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2017, a (rather late) year review (chapter 2 of 3.)

‘Are you going to kiss me then?’ - Reece

Boy. Dating. Again? Men? Damn. For the past few years (basically since being at uni), there has always been this strange sort of feeling around Valentines day. I remember back in 2015, being almost infuriated walking down one long road and seeing about 8 or 9 couples holding hands, the date of course being in February, so not so long after I’d just finished with my first boyfriend Josh.

Come the next year, that feeling was just pure sadness. 2016, was a bad year for dating, but boy, 2017 was even worse. Or so I thought. In February I didn’t care about having someone, I just wanted to never see another person ever again. Never have I been that close to booking a flight to a spontaneous European destination, and not telling anyone where I was going. 

But, come summertime, the degree was over, and I was more receptive to dating other guys. Really I think I always am, but it just so happened that it coincided conveniently at that point in the year. 

Skip forward to June. I’ve just got back from my holiday with my housemates, they’re gone, and I’ve been chatting to this fairly chatty and attractive guy called Owen, he seems nice, and within a couple of weeks, we agree to go for a date. Seems nice enough, I was actually quite excited. Though I did have my reservations, this guy seems pretty damn good looking, where’s he been for the past year? 

There I was, stood outside of my local pub, when a few moments later, he turns up, sheepish, not a lot to say, and part of me wondering if he has a learning difficulty? Not in a horrible way, but it was just the way that he made that initial contact, something didn’t seem quite right. 

Anyway I dismissed it as shyness, and despite the awkward failed attempt at a hug on my part, and the fact that I was trying to be enthusiastically open, and chatty, (him very much the opposite), we went to get food. 

Food was okay, enough for me to invite him to go for a walk to the park with me. That, I actually quite enjoyed. What we lacked in conversation and the ability to find common interests, we made up for by making out with each other through basically ever twist and turn. It was enough, I thought, after the kissing, to go on another date. Perhaps he’d be more chatty. Yes he seemed disorganised as hell, and clearly lacking in some social skills (who gets to June and still hasn’t got confirmation from his ‘friends’ if they’re all living together?), but I was willing to give it a go. 

So, a week or so later we went for drinks. I, as per usual was running late. Which meant he’d been sat in this local hipstery bar for at least half an hour. He’d had a couple of drinks, but thank the lord he couldn’t seem to care less. He was content enough to see me. 

The date continued, through extremely stifled yawns - when I say extremely I mean, we’re talking one every few minutes (yes the conversation was that dry), and through his musk which said ‘I haven’t washed my clothes in about 2 months’ (yes I smelt it the first time, but assumed the damp weather and the fact he was moving house... you know what, I don’t know, I just gave him the benefit of the doubt. It’s not like he smelt bad, he just smelt stale...) - I was able to just about survive. Except, when the muffled yawns became too much, and I was drunk enough, that I invited him back to my place. 

Looking back I’m not sure why I did it. I would’ve been much happier simply to just go back home and enjoy the bed to myself. Hell, failing that if I needed some company, that’s what grindr is for right? Just get someone over for a cuddle... 

But no, I was stupid enough to do that. So we popped back to his place, to get some things, his friend was there, and far more talkative than Owen himself. Then it was to mine. Clothes came off, and after some touching we fell asleep. Ah bliss, I can have a cuddle and not have to try and make the most strenuous conversation with a lad that smells like damp swimming trunks. The next morning, he’s rushing to my bathroom to throw up. ‘Hmmm I think to myself’ ‘Smells, throws up profusely after a few drinks, can’t hold a conversation, and from what I felt last night, has a small cock’, and on that note, he accepted my offer to walk him home. And with that, my first, and first awful date of the year.

The perfect guy?  

Honestly, I don’t think dating someone can get much worse than that. Maybe if he’d thrown up over me / my bed, and didn’t have a penis at all, was mute maybe? Then sure. But he did pretty well to let it go that astronomically. With that in mind, and the fact I went home for the summer, dates didn’t really happen for a while. London Fetish Week was coming up, I had a wedding to play for, my 21st birthday, and then a family holiday. I was never really in one place for longer than a week. And to be honest, what’s the point in going on dates with boys at home? We’ve done that once, and look how well that one turned out... 

So roll on September meant rolling on some new guys. And that’s where Reece appeared. It was a similar fashion to before. Chatting to a guy I found fairly attractive on grindr. Okay good, I’ve sent more than the only pic that makes me look acceptable and he’s still talking. Oh look he want’s to go on a date. Great, let’s do it, he seems nice, chatty, and I find him attractive. 

Meeting inside the same pub this time, and wow what a difference. This guy was fairly attractive, smiled when I came up to him, and within minutes we were talking and laughing smoothly. It was great! He had a slightly camp voice which detracted from his overall masculine demeanour, at least that’s how he’d appeared on photos, but who cared? I was having a great time with him. Before I knew it, we were off to get food together. 

Again, the conversation flowed nicely, and we were getting on like a house on fire. More drinks continued to flow and we continued to get pissed. Great, we ended up in a drag bar, I was drunker, and apparently, a lot camper, and we were holding hands, much to the amusement of a mocking drag queen. But where do we go from here? I’m really enjoying this date and the company, oh wait no he just said it ‘so when are you going to kiss me?’ ‘Well, right now I guess?’, in my head I was thinking I wasn’t ready, I’d wanted to hold his gaze for a good few seconds before proceeding with that, but then again, maybe my lazy eye had been holding his gaze the entire time and I’d just not known. Either way, we kissed, and to be honest that kiss felt good, really good actually. Really damn good. 

Boy, I want to see him again. But that wasn’t a problem, because little did I know, he hadn’t booked a hostel ( he was commuting to uni), and so I invited him to stay at mine, and like with Owen, this time at my request, we simply cuddled. Great. He left the next day and we’d already arranged our next date. It was only a few days before our next date, and we went for lunch. Nice enough so I thought, and after a brief lunch and a kiss on the lips, he went to uni, and I went home to do fuck all, as one does when they’ve graduated and are unemployed. 

Well, we had a couple of more lunch dates, and they were nice. His company was nice enough, but it wasn’t progressing. It had been four dates by this point, but I felt I knew him less deeply now, than I did after date one. It was time to up the ante, and I did so by asking him out on another evening date. Lunch dates were always rushed, and with him, it felt so adult, that it didn’t feel like we should be having in-depth life discussions during such dates. So we went on an evening date, him booked into a hotel, and me, making sure he wasn’t going to end up back at mine this time. And again, that was going nicely enough. Food, and then some drinks in some gay bars, it was all going well. And with the alcohol, I pushed for more depth. I would have loved to know what drove him, the deepnees inside of him. Has he ever been in love? Has he had a relationship, been heartbroken? What’s his family situation like? And I pushed for those things, and largely I got answers. But with it, I got no depth, he’d not opened up in a way that allowed for any deeper understanding. And in a way, that would have been okay, absolutely fine. Clearly I would’ve had to have worked harder for the answers. But, I didn’t feel there was actually much more depth for him to give. Little more information for him to divulge, while at the same time, I wasn’t feeling telling him my life story either. For the lovely, talkative and chatty guy that he was on the surface, I quickly began to realise that beyond that layer, we actually had very little in common. Even his views on gay sex were what I’d called archaic, I’m more muscly and less camp than he so I must be a ‘top’, and that’s not ‘fluid or every susceptible’ to change, sex happens in a certain way etc etc. Well no it doesn’t, and there we are, I’ve found out more about you, and I just don’t think we work. This coupled with the fact that in-between dates, there has been no in-depth chatting or conversation, texting, or anything of that ilk, then the solution is simple. You’re a lovely guy Reece, but you’re not for me. And with that, we have the dates of 2017.

‘I wish I could give you a hug right now, and tell you just how much I loved you’ - me

If I look at one thing that has shifted dramatically, it’s my relationship with Dan. I don’t think I ever imagined it would get to the place that it would get to, or the place it would be in now. As far as I knew, the bad stuff was mostly over, by January we were fine again, the stuff off the old, September 2016 had been dealt with, and we were able to continue being friends. Or so, as I have often naively thought, was the case. The thing is, with Dan, it has never been simple, and unfortunately I feel that that is often a recurring theme of our relationship.

After all the shit that had happened, between the summer of 2016, and October that year, things were finally in a good place. We were getting on and enjoying spending time with each other. Come December that year, another leaf of openness was turned, as I revealed how much of a sexual deviant I was. Not only was I open with him sexually, asking him opinions and for advice on what I was going to wear to the fetish New Years party, but I felt like we were extremely close for the first time in a long time. It felt like first year again, 2015. None of that buillshit of second year of not speaking, for once, everything in our relationship was actually perfect, almost. There were underlying difficulties though. He’d revealed to me just how much he still thought about and cared for Tom, and this was far before January had even began to fully unfold. But whatever, it wasn’t so much of a big deal I thought, it wasn’t going to affect our friendship. A more mounting concern was over his heart condition, which was pretty scary to me. Not knowing what could be causing a supposed perfectly healthy 21 year old to have a heart rate the pace of a squirrel was concerning, especially when healthcare professionals were weighing up if there could be serious implications.

Either way, come the start of January 2017, we were back in Cardiff, and it was business. We were talking openly about the situation with Tom, for both of us, the prior academic year. It had been mad for me, accusations that I was going around and hurting him, and things just being miserable for me, for Dan, him dating him and connecting with him in ways he’d not experienced with others before.

That was all well and good, but out of that drew a sadness for me. Which we discussed at length. One night at a party, I remember texting Dan to say how emotional the situation was making me, and we told each other how much we cared for each other. With that, after I’d come back from the party, he came over. We did some sexual stuff. Nothing more than we’d done before. To me, it wasn’t some part of a sexual awakening or renewed or invigorated sexual episode leading to more escapades. Purely at that moment, there was a lot of emotion flying around, and us being together at that time felt like the only way it could be expressed. That’s how I see it anyway. Purely a way of expressing those emotions at that one distinct time.

It was probably one of the most emotional, intimate moments I’d ever had with him, anyone. Not only was there kissing, we were literally telling each other how much we loved each other. There was a sexual element too, but this wasn’t the main focus. He’d tell me how much he loved me, and I him, and then we’d embrace and hold each other and kiss each other.

And I knew a moment like that was rare, or more likely, not going to happen / come around ever again / so I tried to enjoy it. However, in the back of my mind, I knew that I had to not let myself fall into the previous traps of first year and the prior months. Looking back, I don’t think that moment made any of those things happen, as in, it didn’t change my feelings towards him or have a newfound perception that there was going to be this new intimacy, not only had I securely reaffirmed in my mind that, despite this one night, this wasn’t to be a frequent thing, that’s not what he wanted, I knew, deep down, that there were upcoming challenges for us.

The landscape was clearly changing. He was still clearly holding strong feelings for Tom, and I think I cared about Dan more dearly at that point than I had in a long time, maybe at any other point.

The Second Year Footnote It’s important to look at the climate of our relationship at that point. Just a few months ago, I’d been wrecked with annoyance. The summer of 2016, saw our friendship crumble. Year 2 had been a bad year for us anyway, and that was largely reconciled at the end of the year during pub golf. Just a few nights before we all went away for the summer, I had an outing with my soon to be housemates and Dan’s friends. While it was a long time ago, I distinctly remember it being awkward, me being in a weird pissy mood with him. By the end of the night though, we were reconciling in Live-Lounge, I was the most drunk I’d been in a long time, and I let him have it. Considering when I’m normally that drunk I remember very little, I’m still surprised that I remember telling him exactly how I felt. How I hate how he’d treated me, and that I’d had feelings for him, but him being a dick throughout second year and us failing to speak, had eventually helped me clear my mind and get over him.

