I finally spilt the beans with G last night. Our joint conclusion after three hours of discussion was: "Maybe".
I will express my eloquent thoughts on this using some lyrics from "The Veronicas":
"La la la la. La la la la. La la la la la la la la...."
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Life is a journey of self-discovery
For the straight readers of this blog, have you ever wondered what kind of meaningful and intellectual "secret men´s business" gets discussed when gay men gather in private?
The other day in such environs S revealed that he "dresses to the left". This whole dressing to the left or right business is news to me. Apparently a proper tailor will ask you though when he measures you for trousers.
I told my peers I had no idea whether I dressed to the left or the right.
However, the next day in Pilates class during the cat stretch it became increasingly apparent as I increased the stretch that I dress quite markedly to the left.
I feel so self-aware now.
The other day in such environs S revealed that he "dresses to the left". This whole dressing to the left or right business is news to me. Apparently a proper tailor will ask you though when he measures you for trousers.
I told my peers I had no idea whether I dressed to the left or the right.
However, the next day in Pilates class during the cat stretch it became increasingly apparent as I increased the stretch that I dress quite markedly to the left.
I feel so self-aware now.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Another enjoyable chick flick
I snuck in with some gay pals to see "Confessions of a Shopaholic" last night. As with "He's Just Not That Into You", it was a good deal more enjoyable than I expected. Isla Fisher has the challenge of making a potentially quite dislikable character ultimately very endearing, no easy feat. Not everything works but there's enough that does to make it good. The director PJ Hogan, who made stars of Toni Collette and Rachel Griffiths in "Muriel's Wedding", seems to be a modern day George Cukor。
Monday, March 16, 2009
Another great idea I won't follow through on
Idea for a play: "The anal monologues".
Subtitle: "If these cheeks could talk".
Subtitle: "If these cheeks could talk".
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
The minutae of sex and romance
I spent last weekend in Auckland.
It was a refreshing change from Hamilton which although friendly and fun and welcoming can also feel stagnant; everyone seems to have an unrequited crush on one of their friends that has dragged on for many years. In Auckland I met up with a guy B. B was "cute as" and, armed with a thin layer of self-awarness gleaned from seeing "He's Just Not That Into You", I enjoyed sepnding time with him despite the fact that he ultimately didn't want a piece of me.
Indeed, I had planned for this consequence - after a day in B's company I indulged in Centurion, Auckland's premiere gay sauna. The Kiwis are a friendly bunch and will start up a conversation with you just about anwyhere - the sauna was testament to that. On learning I was Australian someone in the dry sauna belted out a resounding chorus of the Road to Gundagai in a very entertaining fake Aussie accent. Someone in the spa told me how they were on a round-the-world cruise trip, stranded for a while in Auckland while the engine of the ship was being prepared. They seemed to be making the most of their strandedness. Someone in the shower compained to me about the water pressure.
And then there was Mohammed. Apparently Mohammed is the most common first name in the world, so I suppose it was only a matter of time before I got fucked up the arse by someone called Mohammed and I could crack jokes about converting to Islam for 4 minutes and 35 seconds. What with Madonna dating Jesus, it does make one wonder though if there is something cosmic going on in the universe.
Mohammed had a small penis - it may or may not be comforting to the men of the world with small peni that their size corresponds to my ability to compromise.
Meanwhile in Hamilton I feel like Daffyd from Little Britain - not only am I not the only gay in the village, gays are everywhere, especially at work. Some of them are even attractive and single, although I worry about their ability to spell.
A particular case could spell neither "globe" nor "foxes" in a friendly game of scrabble.
My crush G can spell those words (I sensibly quizzed him) but can't spell "awe", orr, and that was how he spelt it, or maybe he was too lazy to text it properly.
He also cried when Jack died last week on Home and Away. I am disturbed by this but a little hypocritically so - I have cried watching episodes of Prisoner, although I sensibly take a nightly pill now that cures that sort of thing. At least we both like Home and Away, which has come up lately with some surprisingly well-crafted dramatic scenarios, many cute men and lots of bad acting.
G likes to tease and flirt, which may or may not come to anything beyond the drunken pash we had in a nightclub.
An excerpt of text messages between me and G:
me: OMG Jack is dead!
G: Oh i no poor jack, i shed a tear or 2, actually it was a lake but whos countin :) At least Geoff and Aidin survived.
me: Did you really cry? I was laughing!
G: Yes, I have a soft heart, lovely really not like yr heart of stone, lol :)
me: My heart has a hard outside with a soft and gooey centre. A bit like a roasted marshmallow.
G: Mmmm that sounds yummy edible even lol :)
me: Please refrain from eating my heart. If you are very hungry you can have one of my kidneys.
G: Thanks but I might stick to my eggs :)
At this point I thought I had achieved a minor victory by making Gavin send the very last text of the evening. Unfortunately he followed the text with some inquiries into my teaching, which culminated in me promising to give him a "private lesson" in "long division" and promising to be "gentle".
