So i’m on my way to Edinburgh, for the Fringe. I should be hoaning and reshaping my stunning stand up act, preparing it for the comedy vultures, but then why bother? I’ll write most of it up there, and it’s more likely i’ll end up chatting with the locals from the stage each night. It’s my only chance to come in contact with the common Scotch people, and I do so adore their boozy, slightly inane stories of incest and Big Brother fantasies, in that order please.
There’s a very cute skinny pale boy sitting across the aisle from me. In first class of course, so he’s posh and i’m over paid. He’s just ordered fruit cake. Little does he know he’s already got one, staring at him. I wonder if he’ll let me grope him, the way I groped a boy on the train in ireland. He was leaving the toilet, I was going into the toilet, we brushed torsos and i grabbed his ass. Am i getting more filthy, the more feeble i become? is this how it happens, is this how one becomes a nasty old man?
My ego is bruised today because i met up with an old flame in a sauna in waterloo last night, and after we’d been fucking for about 10 minutes, he took a break. and i never saw him again. We’d had dinner, caught up a bit, i hadn’t seen him in 5 years, he has a boyfriend so he’s sexually available, and he’d told me about all he wanted to do to me in an email the day before. The email was so long, so detailed, i took a viagra just to get through it. Luckily the effect was still warming my cock when we met, I felt ready to carry on and do my daddy duty – he’s short and has a slightly high voice, so i felt obligated – and once in him, he seemed to take to it well.
But I guess I couldn’t live up to the hype. Whom can? When I did see him later, in the locker room, he was going home with a welshman with an unpronouncable name. I might have done the same, were i slighly desperate for a bed, but whatever happened to “I’m going to kiss you all over…blah blah blah”? Is he crazy or just bored? Am I a retard for trying to rekindle, albeit briefly, an ancient romance?
I’ve often brow-beaten myself over not seeing a relationship through with this guy. Why didn’t i move to Australia? How could I let a hot Greek acrobat, someone all my friends adored and were lining up to fuck when he visited me in San Francisco, fly away home? Am I afraid of success, not only professionally, but personally?
Now I know why he and I never got together. Because he doens’t talk. He can’t tell me what he’s feeling. And I don’t like dating a trick. I’m not blaming him, mabye I’m too difficult to communicate with. I hate ending sentences with prepositions, but I’m weepy.
I ended up spending 4 orgasms with a boy from Seoul. A gorgeous South Korean with lots to say, even to me. Odd when you meet someone so sexually compatible, who also adores the same people you do (Jude Law) yet is mistrustful of the English. it’s reassuring, not to know that all queers are the same, but that two people from very far away places can meet in the damp miasma that is London and find, amongst the broken bottles and gutter language, a second to make eye contact and discuss something other than our cocks. Oh my god, I just became a lesbian. But I do know one thing: I’d love to have a reason to visit South Korea, other than sampling the eye ball stew.
See you at The Stand, in Edinburgh, for what feels like the rest of my life.
xxx
PS: the boy across from me just yawned and lifted his shirt to scratch his pale, bare side. do hot boys always know they’re hot? Jesus did. What would jesus do right now? Probably ask the guy for money. You know what pop idols are like: If they’re not sucking it in parks, they’re begging for change.
I’ll go now.
x