What happened between me saying all of that, to him ending up in my bed is quite a bit more hazy. At the end of the day, little did I know was that I still contained an STI I’d received after Poland. Me believing it had been treated, turned out not to be the case. While giving someone an STI is complicated enough, it’s even more complicated when he has to tell the guy that he has massive feelings for and has just ended things with (largely because of you) that you might have given it to them.

And largely with that, the awkwardness drawn out of that situation, was enough to spell a period where we weren’t really talking again.

Second Year Awkwardness Spills into Third Year

Suddenly third year started off a bit odd. I had Dan, coming into my house all of the time. Playing video games, seeing his other mates, and largely leaving space between us. I remember the first time he came round, the day I happened to move in, in September 2016 to the new place, and his friend Josh had also moved in that day. With my door propped wide open, even though I had a mate in there with me. I just saw him flash past the corner of my eye. Not even a hello, or anything, and he was gone.

‘Oh right okay’ was the first thing that came to my mind. That’s how the atmosphere is gonna be like for this year is it? This kinda thing continued. He’d be often over, not that I’d be aware or informed, see his other mate/s then be gone. Or be round for pres and drinking, and the next thing I knew he’d be out. When he wasn’t here, Josh would often bring him up to their other home mate. He’d mention things, and I’d normally hear about what he was doing just by overhearing. I’m pretty sure it was how I’d heard that he was a growing concerned about his heart.

Things looked largely set to continue, until one evening when he was finally a bit drunk, and came into my room with Josh, who’d come in to ask me something - He kissed me on the head and told me how he’d missed me. But it just didn’t feel right or okay, not with how things were being. So I gave him the cold shoulder. He soon got the message, as he messaged me and we addressed it. After that, things were sorted, and it was no longer awkward. We were finally starting to mend our friendship, so by the time January 2017 came around, not only had we been sharing new and differing aspects of our lives, we were distinctly close compared to prior periods. Great Right?

Back to January 2017

In some sort of strange way, January 2017 seemed like some sort of Romeo &  Juliet, Tristan and Isolde moment. The brief time of perfection where we were closer then we had ever been, was short lived. In relation to our timeline, there was this moment where we’d felt so close, and there was nothing getting in the way of us being very close. There was no difficult situation to deal with, no elephant in the room that needed addressing immediately.

I’ll always see this very short lived moment in our relationship as something quite beautiful. Looking back in more recent months, it’s not something that I ever often think about. Because Dan is still a part of my life today, I see our current relationship as news of the day, and that’s something I’m content with in different ways. While it’s far less intense, it’s also far less fulfilling, but it’s something I fully accept, and am more than comfortable with.

That previous moment certainly wasn’t a continuum. Yes, the heart thing was a growing concern, but Tom, this ‘Tom thing’ was growing to become a far bigger deal. That was consuming everything our relationship was worth, not simply a small aspect to how he or I were feeling, but something far bigger, it threatened to swallow the relationship whole - everything we were or had, whole.

The brief context behind Tom, was that Dan had been on a number of dates with ‘the pastors son’, a part French / Flemish guy from a religious family background, who did the same course as I, in the year below us. Before Dan even knew who he was, I’d met him. We’d been on one date, but had chatted continually before that. It got to crunch time and after one short lived kiss, things got out of hand. He started to tell others that we were dating, and shortly after, that I was abusing him. I became distraught, reported it (nothing happened), and I worked to move on with my life. Meanwhile, Dan and I weren’t really properly talking anyway during second year (he had bigger fish to fry), and by the time I’d reconciled with him months later, he’d been dating this guy.

When I told Dan of the back story between Tom and I, things went a little mad, and Dan broke it off. But there was one thing to break it off with someone. There’s another to still be head over heels for them, and be unable to shake intense feelings of yearning and longing for someone.

Enter End of January 2017.

There were small hints that this Tom thing was becoming a growing concern affecting Dan’s happiness. At a course mates Halloween Party that I brought him along to, a girl that I was friends with recognised Dan and made remarks, Dan became very awkward. But there were other moments like these, that when I questioned him, were less to do with these people judging and making small remarks, but more about how Tom was very much, still the topic of the day.

Once he had fully opened up, it became clear how extensive this was. Reading the messages nightly before bed, thinking about him continually, and comparing seeing every other person he’d meet to being with him. He told me that if a mate went for drinks with him, he would leave wishing it was Tom he could be with.

At the end of the day, I thought I knew where I stood. I was never going to fulfil this role, but I still cared and continue to care for him, and wanted what was best for him. So I encouraged him to, situation permitting, push for more contact with Tom.

He may have ceased contact summer prior because of me, but if he felt about him with this much intensity, still, months later, what was the point in punishing himself, especially if he truly felt that he loved this guy.

Come late January / early feb, we had a house party for my housemate (I believe it was his birthday, and Rob and I invited a load of course people, you know to make it bit more fun and less shit. Well that was all well and good, and plenty of people turned up. But so too did Tom, and well it being a house party for Dan’s close mate at the time, so did Dan.

Their level of contact amounted to a couple of gazes across a kitchen table. Well I say gazes, it was more like one of those awkward glances you give someone you hooked up with while they're shopping with their parents. Those brief moments of eye contact left Dan panicking, resulting in him locking himself away, hidden in my room, where I spent much of my time with him that night. Safety?

But after that night, everything changed. This issue, if you could call it that, of how Dan was feeling towards Tom, was growing, and Dan was becoming more and more soul-stirred by this entire thing.

That was it. Something had to give. But let’s not forget how I was feeling. At this point, the growing issue over Dan’s heart health was giving me more and more cause for concern. The level of stress was going through the roof. On one night out, I walked out balling my eyes out having to talk to a friend on the phone because I was that concerned. Yes I was pissed out of my mind, but I’d had no one to discuss with just how worried I was feeling when I was sober, and it all built up when I was drunk. That fear, the fact there was this glimpse, a glimmer that he might not exist, or be around, made me incredibly sad. In fact, just writing this, brings a small tear to the eye. This is well over a year later, with much of that negated.

His heart was my main concern, we were showing more of an emotional connection for each other, and then him coming in loving Tom was suddenly appearing. It was like something out of a film. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t / couldn’t be happening.

So what was to come next? The only thing that could happen, the thing that I pushed him toward. He got in touch with Tom, and for the next month or so, the rest was absolutely fucking history.

The level of contact slowly increased, at least as far as I was made aware, a couple of messages, grew to the point where they were sending strings of messages and conversing continually, and I found myself slowly ignored. I allowed myself to become a little obsessed. So much so in-fact that I could tell if they were messaging each other based on when they both went on and offline on whatsapp in tandem push-pull-push. I’d stare watching for a few minutes then realise I was going fucking mad, and needed to stop.

Not a few days passed, when I received a message. The message.

‘He says we can meet’

///

‘I just saw him, that was really sad, but it is clear now.’

Things couldn’t have been less clear. They met. And we talked about it, I tried to offer him words of reassurance, but within a day or two it became even clearer. The feelings had intensified once more. He was properly holding feels for Tom now.

‘The way we look at each other and stuff’ ‘It’s not just friends’ ‘I can’t see it changing’

We would then discuss at length the future for him and if that future involved a Tom. The answer was simple apprehension. No one knew. There was no clarity, we were just talking and mulling for the sake of mulling and nourishing in this issue. There was no resolution. But with the sun now shining over Dan’s love for Tom, the clouds were forming above and around me. My feelings were becoming muddied, juxtaposed with the confusion and panic over the continuing heart problems. Let’s run an echo test here, ECG there.

It was heartbreaking but as time went on, I’d only work harder to give Dan the answer I was happy for him to hear no matter how much it was going to crush my soul ‘But did you share the emotional connection with Jon that you share with Tom?’ No, the answer was no. Tom was always stronger.

We then discussed love, what is love, what is the difference between loving someone and being in love? I guess the simple answer, reading back through those messages was that I simply was in love with Dan? Was I? If I wasn’t in love, its the closet thing to being in love that I’ve ever experienced.

‘But I can’t deny how it feels good when I get to hug you or hold you.’ If that’s not me being in love then I don’t know what is.

Everything was becoming too much. He was still talking to him every day. And me being me, had to produce a little soliloquy, like some sort of fucking poet.

‘Do you want to know what I propose?’

‘That we take a break. 5 days to a week. Obviously you might be round or something and I’ll be civil. But I think you need some time to get your head together a bit more. I honestly don’t feel like the current state is helming either of us tbh, and I don’t want you be feeling guilty al the time. Take 5 days to a week. We’ll talk then, and see if it’s allowed you to do some thinking, and see how you feel. Obviously, don’t let that change how you do / act about anything else. Just to give yourself some time to actually properly think about things. I don’t think I’m helping.

After some deliberation, it was agreed.

I barely managed 24 hours. Why? Because I’d seen that Tom had posted he was with him on Snapchat. That was it, everything came crashing down, again. That was it, madness looking back on it.

Breaking point.

Of course, I didn’t mention that in-between these events, when I said breaking point I meant it. I was avoiding making contact with other people. I was starting to turn off my phone or leaving it at home when I went about my day to avoid having to respond to people and see messages come up. But most importantly, I didn’t want to see or be reminded of Dan.

So the next best thing was to go to a counsellor. I went to a drop in session, so close to despair. I blurted it all out ‘I’m in love with someone, that loves somebody else, and they could be dying. They’re probably not dying but there’s talk of this irregular heart rhythm, being related to something not right in the brain and I don’t know what the hell is going on arghh oh my god’. The latter part of that sentence, closer to how my mini ‘describe whats wrong’ speech was actually formed. But words to that effect came out.

‘Okay, we can probably get you some counselling for all of that.’ In the mean time, ‘drink plenty of fluids and get exercise.’ Wait I’m sorry, I went to see someone about my mental health not about me trying to loose my beer gut. okay then…

Life continued, I self medicated. I would ring my best friend from home daily, sometimes two or three times, and just tell him everything. My mental state was so bad that, in the days leading up to my election campaign I was inches from catching a train home to stay back with my parents and confessing everything to them. And when I say everything, I don’t know where the start, and where the end of those confessions would have happened. I didn’t go home. Waking my housemate up at 3 in the morning to go for a 2 hour long walk solved things luckily. What a time to be alive. Back to day to day life:  

More soliloquy’s pursued.

It had all been ‘building up’ to this moment. If that were quite possible. It was the ‘final time’ he was going to see Tom. Talk things through with him, and maybe resolve to never see him again. Somehow I’d managed to work up and conjure thoughts in my head. The craziness had well and truly kicked in again by this point. I was so desperate to see what it was that he loved about him so much. What was it, that he had, that I didn’t. What could he provide that I never could, why did he love him so much.

I walked out the door. I walked around, taking a break at a particular spot to see if I would see them. But nope, nothing. That was pointless, I’d worked myself up for nothing, desperation to see them together, see how they could interact, only sent my mind swirling. Especially with the knowledge that he was going back to his that night.

Back at home, barely tucked in, thumbs were busy at work…

Closing thoughts: I want you to really think this next couple of weeks about how you really feel about Tom. I bet you're spending the night with him tonight.

The pain for me right now generally is unfathomable. It feels like a betrayal to tell me you love me then rush to see him so quickly. But. I can and will get through this. It's going to take a long time though. You have to know this is something you just cannot be here with me for. You know. I find this weird because to most people, they wouldn't even consider doing what you're doing by seeing someone who had caused someone they cared about so much pain. They'd be like fuck that shit and not want to take things further.

