Waiting for Mr. Right? How about settled with Mr. Right Now...?

The important of being Mr. Right Now before we settled with Mr. Right – keeps looking my friends –

Single gay men all over the places had a good reason to spit out their cornflakes as they read the Sunday newspaper. Nestling among tales of bankers' greed and Elton John’s have-they-or-haven't-they split was arguably one of the most incendiary stories.

It goes like this American author Lori Gottlieb has written a book, published here next week, in which she declares that singletons who’ are still searching for Mr. Right by the age of thirty five should give up and settle for Mr. Right Now, or known in hetro life as Mr. Second Best.

The book, Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough, blames literature, film and TV for leading us to believe erroneously that The One is out there. Hence, she says, in our doomed search for true love, we overlook countless relationships that could have made for "viable" relationships.

How many self-respecting gay mans do you know who dream of a "viable" relationships? We are grown-up enough to know that while the perfect relationship does not exist, we can expect a lot more from long term relationships than just viability.

Gay man wants love and warmth and emotional connection, and they want it to last for a lifetime. The good news, contrary to the gospel according to Gottlieb, is that those things exist, and they can last a lifetime.

Not to believe that is to resign oneself to lifelong mediocrity and to the notion that it is all you deserve. We don't accept mediocrity from our government; we don't accept mediocrity in our careers; and we don't accept it in our friendships. Why should we accept it in partnership? I sure didn't when I said "yes" to Angus fifteen years ago.

This is not the viewpoint of a spoiled, demanding 21st-century gay men. It is the way gay men have felt since their love lives were first recorded. In Craig Thompson the worthy, reserved St John Rivers proposes to Craig because he believes he'd make a good missionary's partner. In a move that Gottlieb would consider foolish, Craig’s turns him down flat, saying, "I scorn your idea of love... I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer... and I scorn you when you offer it."

Gottlieb's suggestion is absurd, says Maureen Waller, author of The English Marriage: Tales of Love, Money and Adultery. "I didn't meet Mr. Right until my forties, and now I realize that he was definitely worth waiting for."

Time and again, Sex and the City's Carrie Bradshaw could have walked off into the sunset with kind, wholesome Aidan. But she didn't. Instead, she valiantly endured years of pain while she listened to her instincts and waited for Mr. Big. She was right: just look at them now (as far as we know they are living happily ever after, which is where we left them at the end of the first movie).

Like Craig Thompson and Carrie Bradshaw, most people’s would rather wait for Mr. Right and risk ending up alone than settle for dependable, passionless Mr. Right Now. A single friend of mine who recently hit 35 insists: "You know what, maybe Mr. Right won't ever come along, and maybe some of us will live out our years as spinsters. For some people, it doesn't happen at all. Is that thought so awful?"

Gottlieb, a single man in his late forties, clearly thinks so. Ask any soul-baring, 40-year-old, single, homosexual man what he most longs for in life, and he probably won't tell you it's a better career, a smaller waistline or a bigger apartment. Most likely, he'll say that what he really wants is a partner.

We are constantly told that relationship rates have fallen to the lowest level since records began. But it is still the case in the UK that 52 per cent of gay relationships are in long term relationships. In Australia show that 65 per cents of gay relationships are in long term relationships. Meanwhile in Malaysia, it show only 9 per cent of gay relationships are in long term relationships.

Ideologically, then, long term relationship/partnerships is still the holy grail for many men. Like a big house and a good car, a man-husband is a status symbol. And if you're lucky enough to have a big house, a good car, a gay-husband and some pet, the consensus is that you've hit the jackpot.

So it's easy to see how the temptation to skip down the aisle with Mr. He'll Have To Do Because He Is The Only Impregnator Available is a strong one. But, even so, Gottlieb's watershed age of 40 is fantastically mean. First of all, each gay man's needs and maturity differs from the next. There can be no single age at which Everyman is ready to settle down. That depends on a catalogue of factors, including an individual's goals, lifestyle, experiences and previous relationships.

Second, it is now normal for middle-class men to feel that they have not achieved anything much by the age of 40. They leave school at 18 and perhaps take a year out before starting a degree at, say, 19. That degree takes a minimum of three years. They may then undertake further education, or realize they're on the wrong track and deliberate over a major rethink.
By the time they have got a job worth writing home about, they are in their mid-twenties.

