Ah, Friday night, that magical night.
Shane went to Daylesford with some guys he likes who fancy themselves as arty, intellectual types. (I've met them, raised eyebrows)
David got fisted by an amputee. Screamed the house down on the good hand, made a pig of himself on the dud one, apparently.
I got stoned and watched teev in the dark and fell asleep on the couch, in the warm night air, the world was on dim. The doors and windows open, a gentle breeze blew.
I watched Nadal play last night. The boy has the hottest arse.
Made coffee. Rolled a joint, I knew I wasn’t going to be doing much. I went to go outside to see if my Impatience had recovered with the water I’d given them yesterday, the coffee boiled just as I went to go. Switch it off, let it finish it’s thing. Step off the front doorstep to look around the side of the house, my finger tips were still touching the door as it locked behind me.
“No!”
I had the joint still in my hand, oddly enough, and I, quite frankly, wouldn’t have minded, quite so much, if I’d had a lighter in my hand, as well. I could have just sat down in the shadows and not cared, hosed myself with water. Pretend to be 5... high on THC.
“Fuck!” The door has really locked! I never not snibbed the lock. I really am standing there in jocks and T-shirt, fortunately a big baggy T-shirt and not the, occasionally preferred small, tighter one.
I stuck my hand out into the sun light and it sparked like metal in a microwave. Bugger, I have to do something.
There was nothing for it, I headed in next door and called Shane. “Oh yes, I could organise that, no problem. Be right with you.” Dial tone. Shane was certainly in work mode.
My neighbour’s friend offered for me to wait with her until Shane came, but in my jocks? She was pretty much in hers too. I didn't feel like playing ladies with a middle aged woman in her underwear.
“No thanks, he only just works up the road.” Smile.
"He's a good boyfriend, then?" Jauntily, raised eye-brows.
Um, no, he's not my... "Yeah... he is." Smile.
Back in the front yard, I wanted a lighter for my j. A woman came along the footpath rummaging in her bag. I decided that if she pulled out a lighter, I ask her to lend it to me. She got to my gate, stopped rummaging and through the gate she came.
“Oh Guadalupe!” My whole reality just did a 180 degree turn. Our cleaner was coming today instead of Australia Day.
“I come today.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve just locked myself out of the house.”
She laughed quietly. “Lucky, I come then.”
I cancelled my doctor’s appointment at 12,15, at 11.30. Who can function in this heat, for god’s sake.
Faffed about all day, never far from the fan, let me tell you.
It's airless. As I exhale, the smoke just sits in the afternoon's sun rays, like I'm on fire myself, under the veranda.
David went to orientation for his students, then he was going “to get his cunt trowelled” by some couple he knows, who are down from Sydney. In a CBD Hotel room.
“Feel like a whore?” I asked.
“I’ll be too busy saying Fuck me to think about any thing.”
David asked me what I'd say if Kane came over.
"Get off me!"
Tomorrow it’s going to be 43. Jesus Fuck! Kill me now.
I had lunch with my friend Jill. Bourke Street. Salmon Bagels.
I've got twelve short stories I'm working on. A gay, semi-erotic, anthology. Been back working on them all week. I got a new printer, so now I can print out what I've written and write some more.
The languid afternoon stretched into night. No evening breeze to blow through the house, cooling the air. The heat stayed, as if the air was sticky with honey.
We've had pot all week, so we've been sedating ourselves really well. A couch each, even if David doesn't partake.
Heat? What heat?
Shane and I watched Dexter, to the end of season 3. I love the Blood Orange image in the opening sequence, it's hot.
I had dinner with Kane. We said we'd spend the long weekend together and I kind of piked on him. He laughed when I said that I realised that had had to put in an appearance by Monday night.
I had to put in some effort. I couldn't just not call, 'cause I felt like hiding away. I had to give it my best shot, not my apathy, he is a smart boy.
I told him I suspected that he may be too clingy for me. He looked at me with big eyes and then said, really? Then he agreed with me, that he had the tendency.
I told him he was serious and he is serious. He's a serious young man. But then, I kind of like that in boyfriends, or at least to have it in them, it makes them kind of solid. Life is serious and it all needs to be taken care of... it's not all show tunes and sweaty men.
You've got to keep up your day job going, whatever it may be.