Which says to me, that he must be really so very special for the fact that you are having great difficulty in ending things with him and that you would even go as far as you have done in terms of seeing him. I don't think you want to hurt me, and I'd like to think that losing the relationship that we have must be a high enough stake to pay if you're willing to still consider seeing him.

For us, I think honestly think the fact you've gone this far has to spell the end of what we have together. It simply cannot be and cannot work in this way. Spend the next couple of weeks to really think properly about how you feel about him. I don't want you to think about me. Because honestly mate, I think we are past this point. I just don't see how we can ever get past this point. As I've said before we've always been doomed 😂.

I'll always love and care about you. And that's what makes this so tough. But I can't allow you to hurt me anymore. And I know you don't want to. So I'm doing what's best for the both of us, and saying that I think this is it for us man. We have hit the end. This is that brick road. That one thing we can't overcome together. And I really wish it never had to be like this. Words cannot describe how much happiness and joy I wish your life to have. And I hope I've given you a fraction of that and that you've enjoyed my company. I just don't see how we can go back from this I really don't. I'd love to hear what you think. But I know your head isn't clear right now, and I know you probably feel guilty for hurting me.

But I'm putting a stop to all of this hurt, so no one is going to be getting hurt anymore okay.

Talk to me in a couple of weeks properly. I hope you'll have the respect to, for once, actually give me a proper idea through how you've been feeling, what's been going through your head, and how you'll be proceeding things with Tom. I know you'll find that extremely difficult. But I've always been open with how i felt. I feel like you can return this favour as a last hurrah to me at least.

This is all I have to say for now. But I hope the next two weeks is therapeutic for the both of us. I just wish to put a stop to all of this pain and suffering. This cannot continue any longer. I can't take it, it's not healthy and I'm becoming ill because of it.

So as I said. No more pain. No more suffering. I'm just going to try and mend things for myself for the next couple of weeks, and I hope you can figure out exactly how you actually feel.

I love you. But goodbye for now.

How fucking dramatic. And you know what, we’re not even halfway through yet.

So the next day that was it.

On a mere few hours sleep.

We’d agreed to meet.

Not in some warm house like normal people or on a bed. But I was sat at a park, just there, contemplating. There wasn’t a lot to contemplate, there wasn’t a lot to think, anything else to process.

I’d been sat there for quite some time in the rain before he arrived. I was ‘gathering my thoughts’. School children wandered through the park, and a women walking her dog to and fro smiled at me a few times as she kept looping back and forth.

Then he appeared. He sat down. It was that moment that I looked at his face, and how he couldn’t look me in the eye. The face I’m sure I pulled when I found out Aidan had died. Complete withdrawal, everything is up there, in your mind, yet nothing at the same time. Nothing to be said, nothing to be done.

Yet we both spoke, then stopped. There was some hand holding. Very slow sentences were exchanged, the words few and far between. When the words did finally begin to flow, that was it, no turning back.

‘So you’ll never ever want to be with me?’ ‘I have asked myself why but I just don’t’

‘What do you actually think of me?’ I don’t really remember the answer this question.

The rest of the questions I asked or anything else. It was just noise, a blur, hard horrible calming words.

All I remember is the hysterical crying on my part. The rain beginning to fill the atmosphere, the hand holding, and a strange sort of closeness that could be borne only out a disaster. While it felt like a strangely horrifying moment, it was closure. This really was the end. The end to all of this pain. The end to how it was going to be between me and him, and how I finally had to accept, that no matter what I did, he was never going to love me. Not in that way. But that moment strangely also gave me hope.

Why, I’m really not sure, but I remember the way we chatted, it seemed to go some way to us resolving that we could still have a relationship together like before, and there was no reason this couldn’t continue. Which in many extents was correct, but as of today, has begged to show otherwise.

So I guess the question was, going by all of the shit that happened in second year, spending months to heal enter a meditative state and recover, why was I still in love with him? What had driven me to this crazy mental state where I was unable to use my phone without watching a two people ping-pong in conversation, or me feel sick enough to have to and seek counselling.

I guess you could break it down. Firstly in second year when I was forced to recover, I was over him in the sense that I didn’t think Dan was a good person, a proper friend that I would want to have a relationship with (a romantic one). That feeling had gone. Second year had been a lot about anger, and ‘rage’ well not quite rage, but more annoyance and distaste for how he treated me, as a character. That was not to say I didn’t still love him. Because obviously deep down I still did.

Then there was the fact that, even though I had fulfilled a lot of healing, his liking Tom brought back a lot of feelings of the past (not about Dan, but about a time of pain and suffering), and with those feelings came in mixed feelings of love for Dan.

Of course, I can’t forget the heart. When I believed he could be critically ill, it just made me worry and panic so much. How could someone that I’d shared what I felt to be a uniquely close relationship with, be potentially so ill that my head was contemplating stories of their ceasing existence.

But finally, the fact is simple. I still was in love with Dan. I think it’s hard to fall out of love with someone no matter how much they hurt you. And you always forget, just because you love someone, doesn’t mean you can be with them. Me not being with him, didn’t mean I didn’t love him.

So why did those final moments with him in the park, and the subsequent wetherspoons give me hope?

It was simple really. Everything was fine and dandy before, and it could be fine and dandy again. There was no reason that we couldn’t return to normal and be proper friends. And I did truly believe that. For a while that was the case, but 2018 has shown me, that nothing in this world is consistent or ever stays the same. Especially not, my relationship with Dan.

Finally actually healing.

No sooner had the eruption happened, was the emotional fallout being cleared. It might have been a nuclear blast, but it came without the fallout. It’s crazy to think just how quickly I actually medicated and began to get over things after it all that time.

I guess I’d had my moment. Like when you’re having sex and you’re desperate to cum. You cum. You’ve done your bit. That’s it, you’re happy, you’re content, you don’t need to cum again. The park was that moment. I had to hear certain things being said that one final time. So I could sleep, and sleep with a smile on my face, because I knew I had the answers my heart, not my head needed to hear (my head already knew all of those things).

I can’t deny something else didn’t help. The way Dan described other guys falling for him. One or two dates and they’d be falling at their feet, desperate to date him. ‘Look at all of these guys falling for me’ it just stank of, ‘look how easy it is to get guys to fall for me, and then I’m gonna abuse that’. He didn’t say those things, but that’s what my mind was telling me he was basically saying.

It made me feel a fool. I was just another one of those worthless guys, that didn’t mean much to him, that had fallen for him and then gotten rejected. I asked him if he was going to talk about the other guys feelings once ‘nah probably just fuck him, and get take out’. How lovely. Has the past 3 months, 6 months, year, yearsss, not taught you anything at all?

I get that you’re hurting in-turn yourself, but how could you think I would see you in a good light for saying those things and acting in that way?

It made me feel a complete idiot, a numpty, how could I be so stupid, clearly I’d misread him and how he actually felt and just allowed my attraction to take me this far. Clearly I’d mistaken all of that closeness.

Obviously it wasn’t that extreme, but that’s how it felt in my head at the time. And it really was a string of guys. Chiron, Miguel, Ben. They’d all fallen for him. And i’m not saying that our relationship was that frivolous, and hearing him say that I knew him ‘more deeply’ than anyone else in the world was obviously an achievement and showed how close we were. But in my head, well clearly someone (you, Seb) got a bit too carried away here, you fucking idiot.

Reflection.

There is little that can be done to reflect on the situation now, other than the more recent months of 2018. That point in my life is truly behind me. What I really think looking back on it all is, I wonder how it will affect future relationships. I know that my tolerance towards people has actually decreased massively. I found myself clearing out conversations with old guys and people I used to chat with. The old me would be readily saving those, ready to read whenever the extremely rare occasion amounted that I’d like to go over them. So in my head things have changed.

I can’t say I’m not glad that I’m over Dan. Finally, after all of this time. But as Owain said about Pete, there will always be a part of me that just feels like it belongs to him. And that, will probably never change. He is a birthmark, a tattoo, etched into me forever.

End of Chapter 2.

The final - chapter 3 next - a twink, and the months beyond 2017.  

[obscurelistening]

2017, a year review

‘There was no touching, no love.’

I’d been meaning to write on here for a while, in some sort of ‘nourishing cleanse’, and for someone that rarely reads as I ought to, this quote sprang to mind. It’s from Ian McWean’s Child in Time, and even while I thought it was kind of relevant to this year, before I’d even thought about what I wanted to say, I had to google it to see if I’d remembered it correctly. 

‘Now there was no mutual consolation, no touching, no love. Their old intimacy, their habitual assumption that they were on the same side, was dead.’ 

When I read that, the actual quote, it seemed to strike a chord with events off this year. 

In one year, so much feeling, emotion, hunger, passion, and ‘finalisation’ happened, something I never could’ve imagined it being the case when I was back in 2016. But before delving into so much soulful splendour, I can’t forget where things were going heading into 2017. 

I didn’t have many ‘drastic’ goals or anything crazy. I knew I had this crazy idea in my head of celebrating my 21st on a beach somewhere off a Thai Island, downing cocktails with my mates, and returning home with a glistening beach body. I knew that I just wanted to be happy with how I looked and how my body felt. Relationships, I was really excited by the prospect of moving forward and potentially finding someone, but who knows, who cares. Scrolling through my old Tumblr posts,  I was clearly very concerned about the state of my body, how big I felt I was, and how much I really hated it. 

‘Death and all his friends’ - Coldplay

I consider myself fairly lucky in life. I made it to the age of 20, and didn’t have to witness any significant deaths of family or friends. That, life is a gift within itself. Towards the end of last year, in 2016, was my godfather, and I won’t say much on that because I don’t feel like I could write words that would do him justice enough, compared to the people that have been truly impacted by his passing, but with Aidan, I feel I have more of that privilege. Someone who you grow up with undoubtedly shapes your life in ways you don’t even realise. And that’s exactly, who Aidan was. He was, for much of my life, a best friend. Drawn out of the sand of a broken up friendship group in primary school, Aidan emerged as the guy, caring and crazy enough to just about take my role as best friend. 

I can remember the state of play before Aidan. Aidan came to my primary school later than the others, when we were older, slightly more cohesive snot bags running around screaming. Jack had always been my best friend before Aidan. Aidan was best friends with Gerrard, and Jack was mine. Adam appeared in the interim between the two, he was a friend, but we saw him as ‘weaker’ and abused that. 

The weird thing, looking back on my relationship with Jack, was that it was more ‘intimate’. Now, as a kid, there was no sexual desire, or lust, or even a drive to explore sexually with each other. You’re not capable of that at that age, but we used to cuddle in bed, and do equally as intimate things. It was a very weird friendship, but so sweetly close, so sweetly close. And the odd thing about it, was, I remember, before understanding or realising that we’re all capable of love, was that in an odd way I had some sort of ‘love’ for him. When we ceased to be friends, I remember yearning for that. We were incredibly close in such a weird, intimate way. 

With Aidan, that wasn’t the case. I can remember how the new friendship groups formed. I mean at the end of the day, we’re a bunch of young kids, who change friends and social patterns / circles continually. 