Then they have to put in a few years of hard graft in said job (not least to prove that the previous five or so years have been worthwhile). Along the way, they will probably have experienced a healthy, character-forming roller-coaster ride of good and bad relationships - without praying night and day that each one will lead to the altar.

In any case, according to Kate Figes, author of Couples: The Truth, "the whole notion of Mr Right is wrong. If that is what you are looking for, you are bound to be disappointed. Our expectations of what a relationship can offer are too big. You can't look for somebody to solve your problems, to provide for you. You must be able to fulfill your needs yourself, and come to a relationship as a fully formed grown-up."

Fay Weldon agrees that there is a case for a tweaking of our expectations: "Gay man are traditionally more picky than straight men, who wait until they think it is time to get married, look around the field of their female acquaintances, and make a choice. If that doesn't work, they choose the next one down. Women, no longer having virginity to offer as part of the trade, may well have to train themselves to be more like men."

Yes, we expect more of our relationships, but at the same time, we are happy being single and waiting because we have successful careers, a good lifestyle and a strong social network.

We are hardly sitting at home, crying and weeping.

But I think, relationships shouldn't be about bagging the type of man you always thought you'd end up with. Neither should it be based on a checklist of credentials. It should be born of a good, old-fashioned feeling, which tells you both that you simply can't be without each other

Till the, I need to open the door, my Mr. Right Now is knocking my door, and wish me the best for my screen test to becoming Mr. Right..........

Why HE didn't call after a great first date....?

When it doesn't happen, it hits me like a car wreck.

I am talking about a guy not calling. Not texting. Not using the number he (emphasis on HE) asked for when we met and made magic like Gin and Tonic.

I got some insider tips from few friends of mine over happy hour on Friday night. It was really sad to say this: I had been through so many date’s that ‘really great date’ and end up with 'great sex,' and made hundred of plans about what are we going to do the next day when we meet up again. But then when he left and out from my door, I never heard from him again, even we'd make a plan to meet up for dinner the next day. He leave me wonder, because he never call me back nor do he return my text.

So, this is what some of my friends had to say during our boys night out:

Our initial outing went off without a hitch. We laughed together, the conversation never faltered, and we seemed to be developing a growing bond. We like you - just not like that.

That "friend" feeling you've had toward amazing guys?

We get it for men too. Calling would mean confronting you honestly about these feelings-fairly heavy conversation after just one date. Instead, we tell ourselves the most humane thing to do is go completely dark.

We are dating more than one person. We're in the midst of a delicate balancing act and seeing how it goes with our other someone before digging in for a second date with you. We're trying to have, and eat, our cake. We've got frosting all over our faces.

We are still planning to call, maybe in a week. Why the delay? We're establishing our independence by managing expectations right at the start. Even though we had fun, we're not going to be calling every other day and seeing each other multiple times a week. We need space - and are telling you that from the outset.

When You Should Call: This is trickier-if the "we should really do this again" boilerplate felt like a genuine sentiment, go for it (after giving him a few days - say, four - to call you). But again, we can't stress this enough: When a guy is interested after a date, he'll always call.

To me:

These seem like VALID explanations, except for the one about dating multiple people with the analogy of frosting and Cake. Whats that about? So then what happens when you meet someone out and they ask you for your phone number and never call. Or when they ask one of your friends for your phone number and never call???

Just don't ask if your not going to!!!

And again:

I have often felt pressured to call. If this happens, I'm likely to NOT call. Man, just enjoy yourself. Have fun. One of the cruel ironies of life is we tend to want someone who seems harder to get, if it seems too easy, I'll asking myself "what's wrong with me?"..... Make him work for it, if he likes you and is brave enough, he will pursue you.

Isn't that the kind of man you all want?

Till then, thinks of those can make me felt sick with the game.....

Proud to be GAY........

It’s so easy being straight. Too easy in fact.

That’s why so many straight people suck when it comes to leading fulsome, functional and satisfying love and sex lives ... right?

