Saturday, January 03, 2004

The Cum Down

SMS. 7.34. Hey Christian, merry xtmas! U been god? What r u up to today? – Jamie

SMS. 7.57am. Miss. Morning! – Tom

SMS. 8.30am. I think I have Pinkeye – Christian


I think I may have conjunctivitis. Bugger. Off to the chemist – don’t make me go to the doctor.

My knob is scarlet.


SMS. 8.47am. What pot? – Tom


I’m not answering this one. (Perhaps, I am stingy?) And I don’t think Tom has access to a computer while he stays at Shane’s for the next week, or so, so no ready availability to his emails. Otherwise, I would have emailed my reply.

There’s some story about Shane & Mark W not having a home, landline, phone, something about a dispute between Telstra and the landlord.


SMS 9.45am You sms’d me & said you’d get dope new year’s eve night – Christian


I feel guilty about Zack and not telling Manny. That’s two men I haven’t told Manny about. Bad, bad, Christian. It was nonsense that I went to Zack’s last night. I was in no fit state, I knew that. And now I seem to have lied to Manny, even by omission. Stupidity, the things you do on drugs. I don’t want to do anything to upset Manny, he’s too nice for that, and yet, I have. Even SMSing Jamie was stupid. I’m hopeless when it comes to sex on drugs, I know that – unless I’m with a beloved partner.

I don’t know why I don’t want to tell Manny about gayday? Not sure?


SMS. 9.50am. Jamie, today I’m wrecked. Too many d’s – Christian


So, my New Year’s resolution is to not do anything that I can’t tell Manny about. (Your number 1 vow is not to lie, either directly or by omission…and you have!) In fact, it should be to not have sex with anyone but Manny. In reality, he’s all I want, need. Sex with Manny is the best! So, stop it you fool, before this gets out of hand. Just keep yourself for your beautiful boy.

Bloody drugs!

Bloody gaydar!

It’s time to keep off both. Write your emails and your journals and your other writing. (non-existent at the moment) You don’t have time for anything else. (Don’t waste time on anything else)


SMS. 10am. I have it still at Perry’s – Tom


Not long after this, I went and lay down on the couch and slept until 3pm, when Manny sat one the couch and woke me up. What a lovely way to be woken up.


SMS. 3.54pm. 2 pork roll! – Tom


Manny and I went and bought food and then visited Tom.


11pm…

I didn’t quite understand Tom’s last sms until I went over to his place (Shane’s place (Hotham Street) which Tom is minding) with Manny this afternoon. Tom didn’t get home from Perry and Wesley’s until 4pm this afternoon.

The three of us chatted for a while and, of course, Tom and I had a couple of j’s. Then Manny and I went over to his place.



Christian,

sorry but can you refresh my memory what was said in the last lot of emails?

Do you still work in Collins St. Melb?

Louis


Louis on his back on his couch, wearing a singlet and a a hardon and his sexy, fury arse curl into view. Then I was in him, his knees on his chest, my harden straight down into his tight hold.

His handsome face looking up at me, "Fuck me. I so want you to fuck me."


There you go, sometimes you have a win. What Louis and I were talking about in our last emails…well, you already know. The things you do on drugs? Jesus! One of my new vows must be never to email or sms whilst out of it on drugs. You (I) make very bad choices, when you (I) do.

If I just don’t answer Louis’s email, he probably won’t chase it up. Hopefully.

Why did I email him? I was just being naughty and out of it. Just wanted to tease. I had no real intentions of meeting with him. There’s some need in me to tease him for dumping me, as a sex buddy. (Not sure why) And all that business with Tim too. It’s childish and stupid I know, but there you go.


And now I just need to dump Jamie. Although, my real reason for hooking up with Jamie was, quite possibly, foremost in my head, was to have a threesome with Manny. Jamie’s half-Italian, after all. I thought Manny would like him and it is Manny, after all, who talks about us having threesomes; you know, be one step ahead. I thought Manny and I could both fuck him. Together. The thought of Manny’ cock rubbing against mine when they’re both in Jamie’s arse. Yum!