As time was progressing, the social circles were flipping. Jack was becoming best friends with Gerrard, and that put Aidan and I in awkward position. We were both loosing our best friends. So we had to adapt and ‘survive’. Truth is, I never cared for Aidan much at the beginning. I used to love running around being crazy as a kid. But even as a kid I was quite placid in some respects. Jack had this sort of understated placid-ness that meant we both got on so well and were on similar wavelengths. Aidan was never like that. He was mad, all the time. He never stopped. And that took some time to get used to. But over a few years, we were best friends. Jack was gone. Bye. Aidan was now top of the friend chain list. He was my number one, and remained in that position for a number of years. 

Those years, mostly faded to insignificance though. The years I remember the most, the best were the years of young teenage hood, and entering puberty. Which happened scarily early for me. I can’t really dispute how idealised my childhood and early teenage years were - I used to bike to my best friends house in the summer, and we would ride around his village until late at night, and then sleep over at his house. What could have been more fun that as a kid? That was great, and an overarching theme of our friendship. 

In-between that we had his parents. The most friendly bunch you would probably see. We took so many trips away around the UK with Aidan’s parents. That was pretty cool, and sweet, something most parents wouldn’t even stop to consider doing for their kids and their friends.

Then, he just had to move to a more remote village 10 miles away didn’t he? The goalposts were pushed, but by that time, so were other things in our relationship. We still hung out, and did the normal things. But we were becoming teenage boys, our voices deepening, growing taller and slender. But along with growing up, our sexualities began to develop. Aidan forms the foundation of my sexual development as an adolescent. How weird is it looking back on that now? 

What I still find crazy and perplexing to this day, is how all of this developed suddenly from the ground up. I mean, we must’ve been pretty young at this point, no older than 14. I’d been masturbating since I was 11 and had my own laptop. Porn and self-pleasure certainly weren’t alien topics to me. I guess that’s pretty normal for any teenage boy. You might not start at 11 like I did (which was all completely my own doing and self discovery), but I challenge you to find one guy that hasn’t watched porn or masturbated before they’re 16. 

Except, things were a bit different for me, and I soon began to realise I was a bit different. Not only had my sexual development started, I realised I wasn’t watching the kind of online porn that most guys would watch. I was watching gay porn. Literally from the start. There was none of this going to straight porn first, or just focussing on the guy. I went straight in for the gay porn, and to be honest, while I found it weird, I knew I was loving it straight away. 

But out from that grew a desire to experiment. As I was becoming a sexual being, I wanted to share that with someone. Reading stories of circle, jerks, and guys beating each other sent me going wild. For a highly sexualised young teenager this was crazy good stuff. 

Now, with Aidan, like most teenage boys, when I was over we would often go on video chatrooms and like together, and of course, there would be, a lot of dicks. I remember one time this guy (who looked about 18) asked if he wanted to see him suck his own penis. We both looked horrified at each other, and then said yes. The guy started to take off his pants, before I clicked the ‘next cam’ button. 

Hmmm interesting, something had certainly piqued Aidan’s interest there. 

For Christmas one year, I received an iPod Touch. I found a ‘spin the bottle’ app on there, which we decided to use to play truth or dare. This was with another friend, who was far less exploitative or ‘crazy’ than Aidan in every aspect anyway. 

The dares were fairly normal for the most part, but sometimes sexually funny. For example, strip off and run outside somewhere. Now we weren’t quite crazy enough for that, but walking down the stairs of his house naked, or mooning, weren’t out of the question. But I wanted to push things further, I liked where this was slowly heading. I continued to search for other apps, eventually finding one where you could input your own dares. I started off lightly. Things like exposing your penis and getting hard, or giving your friend a reach around. It involved touching, but that was about it. 

About this time though, the other friend lost interesting the newly sexual element of the dares, but for Aidan and I, the sexual element seemed to grow. So what did we do? We started to have sleepovers without the other friend. Just the two of us. Sometime between that time, dares grew to playing with the other person for a number of minutes, and not just seconds. And so too did the tasks, oral sex became the norm, as did extended hand jobs, dry humping, and even one a couple of occasions, penetration, but never full on sex. 

Oddly, no kissing was ever involved, it purely revolved around the sexual aspect. And this included, sometimes playing outside. At first, it was very awkward when we came, he became very awkward, sheepish, withdrawn and shy, and would often exclaim that it wasn’t going to happen again. I got very weird feelings in my stomach, and used to start feeling incredibly guilty and begin thinking about ‘god’. Looking back on it, there was nothing wrong with what we did, it was nothing more than the intense ‘programming’ that you receive from society about not playing with other guys. To top it off, I had a belief in God then, and Aidan was very religious (his house backed onto a church, and his mum was a warden for it!). 

Eventually, that began to decrease as we aged, the ‘I’m never doing that again rhetoric’ depleted, and we began to discuss what was happening ‘Have you ever done this with anyone else? ‘Do any of your friends know’ ‘are you gay or straight’ ‘No, no, I’m straight’ were always the answer to those and similar questions. 

For me, it really was a crazy moment. I’d literally fantasised about playing this sexual games with my friends, and here I was, it was happening right in front of me before my eyes. 

Except there was one glaring change that threatened it all. Girls. Before we’d began to properly have fun, Aidan had been seeing a girl, Bryony or something weird like that. And that all ended. Who knows it was a ‘teenage’ thing. We were very young, and relationships didn’t last long back then. By the time I was 14, I’d ‘dated’ a few girls. Tracey, Jo, Lana, and others, but nothing had happened and I’d never felt as sexual. 

But then something changed, I introduced Aidan to this girl that was a friend of a friend of mine, and they quickly started dating, and when I say they started dating, I mean properly. Within a couple of months they were a couple. And not just a pseudo-teenage couple, they properly fell in love. They were together for at least four years. Meeting at around the age of 14, and continuing right through to the time we were in uni together. 

That was the end of our fun. And I slowly saw Aidan less and less, we’d still hang out as a group of friends occasionally, and I’d go to birthday parties and the like. But the main closeness and sexual exploration was over. For the most part, I was cool with that. I’d experimented on another guy, and lost my full virginity to a guy at 15. I was happy I still got to be friends with him, and sparing some awkward moments where his girlfriend made jokes about us ‘getting freaky’ and us looking sheepish and awkward at each other, it was all good. 

The last proper time I hung out with Aidan was at my school prom. We went to different high schools, but because he was going out with a girl from my school, it meant he got to go to the prom. That was actually an incredibly fun night, and Aidan was as crazy as ever. 

But then it was off to uni. We both had busy summers. I was doing music courses, going on family holidays, and away with mates I went to school with. Aidan was doing similar things and spending time with his girlfriend and church friends. We’d made it to 18, and never spoken once about the our ‘intimate’ growing up. 

There were only a couple of times I saw him after that. Once, when he came to my uni town for a rugby game, with a mate from his uni. We spent an hour or two together with the mate and made some food, and the second was at a gathering for his girlfriend around that Christmas. 

Those were to be the last occasions I ever saw him. 

I think like most, it’s quite difficult to stay in contact with your home friends while at uni. Aidan and I had experienced years of not properly hanging out or seeing each other frequently since our relationships with school friends grew, and he had a relationship. I tried to keep that relationship going, inviting him to my 19th birthday for example, but he couldn’t come as he was feeling ‘heavily depressed’. This was something I thought he’d slowly worked through and gotten over, but apparently not. 

Depression seemed to be a weird underlying current within their family. While I’m not sure about his parents, his sister for sure had suffered depression for a number of years when she was younger, I remember walking into their house, her with bouts of tears, and with Aidan telling me about his sisters previous suicide attempts. For the most part though, as she grew older, her mental health improved. I never spoken to Aidan in detail about his sisters mental health. I never felt it was my place. But I guess, I should’ve focussed more on Aidan in that time. If I could’ve done my part to prevent his passing, just by talking to him, then I would have done. Not that I in one way feb responsible or guilty for his passing. 

26th of April 

Then we skip forward to this year. 2017. A year and a bit later. It should be a normal day, I’m sat on my computer, finishing off some uni work, and lie everything that happens in the 21st century. There’s no phone call or text, but an inbox message waiting from Lana, and as I flick my trackpad down a couple of times, there it is. A stream of messages writing condolences on Aidan’s wall. I couldn’t believe my eyes. And tears were streaming and streaming. That was it, the news had hit. And that was it, a few weeks later I was sat at his funeral, with Lana and other friends. Touching his beautifully Aidan coffin at his funeral, and saying goodbye for the final time. 

I find it so sad that he felt the need to end his life, but I didn’t know him well enough in his later years to speculate or realise just how he’d been feeling. What I’d really looked forward to and wished one day, was that we would finally talk about and laugh over our childhood, talking about all of the crazy things that had happened, girlfriends, our sexualities and the stupid and sexual things we did as a kid. Part of me for a long time, after it happened and now, leaves me wondering his sexuality. Was he bi, curious, gay? I don’t think he was gay, loads of guys mess around with their peers and aren’t gay. But then you have the other friend, who wasn’t even slightly interested in the things that we were doing and the games that we would play. Was that a fairer representation of what heterosexuality is? 

I’ll never know. I hope wherever you are now, that you’re at peace with whatever meant you couldn’t keep going in this world. You were always a great friend to me. 

Pure unadulterated debauchery

In many ways, the closing moments of 2016 were a precursor to some of the larger themes that would filter my life this year. Sure, there were the expected elements like finishing a degree, but something I’d never imagined would have taken an interesting turn in my life would be exploring what it is to have such liberated, free sex. 

At the end of 2016, my interest in perverse kinky sex came to a head, when I attended a fetish new years party, covered in nothing over than a rubber t shirt and a jockstrap. Some boots and rugby socks also permitted. 

I’d never imagined it would become such an important or kinky theme to my sex life. What spouted out as a failed threesome from a guy whose housemates went home, turned into kinky sex with a perverse young lad my age in my uni town. Little did I know his influence for me to install a ‘kinky’ app, would have me meeting so many amazing and colourful people. 

This app was like no, grindr or any other app I had used. The way it worked meant conversation was rarely geared towards instant hooking up, it was about building a connection with that person and discovering their interests before agreeing to meet. And perhaps even then, you wouldn’t even meet for sex. 

See, grindr is selling sex. While I’ve had so much more come out of grindr than just simply sex. It’s introduced me to friends, brought interesting experiences, and amazingly sad experiences, it’s main role is to get you sex. And this is it’s problem, it’s selling sex. But with this fetish app, it’s selling you a community, a lifestyle, and friendly people that share your interest and yearning to do something different in the bedroom. 

Compared to some of the people I’ve met, I’ve never been as ‘mad on it’. Partially that’s because in my uni city you can’t be. When you live with a bunch of people that have little to no understanding of how perverse your sex life can be, and there aren’t a lot of people around you that are into donning rubber, and tying each other up, there isn’t a lot you can do to explore that field. 

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little fun... While attending a kink/fetish new years party hosted by the app was an incredibly fun experience, I never anticipated that I would be spontaneously booking a train ticket and hotel to Manchester to continue with the kinky fun in April at another event. 

And that wasn’t the only one, there was a whole week of Fetish play in London that summer. Probably one of the most exhausting, challenging and rewarding weeks I’ve had. 

London Fetish Week, was, for the most part a bit mad. It was crazy good fun, and I got to meet a lot of lovely kinky guys, and make plenty of friends. This of course continued right the way through to the very end of this year, where just a few days ago, where in between some club-come railway arches, I was partying  the night away in rubber, and entering rooms lit with smoke to enhance ‘sensory experiences’. I won’t delve too much further. Let’s just say it was a fun night. 

While I hadn’t planned on any of this really happening, what is more surprising to me is the number of people I’ve introduced to my rubber, and got them intrigued / talking about it. Something that could only have happened with me being more open about it. 

