Talking in Nightclubs and Age Issues with Other Guys

Just on the back of my last two posts about shagging in London and the clubbing scene... gay friend C is dead shy really, and I'll talk to a wall. But I wonder how often people actually talk to 'strangers' when they are out. It certainly varies from place to place. I just can't stand it when C, having fucked off himself on the same weekend, then judges me for talking to people I don't know. Isn't that part of the fun!? He's got the impression I've got to hook up on a big night out - well, that's not true, I don't expect it, but equally I guess I'm available for some fun if I'm in the right mood since hot perfect 6'2" boyfriend hasn't been arsed to find me yet.

Time to sound arrogant: most of my friends are in their 30s or 40s. It's no wonder 20yos find me an odd one, and I find them generally pretty daft on the whole. Bit of a bugger for relationships though, 'cause if I was 27-35, I wouldn't be looking at me twice. Baby!

London, Clubs, and sex with the older guy

Next day (check previous post for what you've missed) - and I move my kit up to gay friend C's flat where I'm staying that night. By-pass bad hangover afternoon and trip to the Albert Memorial, and I'm in a shite tourist joint in Covent Garden (why?!) having a quick bite to eat.

That afternoon I've found out gay friend J is down with his boyfriend M from Manchester, so we decide to meet up. Now, J and M are quite indie, and definitely the G-A-Y type. Nothing wrong with that, but really not my scene at all. Gay friend C, who I'm staying with, sits on the fence really with what he likes. But I terrify him - much prefer S of the river, like my older guys, proper conversation, real banter, and not a load of camp 'you have 2 hours to get drunk' rubbish.

Anyway, few hours later, and after a mild domestic which makes friend C appear like my boyfriend, and I'm stuck in the queue for Heaven. Haven't been there since G-A-Y took it over, but the queue was immense; possibly the worst I've seen it. As 2am arrives, it's time to leave - I'm not standing there any longer, and we leave gays J and M with a pile of lesbians who they know and are down from Manchester, too.

Across the river we walk - off to Fire (thank God for that). Now I never do drugs, and I'm not a big muscle boy by any means - but as I've said, I prefer older company, and I find Fire good fun, and I love the music - which is a big thing for me on a night out. Walking, walking, walking (pretty much) all the way to Vauxhall Cross - decent cabbie picked us up for the final stretch when the rest of the bastards turned their lights out.

Few more drinks and we're dancing in Barcode. My friend loves the music, but he looks like a twink lost at a meat market. And I'm loving it - hopefully not looking quite as out of place. Least I can grow a beard. Time for Fire, and he's getting a bit pissed off. He loves Fire's music, but he's a bit tired from work and the night before, and I'm getting horny, and I'm not exactly shy.

So, a guy catches my eye on the dancefloor - I never notice his age, but he had great stubble, and a nice hairy chest and we strike up a chat. Now this is what I hate about student places - no-one talks! What's that about? Friend C by now seems lost, and leaves when I start snogging new guy P. We dance for a good few hours, I meet his mate, and he asks is I'm going to the afterparty. I say I'm tired - could have kept going, if I'd had a sit for a bit actually, but anyway I'm then asked to bed. Off we go...

Get to his place about 6.10am, his mate fucks off, and then we get to it. Talk about slow and collected shagging - loads of snogging and foreplay and slow undressing, which was great. And then he worked me over with his tongue for ages. Totally lost track of time. Anyway, he let go eventually - I didn't as I was bursting for the loo by this point! - but after an hour's kip, he soon sorted me out. And after 3 days off, it felt goooood.

Lunchtime arrives, and I've a tube journey to get my mate's flat keys from his workplace, then have to pack up and make a train out of London (fuck). So we say our goodbyes, and have another snog. He gives me his number, and something comes up about me being 24.

4 years too many, but I'm flattered to be considered older. He's 43. My friend's appauled with me when I tell him - but I find that pretty hot, and we both enjoyed it, so what's the big deal? That afternoon I'm back in a social backwater poking my eyes out...

London, Clubs, and before sex with an older guy

It's been ages since I've posted on here: the time's been flying by with work commitments etc. Had loads of things to mention, just no time in which to do the writing!