"I don't think I'm that serious," he said earnestly. Straight-faced.
I laughed.
He laughed.
I rubbed his shoulders, he went all floppy under the weight of the release.
"Some times you can lighten up."
After he said he wanted to get to know me intellectually, he answered the spot quiz, word perfectly, on the topics of capital punishment, abortion and gay marriage. We agreed on John Howard, cars and violent films, but there was some dissent around a vote for The Greens and the smoking of pot.
(Ed note - apparently, he does have a car, must pay closer attention)
"Yes, I do come out in day light hours," I said. "And it doesn't always have to be about sex."
He laughed. He's cute when he laughs.
"I play well with others."
I told him I was going to get him drunk and ended up a little light headed myself, as I strolled up La Trobe Street. Kind of light on my feet. Nearly. Felt good.
He headed home, as he had to go to... um, er, I should know this? Wwww.....wwwwoo... wwwwoork... wwwwoorkk.
The day was sun-drenched, shiny, almost glistening. What amazing weather we're having for a long weekend.
Saw my mum in the morning. Wrote in the afternoon.
Kane called, wanting to do something. But, I didn't care if I saw him, or not, that's how I felt as I listened to his voice, I was happy writing, so, I guess, that's what he felt down the phone back at him.
I don't know, am I getting picky? Or is it discernment? Put into practice what I've learned from past relationships.
Kane's hot and all, but too clingy. Wants to make my life his life, already. I can feel it. Always wants to know what will make me happy, it makes my skin crawl.
And boyfriends without cars, I'm sick of it. It's the 21st Century. (It's amazing how quickly I drop my environmental standards when it suits me.)
Mitchell's great. Dry, funny, chilled, cynical, can just be. But, as I've said before, hopeless in bed. Really bad. Clueless. You can't up-skill enough from that level, at thirty four. You can either kiss, or you can't.
So, if I've learned any thing, as nice as they both are, I think that means, next.
So, NEXT!
I think my window period is pretty much about a month, for any guy. If you haven't got me completely by then, you just ain't going to. It's pretty much that simple. Tough? Maybe. Realistic. Because when you are with one of the right ones, it never occurs to you when that 4 weeks is up. Suddenly, it's twelve months later. You know what I mean?
The languid afternoon turned into night.
I'm working on an anthology of semi-erotic gay short stories. It's where I ended up from writing straight erotica for my marketing girlfriend. (I must send her the chapters I did write)
Shane bought home some guy he picked up at an exhibition he and David went to. David was so drunk he kept telling me what a huge cock this guy had, it wasn't the first time with this guy for Shane, in front of the guy. I don't usually see David drunk, he's hysterical.
David staggered out the door at midnight looking for one of his own.
And it's Sunday, again. Guido arrived with Australia Day Show bags. I wrote all day, then watched Teev. The last thing I remember was watching Dexter with Shane. We must have watched 4 episodes. Then it all goes a bit hazy.
David went to his obnoxious girlfriend's in the outer suburbs.
I woke up on the couch.
Shane went to Sircuit. There are long weekend parties on.
I stumbled off to bed.
Morning sunshine. Missy sniffs at my face. Like butterflies, I always think. Tentative meow. I take my first look at her fat face. Cats do smile.
Down the stairs with one eye closed. Rub my head. My spine feels stiff. My muscles ache, gratifyingly so, as I stretch.
It's a beautiful day, sparkly sunshine, cool breeze. Birds singing.
Eyes widen to open. The world is bathed in light.
Clearly, Shane met someone he liked, with three towels, on two couches, sundry items of clothing strewn across the carpet and two condom wrappers on the coffee table.
I wonder if I am going to be sharing breakfast with a stranger?
It's the perfect kind of weather that you just want to jump into. Shirtless, feel the sun like warm honey on your skin.
I stand in the back yard photosynthesising, rubbing my arms.
I should go to the pool.
The kitchen looks like a bomb has exploded. How do 3 people make such mess?
And, Jasus! I'm out of coffee!
I roll a j.
I check my messages, 2 from Kane. He hopes to see me today.
That's right, boyfriends... (although, he only has an application in at the moment) they are very time consuming, I remember. They are not just pretty faces on pillows.
Yawn. Stretch. Head spin. I'm going back to bed.