From wearing it in a hookup, putting it on for my best friend, or showing a guy I used to have a crush on how I liked to play in the bedroom, I feel like I’ve opened or widened their eyes. Sex doesn’t just have to be vanilla. And while I love both, the annoying thing is, it’s left me massively questioning now if I could ever enter a relationship with a partner that wasn’t as kinky as I, or at least didn’t understand it. 

I don’t think it would matter too much in the short term. But in the longer term, when the ‘honeymoon period’ is settled, and I’m longing to don some rubber and have a dirty sweaty fuck, then who would be there to help me with it? I’d be trapped. In a weird way, I’m hoping it will be one of the problems I face in 2018. In a strange way, it would be nice to meet someone that I’m either going to have this dilemma with. I know it’s a weird thing to say, but it would be quite nice to finally have someone I’m left wanting to share more of myself with. 

‘My son’s not a queer!’ - Dad

I need not rewrite about my life as a non open male. I’ve known for years now that I was different, that I wasn’t straight. And in the process, as time has gone on I’ve questioned more and more what my ‘true’ nature is. I’ve always preferred claiming I was bisexual. It allowed me to have a fundamental connection with ‘the boys’. After all we’re all sexual beings, commenting on girls tits, ‘god what a cracker’, is supposed to be something ‘all guys’ are capable of, and it brings us together. But at the same time, most of the time that just isn’t me. I’ve been left confused - brief moments of intimacy with women (especially compared to my track record with guys), leaves me briefly wondering. But also, massively panicking. Often when I come close to a girl I’m left in a panicky messy sweat. I kid you not, when I say this summer that I started getting off with a lovely girl that I knew, she obviously wanted it to to go further. The friend I was out with also pulled. So what did I do? Panic, claim I need to go back to my friends place place, then go home, get on grindr and have a gay friend over to comfort me and spoon me. He literally had to hug me and tell me to relax and stop worrying about it, because I was shaken with anxiety over it. 

When you make it to 21, and you’re still not sure if you’re even enjoying kissing girls, then you know you have a problem. I know I should be completely aware of what my sexuality is. I’ve known I’ve not been straight for far too long, but just some certainty on if I’m gay, or bisexual would be nice. While I know that maybe those labels don’t actually work the best, it at least allows me to quantify it to myself and explain it to other people. 

I’ve had my moments where I’m left doubting myself, but this year, I’ve enjoyed the most snippets of straight and bisexual porn than I ever have. The ‘fear’ of a vagina has diminished, and I don’t feel ‘repulsed’ by it, like I often did during university. But then I suppose my sexuality has always changed, and had its fluid moments. Before getting to experiment with a girl in my teenage years, there was the time when I must’ve been about 14, and my piano teacher was wearing panties. While I was sat behind her waiting for her previous pupil to finish her lesson, I remember being drawn and unable to take my eyes off her back and her panties. Then more recently, there’s the fact that I’ve been enjoying more ‘straight porn’ than ever before. For once the idea of being a ‘hot guy’ (well maybe not right now) and having sex with an attractive girl kinda actually seems pretty damn appealing to me. 

Okay, so that’s the first bit of ‘reasoning’ I’ve had to try and explain or quantify my sexuality, but what about the other people I know? 

What is bisexual? 

If I’ve realised anything this year, it’s that when it comes to sexuality, it’s never fucking clear. But one thing I’ve really quantified is the number of people around me, that really aren’t actually completely straight. Take my old housemates for example, if you include me, there are three ‘open bisexuals’, two girls that have experimented with other girls and wouldn't say they were ‘completely straight’, a guy that’s definitely playing with guys and girls but in the closet, a girl that’s basically a saint having never done with anyone, but said she would never rule out sexual relations with another girl. And 2 others that I’ve no reason to believe they’re anything other than straight. 

Then take my current house, a house of 6 guys (7 accounting for the one that moved out this year), we have a guy that’s clearly struggling dealing with sexuality and his desires pertaining to experimenting with other guys, one that gets touchy feely and weirdly defensive about other guys touching him when he’s drunk (plus he’s camp and a bit girly), and one that likes to grope me every single time we’re both drunk on a night out. That leaves half of the house to be ‘straight’. So out of 14 people I’ve lived with during university, we have 9 people that aren’t ‘straight’. Does this mean, as I’ve suspected as I became older, that since the Greek and Roman eras, us humans have actually just been fascinatingly brilliant at oppressing our natural sexuality? I think deep down, we’re actually all just a bit gay. But I think there’s more to it than that...

So this gay thing then?

We all know what gay is. I’m not defining gay here. I don’t even think, like I toiled over before with the whole fluid sexuality and people being bi or not completely straight, is necessary, the question is, am I gay? Is my overarching sexuality, being drawn towards men? What does that mean if I’m not bi? 

Well, if I’m honest, look at who I am. On a day to day basis, I don’t think it changes much. Like I’m so scared of uttering those words ‘I’m gay’, that being ‘bi’ like so many gay guys, has been the default go to option. But me saying I’m gay does a coupe of things. I don’t have to worry about kissing girls and getting awkward about it. I mean, it makes it ‘harder’ for me to start getting with girls, but how often am I kissing girls? My day to day lifestyle doesn't change. I’m still gonna be living on grindr, swiping guys on tinder, for the most part watching gay porn, and being the ultimate gay and going to fetish events up and down the country, who knows maybe even abroad. So what’s so different about me uttering the words I’m gay? 

Looking at London Pride this year. That was a fantastic experience. If there’s one way to live London, it’s to do it by living within walking distance to a tube station. I love that i’m so close to London at home, yet so far at the same time. If I could walk to a tube, I’d have the endless possibilities of one of the most amazing places in the world. 

But more importantly, London pride unlocked something in me that was always really there. The ability to go mega camp, and strut my stuff. Every time I’ve done London pride I’ve loved it for different reasons. Whether the first time I went it was ogling hot guys, and then when my soon to be boyfriend turned up, having the most romantic time making out with him in public to crowds cheering, or this year, becoming the campest I think I’ve ever been with friends, enjoying London’s nightlife, and then later realising and loving how natural it felt to be that camp all the time. Was great. 

On balance, being camp doesn’t make me gay. And I could still be that camp as a ‘bisexual’ man, or less likely, a ‘straight’ guy, and while I loved heavily camping it up like that, I don’t think that is my day to do me, and I’m not sure I would want to live like that all of the time. But then, why would I? I’m the person that want’s to cling onto bisexuality so that I can talk about ‘tits with the lads’. At the end of the day, I still panic massively when getting with a girl. 

Is there more to this not liking girls thing? 

Being scared when a girl approaches or is into me, has posed some problems, mostly making me anxious, and knowing theres no way in hell I could perform. I know in my mind I have some very strange conceptions, about women that I can’t seem to shake. In the back of my head, there seems to be this running notion that women have to be treated like these complete beautiful delicate flowers, they must be treated with respect. I’ve never been one of those guys that would go up and grope a girl in a club, or think that was ever acceptable, just because he thinks he can get away with it. But by that same token, I literally don’t care if I’m not shown that same sort of personal respect. And I’m not saying that in a way like, come up to me and touch me, I won’t care, but literally, I’ve been in bloody saunas in London where you have to tell old men to piss off or get their hands away from you after they’ve taken a sneaky grope or too. Plus I’ve had women (and men alike in clubs) grope me, and to be honest I couldn’t really give two shits. 

But I know just because I, and probably a lot of other men don’t care, that women probably wouldn't. I know a helluva lot of women that care about that kinda thing, and to be honest it’s small things like that that scare me. You know its this fear of going from, kissing a girl to going, ‘right well why don't you come back to my place and we can fuck’. I guess part of that stems from the fact that with guys I’m often so used to the fact that sex is so explicit. You want sex you go on grindr, send pics, an hour later they’re at your door. 5 minutes later, your clothes are off. And yes hookups happen with girls on tinder, but I’ve just never had that confidence to exploit that sexually. For someone that’s straighter than I am, it’s not a problem, because you’ll put all your efforts in (especially while younger), into trying it on with girls and you’ll establish what largely works for you. 

I’ve never had that opportunity to establish what works for me in that way, so essentially right now, nothing. My sexual contact with women has been explicitly discussed before it has happened, and that has been something of a massive rarity. 

So basically, like a 13 year old boy - I’m scared to approach girls. And honestly, I don’t think going to a single sex school helped. And on reflection, there’s nothing I can do about that now, other than have to get over it. and the only way to get over it is to try it on with girls. But why do I ned to try it on with girls, when I can get man on man sex so much more easily and conveniently and fulfil my sexual desires that way? Then there’s the added complication of, well how much do I even like girls? Is there enough of a like and an appeal for me to want to actually bother? Like I know what I’m doing with guys, I know how this whole gay sex thing works pretty well by now, and for the most part and other than the fear of an incurable STD or HIV, largely works for me, ya know. 

In addition, being involved in gay sex has given me some fantastic sexual opportunities that if I’m honest, I don’t think I ever could have witnessed at this age and in such depth if was having heterosexual sex. 

‘My sons not a queer’ 

If there’s anything London pride renewed in me, was a sense of campuses and belonging. But not just that, far more important than that, was the rhetoric going on in my head, that I feel safer, freer, and happier being open about my sexuality. I don’t feel ‘straight’ anymore, and struggle massively to fall in line of being ‘completely straight’ especially when I’m at home. I browse grindr at the kitchen table in front of my friends, and comment on fit men, I openly have guys over, and will sometimes even discuss dates. Having lived that lifestyle it’s very difficult to go back, especially when there is one glaring omission. Girlfriends. 

Now, this isn’t so much a problem, at university. My housemates and friends know what Im up to and what I’m into (well, they don’t know the half of it), but my parents, for a 21 year old boy, that’s never had a girlfriend, had a girl over, or shown signs of a relationship, but they who themselves were married from my age, it’s a bit odd to them. 

I don’t think it mattered much when I started university, but I can tell by now they’re having their doubts. And it’s not to say that I’m camp at home, (or even in day to day life), I don’t strut my stuff, I don’t comment on hot accessories or lip balms, butt, I’m not that most masculine thing at home, and I find it awkward when my dad, and even my mum comments on these beautiful women ‘aren’t they?’. That’s the problem, ever time this happens, it makes it harder for me to put up with it, and it just makes me want to shout in their ear that I am, not in fact straight. 

In fact, the biggest hook, line and sinker of the year, had to be when on holiday in September. We were sat in a grill house, and I was feeling pretty ill from my medication that day, queasy and out of it. Somehow, my mum managed to drop in some sort of joke about ‘well then, do you like girls or do you like boys’, other than nearly (subtly I might add), choking on my food, and being stumped for words, I thought to myself (well you didn’t say both, so I guess Il’l just lie about that answer), and managed to back out of it. To which my dad said ‘yeah our sons not gay’. 

No more than a couple of weeks prior at a family do, my parents were dropping off some family in the car, when I asked my dad to drop me off in the gym, my aunt started going on about these gay guys being ‘Muscle Mary’s’ and always being obsessed with the gym, to which I said something along the lines of ‘oh didn’t realise only gay people went to the gym. My dad’s response, ‘our sons not a queer’. 

Now in an ideal world, I like to think my dad isn’t homophobic..., (I think deep down, he would get over / accept the fact that I like men and get over it. It would be a shock, but it’s something he would have to and would deal with. I see the like of pride in his eyes when he talks about me, and is proud of my achievements. I know I’m not the sporting mad son that he’d always wanted me to be, but I’m naturally far more creative than I am sporting, and I was always often too shy to continue following sporting pursuits. It also doesn't largely help that I have one working eye and the hand eye coordination of a bat.) ...but at the end of the day, that’s not the first homophobic remark he’s made, and they used to especially upset me for the first couple of years when I came back from uni, for the holidays, him making these remarks, and me sinking back into the newly lost freedom that I’d had.  

