14 June 2012


So, The Gay-ish Guy and I met up.

It was odd.

Let me start from the beginning.

As I eluded to earlier I had been in Copenhagen for the weekend. And can I just say, what a city - the food, the sights, the people, the company - delightful!

So, I was coming back into Central London close to midnight when the Gay-ish Guy inboxed me:

You out tonight fucker?

Awww. Well no but I am now you smooth talking bastard.

What ensued was a to and fro re the venue. He didn't want to come south of the river which was my suggestion because he was north of the river. Then he inboxed this:

I feel we need to discuss PNBF...

I decided to go north.

Oh god. Discuss? That means argue. And in this case a very one-sided argument. Well, as I have said all along, when I'm done, I'm done. There is no getting out of any of this. So, as I prepared my opening statements, we agreed to meet in the pouring rain in SoHo.

I got home and threw myself in the shower. No time to clipper your ass, I yelled at myself, just go! The taxi took forever - something about the Queen and her 60 years on the throne. Well this queen [insert joke here].

As I stood on the corner of Old Compton and Regret, I couldn't tell whether I was shaking because it was so cold or whether I was bricking it with the word 'discuss' wandering through my mind like the SoHo drug dealers trying to push their merch on me. Thanks, but I'm gonna do this drug free.

I waited half an hour before he turned up. I wondered whether he would in fact turn up. Perhaps this was part of an elaborate set-up to humiliate me while he sunned himself on a beach in far North Queensland.

Finally, I saw him coming around the corner. So, I pretended I hadn't seen him and looked the other way. I wanted him to say the first word, so I could at least gauge the mood.

"You bastard, you made me walk all this way and now I am soaked," he said with a smile.

"Well you've strung me along for 2 years so harden the fuck up pussy", was what I wanted to say, but I settled for:

"Come on, let's hug it out".

We hugged and I have to say for all the bravado, he seemed happy to see me. We walked the length of Old Compton Street (again in the rain which he wasn't happy about) to find a bar and in the end had to settle for a less than desirable venue.

It was packed with tired gay Jubilee revellers still waving soggy Union Jacks. We found a quiet corner and ordered a drink.

I spent the next few minutes trying to get him to piece together a timeline of the events that had occurred. He was quite drunk at this stage so keeping him focussed was like trying to get a gold fish to say the alphabet.

Finally I got this: a friend in Australia sent him an email with a link to a v funny blog called Project New Boyfriend whilst he was in Canada which he didn't respond to till about a month later.

Ha ha ha classic Gay-ish Guy.

Then he was sat on his bed one evening and started reading. He apparently read The Binge Drinker and a few more before he got to the money shot, so to speak. He told me that it took him until I said, "He has an unusual name" that the penny dropped and he realised this funny little blog passed on by a friend was actually an ode to himself.

I mean what must he have thought? Well I'll tell you!

He emailed his friend back and said, "This is me!" to which his friend laughed and said, "Yeah, I know you are like that," and then he said, "No, this is really me" and pointed out an instance where in plain view I had mentioned his name. Eek!

Well, I think she nearly shit herself too.

Then he said that he thought I was talented and it was very entertaining.

Thanks and natch.

And that I should keep writing.

About him.

That was pretty much the upshot of our conversation: I could keep writing about him FOR YEARS if I wanted to. Lofty. I think that implied I will be seeing him in those years, but then again I am not sure. He also said that he would check-in every few months and not read every post.


I remarked, "Don't you think this is an odd 3rd date?"

"Well have you clippered your ass?"


I scooched away like a frigid schoolgirl as he went to put his hand down the back of my pants.

We left the bar and walked through a damp SoHo heading toward Chinatown because he said he wanted to eat. I thought, dinner? Wow, it really is a date. Unfortunately, we didn't stumble across an all night dim sum restaurant that would become "our place" and on future anniversaries we would return to because it "meant something" to us.

No, we went to fuckin McDonalds.


Somewhere between 2 Quarter Pounders and 6 Chicken McNuggets we had a try at some normal date conversation.

Well, it was like trying to thumb a flaccid penis into a tight asshole.

Just not gonna happen.

Then I realised, I know all the general topics about him. Between my stalk-a-thon and the few times we have met up, I have all the info. What he doesn't know is anything about me! I have a lot to offer by way of conversation. A few leading questions and I'm off.

But no it was Chicken McNuggets at 50 paces.

We ended the proceedings with a stroll in the rain through Leicester Square. We stood under my umbrella chatting about the blog. And him. And him and the blog. He basically gave me the green light to write whatever I want about him. Just stop talking about his ginormous penis. Oh shit, is that talking about it? What if I've already talked about how big it is? OK I'll stop.

One thing I didn't quite catch was did he actually like me? Or did he like the fact that I liked him so much that I was writing an anthology about him. Up until that point it had kind of been like a business meeting. His feelings towards me seemed muddled.

Then in the rain under my broken umbrella he pulled me in for a pash.

He tasted like a Quarter Pounder. Mmmm trans fats.

I felt like Andie McDowell. Is it raining? I hadn't noticed.

*rolls eyes*

We parted ways because he was tired and wanted to go to bed. He said he would contact me in the next few days to hook up, but I knew he wouldn't. I knew, he knew he had done enough to keep me writing, keep me hoping, keep me keen.

I just didn't know whether I was.


  1. OMG The Best Now Date Rape him with that very same Unbrella....oh he can read this....Surprise Spolit!

  2. My head hurEts. I'm so confused.

  3. Give up, move on! He's a commitment phobic tool! Eventually you will find an awesome guy who will see you more than once a year. Love the blog btw

  4. Uuugh sounds like he just likes you pining after him and wants to keep stringing you along because he likes the way it boosts his ego!

    Move on I say.... NEXT!

    1. Yeah, put a fork in this one, its done.

      He is only stringing you along because he knows you will bite, and its an ego boost for him. At this point you are only playing along because he was mildly interesting blog fodder, has a large tool and kissed you every once and a while.

      Don't settle for someone who isn't actually into you.

  5. LATERS Gay-ish guy!


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