David has incredible highs and devastating lows. Earlier in the week he was going through a blue patch - crying, depression, wallowing, even if I do say it. The problem was that Shane and I, both normally very laid back, were trying to quit smoking and we had no patience.
"Well, get into bed and stay there," I said. "It'll pass, you know it will."
"Take a valium," said Shane. "Now! Take one now! Don't put it off. If you don't have any, I do."
Truthfully, that was about all the sympathy he got.
I ask him if this was the way he got attention as a child, and he stopped and took it in. He repeated it a day later, as if he'd been thinking about what I'd said since I asked him. David is on the high end of intelligent.
David is, shall we say, on the high end of self focused. Spoilt Greek boy, although he'd deny it. His mother wiped his arse until he was 10 years old, apparently. Sometimes, it shows.
I was just thinking out loud as to what the root of his monthly, although not quite as frequent lately, blue period is. Shane and I let him get away with very little.
It was a real boy's house, last night. David and I had guys around. Shane had mates around he was going to an exhibition with.
Kane asked who the people were, as we looked up from the couch.
I have no idea, I said.
He laughed, said he'd never been in a house like it.
It was a hot night, we had all the doors open.
Randy Crawford sang the blues.
David cooked for the four of us.
I had sex all night with Kane. My lips hurt.
He looked so handsome, looking up at me from the mattress.
We smoked pot on the balcony, even Kane. He doesn't smoke.
"Just have some, you baby," I said. I held it to his lips.
He inhaled. He exhaled. "Now what?" he asked.
"Have more," I said.
He inhaled again.
So now I'm pushing my vices.
We came inside for round 2. He's certainly eager and good at it.
He even went home, late, without wanting to stay the night. He's just about perfect.
The fan whirred. Revellers yelled in the street. I slept with a sheet.
Kane tells me he misses me on the phone when I speak to him. I guess, I should think it's sweet, but, really, I don't have an answer for him. We're only just getting to know each other, we've only seen each other 3 times. I don't think I know him well enough to miss him, yet.
Last night, I laughed, as a response and he asked me why I laughed. I had to say it was a nervous response, pathetically.
I can't just say I miss him too, if I don't feel it. I can't give those sorts of answers. Just can't. I can only tell the truth, no matter what the circumstances, which, I guess, is a good thing. But, other than the laugh response, I have just fallen silent when he says he misses me.
Mitchell has made a return, too. He's been overseas for a month. Sweet, lovely Mitchell. The cuddle monster, although sadly, that's about the limit of his repertoire. Great at touch, hugs, being together, sweet stuff. Lying in each others arms on the couch, there is no nicer place to be. But then it all comes apart when his pants do. Hopeless, really, is the word.
Neither knows about the other, as yet. I guess I should have said by now? Maybe? Neither has asked if I'm seeing anyone else, either. I guess, it's lying through omission, though.
So, now I have two. Hot and horny Kane. Sweet and gentle Mitchell. I suspect two will do my head in, so now I've got to choose?
It was all my old mates, last night, how long have we known each other, fifteen years, longer. They all came to see Lauri, he's home from overseas.
We always have fun together, we don't do it very often now. We all used to party together.
We drank vodka, red wine and smoked pot. We all smoked outside, how times have changed.
We all stood in a circle, in the warm night air and I thought we all looked good. Handsome. Fit. Alive.
The three DJ's talked shop, Lauri, Chris and Matt. We butted in and shut them up whenever they tried it. Matt tried not to, but kept getting sucked in by the other two.
We all went to Sircuit, me, my ex Lauri, Shane, David, Matt, Sebastian, Chris, Larry. My good mates. We drank beer out of jugs. We're about the only ones left when we leave.
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The inauguration of President Obama. What a waste of money. Even when they change officials, America is sucking the resources out of the environment. Did you see the landfill that was masquerading as buttons and commemorative tea towels?
Will this bunch of bloated "me me me" children ever learn. America, giddy on it's own importance... yet again!
Why does everything have to be an event? (with television rights to sell) Why does everything have to be a marketing opportunity? (with merchandise to flog) Why the hell was it televised on our TVs? (infecting our TV with more American programming)
What exactly are they celebrating? How they broke the world? Oh no, that's right, the great, white, um, er, black hope. Well, come on get on with it, let's see what you can do. On the positive side, I guess, he can't do any worse than the last idiot.