Last night I was watching documentary the launch of a landmark Museum of Brisbane exhibition that recognises the contributions made to contemporary culture by the local lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer community.

‘The experience was a timely reminder of how much little old hetrosexual me takes for granted.’ One of my straight friends had commented.

And as I engaged with the bits and pieces so proudly displayed, marvelling at the struggles, learning about local social history and enjoying the strong sense of community that prevailed, I wondered what the world would be like if we all had to ‘identify’.

If there was no conventional approach to loving, shagging or shacking up. If I wasn’t born and raised in a world where I was ‘normal.’

If ‘normal’ didn’t exist and everyone defined their own sense of self.

Charted their own course. Chose who they loved, what they liked and how they wanted to lead their lives.

Would this process of active identification help me find true meaning and happiness?

But hang on, thought me, don’t I live in such a world already?

Is this not the post-racial, post-gender, post-feminism, post-post-postie-post era of social, political and sexual enlightenment?

The choose your own adventure, follow your dreams, be who you want to be age of “just do it” self determination?

I pinch myself – yes, that time is now, there is change we can believe in. I can bonk a bird, shack up with a black midget and revolutionise my wardrobe, my career, my life if I want to!

The power is ours/yours/mine! Sigh.

But with great power comes great responsibility.

And responsibility has a lot of syllables and sounds like hard work.

And aren’t we told to work smarter not harder? Of course smarts are for survival and survival means fitting in. And fitting in is being normal.

And normal is … ?

Oh this is much too terrifyingly complicated for a Friday.

Thank eff it’s the weekend and I can go out and get flogged.

Forget about it all.

Find a man I can marry/make out with.

Wake up on Monday and do it all again. And again. And again… Now that’s progress.

What do you think about sexuality today?

Do you think about it?

How far has the conversation progressed in your lifetime?

Where would you like it go?

What’s your sexual identity?

And are labels really such a very good idea?

Till then, tel me about it, and have a lovely friday night out....

Lessons in heartbreak..... (part II)

Despite the fact that Karl had suggested – and I had agreed – that we meet at his house, an option which required close to zero sartorial effort, I am sure you won’t be surprised that I spend the greater part of the following day in the day spa, full-body sea-weed-wraps to make sure my skin' smooth, prepping myself with the kind of care and attention I would ordinarily reserve for a black-tie event.

‘You shouldn’t go,’ I remember Daniel said, ‘but I know that it doesn’t matter what I say. You’re going to meet up with him and you’ll almost certainly offer him one more chance to break your heart while you’re at it.’

I arrived at Karl’s apartment at eight o’clock on the dot. I was wearing all black that show my masculine body (I was working on it). I had even received a compliment from the taxi driver who dropped me off outside Karl apartment.

Karl was wearing pair of ratty old jeans and sweetshirt.

‘Oh.’ he said, when he saw me and clocked that I had come empty-handed. ‘I was rather hoping you might have pick up a bottle of champagne from the bottle shop on your way over. I haven’t got any in the flat.’

Was that it? Eight months since we had last seen each other. No big hug, No comment on how great I looked. Not even a ‘So good to see you.’

‘Wait there.’ Karl said. He nipped back into the house to pick up a jacket. ‘We’ve got to have something to drink.’

So we walked to the bottle shop down the road

‘I am glad you could come over tonight,’ he said as we walked.’

‘Oh,’ I said. And there was me thinking that his cooking for me was supposed to imply that he wanted to make an effort.

‘How have you been?’ he asked

‘I’ve been fine,’ I said

‘You look well,’ he commented. At last he had noticed

I felt small ripple of pride. I had obviously wrong-footed him with my new well-groomed self. The fact that ninety-nine days out of hundred, I didn’t look anything like this at all was not relevant. I had wanted Karl to think that I had raised my game since he chucked me and I allowed myself to think that he believed I had.

We were at the bottle shop. He held the door open for me.

‘Usual?’ he said

‘OK’

Our usual was bottle of Jacob Creek Shiraz, from South Australia that went fantastically well with takeaway anything. That wine was cheap as chips but I took it as a good sign that he asked me if I wanted our ‘usual’ rather than push out the boat with something flashy and more expensive. It seemed nostalgic and that suggested to me that he had been remembering me with fondness, rather than as the mad cow he had threatened with legal action.