But now, you know, I’m not so sure. I rather like the idea of a monogamous relationship with Manny, even, as I’ve said before, if I don’t tell him. May be the simple life is easier.

Just maybe?

I’ve decided on a new rule for other people reading my journal, not that anyone wants to, has show the slightest interest in, let me just say. But, as the boy scouts say… And that is, no they can’t. But if someone really wants to read the journal they can, if they read the whole thing, from the first page to the last. Cover to cover, so to speak. If they are really interested in what I have to say, well, they can be interested in the whole story, the full picture.

My other rule about my journal is, never to speak of it. You know, like refer to it in any way.

I finally called Mark and Luke and spoke to Luke. They are fine, they have guests and need more sleep, but they are pulling up fine.

I’m having lunch with my mother tomorrow, after putting her off since last night. And that was even after I rang her Wednesday and she said that she had been sitting in the house for 3 days and that she was sick of it.


Midnight…


Tom

Well there you go. You witnessed me bare-face lie to Manny. (If you had been aware of it, that is) He caught me off guard with that one. Actually, it wasn't until after I said no to the no-sex-with-other-guys question, the first time... (I had said no a millisecond before I remembered) you know something, this suddenly makes me feel very bad, writing this. I'm going to make a cup of tea. It suddenly makes me feel like all those other miserable wretches who lead dishonest lives, who, somehow, I place myself a shelf above. Perhaps I'm really like that?

Anyway, I'm off to make that cup of tea.

You know, I started to unravel after I lied. I felt like some knitting with the end of the wool caught on a snag, as the young lady rides past on her push-bike with the knitting in her basket on the handlebars. So much so, that I wanted to get away from Manny. When we got to his place I said I had to go, I was tired. He said, don't you want to play? And I thought, no I don't. Besides, I can't kiss him or suck his cock, so who could be bothered. A little later, he stuck his hand down my pants and I forgot my resolve, but that is another story.

I've just got to stay off gaydar. It's like a take away food shop. Junk food. Too easy. Perhaps, I'm a little more precious about who I want to spend my time with – or should be. The blond bi-boy was a property developer, doll! At one stage he made some comment about property deals, or something. And I remember thinking to myself, you have to say something here to maintain your integrity. So I said, they are destroying the character of all of those beautiful old suburbs. He looked at me so dismissively and replied, you can't stop progress. It was like sleeping with the enemy, doll. It almost creeped me out.

You know, I suppose I don't see it as lying because I've never said that I was going to be monogamous and I'm not having a relationship with him, so I don't see it – there is a part of me – as lying, not wanting to share everything. Keeping stuff as my own. But that's not true – not to mention that Manny asked me a direct question – well, the direct question is the point here, hey?

Let's just say, that the sex with Manny is just the best sex. Far better than anyone else, I've had recently, certainly. (In a very long time) Quite frankly, if all the other men disappeared off the face of the earth – I'm talking about relationships from this point forward – quite frankly, I wouldn't care. Not that I'm asking for that, you understand.

And he's sweet. And he's lovely. And I like him.

Can you figure this out?

Well, can you?


Now Tim is crushing up some speed for me in the kitchen. He asked me if I want half of his rock and I said yes, without a moment’s notice.

Tim talked to me about how he and Terry are thinking of moving out. They want their own place, you know, I’ve been able to see that already.

They’ve also been feeling invaded by Tom being here a lot. Tom stays on weekends, so he doesn’t have to drive home to Dingley. But, he also takes up residence on the weekends when I’m at Bolago and it is only Tim and Terry home in Fitzroy.

The bathroom is still non-operational, and I think that is bothering Tim and Terry also, although they are not really stating it.

But primarily, they are feeling like they want a place of their own, although they don’t want to leave here, as it’s a great house.

I need to get my act together about all of the things that need to be done.