Pull the trigger, come out, I dare you? 

I think in my head, I tend to live in the same closeted world that I did when I was 15 or 16. That is to say, my interactions with guys, especially online were from those who weren’t out, very much coming to terms with their sexuality or had accepted it, and were preparing to. I can safely say that by now, the majority of the gay or bi people that I know, are openly so, including to their parents. And then there’s me, in some open limbo, a halfway house, where coming out seems to be necessary but still feel like such an insanely bitter thing to do to yourself in order to live a happy life. 

My views on being open and coming out have changed dramatically, since I went to uni. Before the belief was always this, go on grindr sleep with guys, never tell the parents, maybe tell a couple of people, but always keep it under wraps, live a secretive lifestyle, and never tell them. But now, when I talk to guys on grindr or online, or guys I’ve met up with, hooking up behind their girlfriends eyes, refusing or denying that they’ll ever come out or tell their parents, I pity them. I question, what sort of existence is that? This is Britain, 2017, there’s no need for that surely? 

But then I remember by my own token, if I hadn’t drunkly outed myself, and then become more used to the process of slowly coming out to people (largely my age), without repercussion, then I probably too would hold similar views. I feel it’s only until you start coming out to people and realising that they don’t care, that you can only truly start to realise how little a deal it is to most people. And to those that do, you can set an example, and show how much diversity there is over your sexuality. There really isn’t one size fits all, gay, lesbian or bi guy. 

I think one thing that has always prevented me from coming out, has been the way my sexuality has been handled in the past. I needn’t go into too many details other than, when someone outs your homosexual activities in school, and people make fun of it, then you’re going to push yourself further back into Narnia than you even knew existed. 

It really is just the question of parents now. I’m open to most people, Im not the person I was in 2014, or 2012. I’ll for the most part, be open about my sexuality. But, it’s my parents, it really is that one thing. 

I’ve been inches away from coming out this year. In February I was having a shit time of it, I felt like my world was coming crashing in, littered with sadness. And I remember being sat at my desk tearing my eyes out, writing a letter. Ready to send to my parents, and drive back home so I could come home, get some comfort and sort myself out for a while. In the end, things changed slightly and I didn’t. 

One important question remains though. I think there is well and truly a need to do it now, that is no longer a question at all. Whatever, it’s going to have to happen, I just think I’m 21 now, there’s no need to be living a lie like this anymore. But... it’s how. I’ve thought about sitting them down and having a chat. But to be honest, I just hate hate hate, the idea of doing that, it seems so forced, so rigid. It’s like saying that, ‘sit down I have some bad news’, ‘the dog is dead’, or ‘I have cancer’ - why should I have to sit them down in such an inorganic way and tell them. I’ve considered telling them while on holidays in the past. Sat on an evening sipping cocktails, relaxed, talking in a way that we don’t usually and sharing things about ourselves. What about then? But no the opportunity rarely arises enough, and there’s just enough of a niggly doubt that leaves to me think it’s a good idea. 

So I think I’m left with one option, and that’s to tell them via a letter and invite them to discuss it with me. But then, I’m not sure it’s something I want them to keep? You know? Once it’s done, it’s not like it’s a letter announcing a prize or a will, I’d kind of just want it to be gone by that point, but they can know that I then did it. At least with a letter I could say what I wanted to say without fluffing up the words, and get the ‘important’ points across. 

All I know is, for 2018, I’m making it my mission to come out. 

End of Part One

[obscurelistening]

It's not something I think of often anymore. But sometimes it pains me and I wish that I could have brought justice to what happened in Poland. I wish I could've had that man arrested and exposed him for what a disgusting person he is. In the end though. I guess it doesn't matter. A lengthy court case, parents finding out, lawyers, invasive tests. After all. It's not the first time. Second of all, it's Poland. Gay rights aren't a thing there. And it's too late. Healing is a better approach to try and deal with things. But I definitely do honour people that are willing to go through that battle to bring justice. I'm just lucky I don't think about it too much these days. I'm just not sure why I woke up thinking about it today. I also hate the term rape survivor. I still distance myself when I think that I have been raped. The experience of London, but more vividly remembered Poland are experiences, I don't think I'll ever forget. But they won't define who I am. They were just bad, tricky moments. Life goes on I guess. The only positive is that I woke up with a great song idea in my head. Only problem is, in 10 minutes that'll be gone and I'll have no way of writing it down quickly enough.

[obscurelistening]

[obscurelistening]

It suddenly dawned on me that this is it. This is that last point. Our university lives are officially over. We transition from the tenderest of age, into supposedly functioning adults. I'm left thinking of what the past three years have been and what they are to become. I can't help but be reminded of the undeniable affect you've had on me. And I can't thank you enough for the past few years. Looking forward, who knows where the next three years will take you and I both. But in that time I want you to think. When I have great days and amazingly bad ones, I'll think of you When I have days of joy and happiness, I'll think of you When my days are sour, or painful, I'll think of you. When I laugh or cry, I'll think of you. When I fall in love, find my soulmate I'll think of you When I reminisce over the past three years. I'll always think of you. Throughout my life, and it's stages, I will have no choice but to think of you. Thank you so much for the past few years. You've taught me so much about myself. The good, the bad, the ugly, showed me what it means to care for someone unconditionally, and you've taught me lessons about life and myself that I'll never forget. That is truly priceless. I love what we have experienced, and there will always be love and openness waiting for you. This isn't the end at all I hope. Merely the start of the next phase. Thank you so much. I'll never forget this truly priceless experience.

[obscurelistening]

I’m done with everything.

[obscurelistening]

Dawning realisations about the past, future and present.

‘I just wish I could give you a hug right now and tell you just how much I loved you’

‘Honestly right now this is making me really emotional. Not in a bad way. Just because I’m thinking about how much I care for you and want to be there for you’

Looking back on those statements, I’m not sure why I feel the way that I do. That moment seemed pivotal. Like I’d reached a new level of closeness. Everything seemed great between you and I. As far as I was concerned everything was perfect at that moment.

It just seemed like everything that had got in the way before, was just. Shit. Didn’t matter, nothing mattered other than the fact that I cared about you, and that you cared about me. And I don’t care what you called that closeness or how you labeled it. It was the fact that two people care for each other deeply. 

I really thought I was one of the few people you had been able to truly open up to and share almost everything with, and that was a great thing. And I don’t know how or why, but I was doing the same, telling someone things that not many people needed to hear... Obviously that wasn’t just then, but I mean that was from the very start. 

But looking back on it now, through recent times, especially conversations such as today, it just makes me take a step back and think. It makes me think. 

“I just want you to know how important you are to me” 

But what does that even mean? Back then, it made me feel happy, the fact that I actually meant something really important to someone. But really, it means nothing, in comparison. because no matter how hard I try, or what I do, or say, or who I am. It’s not good enough. And I can’t change who I am. I can’t change what I feel inside and how I work. No matter how much “how important” is, it just doesn’t come close. I just can’t compete. 

I don’t even know what do. I just feel pretty useless. Worthless. Futile. Everything is futile. Worthless. Pointless. I can’t help but feel like all of this has been one mistake. Has it been? 

What even is our closeness? Did we even click? Was it just me imagining or seeing things that weren’t there. Why are we so close? Is it just because I was able to coax information out of you in ways that no one else has done before? That doesn’t mean anything really does it. It’s just someone that coaxed some information out of someone, that went too far. Did we only click because of that? Was that the only reason we’re here today? I mean, looking back on it, you seemed to do okay in second year when you hardly knew me. If that’s how things were then, then surely that just refutes everything? Why won’t that happen again. If the foundations are solid, everything shouldn’t crumble so easily. 

Would we have even got this point if I didn’t live with two of your friends? I’d probably never have seen you this year, and we wouldn’t bump into each other so it’d just be like yeah, whatever. Few efforts were made before we’d cleared the air. In fact it was just irrefutably awkward.

Declaratives. Useless unformed declaratives, they don’t make sense. I don’t make sense. My mind is boggled. 

I’m just confused. I think this is the brick wall in the road. No matter which way you look at it. I still see what we had as something more special than what it clearly was. Just because you’re able to talk to me about things, that doesn’t mean anything really does it? You can talk to me about things, and we’ve drunkedly kissed each other. That literally doesn’t mean anything does it? 

It wasn’t special in any way other than the fact that it was something cherished, unique, something I valued. I valued the connection we had. The relationship we had. Everything was fine. When it worked it was perfect. There’s always been a lot of pain involved between us. Always. And that’s never changed. So why am I still here. It’s like continually rubbing on the poison ivy so you can have a painkiller at the same time. 

I don’t care about the romantic stuff, I don’t care about wanting to date with you. What I care about is the fact is that I feel like I’ve just been wrong along. I just feel like, did we even click? Did I just imagine it? I’m just so confused by everything right now. I just feel like I was wrong about everything. I just feel like I fucked up massively. 

I feel really fucking guilty. I feel like if you’d never met me, you would’ve been able to have been with Tom. I wouldn’t have gotten in the way because you never would’ve known what happened between him and I, and you could have been with someone you truly properly clicked with. Not some pseudo-clicking that I’ve just completely misconstrued that really doesn’t mean anything at all does it? 

I was just wrong about everything wasn’t I? I’m just confused. What we had wasn’t a normal friendship. You can’t be that emotionally close or attached to your friends can you? Like you can care about them a lot, but the fact that they're so down or sad, can’t shouldn’t make you feel the same way should it? Because they’re not okay that makes you not okay because you care for them so deeply? Or am I wrong, and it’s not working like that.

I’m confused. I want to punch something. None of this makes sense. The pain. 

I suppressed it for the past couple of days. The fact that you are so distraught over someone makes me feel guilty for caring about you. It makes me feel stupid, because I shouldn’t care about you this much when you have someone that you care about so intensely that probably cares about you just as intensely. I should be caring about someone that shares that mutual caring. 

Everything is a lie. Everything in the world is wrong. Nothing feels right. Can I ever actually be this close to someone else again. I’m just scared now. Is it even possible to become close to anyone anymore? What does that even mean. Josh is the perfect example. I tell him a lot of things, i’m pretty open with him. I like him, we get on, and we have good sex. But I don’t even feel slightly close to him. If he disappeared, I would feel sad for a while but I’d be over it in a month. In a click. Why??? He cares about me, I care about him. But I don’t care about him enough. He just doesn’t matter enough. Is this how it feels? I’m so confused. Why don’t I feel close to him? Nothing is stopping us from feeling close! 

But I’m not. Is it because he’s such a twink and I’m mentally blocking myself from feeling close to him because ultimately he’s not a guy I could see me sharing a long term part of my life with (any part) and that I’d always assumed he’d be some sort of temporary arrangement; that somehow has just continued and continued? 

I don’t know. It’s so weird. I’m just confused. I just don't understand anything right now. And it was so easy to feel emotionally withdrawn for the past few days. There’s you, dealing with someone that you’re massively in love with. Trying to get over, and I’m able to feel okay, neutral, normal. Because, that’s not me, and you don’t have those feelings towards me, so I can suppress whatever closeness or care I have towards you because right now, you can only focus on one thing. And that’s how you feel about him. And I just want you to feel okay again. Or at least what I thought was okay, because actually you weren't. 

