I resigned from writing for PostiveLite.com a few weeks back. You know how it is when you’re positive. Life gangs up on you at times, makes it difficult to concentrate on anything but what’s going on inside. With myself it’s a twofold thing as I am also extremely mindful of clinical depression, as anyone who has read my posts here before will know. It’s a debilitating illness which gives me more concern than HIV.
I have had an extremely eventful time since I last filed a report, and not all of it good. I mentioned having left the academy I was teaching at so as to concentrate on doing my own thing; I was delighted and nervous at the same time, however life does nothing except test you, huh. Two weeks after leaving the academy, the guy who runs the studio I base myself at announced that he was closing the studio as he had been served notice by the landlord, and we had exactly a week to get out.
To say I was floored is somewhat of an understatement. I had spent the previous week in a state of panic about what I was going to do with work anyhow. Having done what I wanted and left the academy I panicked and was fearful of the future. But this announcement didn’t send me into the flat spin I expected it to.
With the support of friends and a calm approach (not something I am known for) I planned what I was going to do next, but not just the immediate next, the long term next.
On speaking with my mother I said that I felt like the universe was trying to teach me something, as this wasn’t the first time my career had seemingly imploded on me, I said to her that I felt I had missed the lesson and the same thing was going to keep happening with increasing frequency until I learned whatever it was I needed to learn. On reflection I think it might be as simple as taking responsibility for my own future and not relying on others to support my dreams. Or indeed to follow my own personal dreams, and not aspire to follow the dreams of others.
Since having that conversation a Zen like calm descended on me, and my mapping of the future has been very clear. There is a long way to go, believe me. But for the first time in what feels like forever I can see the path I'm on and know exactly what I want to achieve. And step-by-step I am putting the foundations in place to move forward and feel very positive about it.
But there was one other thing bothering me and I have spoken about this in a previous post. I was still celibate. I have even been interviewed by Gay Times for a feature on Celibacy, but it was really beginning to annoy me. I had said at the end of last year that I intended 2012 to be the year of the sluttish achiever. Friends were even asking how that part of my resolution was going. And I was ashamed to report that there had been no movement. I mean to say what kind of gay man was I turning into who couldn’t pull a casual shag.
I’ve been going out lots with friends and having a blast, but no joy on that front. Dating apps and online sites were proving equally useless. I went out to a club to celebrate a close friend's birthday. There is a dark room at this venue. I'm sure you can understand my hesitation at my first sexual experience in, at that point 449 days, being a drunken fumble with a stranger in a room with others.
That night also I was mindful of the fact I had gone out in a group of mates to celebrate a special occasion so I didn’t want to ‘cop off’ and desert them. At the same time I was a horny little devil and was imagining all sorts of things with all sorts of people.
So I went back a week later. I knew a bunch of twitter friends would be there also that night - people I know well enough to hang out with but not so close that I would feel guilty if I went off with someone else to have a good time.
I did partake of rather a lot of Dutch courage on said evening. Remember it was 456 days at this point; it’s almost like the first time all over again. Nerves, sweaty palms, fearing rejection or even worse, a bad rating. My god, I thought, what if I only get 3/10. So I drank a lot of beer and vodka and threw myself onto the dance floor with reckless abandon (in reality it was more of a shuffle and moved my hands around a bit)
In a short space of time I found myself kissing a rather handsome Italian chap, but when he told me he was 25 I got cold feet and moved on. Only to bump into a 40-year old hot ‘n’ hairy Lebanese bloke who was only in the country for three more days. I was very honest with him about not having had sex for a long time and the reasons why and he didn’t laugh at me, but I think he was quite pleased that I chose him.
BINGO. Who cares if I got a bad response; he was leaving the country. Anyway I won't go into detail other than to say he was a great kisser, very tactile and left the next morning saying he wished he had met me at the beginning of his 3-month stay in London. Not a bad response for a ‘blowing away the cobwebs’ session.
So that’s it. As one friend said, the seal has been broken, and that comment made me think of a Joan Rivers joke about horse riding.
I am about to hit the shower to get ready to go on a date with a major hottie. I am excited beyond belief, not with expectation, as that would be silly, but because there is nothing standing in the way of me just having a good time with him, whatever happens.
And I just have to say a special thank you to my twitter friends for being a good bunch of people to go out and be a slut with.
John, Rob, Mike, Stef, Adam, Ben, and Lee you helped to make an old man very happy…