‘Shall we go halves?’ I asked, as he placed three bottles on the counter.

‘NO’ he said. ‘Don’t be silly. I’ll pay.’

Sure, the wine was only USD5.90 a bottle, but I took that as a good sign too. He was treating me.

Back at his place, we order takeaway from the local Indian, though he didn’t order his usual.
‘Watching my weight,’ he said, patting his stomach.

He was a little paunchier than I remember. He had always been paranoid about getting ‘man boobs’. I must have spent a good five hours of my life reassuring Karl that he didn’t have tits. Never would have. And since the break-up, I had spend a good deal more time fantasizing that when I saw him again, I would tell him that I had been lying. He had a better cleavage than Eva Herzigova. But when he gave me the opportunity to tell him what a fat, middle-aged knacker he had become, I just told him, ‘You don’t need to worry about your weight. You looking great shape.’

How odd that I had spent the last eight months having argument with this man in my head and now we were having such a bland and pleasant conversation. I had waited for so long for the opportunity to tell him what arsehole he had been and now I was listening sympathetically as he told me about some new bloke at work who seemed determined to kill Karl’s pet projects.

Meanwhile the first bottle of wine slowly disappeared. And then the second. And a little bit of a third.

By this points we were sitting side by side on the sofa. Karl had positioned himself there as we ate Indian takeaway on his glass coffee table and come back to sit beside me again after clearing the leftover away. Slowly we had moved closer and closer together so that from time to time our knees touched before one of us noticed and moved to preserve a physical gap. Now Karl reached out and gathered my short hair in his hand, as thoughts he was adjusting my side. I pushed his hand away.

‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘I just had the urge to touch it. Your new hair looks great. short and neat.'

‘Thanks.’ I said, managing to sit on the urge to say, ‘I just had a hair done.’

He looked deep into my eyes. I began to feel hot. In that moment I was every bit as nervous as I had been the very first time Karl and I went on a date, after I had stopped worrying what my friends would think if I dated an accountant and I started simply wanting him to kiss me. He moved a little closer.

Was he going to kiss me now?

The sex, too, was exactly as it has always been. We whipped through our repertoire with the efficiency that comes of years of practice. He smelled the same. He felt the same. He said the same things at the same moments. Everything was as it had been. As it should be.

I was elated.

Well, perhaps not quite so elated as I had expected to be, if I was entirely honest…

There were even moments when I felt as thought I was outside my body, watching the action on the bed with a dispassionate and underwhelmed eye. I got nowhere near having an orgasm

‘That was great,’ Karl said, as we relaxed back on to the pillows.

‘Yes,’ I said. It wouldn’t been polite to disagree, but I was left feeling just a little unsatisfied. As I always had been, now I thought about it

Karl was taking a long time in the bathroom. I could hear the tap running. But over that…Was he talking to someone? I crossed over to the bathroom door on the pretence of looking for my underwear, which I’d discarded in that direction. I tuned into Karl’s voice over the sound of running water.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He said. ‘I miss you too. And of course I’ll come and pick you up at the airport. I can’t wait to see you. I love you.’

Airport? I love you? He was talking to his boyfriend of course.

When Karl ended his call. I sprinted backcross the room and arranged myself on the bed exactly as I had been when he went to ’clean himself’. I heard him tweak the tap so that it wasn’t flowing quite so quickly now that he didn’t need tocober the sound of his conversation any more.

‘That’s a great view,’ ha said, regarding me naked against the pillows. I noticed he was still holding his blackberry. He waved it at me.

'I am a slave to this thing,’ he said. ‘Can you believe someone from office just called to ask me if I can be at a meeting at seven tomorrow morning?’

I couldn’t believe it. Did Karl say ‘I love you’ to all his colleagues?

I should have just left, but instead I lay there, with his arm across my stomach, berating myself for me in such an idiot. could I have been so naïve to think that Karl Walder wanted me back?

After a while, with Karl deep in his dream, my arm stared to feel very heavy on him. I lifted is off my stomach and out of the way, carefully but not that carefully. Part of me wanted to wake him. But Karl was not disturbed at all. He remained asleep on his front. The only sign that he was alive was the occasional snore. Karl was one of very few people who snored while sleeping on his front as well as his back.