You know, a part from those pesky untruths, (refer above) I’m having a very nice life, thank you. (And, the untruths, are concerned with such boy base boy things, of which I thought I was relatively immune, I’m surprised) I have a life partner, a gorgeous boy-friend in-law, if you like. (I’m thinking what is my relationship with Luke?) And a third boy who think’s I’m one of the sexiest men around. Of course, he’s in love with me, which I hope won’t be a huge obstacle in the future. I can see/feel his disappointment sometimes, when I do all of my un-boyfriend things toward him. You know, living my life. Leaving him alone on New Years Eve. Going away to the country every weekend, to which I have subtly stated that he will not be invited.

You know, sometimes I look at Manny and it nearly takes my breath away, how beautiful he is. And it’s because he’s sweet and real and open, as much as it’s got to do with his physical beauty, which is abundant.

But you know, I think that I really mean it when I say that I will never have a live in lover again. I enjoy seeing them and then not seeing them. And then being really pleased when I see them again.

So, call it license, or having your cake and eating it too, but what else do you do with cake? But it also means that there are parts of it that I am only going to keep for myself. If the parts kept secret start to mount up, then a serious reassessment of who it is you call your love/partner/boyfriend would, of course, need to be advised. Quite frankly, I don’t know that I need to be privy to every aspect of someone’s life to fall in love with them. I could respect someone for having their life too. It kind of – I would imagine – would only help to make them more interesting, if anything at all. No, more interesting. You have got to want to be together, that’s all you need. Together because you want to be, could think of nothing nice in the world to do, as opposed to, I have to have someone in my life. Mutual attraction and respect and a natural tendency to gravitate together, that’s what’s need.

I suppose I have this idealised relationship in my head, that has laisefare rules, not structure, (and no stated commitment, but it just works out that way) but still works brilliantly, because of love, mutual attraction and respect. Being happy in your own lives, which seem to have gravitated together, despite the two (three, why not) of you.

It’s 3.30am…

You know, that I use Tom as somewhat of a confessional. We all need one person in who to confess. (I suppose it would always be someone who is not a lover, who is not one hundred per cent dependant on the outcome of the confession, like a lover always is.) Which is why I some times get cross with people who say that Tom can’t be trusted with such personal details, or however they put it. That he is a blabs. Maybe I have even said that myself, on occasion. And while it has never been denied that he loves a good gossip, as I do, he has never repeated my really personal issues, the ones involved in the continual explanation of who I am as a human being. He has never told anyone stuff I have said that has the no-discussion-beyond-these-walls tag, where it was stated or understood. No, he knows those limits.

It appears that I have formed my own smoking circle of death, tonight. (To counteract the speed?)

You know with this speed, I’m not feeling sexual at all. Apart from the fact that I had sex with Manny today, despite having a sore dick, I am disappointed in myself for all of the carry on over secrets. So it just ain’t happening. And I haven’t been on gaydar, I’ve been writing emails, instead. (If I start writing, I forget about it. Don’t think about it) To Josh, to Tom (which I have decided not to send. It was full of things that probably should only be journal entries) and Lauri. And I’ve been writing my journal, also. All simultaneously, which proved for a couple of tricky saving manoeuvres, on a couple of occasions. You know when you say, just stop, something’s wrong with this course of action, even if you don’t specifically know what it is that is wrong.

And following current policy, all texts will be checked in the morning, in a clearer state of mind, before they are sent anywhere. Heavily restricted emails and sms’ after drugs have been consumed, are now the norm. My judgement, shall we say, can prove to be less than reliable. Like I realised today, when I was driving Manny home and he was chatting to me, I can’t drive and hold a conversation at the same time, when I am stoned. Something’s just have to be accepted.

It is now 4.45am and I told mum I would come to lunch tomorrow. Oh bugger it, if I sleep in I can reschedule for later in the day.

Oh mum, I’m still catching up from New Years Eve.

Tom’s email was full of stuff about Manny, which, after I read back over it, I decided it should be just stuff for my contemplation. (It started off as a journal entry, I’ve just decided to put it back there)

It is included below.



