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...

Crusing: Thoughts

Well, hot on the heals of the first post, I'm going to get stuck in.

Two hours ago I drove back from a city nearby to me. I'm at University in what I can only describe as a social backwater, albeit a pretty one. And what was I doing in the city on a Saturday evening, you ask? Well, I wanted to go out, but with no-one to go with, I went cruising.

Gaydar is a funny place. There's the odd person who seems fairly decent - but then doesn't want to meet. There's the thousands who look much better in their pics than they do when you get in their trousers. And then there's the many more who will have anything with a pulse.

I'm concerned I've turned into the latter recently. I've never been a prude, but I do like to think I'm aware of the risks. I think, to use the 60s phrase, that 'free-love' is great, but sometimes I do wonder whether I should respect myself a little more than to go about willy-nilly (excuse the pun). But then again, when a certain something decides it wants out, there ain't much stopping it!

The guy I saw tonight I saw earlier in the week too. Let's say he got what he wanted. And actually so did I: I got out of the house, I had a nice drive up the motorway, saw some city lights, and had some body contact.

I'm sure, though, that this is a sign of desperation on my part - however latent and repressed it feels. I've not been able to resist sex lately. It's been constantly on the brain. I'm going to be posting about a messy break-up I recently underwent (if that's what it was!) and I think on top of that, and because I hate where I live - somewhere where I find myself cut off from the University, swamped by immature students, without gay friends, and absolutely desperate to have a fresh start - I'm just putting myself 'out there' to remind myself I'm alive.

Is this what sex is out of a relationship? Maybe even in it! For all the bravado, the cheeky faces and horny talking which cruising brings about...does is cover a huge amount of insecurity? Or are men just desperate for it... I think I'm both.

Remember A Streetcar Named Desire (watch it, Brando looks hot in a vest - you can smell the testosterone)? Blanche says: "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." I think a lot of us do. And as for sex, however random, reminding you you're alive is something it definitely can do: "I don't want realism. I want magic! Yes, yes, magic. I try to give that to people. I do misrepresent things. I don't tell truths. I tell what ought to be truth." Well I'm a big liar myself - this fascinating secret life of random encounters, repressed 'neediness' for someone etc. - something which most people won't ever hear of from me in real life. Because putting in on here is real for me, but at the same time it's not: it's electronic, it's as if my brain is just printing itself on my screen without consequences. It's a dream in reality. I'll shut up being a tit now.

Back to Streetcar: "Straight? What's 'straight'? A line can be straight, or a street. But the heart of a human being?" Well, you can read into 'what's straight' whatever you like. I'm as bent as a roundabout, dear. But the heart certainly isn't straight...and my brain isn't either for that matter!