There was no response to this gambit. I hate sending the last sms!!
Whether G and I are going anywhere largely depends on whether G is a left or right brain thinker. If he is a right-brain thinker, our texts and conversations are imbued with metaphor and sexual suggestion. If he is a left-brain thinker, he is completely oblivious to all the double meanings. It is probably safer to assume the latter.
It was a refreshing change from Hamilton which although friendly and fun and welcoming can also feel stagnant; everyone seems to have an unrequited crush on one of their friends that has dragged on for many years. In Auckland I met up with a guy B. B was "cute as" and, armed with a thin layer of self-awarness gleaned from seeing "He's Just Not That Into You", I enjoyed sepnding time with him despite the fact that he ultimately didn't want a piece of me.
Indeed, I had planned for this consequence - after a day in B's company I indulged in Centurion, Auckland's premiere gay sauna. The Kiwis are a friendly bunch and will start up a conversation with you just about anwyhere - the sauna was testament to that. On learning I was Australian someone in the dry sauna belted out a resounding chorus of the Road to Gundagai in a very entertaining fake Aussie accent. Someone in the spa told me how they were on a round-the-world cruise trip, stranded for a while in Auckland while the engine of the ship was being prepared. They seemed to be making the most of their strandedness. Someone in the shower compained to me about the water pressure.
And then there was Mohammed. Apparently Mohammed is the most common first name in the world, so I suppose it was only a matter of time before I got fucked up the arse by someone called Mohammed and I could crack jokes about converting to Islam for 4 minutes and 35 seconds. What with Madonna dating Jesus, it does make one wonder though if there is something cosmic going on in the universe.
Mohammed had a small penis - it may or may not be comforting to the men of the world with small peni that their size corresponds to my ability to compromise.
Meanwhile in Hamilton I feel like Daffyd from Little Britain - not only am I not the only gay in the village, gays are everywhere, especially at work. Some of them are even attractive and single, although I worry about their ability to spell.
A particular case could spell neither "globe" nor "foxes" in a friendly game of scrabble.
My crush G can spell those words (I sensibly quizzed him) but can't spell "awe", orr, and that was how he spelt it, or maybe he was too lazy to text it properly.
He also cried when Jack died last week on Home and Away. I am disturbed by this but a little hypocritically so - I have cried watching episodes of Prisoner, although I sensibly take a nightly pill now that cures that sort of thing. At least we both like Home and Away, which has come up lately with some surprisingly well-crafted dramatic scenarios, many cute men and lots of bad acting.
G likes to tease and flirt, which may or may not come to anything beyond the drunken pash we had in a nightclub.
An excerpt of text messages between me and G:
me: OMG Jack is dead!
G: Oh i no poor jack, i shed a tear or 2, actually it was a lake but whos countin :) At least Geoff and Aidin survived.
me: Did you really cry? I was laughing!
G: Yes, I have a soft heart, lovely really not like yr heart of stone, lol :)
me: My heart has a hard outside with a soft and gooey centre. A bit like a roasted marshmallow.
G: Mmmm that sounds yummy edible even lol :)
me: Please refrain from eating my heart. If you are very hungry you can have one of my kidneys.
G: Thanks but I might stick to my eggs :)
At this point I thought I had achieved a minor victory by making Gavin send the very last text of the evening. Unfortunately he followed the text with some inquiries into my teaching, which culminated in me promising to give him a "private lesson" in "long division" and promising to be "gentle".
There was no response to this gambit. I hate sending the last sms!!
Whether G and I are going anywhere largely depends on whether G is a left or right brain thinker. If he is a right-brain thinker, our texts and conversations are imbued with metaphor and sexual suggestion. If he is a left-brain thinker, he is completely oblivious to all the double meanings. It is probably safer to assume the latter.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
The clever, oblivious optimist
Below is the summary of my Myer-Briggs type. While it certainly fits me in many respects, and it fits me much better than other types, I thought I would point out a few places where I differ:
- Although I can enjoy a debate, I don't enjoy playing the devil's advocate - in fact I tend to argue with my heart on my sleeve.
- While I do love an audience, I am not _completely_ oblivious to people outside of them being an audience.
Just mostly oblivious with an occasional flash of thoughtfulness and consideration to others (wink).
typelogic.com/entp.html
Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving
by Marina Margaret Heiss
Profile: ENTP
Revision: 3.0
Date of Revision: 26 Feb 2005
"Clever" is the word that perhaps describes ENTPs best. The professor who juggles half a dozen ideas for research papers and grant proposals in his mind while giving a highly entertaining lecture on an abstruse subject is a classic example of the type. So is the stand-up comedian whose lampoons are not only funny, but incisively accurate.
ENTPs are usually verbally as well as cerebrally quick, and generally love to argue--both for its own sake, and to show off their often-impressive skills. They tend to have a perverse sense of humor as well, and enjoy playing devil's advocate. They sometimes confuse, even inadvertently hurt, those who don't understand or accept the concept of argument as a sport.