But that’s a lie, it is just only that, it’s suppression. Me suppressing, that actually, I don’t really know how or what to feel anymore. I genuinely don’t know what to make of any of this situation. And I’m fucking confused. 

Maybe winding things down in the long run, focussing on healing. And knowing that I can find something completely pure, where the care is completely received is better. I genuinely did think you cared about me. I think you do, because you wouldn’t have made the sacrifice that you did, one that you never had to make. Ever. You never should have made that sacrifice for true love. But this isn’t even about true love versus what you feel for me. This is just, everything. This is just, the fact that it just doesn’t work. it isn’t working. Is it? Is it working? Probably not. It isn’t right. Is it ever going to be right? No it’s not is it? It never has been and it never will be. So why are we still here? It’s just tainted. It has always been tainted.

I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. What the fuck is all of this. Seriously what the fuck? Nothing makes sense. 

[obscurelistening]

This week...

There’s no denying how tough and painful this week has been. Many things have happened which I didn’t really expect to happen. It all feels kinda weird and surreal. 

I remember exactly a week ago and pissing it down with rain and going for a Roast dinner at Laura’s. God that thing was gorgeous. Having had a few too many glasses of wine (but still being pretty sober), saying to Dan how now was probably the time to actually take that break and let him get his thoughts together. 

I guess, initiating that led to some things I didn’t realise would just be pretty bloody difficult to actually deal with. The way it felt how just a couple hours after me saying that, he ended up seeing Tom and spending the night with him. 

I found that incredibly hard and hurtful, and tough to deal with. But he already knows exactly how I felt about that and what emotions were going through my head about that. And I still feel that way about those actions. But I guess, when he’s in love with someone, you do things like that. 

I mean they’re still probably talking quite a bit, and may have even met again this. It wouldn’t surprise me at all, though I don’t necessarily think it’s healthy if he’s saying he’s going to figure out how to ‘break things off’ or end things. In my mind I just feel like him taking all this time just to ‘figure it out’ and not actually just doing it, so that he can move on with his life, just makes things harder. It makes me think that really, realistically, that’s not actually what he wants to do. That maybe, he doesn’t want to finish things off, and still wants to just say fuck it and actually let himself be with this guy. 

There’s no point continuing to state how I feel about this situation, all he has to do is look back to Monday, and know exactly how I feel, and so do I. Problem is, the pain just hasn’t gone away, and the feelings of being drained, sad, and a depressed are a continuing feeling. I was happy with myself that I didn’t let myself go and get too fucked up last night. Especially after being horrible to Dan the night before, but I remember thinking to myself that I was desperate to leave because I just felt like shit, so bad, and was like right, let’s just sleep things off here. I did kinda enjoy the SU, but kinda think I should’ve just gone to pulse instead. 

After the events of Monday, being sat in that park bench, rain, heckling tears, complete expressions of feelings and emotions, and the seemingly incurable damp and sadness, it was going to be a tough week. I knew that. And this week hasn’t been easy. 

From giving Dan the report on Wednesday. Which I just knew, wouldn’t or won’t change how he feels, it’s a purely factual document, with nothing to do with emotions or how I felt. But he had that in person, he got to see that in person anyway, to having a go at him on Friday after silently drinking Vodka during singstar. It’s been one hell of a week.

It fills me with ornate sadness that I wish I could cure. I just wish everything could go back to how it was 2 weeks ago. At least between Dan and I. There was literally nothing I would’ve changed. Everything was perfect, we were getting on great, being open, and getting through life together. But that’s not enough. And I guess I didn’t realise how strongly he felt for Tom, just because he was thinking about him every single night. But I didn’t know exactly what that meant or what that entailed. As time progresses I slowly think more and more, that the relationship we have in general is just unsustainable. With time progressing I struggle to see the worth of all of this pain and suffering. What is there to be gained from it? Is there anything to be gained from it? Currently there is nothing, because I don’t have the relationship with Dan that I had before. It’s literally just gone to the dogs in one fell swoop. 

Anyway, with weeks like this, and the following few weeks and even months. They’re not going to be easy. The amount of work I have to do has mounted quickly and I’ve certainly given myself a lot of shit to do. 

The one thing I have to remind myself is just that I need to keep going, and some day, I’ll get through all of this and it’ll be worth it. Or at the very least, I’ll be an even stronger person for it. Hopefully happier too.

Just need to keep going, push forward, get through this month, and hopefully not let my thoughts and feelings push me towards a downward spiral. Things can only go up, they should only go up. They have to. 

[obscurelistening]

I'm at work and I think I'm having a breakdown so I'm hiding in the toilets 😂

[obscurelistening]

You must be in love with him. And it kills me. It kills me that you spent the night with him. I've hardly slept a wink. I genuinely think this may ruin me. This is why I'm putting a stop to it. I really really hope he is worth this for you. I really hope he is

[obscurelistening]

Can we?

You know undisputedly how I feel about you. That my feelings for you are strong and that I’m in love with you. 

However, I just don’t feel like it is ‘enough’ for us to continue the way we are. Your feelings for Tom are very strong there’s no denying that. And if you’ve felt so strongly about him for months, like the way you have, then how is a few more months going to change that? 

Yesterday I think you were the most distraught I think I’ve ever seen you, and I can’t underestimate that. Or especially begin to imagine how strong those feelings you have for Tom must be. 

The fact that you couldn’t even be friends now, when myself after months of finishing with Josh for example, I was able to be friends with him, and have him walk away from that recently with no repercussions to how I feel, shows to me that what you have with Tom is much stronger. 

And I don’t care what he did to me, that doesn’t matter. Would you love your child if it turned out they’d murdered or raped someone? I think you’d find that you still did. And that’s the problem, you know the history between Tom and I, yet you still have strong feelings for him, you’re in love. 

That to me, is a good enough reason as any for you to explore things with him. There must be, in my mind, something you feel with Tom, that you don’t feel with me, and I can’t replace that. I can’t substitute it. You know when you’re in love with someone and I don’t think you want to admit it to yourself but I think you are. You love me, but you’re not ‘in love’ with me. 

And so this is going to be awful, this isn’t going to sound great, but I’m not sure we should continue with the way things are. I’ve always said I want to conquer just about any problem with you, and I want to be there for you, but I can’t do it in the same way. 

I love you far too much that I don’t think anything else is feasible. Why? Because at the end of the day, what Tom did to me doesn’t change how you feel about him, and it can’t it shouldn’t. So this hurts more than anything I’ve had to do in the past, but I think it’s for the best. 

What I’m saying is, I can’t be second best in your heart, I need you to go and explore those feelings with him. I love you, and I want you to be happy. But I want to be happy too. 

[obscurelistening]

I want to say so many things and express so many emotions. But right now that's not needed. Seeing you helped relax me and make me feel better. I hope it did the same for you. I'll always be there to hold you tight and keep you together, I love you and I want you to feel safe. It was beautiful being able to hug you, and I will rest so much easier tonight knowing that I was able to be there for you I love you so fucking much

[obscurelistening]

Lonely holidays

It’s hard to return home for three weeks of the ‘festive’ period, and retain a happy, upbeat demeanour, when you spend 9 hours a day dedicated to jury service, and the rest of your time, bored at home pretending to do work, unable to see your home friends. 

I remember that first year holiday, having my parent’s come to pick me up for Christmas. Going for that christmas meal, and then coming home excited to decorate the house, and catch up with my mates I hadn’t seen in months. We’d go out, go into central, do lots of fun things together and I’d enjoy catching up... To be honest, at the time I needed it too. Having not long split up with my first boyfriend, I was finding things difficult, and I needed distraction and seeing friends to take my mind off things. Irregardless it’s nice to just cut back at Christmas, relax and socialise with people you haven’t seen in a long time and remember why you were friends in the first place and enjoyed hanging out.

But this year has been different for me; half of them now live across the country and others are ‘too busy’ to meet up. It’s hard enough for me, I mean getting up at 7, and getting home around half 5, doesn't exactly make me feel like I want to do much on an evening, but it doesn’t even seem like there’s much going on with home friends! I remember the massive new years party I’d enjoyed last year after my eye op. Nothing like that seems like it’s going to be happening this year.

It’s just annoying. Especially when I struggle to deal with my parents sometimes as it is. My dad’s often ultra conservative attitudes to things ‘prison inmates don’t deserve hot showers.’ Um okay then dad? Mum, well she just knows how to push all my wrong buttons and make me feel like shit sometimes.  Plus I always feel a negative attitude around her. I know it can’t be helped with a disability and depression and stuff. However, being around that atmosphere and environment all the time just brings me down. Plus living where I live, miles away even from the centre of town, and the necessity of a car to get anywhere really hammers home those feelings of loneliness and isolation. 

Anyway, that’s enough for me on the matter. Not really much else to say. 

[obscurelistening]

The state of my body...

I’ll queue this post to appear after a post I’m about to potentially right. However can we just talk about the state of my body. 

I’m looking down at my shirtless body, and I’m disgusted by what I see. I haven’t been this big in at least 3 years. I see all definition in my chest has gone, I’m lucky my arms appear as big as they do. And my stomach is harbouring enough fat for 4 climbers to grab hold onto and launch themselves against. 

I’ve not been ‘well’ the past few weeks. But It’s time to get back into the gym and sort this body out, Christmas or no Christmas. It’s clear the way I currently intake nutrition isn’t working for me. I need to prepare my meals beforehand so I make sure I don’t go ‘low’ when I’m feeling hungry. I need to resume frequent cardio exercise, running, whatever, and build up my body so that it’s muscly. I look at this body, and think I couldn’t reasonably want to date someone with the body I currently have (shallow I know), so how could I expect others either?

My self confidence has taken a bit of a dive lately. My eye is looking a bit shit, and frequently fluctuating, my face is full of acne, my muscles have diminished four fold, and the level of fat on my body is currently alarming me. I need to get off my high horse and change it immediately. I know what I need to do to change it, I basically just need to bloody well do it! 

[obscurelistening]

Summer 16′ + Reflections

Hello Tumblr old friend,

This summer has been a weird one. It has been very unlike my past few summers. No jetting off to hot or exotic locations, taking holidays with friends, or going out and getting drunk all the time. But it hasn’t been diabolical. I got to go on two tours, one with an orchestra and one I didn't even play in. The tours were quite insightful really. The first one basically cemented that one person who I had a massive crush on, I probably didn’t like as much as I thought I did, and for another, there were some very weird feelings involved between us, meaning that that person didn’t seem to be entirely over me, over something that had never existed. 

The second tour opened my eyes to the amazement of the city that is Amsterdam, even though I wasn’t completely enamoured with some of the people that I was with or some of the things that were going on. 

Then there was work... I spent the past 5 weeks teaching, and that was a gruelling 5 weeks. In some ways it wasn’t. Play a lot of sports, teach, and interact with kids. But there were hard parts. For starters I didn’t really click with many of my colleagues, and found that as they got closer and closer, I faltered behind. I think this hasn’t been helped by the fact that they were all working in sportier departments and I was on the arts side of things, where few of them even entered. The benign lump on my foot I’ve had since I was 16, was at an all time height of pain too, which made things a lot harder, I just wanted to sit down, when I should’ve been fully immersing myself in the sports and activities with the kids. Additionally, the flat they put me and one other person in was awful. No phone signal, no wifi, no sofa. It was just a depressing environment to be in, on the edge of the town with nothing around. 

Having said that, I can’t complain, the pay was so decent and I’m happy to have that topping up my bank account, I really am. 