About lying to Manny, (in my own defence) the direct question, implication maybe, was about me sleeping with someone to have contracted conjunctivitis, which I didn't. I've had this damn pussy eye for nearly a week.

So...

I think after all of that, at the very least, I'm implementing a no wog boy, no sex policy. Well, at least it takes away enough temptation to be manageable. (or enough sex for it to always be good. real or imagined) I am allowed to have sex with other boys, but I just have to tell him. And mostly, that is for health reasons... if that is true? Yes, it is. His anxieties... mostly about getting crabs. And if you like, to be a little harsh, maybe, that is more for the reasons of vanity, crawling with bugs, (possibly a hygiene issue) than anything that may require hospitalisation. It's because he is a hairy wog boy (Yum!) (Have I mentioned that before?) who, if he gets crabs, certainly has a much more intense crab infestation, than say you or I. So I don't think I have done anything, to encroach on those understandings. (Bi-boy was hairless. Completely, except for his head. Nobody mention lice!)

And I certainly didn't catch conjunctivitis through having sex with someone. Because I didn't...

(He says quietly to self, or did I? I think there is two not fessed up to, but that's it. Honest. All the rest fessed up to, with such startling honesty, on the verge of being crewel, if a slight watering down of certain details, mostly for the reasons of brevity, did take place)

Now Tim is crushing up some speed for me in the kitchen. He asked me if I want half of his rock and I said yes, without a moment’s notice. Like a cash draw out of register. Thank you very much. (So there will be no pitiful news year’s resolutions about giving up d's, don't you worry about that.) (To tell you the truth, I just checked the time to see if it was unreasonable to ask you to take a trip to Steve's. It is 3am)

You know, a part from those pesky untruths, (refer above) I’m having a very nice life, thank you. (And, the untruths are concerned with such boy base boy things, of which I thought I was relatively immune, I’m surprised) I have a life partner, a gorgeous boy-friend in-law, if you like. (I’m thinking what is my relationship with Luke?) And a third boy who thinks I’m one of the sexiest men around. Of course, he’s in love with me, which I hope won’t be a huge obstacle in the future. I can see/feel his disappointment, when I do all of my un-boyfriend things toward him. You know, living my life. Leaving him alone on New Years Eve. Going away to the country every weekend, to which I have subtly stated that he will not be invited.

Sometimes I look at Manny and it nearly takes my breath away, how beautiful he is. And it’s because he’s sweet and real and open, as much as it’s got to do with his physical beauty, which is abundant.

But you know, I think that I really mean it when I say that I will never have a live in lover again. I enjoy seeing them and then not seeing them. And then being really pleased when I see him again. Why would I want to spoil that?

So, call it license, or having your cake and eating it too, but what else do you do with cake? But it also means that there are parts of it that I am only going to keep for myself. If the parts kept secret start to mount up, then a serious reassessment of who it is you call your lover/partner/boyfriend/buddy would, of course, need to be advised. Quite frankly, I don’t know that I need to be privy to every aspect of someone’s life to fall in love with them, now. I could respect someone for having their life too. It kind of - I would imagine - would only help to make them more interesting, if anything at all. No, more interesting. You have got to want to be together, that’s all you need. Together because you want to be, could think of nothing nice in the world to do, as opposed to, I have to have someone in my life. Mutual attraction and respect and a natural tendency to gravitate together, that’s what’s needed.

I suppose I have this idealised relationship in my head, that is lazise fare with rules, no structure, (and no stated commitment, but it just works out that way) but still works brilliantly, because of love, mutual attraction and respect. Being happy in your own lives, which seem to have gravitated together, despite the two (three, why not) of you.

It's true, I did attend the de Brant school of justification, albeit it a long time ago now.

Do you know that I am writing an email to you, Josh and Lauri, all at the same time. You gotta love that speed. (I do believe that is, given the hour, four days in a row) And there is no cutting or pasting involved, at all.

It's ironic that Manny and I said today, almost at the same time, that our favourite Randy Crawford song was, One day I'll fly away.

I went to bed at 5am.

 

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