I hate him in that moment. Sure, I had said that I hated him a thousand times since he dumped me for that bloody young boy, but I had never truly felt the proper weight of the emotion before. Whatever anger I felt for him prior to that night would always have dissolved at that sight of his smile. Now I knew I was experiencing something much stronger, something that demanded revenge.

I had to take action. But what could I do?

I pulled my mobile out, and I took his picture. I’ll sent the picture to his boyfriend and tell him who was sharing his boyfriend while he was away. Likewise, simply taking a photo of Karl’s naked buttocks was too easy, and it would have the added disadvantage of alerting my friends to the fact that I had gone against all advice and ended up in bed with the worthless swine.

The last thing I wanted was a lecture from Daniel to add to the intense feelings of anger I already had for myself. I had been taken in by Karl. Again. No one could have been angrier with me than I was.

Sitting at my kitchen table, with my hand wrapped around a big mug of coffee and life slowly returning to my frozen fingers. I thought back over the previous evening. I replayed the moments when Karl put his hand in my side hair and, later, the moments when he kissed me. I remember when he bagging me to be gentle when I go in-side him and screaming when I pushed a little faster. At the time I had interpreted his expression as sweet, but now I realized that it had been smug. He was so certain that he had me again.

Was it possible that I had gone off Karl physically?

If anyone had asked me the day before with whom I had had the best sex of my life. I would have had to say that it was Karl. That morning, however, I was beginning to reconsider Oliver. Maybe, with a bit of practice, he could have turned into fantastic lover.

Certainly, he wouldn’t have had to pause halfway through he was getting a stitch.

Karl Walder was not my Mr. Right. That was all there was to it. It wasn’t my fault. And even if he had cheated on me, the fact that we weren’t actually destined to be with each other wasn’t really his fault either. It was just the way things had worked out.. I’d been sad, I’d been angry, I’d been mad as a box of frogs, and now, I was ready to be happy again, and let Karl go from my life entirely..

Till then, goodbye to all wanker, and life's great...

Lessons in heartbreak..... (part I)

Boxing Day 2007

On Boxing Day I went to Daniel and James’s house. They had entertained both parents on Christmas Day and had thus declared that Boxing Day was going to be the very antithesis of that formal family celebration. He had invited only me, and James’s best friend, Simon, to spend the day with them, doing nothing but eating, drinking and watching DVDs. I turned up at midday with two bottles of champagne and my legendary chocolate trifle.

I had been bouncing off the walls with excitement all morning, I couldn’t wait to tell Daniel about my late-night Christmas surprise. As I waited for the appointed moments for me to leave for Daniel’s house. I had been through my text exchange with Karl at least a hundred times, close-reading both his texts and my own, wondering how he would have reacted to each of my messages, hoping that my final message to him had been just cool enough to ensure that he would do as I had asked and call me as soon as the new year began. If not before. Please let it be before.

The minutes it was politely possible to drag Daniel off for a moment of boys talk, I did so, James and Simon were occupied in trying to set up the PlayStation Simon had brought with him.

‘I suppose that means we’re not going to get to watch my boxed set of ‘Mad Man'.’ Daniel sighed.

I didn’t care. I didn’t want to watch anything, I had much more interesting thing to do. I wanted to dissect my exchange with Karl with a third party. I needed a fresh opinion. I showed Daniel the ‘conversation’ on the screen of my mobile.

When he had finished reading, he looked up at me. His eyebrows were knitted together in an expression that I recognized, though I hadn’t seen it on Daniel’s face before. It was the expression my late mother’s face took on when she thought my brother or I were about to do something that worried her. Like take a sky-dive. Or inject heroin. Daniel passed the mobile back to me. He smiled wanly.

‘It’s incredible,’ I chattered. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever hear from him again. But this meant that he’s been thinking of me. He must have broken up with his boyfriend, don’t you think? He wouldn’t have got in touch with me if they were still together. I am pretty sure of that. Not on Christmas Day. He’s not that kind of guy.’

How quickly I had forgotten exactly what kind of guy he really was.