ENTPs are as innovative and ingenious at problem-solving as they are at verbal gymnastics; on occasion, however, they manage to outsmart themselves. This can take the form of getting found out at "sharp practice"--ENTPs have been known to cut corners without regard to the rules if it's expedient -- or simply in the collapse of an over-ambitious juggling act. Both at work and at home, ENTPs are very fond of "toys"--physical or intellectual, the more sophisticated the better. They tend to tire of these quickly, however, and move on to new ones.
ENTPs are basically optimists, but in spite of this (perhaps because of it?), they tend to become extremely petulant about small setbacks and inconveniences. (Major setbacks they tend to regard as challenges, and tackle with determin- ation.) ENTPs have little patience with those they consider wrongheaded or unintelligent, and show little restraint in demonstrating this. However, they do tend to be extremely genial, if not charming, when not being harassed by life in general.
In terms of their relationships with others, ENTPs are capable of bonding very closely and, initially, suddenly, with their loved ones. Some appear to be deceptively offhand with their nearest and dearest; others are so demonstrative that they succeed in shocking co-workers who've only seen their professional side. ENTPs are also good at acquiring friends who are as clever and entertaining as they are. (How flattering to readers of this blog! -Ed.) Aside from those two areas, ENTPs tend to be oblivious of the rest of humanity, except as an audience -- good, bad, or potential.
Some Famous ENTPs:
Alexander the Great
Confederate General J. E. B. Stuart
Sir Walter Raleigh
Fictional:
Mercutio, from Romeo and Juliet
Horace Rumpole, from John Mortimer's Rumpole of the Bailey series
Dorothy L. Sayers's detective Lord Peter Wimsey
- Although I can enjoy a debate, I don't enjoy playing the devil's advocate - in fact I tend to argue with my heart on my sleeve.
- While I do love an audience, I am not _completely_ oblivious to people outside of them being an audience.
Just mostly oblivious with an occasional flash of thoughtfulness and consideration to others (wink).
typelogic.com/entp.html
Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving
by Marina Margaret Heiss
Profile: ENTP
Revision: 3.0
Date of Revision: 26 Feb 2005
"Clever" is the word that perhaps describes ENTPs best. The professor who juggles half a dozen ideas for research papers and grant proposals in his mind while giving a highly entertaining lecture on an abstruse subject is a classic example of the type. So is the stand-up comedian whose lampoons are not only funny, but incisively accurate.
ENTPs are usually verbally as well as cerebrally quick, and generally love to argue--both for its own sake, and to show off their often-impressive skills. They tend to have a perverse sense of humor as well, and enjoy playing devil's advocate. They sometimes confuse, even inadvertently hurt, those who don't understand or accept the concept of argument as a sport.
ENTPs are as innovative and ingenious at problem-solving as they are at verbal gymnastics; on occasion, however, they manage to outsmart themselves. This can take the form of getting found out at "sharp practice"--ENTPs have been known to cut corners without regard to the rules if it's expedient -- or simply in the collapse of an over-ambitious juggling act. Both at work and at home, ENTPs are very fond of "toys"--physical or intellectual, the more sophisticated the better. They tend to tire of these quickly, however, and move on to new ones.
ENTPs are basically optimists, but in spite of this (perhaps because of it?), they tend to become extremely petulant about small setbacks and inconveniences. (Major setbacks they tend to regard as challenges, and tackle with determin- ation.) ENTPs have little patience with those they consider wrongheaded or unintelligent, and show little restraint in demonstrating this. However, they do tend to be extremely genial, if not charming, when not being harassed by life in general.
In terms of their relationships with others, ENTPs are capable of bonding very closely and, initially, suddenly, with their loved ones. Some appear to be deceptively offhand with their nearest and dearest; others are so demonstrative that they succeed in shocking co-workers who've only seen their professional side. ENTPs are also good at acquiring friends who are as clever and entertaining as they are. (How flattering to readers of this blog! -Ed.) Aside from those two areas, ENTPs tend to be oblivious of the rest of humanity, except as an audience -- good, bad, or potential.
Some Famous ENTPs:
Alexander the Great
Confederate General J. E. B. Stuart
Sir Walter Raleigh
Fictional:
Mercutio, from Romeo and Juliet
Horace Rumpole, from John Mortimer's Rumpole of the Bailey series
Dorothy L. Sayers's detective Lord Peter Wimsey
Mohammed fucked me up the arse...
..and he has a small penis. I should add that my sphincta was very grateful his penis was small.
Meanwhile, G sent me a text which misspelt "awe" as "orr". This could be a crush breaker.
ENTPs have little patience with those they consider wrongheaded or unintelligent, and show little restraint in demonstrating this.
http://typelogic.com/entp.html
Meanwhile, G sent me a text which misspelt "awe" as "orr". This could be a crush breaker.
ENTPs have little patience with those they consider wrongheaded or unintelligent, and show little restraint in demonstrating this.
http://typelogic.com/entp.html
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