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.