Daniel stopped me mid-flow by putting his hand on mine and pressing it gently towards the table so that I couldn’t look at the screen of my mobile, where Karl’s words still flickered. He waited until my eyes were on him and he was sure he had my full attention. It was a trick he must have used a thousand times on the kids at his hospital.

‘George, please tell me that you’re not going to take him upon his offer of meeting up.’

‘But… why shouldn’t I?’

‘Where do you want me to start? You should not be seeing that man. You should not have been answering his texts. You should not even have been reading his texts. You should have deleted them unread. Karl broke your heart, George, and you’ve spent the best part of a year acting like a headcase as a result. You almost lost your job, you almost burn down your flat, and you almost lost your best friend. And then he texts you and you agree to meet up with him. For goodness’ sake, where’s the sense in that?’

I murmured something about time and distance and closure and whatnot.

‘You got closure. When he went off with that other boy. You were getting over it. Remember how happy you were last week? What offends me most,’ he added, ‘Is that it’s not as though he even called you. He didn’t actually pick up the phone.’

‘He must have pick up the phone,’ I pointed out.

‘He texted. You have to pick up the phone to text.’

‘He texted! How much effort do you think that involved? Can’t you see what’s wrong about that? It’s the most passive form of communication available. It took no effort whatsoever and involved absolutely no risk. He didn’t even bother to talk to you. He just sent you a text asking if you fancied meeting up and you agreed. If I received a text like that, I wouldn’t be in the least bit flattered. I would be less impressed than if he hadn’t bothered to get in touch at all. At least his continued silence would have suggested consistency.’

‘But he’s reaching out,’ I suggested.

‘For heaven’s sake!’ Daniel growled with disappointment.

‘If he were really serious about making amends for being such a grade-one arsehole, he would have actually dialed your number and held the phone to the side of his head and talked to you. He would have risked hearing that you were angry with him. He would have taken the time to find out how you are and perhaps even to say sorry for having let you overlap with that boy.’

‘Perhaps he plans to say that when he sees me. Face to face.’

‘If you see him,’ said Daniel, ‘I will never speak to you again.’

‘But I thought you said that nothing would ever stop us from speaking to each other again,’ I reminded him.

Daniel rolled his eyes.’ Don’t do it,’ he said in a whisper.

‘For the sake of your mental health, George. Please.’

Out of respect for Daniel’s opinion, I didn’t mention Karl’s texts for the rest of the day, but even while I got stuck into some game on the PlayStation, I still had one eye on my mobile, which I had switched to silent out of politeness. Every five minutes or so I picked it up and shook it, to check that it was still working. Just in case someone was trying to get through.

But Karl didn’t text me again. Not that day. Or the next. Or the next. Or at any time during the following week.

I spend alone on new year eve. I just didn’t felt good to see my fiends.

But midnight come and went and there was no message.

I couldn’t quite believe it. I would have put money on getting a text from Karl on New Year’s Eve. Wasn’t it an obvious excuse for an SMS? Best wishes for the new year? I tried not to be disappointed when none come. Had I been a little more perceptive, I might have seen that it was annoying to think that, had Karl not sent me his Christmas wishes. I wouldn’t even have expected to hear from him at New Year. I should have been angry with myself for having allowed that Christmas exchange to fill me with new expectations just wait to be dashed. Those expectations had ruined my evening.

It wasn’t until the 3rd of January that I finally got the text I had been waiting for. And what a text was.

‘Are you still up for getting together one evening?’

I waited ten minutes before texting back,’ yes.’

‘Great. How about next Wednesday night? Karl wrote.

‘I’ll cook.’

‘At your place?

‘Of course at my place. Do you remember where it is?

Ops..... wait, tobe contunie.....till then.

Lessons for life.......

I learned my lessons and will applied them (at least from today) hoping that my life will took off to an antirely different direction. I no longer need to do things to prove myself worthy of being loved. I was no longer afraid to ask for what I wanted for fear that I wouldn't get it.

I was no longer angry when things didn't go my way, most important, I was no longer angry about what I would not and did not have in a relationship.