Anyway, I was down in London again a couple of weeks ago (I'm down fairly regularly). I just love the place. It's so vibrant, to-the-minute, alive, constantly changing, and, best of all, incredibly liberating. Sure, busy streets and overcrowded buses and tubes can be irritating, but there's just something about London's streets which makes me feel comfortable...and alive.

So, on one of the evenings I was down I went to a very formal dinner at X. It was absolutely fantastic. I've done my fair share of formal events, but this had to be one of the best. The food, company, and setting were simply incredible. Lots of free champagne and wine later, and I"m not legless (always the way to ruin a meal that!), but I'm definitely in the mood to party. So I head up to Soho with some friends - one gay, one straight guy, one straight girl - and decide to hang with the West End queer boys for a bit. There was something about going from posh to gay which just thrilled the life out of me.

Few more drinks later, and after a pretty brash, but friendly, lesbian thinks I'm hitting on her - NEVER had that happen before - and our straight friends leave for the home. So me and gay friend C head off to Lo-Profile for more drinks and a dance...and a cruise by this stage.

Now I'm not the biggest fan of Lo-Profile. The ceilings a bit too low, the lighting isn't up to much, even if the rest of the place is looking good, and while it can get a bit cruisy - which doesn't bother me in itself - it's definitely pretentious. I think it's probably worse than Shadow Lounge round the corner - just instead of designer labels, it's designer pecs and steroids on display. Nice to look at, but wasn't finding any conversation.

Anyway, some guy starts dancing right up my arse, but he's a bit of the short side, and not doing it for me. Now gay friend C is a shy one so I push them together. Bingo - hour later, they are off fucking. I hung around for a while longer for another drink and dance but wasn't feeling it. Donned the tie again and headed back to posh place Y where I had to look decently sober to get past the doorman.

Certainly wouldn't be in the same bed 24hrs later, but you'll have to check the next post for that.

A Short Addition

Well, it's now turned out that the girl living opposite me has been evicted...and carted off by the police. Long story short: psycho boyfriend, drug-dealing boyfriend's cousin, attempted overdose, hospital trip, lies to the coppers, stolen car and door keys, disgruntled landlords, change of door lock, sniffer dogs.

Not in any particular order there, but that's pretty much what I've gathered from the owner of the place.

Shame. The psycho boyfriend was 6'2". He could put that height to such better use...it's always in proportion you know!

A Trip to the Beach and more Neighbours

Well, if you've read the posts entitled Neighbours, and Neigbours (2), you'll know it's been all thrills and spills at my place over the weekend. Anyway, I've found out the girl who lives there is a tenant since her landlord came and apologized for all the noise and fuss, and has given me some numbers to ring if there's any other trouble. Looks like some kind of drug bust...

Onto brighter things, I went to the beach yesterday! I've posted a shot from my phone.

It was nice to get out of the house. I'm not usually a fan of the sea, but I really enjoyed my walk. It's quite depressing going it alone along the sand though, especially on Sunday when all the couples are out. I thought students were meant to be with all their friends enjoying themselves, and there's me being a total loner! Still, I do like my space, so I'm not complaining entirely.

I inevitably got to thinking about relationships when I was walking along. Some couples look totally mismatched - it always makes me laugh when you see that (in a nice way). It's interesting how different people are just attracted to each other, and as an outsider you simply can't see what they like about each other. Probably being shallow!

There was a guy walking with two parents and a little girl. He screamed gay all over. I wasn't attracted to him in any way at all, but I got the distinct impression that he wasn't out. How do we sense someone like us, and yet the people around him seemed to have no idea. Maybe I was wrong about him, but that doesn't really matter. The point is how on earth does so-called 'gaydar' work - it fascinates me. It's like a sixth sense or something!

I actually often quite like people knowing I'm gay, depending on the circumstances of course. It's quite a relief not to have to act, and to be able to look at who I want to. It's quite liberating. I suppose that's why a lot of gay men seem to have a lot of gay friends. Hell, I need some in this place! Roll on the city!

Neighbours (2)

Well, further to my last post (see Neighbours), a pile of police officers appeared outside my flat door an hour ago. There was lots of commotion so I went to see what was going on. They were forcing their way into my neighbour's place.

