Yesterday was a fairly quiet day at the office. Just after lunch, the internet started to die gently, one site becoming unavailable after the other. And then there was none. Slightly decided it was a good time to implement a reorganisation of the studio he had been talking about for a few days and so we set to work. The result is not bad, the place looks more spacious and probably more inviting. However I am in the same position with my back to everybody (something I don't like).
All the redecorating however meant that the afternoon was soon gone and Slightly and I ended up ordering a pizza and other bits of highly healthy food to inogurate the new meeting room. Presumably ebbed on by the inebriating influence of this self imposed caloric surge, we soon found ourself in half-drunken confessional mode. After discussing Slightly's current squeeze we moved on to the more serious matter of accounting. That's how many men Master Slightly has had over the years (that's 12 years).
Let's just say for modesty's sake that he reputation as a tart is more than truely justified. When we tried the same compilations on my record (over about 17 years), the number we came up with was, by a large margin, much more modest. The figures remains much higher than the average for a straight guy though.
I tried to find figures for gay men but couldn't find anything conclusive or serious: figures vary from "10 to 1000 a year" (that's 3 a day!!!), to 308 in a lifetime according to a 1991 Study in NYC to just 50 (no source). It is interesting that figures can only be found, it seems, on homophobic websites...
Sunday evening saw (for both of us I believe) one of such encounters. I don't know about Slightly's but the guy I met was quite nice looking, a slovenian architect with, it seemed, that most rare of things: a brain in working order. Although, he didn't have much use for it in that case... He seemed, in any case, pleased with what happened and even mentioned keeping in touch, presumably for a rematch.
I must have been fairly pleased myself. Normally my kitchen activities are limited to producing rice or pasta and the heating up of frozen chicken. I simply can not be bothered to cook (and, more importantly perhaps, to wash up afterwards). When I got home, however, inspiration took hold of me and I recklessly launched into the concoction of my first ever tomato sauce. This without the help of a recipe. The surprising thing is that the result tasted rather nice. Life was good! Well, not bad...
For those interested:
That took about 10/15 min to do. All made, with no idea as to what I was doing!
Monday morning, as it should be, was, of course, a different affair. The aferglow had dimmed and the starck light of reality was shinning high and bright. The guy had removed the "foot step" he had left on the website we met on, indicating he had visited my profile (presumbaly so that I could not see and therefore access his profile again). This, of course, triggered a spate of (over?) analysis of the previous night's "house call", from which I emerged with all the necessary arguments to conclude that perhaps he had not been as into me as I had imagined at the time...
A few days ago, I rejoined Thinkbox. The first time round, noone had bothered looking at my profile and I had soon given up and deleted that said profile. Slightly who joined at the same time, has been doing very well there and had been pestering me to re-join. Following his advice, I am posting on the forums and it is a little different. Some people are looking at my profile and I have even received a few messages, but I can tell, that this is not really going to happen. Already the number of visits is dwindling, and my comments on the message boards are usually ignored. For some unknown reason, thinkbox is not for me.
For some unknown reason, gay men and social interactions are not for me. For years I have been trying to figure out what I am doing wrong but to no avail.
This is compunded by a series of small health problems and unease which tell me that my body is now at the stage that it is start to fall apart, slowly betraying me. A new development to an old theme whereby I perceived myself as having a body rather than being one...
All good fun really... I enjoyed the sauce though...
All the redecorating however meant that the afternoon was soon gone and Slightly and I ended up ordering a pizza and other bits of highly healthy food to inogurate the new meeting room. Presumably ebbed on by the inebriating influence of this self imposed caloric surge, we soon found ourself in half-drunken confessional mode. After discussing Slightly's current squeeze we moved on to the more serious matter of accounting. That's how many men Master Slightly has had over the years (that's 12 years).
Let's just say for modesty's sake that he reputation as a tart is more than truely justified. When we tried the same compilations on my record (over about 17 years), the number we came up with was, by a large margin, much more modest. The figures remains much higher than the average for a straight guy though.
I tried to find figures for gay men but couldn't find anything conclusive or serious: figures vary from "10 to 1000 a year" (that's 3 a day!!!), to 308 in a lifetime according to a 1991 Study in NYC to just 50 (no source). It is interesting that figures can only be found, it seems, on homophobic websites...
Sunday evening saw (for both of us I believe) one of such encounters. I don't know about Slightly's but the guy I met was quite nice looking, a slovenian architect with, it seemed, that most rare of things: a brain in working order. Although, he didn't have much use for it in that case... He seemed, in any case, pleased with what happened and even mentioned keeping in touch, presumably for a rematch.
I must have been fairly pleased myself. Normally my kitchen activities are limited to producing rice or pasta and the heating up of frozen chicken. I simply can not be bothered to cook (and, more importantly perhaps, to wash up afterwards). When I got home, however, inspiration took hold of me and I recklessly launched into the concoction of my first ever tomato sauce. This without the help of a recipe. The surprising thing is that the result tasted rather nice. Life was good! Well, not bad...
For those interested:
In a frying pan, heat up some olive oil.
Add chopped red onion, fines herbes (dried in that case), salt, pepper.
While the onions fry, chop tomatos and add to the pan. Stir.
Add water as needed to keep mixture from burning.
Add a tea spoon of mustard (proper Dijon mustard, please!)
Leave to simmer for a while.
Mix with pasta and enjoy...
That took about 10/15 min to do. All made, with no idea as to what I was doing!
Monday morning, as it should be, was, of course, a different affair. The aferglow had dimmed and the starck light of reality was shinning high and bright. The guy had removed the "foot step" he had left on the website we met on, indicating he had visited my profile (presumbaly so that I could not see and therefore access his profile again). This, of course, triggered a spate of (over?) analysis of the previous night's "house call", from which I emerged with all the necessary arguments to conclude that perhaps he had not been as into me as I had imagined at the time...
A few days ago, I rejoined Thinkbox. The first time round, noone had bothered looking at my profile and I had soon given up and deleted that said profile. Slightly who joined at the same time, has been doing very well there and had been pestering me to re-join. Following his advice, I am posting on the forums and it is a little different. Some people are looking at my profile and I have even received a few messages, but I can tell, that this is not really going to happen. Already the number of visits is dwindling, and my comments on the message boards are usually ignored. For some unknown reason, thinkbox is not for me.
For some unknown reason, gay men and social interactions are not for me. For years I have been trying to figure out what I am doing wrong but to no avail.
This is compunded by a series of small health problems and unease which tell me that my body is now at the stage that it is start to fall apart, slowly betraying me. A new development to an old theme whereby I perceived myself as having a body rather than being one...
All good fun really... I enjoyed the sauce though...
Tags: men, tomato sauce, ageing, LGBT, GLBT, gay, blues.
As Peron says to Eva:
ReplyDelete"Your little body's slowly breaking down...". It's an euphemism, 'cos she's dying. I hope your slightly healthier than that zeF!
slovenian. Mmm. Eastern europeans are hot.