In the meantime I learned how to mind my own business (your business mean yours) I am learning about minding my own business - The business of loving myself and being excited about me. I learned how to fit on my own as well to fit myself when I am around peoples or around you....

Relationship are not contained. What you are going through in the name of love, for the sake of love, will show up in every other area of our life. I cannot tune out the channel of my brain or my heart as if they were channel on a TV where the program on channel Nine and Seven has nothing to do with channel ABC.

The various channels of our lives are intertwined and interdependent. Let me speak for myself - mine are!

The same confussion I had about loving my him showed up in my career. It effected all my relationships with men. In much the same manner I had him and lost him. I had jobs and lost them.

I spent eighty thousand dollar to get me master digree, only discover that I didn't used it.

The interference from my relationship channel was creating static on every other channel of my life. Even from a distance my love counselor was teaching me lessons about myself, and I had to figure out how to apply those lessons to my entire life...

I have to work very hard to become awere of myself and to accept for all and everything that I am. I must admit to you that is was not easy work (I has been doing the thinking last night)

It going to be painful and very frightening. Reflection, evaliation, and unlearning require a willingness to do tha grunge work. I have to sit through and discard many of my beliefs and idea about myself and love.

In another hand, I had to change the picture. It was like cleaning the house, trying to indentify things that were dusty or broken, throwing out things I didn't need anymore.

What the heck is this? I had placed so many conditions on loving and being loved. It was like going through the dresser drawers and closets of my mind. I have to throw away those things which have sentimental value but no longer practical. I HAVE TO ADMIT SOMETHINGS SIMPLY DID NOT FIT, AND WOULD NEVER FIT AGAIN. Like the laundry, I have let the old hurts and fears pile up, and the pile was over-whelming.

Slowly, methodically, I had to clean my heart to prepare myself for true love (if that will happen) I meantime, I had to plow through the mess (the mess I had made) It was huge mess.

Till then, wish you'll the best weekend and don't do something that I won't.....

Is 'fate' ever come....?

James, James, James .... what do I say to you?

I WAS angry on Saturday night....

I told you I thought Greg was sexy, and you said NO, lots nicer men about... and then I found you kissing him!

But that's me being selfish: what I was most upset about was your unhappiness...

I want you to be happy, but I want you to be happy with me as a friend, with you making your own way in life and in love.

I have trouble understanding you: one minute you're happy, then your not... life is always full of ups and downs, but despite your hard time you have so much going for you.... only you can determine the life you lead, and you have limitless opportunities..

When we first met I admired your spirit and maturity: I am the 40 year old guy who is still not brave enough to tell my business partner that I'm a poofter, I'm the 40 year old chasing younger men, I'm the 40 year old man who won't open up.

You're so much more balanced than me: I am not the person to advise you, but sometimes even fools can see a solution the wise have missed: just be yourself, don't deny your needs.... you keep saying you don't want a man: I think you do .... I think you're as desperate as me, it's just that you've had bad experiences that make it harder for you...

In the last few months I know you have had a hard time, some of it because of me.

Just relax.... I believe in fate.

I believe a good person will find another good person: the greatest thing we can find is personal happiness, which has little to do with possessions or wealth or good looks or drugs or booze .... its about comfort with yourrself, and your much further progressed along this line than me...

I can offer friendship, but you have to make your own way, with help from friends, sure, but its up to you...

I don't like talking about sex, about what I did with this or that man: I think just as whether I'm straight or gay is a private thing between me and the other person..

I talked with Greg for a long time, knowing what I wanted of course, but if I'd discovered a dickhead in a sexy body I WOULD have moved on.... but he's an interesting man and I hope to see more of him... by the way he said he's never done anything with Olivier!

I don't like one night stand either, but meeting a nice guy and ingnoring him just makes me sad for you.... sure you might not meet again, BUT YOU MIGHT: who knows what the future holds??

I am off to Bali this afternoon, not sure when I will email again, but live life, work hard, (work is really a poitive thing when life is not so good I think, its a touch-stone for everyone to keep their lives on track).

So enough from me, the middle aged (maybe older), single, desperate, gay man: live your own life your own way, BUT I think life will be easier and happy if you trust people to share it with you....

Be good to yourself.....

Till then, will be with you here again pretty soon....