I thought something dodgy was going on earlier. How right I was it seems. Wasn't great to see them coming in and out with a camera and plastic gloves. Although one of the tenants was in there it seems and no ambulance turned up...so that's good news!

Don't really like being entertaining by other people's misfortune - but sure was racy!

Shame - no hotties in uniform. One can dream.....

Neighbours

I live alone - which seems to surprise people when I say I'm only 20. I love the independence it affords me, but it has its downsides, too. At University I've had a rough time. I lived in University accommodation in my first year, and then in the second moved into a flat with three friends. Unfortunately, they weren't friends for long. They were on drink and drugs (mild ones at least) and were awful to live with. They had no respect for anyone other than themselves, they were selfish, loud, immature, etc. etc. - all the nightmare qualities you might come to expect from a stereotypical student.

To cut a long story short I then moved away from my University town - there was no way I was going to drop out. But the 30mins. commute I then underwent everyday meant I became massively ostracized from the University community - and its a very close-knit, and inbred one here, too. I can't say I was all that bothered, though. After all, I rediscovered my independent feet, I shaped a new life for myself, and I escaped a lot of Student cretins who were busy wasting their time getting pissed every night. I got some privacy back too!

Now I don't want to sound self-righteous here. Sure, I've had a sensible and sober upbringing, but I'm also a massive party-animal, and you'll find me in Fire (in London's Vauxhall) with all the druggies at 7am, and having a great time - just without the drugs myself. I just don't see the point in boozing yourself into oblivion every night of the week. It becomes so boring. And what's all this about students and living in mess?!

Maybe some of this is down to being gay. There seems to be a strange link between liking other men, and being tidy/fashion conscious/enjoying entertaining and so forth. Stereotypes exist for a reason, even if we might want to resist this categorization. And the same goes for students I suppose: I've met a lot who are immature and messy. I'm certainly not the oracle of everything that's right, but I guess I've struggled to find like-minded people at University - and I never thought I'd be saying that. Moving away from my University town also showed me that it was OK just to me be - and while it's been difficult spending so much time on my own, it's taught me a hell of a lot at this early stage of my life. And now I live back in the town I'd moved away from (still alone) I feel pretty stable - just constantly bored, despite my enormous workload! Get me out of here!

So moving on to the title of this post: neighbours. Well, with living alone I tend to find amusements in strange places. I was still up at 2 this morning going through some new house music (another tick on my gay stereotype list), but when I finally got in bed, I couldn't sleep. A couple across the corridor has been evicted this last week, but the people directly opposite were making a real racket. There's been randoms in and out of their flat for weeks - it looks like the nice older couple who were living there have gone. Although they have been visiting! It's so strange. Anyway, we had banging doors, screaming, all kinds of things. And this morning, when I heard loud knockings at their front door, I had to pop my head out.

"Hi. Sorry, I know I look a mess (hedge, backwards - I wasn't looking great) but if you're trying to get into No. 18, I don't know if you'll have much luck."

Two dolled-up chicks stared up at me.

"Oh. Why's that then, man?"

"Well, there was a lot of noise from No. 18 at 3 this morning, right through to 6. Banging doors, shouting."

The chicks looked pretty distressed, but not surprised either. So something had been going down.

"Oh, right. What noises again?"

Then the door opened. This bloke in his early 20s - and I'm going to sound like a snob here - who looked a total thug, stepped out.

"You alright?" I asked, "because there was a lot of noise from your place at 3 this morning."

"Aye man, 's great here." The chicks went in, the door shut to loud laughing.

Hmmm, another of life's social voids here. I've lived in posh(ish) areas, and even on a council estate, so I think I've seen a fair bit of stuff. But seriously, whatever they were doing last night was wholly inappropriate. Soap-drama living I call it.

There was a moment when they closed the door, when I could feel the bloke looking at me. We can't understand each other. I don't get his attitude and his lack of manners. He obviously looked at me and saw a potential puff. And yet maybe he didn't. Mind reading is so difficult - and we often get it wrong anyway!

I am really as secure as I think I am? I'll have gaydar radio on loud and not care. But faced with someone who you just feel cannot accept you...I think I over-compensate and become this stuffy, straight 40 year old bachelor type. Who knows?

Right, purged myself of that little bit of trivia. On with the day.