This summer, summer 16′ has also marked a few things. I’m now 20. I’m not a teenager anymore. This actually hit kinda hard, and I see why my flatmate was crying like mad when she turned 20. I honestly don't think turning 21 has the same ring to it. 21 is all about having transitioned from being a teenager and making the start of adult life. That is a scary, scary thought. I’ve always hated growing up. I can remember when I was 7 crying because I didn't want to have to grow up, I enjoyed being a kid too much. I’ve got to accept though that getting older is just a part of life, and that’s just how it goes. I’m (mostly) cool with not being a teenager anymore. 

The other thing this summer marks, is one year since I’ve been single. As of the 13 of August, last year I was officially single, and for the first time in my life since I was 15, I’ve been single or had no love interest in just over a year. 

I can still remember those first sexual experiences with a girl, and losing my virginity. I can remember despite being with a girl when I was 16, having a massive massive crush on this guy called Andy. Perfect guy, who I got on with incredibly (as well as in a romantic way), decent height, rugby player, dimples, gorgeous face, and I can remember it taking me a good 18 months to get over that, despite having relations with a girl during that time. By comparison, splitting up with Jack over a year ago didn't have the same effect. It took me very little time to get over him, and I learnt a lot in that small relationship, but I haven't found someone to fill that gap.

People say you should love and accept yourself when you're single. But I feel like I have. Overall I’m the ‘happiest’ I have been in months, managing to escape crippling depression, and I know more about myself generally. I value my freedom massively, but that to me, is not a reason to not be in a relationship. I spent ages fantasising over a Tom, wanting to murder another, and then ended up sleeping with another, another one that is pretty fit to be fair, but just doesn't seem interested. 

I know that if I was to enter a relationship with someone, even though I want the freedom and don’t want to be tied down (maybe that would change with someone that I fell madly for and wanted to spend every waking minute with), they would have to be pretty special. One thing I learnt from Josh, was that I want someone that’s a go getter. I don't want someone that will settle for less, I want someone that has the drive, and an interesting personality, as well someone that I find pretty attractive and am turned on by. I feel like I haven't been exploring my options with women enough lately. But there’s just something generally about girls that reminds me of my 15 year old angsty self. Find me a guy and I’ll pull him within 10 seconds in a drunken club night out if he feels similarly, but with a girl I’m always left second guessing. I guess I want a girl that I can feel natural with, and don’t have to worry about things like that. But I’m still waiting for myself to push that comfort zone further and go for more girls that I feel have wonderful personalities and are beautiful. 

This summer has also marked the fact that I need to have a think about the state of my friendships and relationships. I would say I have a best friend, Anojan. But I don’t feel particularly close to him right now. I know he’s living all the way up in the North, doing his placement, and staying with his BF, but I’ve hardly spent time with him in the past 9 months, a few days total in that entire time. It’s just weird, and I really wished I could’ve spent the summer building up some time spent together, not that would’ve been feasible. 

I’m not close with any of my housemates. J, has been busy spending most of her summer with her bf, and despite her saying originally she wanted to see me over the summer, she’s made no similar remarks in recent times, and I’m not sure I would even want to see her the way our friendship has been. I mean she even forget my birthday by 4 days, despite people posting on a group chat we have. To me what sort of friend is one that doesn't remember to even wish you happy birthday? Even Dan wished me happy birthday, and the level of communication going on there has been next to zilch.

So yeah this summer has been weird. I’m looking forward to next year, but I’m really not sure what to expect from living in my house next year. The room is going to be amazing, and the house is lovely, and they all seem like decent guys, but I’m not sure. I’m not even properly out to them yet, and I’m a bit of a  party animal, I think I’m going to have to tone this done if I don't want to seriously piss some people off.  

Looking forward, I don’t know what the next year will bring, but I have some goals. I want to save money for an incredible summer to celebrate finishing my final year of university. I want to have enough money to spend some proper time travelling, and celebrate my 21st in style. I want to save money to help my parents save for an incredible holiday to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary. 

I don't want to let my being a president of a society take over my life. I want to be able to function on my degree, party like mad, and still get involved properly in a society or two. I want to enjoy my life and make the most of everything my final year of uni can offer, while I still can. I’m not going to actively search out for a partner, but I’m going to make myself open and available for the potential for one to appear, from wherever that may be...

Here’s to the future, and the next year!

[obscurelistening]

This year...

What can I say about this year? Where do I possibly start? It. Has, been something I’ll give it that. I think it’s pretty safe to say it has been the worst year of my life, not meaning to sound dramatic. I think I’ve had some previous ‘worst years’ in the past, but when you compare it to the things that have happened in the past 365 days, it’s safe to say that they have been generally up there with the worst.

Family stuff hasn’t been great this year. Not particularly for me, but my poor parents. I really sorry about my mothers mental health with all the shit she's had to deal with in the past couple of years. And when I do, come out, which I feel like I may almost have to, that won't make it much better. 

Then depression, that’s not been great to deal with, and I feel like there’s been a number of contributory factors towards that. Right now, I honestly wouldn’t say I feel depressed. But I may also be depressed and going through a ‘high’ because I have a crush on someone and therefore am incapable of feeling it right now. I don’t know. But I don't feel depressed so I guess that’s all that matters. 

What I do know is that I’m suffering anxiety though, and I definitely need to get this checked out and looked into. I mean, being raped is pretty heavy, and when you think you're over something, it comes back and hits you in the face - with anxiety, and to be honest I don't want to live my life with anxiety and panic attacks. So I REALLY need to address this. Like REALLY need to address that. 

Then there’s friendships. Friendship with J has been particularly bad recently. I feel like i’ve been even less close with her after I told her I was raped in Poland over Facebook. I told her I didn't want to talk about it, but I'm kinda pissed off she hasn't come to my room and forced me to confront it. But when you spent the past month basically living with your boyfriend it’s hard to engage with someone. Our friendship has completely soured and gone down hill, and she wonders why we’re not close right now and I’m being off with her. Well, when you promise to go the STI clinic with someone after they’ve been raped, but don’t it kinda pisses you off ya know? 

In the past year other friendships have taken a dive too. I only really engage with a couple of people from high school now. Which to be honest is fine. But people like V, who I used to be much closer with I’ve just kinda become disillusioned and annoyed with. The fact that, he ‘couldn’t afford’ to holiday with us for 3 years in a row, yet suddenly has the money to go to Amsterdam.. or the fact he comes to visit me at uni, but it’s mostly an excuse to see his family and not me... Okay...

Then the people who I had a pretty close intense relationship with, D. That relationship has completely taken a nose-dive this year. 

I’ve not really stopped moaning about this year though. There’s that crazy guy that I met who basically accused me of beating him up and being an abusive boyfriend. Considering we’d not even shared more than a kiss or dated, I don't even know how the fuck he came up with that conclusion. Or the fact that the university took 8 weeks to respond by saying that basically they couldn’t be fucked to investigate, because well, they don't give a fuck unless it affects them. Jee thanks guys. 

I think the icing on the cake though has been the past few weeks. Finding out someone that was close to you was beginning to get involved in that psycho really fucking hurt inside, even though I tried to pretend it didn’t. It’s like when someone or something you really care about or is close to you, associates with something you see as poison. Though really that was a small thing, and D did the right thing, it just hurt to have found out that had happened. He could have been seeing literally anyone in the universe but him, my two exes Josh or Jack and I wouldn’t have cared less either. It was just the fact it was someone crazy that made it hurt so much. But the right thing happened really, I can't complain. 

The real icing was having a nerve in my arm punctured leaving me unable to move or use my arm properly, or have feeling in my fingers. I’m recovering slowly, but having to put up with that ontop of everything else that’s been going on has been very difficult to handle. 

Despite all of this, there have been good things and I can’t and shouldn’t focus on all of the bad things. 

There’s been the small things, like passing my driving test, or being able to go abroad for some sun and a nice holiday. And the much bigger things, like my eye operation. I can safely say that having that eye operation has been one of the best things I’ve ever done in my life. Ever. I wish i’d done it sooner (not that I was able to), and there’s hope that I may in the future be able to restore vision in my left eye. Well I say restore, make my brain work to provide something that I’ve never had before, binocular vision. that would be cool. 

Getting president for a society is pretty cool too I guess, that looks good. Or getting a really exciting summer job. 

There’s so many things I ought to be grateful for, even my parents who care so much about me. When I do come out to them, I’m sure they’ll be okay. 

But more importantly whilst there has been all this shit that has gone on, I don't know if this is some ‘lords’ way of setting me up for an even darker future, but right now the fact that I just don't feel depressed is a good thing that ought to be celebrated, and the fact that I have things I can be optimistic about in the future. Like living in the lads pad, being president of a society, or getting to do some insane travelling after third year. Those are all cool things. 

Of course, it goes without saying that I have a crush and it would be cool to explore things there. I mean you can ‘think’ someone likes you, but can you be really sure from the fact that they like the majority of your recent Instagram photos and Facebook posts? Probably not. But it will be fun to actually see where that goes, and push myself to see if he is genuinely interested in that way and see if I can pursue something there. 

But despite this awful year, things really can't get much ‘worse’than this, and there are plenty of good things in my life to be grateful for and for me to look forward to the future. Here’s hoping the next 365 will be something positive...

[obscurelistening]

Here's your future...

Too awake for 2:17 in the morning. Not even sure why... Hope it wasn't the energy drink I had at like 4pm...

Anyway today was odd. I got elected society president! How the fuck did that happen?

I've got an exam in the morning, whoops.

Today was kinda bittersweet though. It was great to be president. But it felt crazy. I'm gonna be in my final year of uni in just a few months time! That scares and saddens me. All the good friends in final year that will be gone.

To be honest I've been crazy busy this year. But I was kinda annoyed with myself for not getting more involved in things like climbing, or LGBT soc. Then again, some of the gays in that thing really mug me off...

I've become a lot closer with people I didn't really expect to become closer to and that I hardly knew in first year. But it's also gone in swings and roundabouts. A guy I used to talk to all the time last year basically disappeared. And then of course there was Dan, who disappeared off the face of the earth, and I'm just left here like, oh ok now. What do we do here exactly? Is one to bother?

Of course, being assaulted while in Poland wasn't fun, I feel like it's all going pretty good on that front and I'm not too bothered. So I'm just gonna ride that wave until it becomes an issue.

Anyway it's been scary. But I Have no reason to be scared. Poland and this year I'm talking. A lot of big changes have happened this year. But I'm a lot wiser and older.

And I look forward to third year. Seriously can't wait to live in a lads house with a seemingly genuine bunch of guys. Plus hot Italian eye candy can't be bad. Cant wait to hopefully get back into climbing and really press on with that this coming year. And I can't wait to explore things with someone. I'm still not even sure right now how to find a girl.

I literally think I've forgotten how to meet women. With guys it's easy,online at least, but when there's a cute guy, flirting is suddenly so bloody difficult, especially like the one on my course. Then there's the dilemma, of do I flirt with the other guy on my course where he accidentally ended up spooning in my bed after two drunken nights out? Such questions. M wants to ship us together. But I'm not sure. We'll see. Or, do I pursue the wonderful James? Even though he's so bi curious he wouldn't know a dick if it slapped him in the face he wouldn't know what to do with it. Kinda want someone that is at least semi comfortable in who they are.

Either way.

Really I have nothing to be scared about in final year. I mean besides, when I graduate I'll be able to chill out in my uni town for a year afterwards and figure out the rest of my life. Right now all I've gotta focus on is tomorrow, and take things as they come.