to her than before knowing all this and have started to consider her akin to my sister - a sister I never had. When least than a year ago she was nothing more than a workmate.