It's always someone's other half

Hello mr. Did u get home safe on Saturday? On Sunday we went to Sheffield park. Lovely place

Just received this text from Mateo. The "we" refers to him and his partner.

It's Saturday night. I am at a gay club with a friend. I have never been here before. A few more guys I know are coming too. Mateo and his partner James are here with their friends. I've known Mateo for nearly two years. He's an artist and he always makes me laugh with his Spanish ways. He is friendly and welcoming to everyone - he even invites his Grindr fucks to his birthday parties. All acceptable because he has a big, warm Spanish heart. I see Mateo every week but we are just friends. He is an attractive man (around 40, my height, groomed and VERY fit) but I never had any fantasies about him because he is with James who is also a nice, sweet man.

Anyway, my friend and I head down from the bar to the dance floor. Mateo is already a bit drunk and sweating under his black shirt. James has gone home. I start getting warm and I am sweating too. The floor is all sticky from spilt drinks. Mateo is a dance machine. He dances with guys he knows and guys he doesn't know, swaying and thrusting. Then he comes to me, going down and up with the music, which makes me laugh. And he keeps coming around but I like it because he's a joker and a good dancer. Under the flashing lights and deafening music, he takes his shirt off and ties it around his waist. I cheer him on but he grabs the bottom of my T-shirt and takes it off too. I am dancing shirtless. I have never felt so gay. Mateo and I begin to fuse together. I feel him having a taste of the sweat on my neck. I run my tongue along his tricep when he dances with his arms up and he keeps them up for a bit longer, enjoying it. He gets very close to my face a few times and I think, whoa, is he trying to kiss me? To me, kissing means real attraction rather than just fun and games. Later on, when we have our clothes back on, we are still dancing and sweating. Mateo comes close again, with a big smile as usual. Very close. So close our noses touch. I approach slowly to give him a chance to back away but he doesn't. Our lips touch. We kiss and the kiss turns into a little snog - only very little like we are testing each other. Then he backs away and smiles and carries on dancing. I go to the bar for a drink with my friend, who tells me Mateo and James are in an open relationship and that I shouldn't feel guilty. Ok well, I never take him seriously anyway. I know he's having fun in his Spanish way. I just never knew he wanted to do that with me.

We leave the club before the music stops and everyone starts leaving. I am getting a taxi with my friend and Mateo is walking back to his house. We say bye and Mateo looks at me, smiling. And he waits. I know what he wants so I walk up and we kiss again next to the taxi rank.

"I think Mateo really likes you," says my friend.

"He just likes to have fun. I know him well enough."

Just happened to have a reason for posting this video

Friend from work is leaving. He has remarried to a German wife and is moving to Germany. I will miss him because he is one of the few men who's really got his head screwed on but is never too serious. He is also a biker and one of the bikes he has is the same as mine in a different colour. Best of luck to him.

(This video is from the facebook page of Baller Boyz)

A bit of pretentious, cultural blogging

Punchdrunk's theatre production called "The Drowned Man: A Hollywood Fable" is an adaptation of Woyzeck but is not like normal theatre. You physically follow the actors/dancers from one scene to another, from the bedroom to the bar and one floor to the next within the building. There is no stage - or you are with them on the stage. You can choose whichever character to follow and switch whenever you want, or just explore the sets yourself. There is no dialogue. Everything is expressed through dance, body movement, music and lighting.

It's been running since June last year so it's not news to any regular theatre goers. When I went to London to see it last Friday I was blown away by the details of the sets, the genius of different characters' own stories and the powerful body movements. It was set in the 1950's and all the decorations and props were real and solid. All dancers, male and female, were professionally trained and incredibly fit like gymnasts. This guy rolled down backwards from the roof of a car and made it look like a walk in the park. Another moved among poles (that were supposed to be trees) like a dance in mid air.

They don't mind showing off their perfect bodies either. One of the main characters was played by a hot red head and he was in a white vest throughout, except when he went to see the doctor and was ordered to take it off and to stretch his arms out sideways. Then the creepy doctor (who was also hot by the way) started teasing him by running the end of a stick from his hand to his chest and drawing on his abs. At the time I had no idea what the fuck was going on but I was loving it and wished he would keep doing it.

I have bought another ticket to go again because there are so many sets and characters I didn't even know existed until the final scene. I really recommend it if you get a chance to go (but do some research first so you don't end up still being in a state of lost and confusion after the first hour like I did). It's not too late!

He polishes well

Sochi's concluded. But I'm still catching up on the replays. I have to say snowboard cross is by far the best event to watch. And the bobsleigh is at the opposite end of the scale because you can't see what they are doing at all - they might as well be having a wank in the giant toy car. I still have a million questions about curling. Like, why are they always in such a hurry to clear the stones at the end? Anyhow, here are a couple of men curlers I enjoyed looking at.

Niklas Edin, 28 years of age, is the Swedish skip. He is not the tallest Olympian but littler guys tend to have more power packed into it. I want him to model for H&M, not Beckham.

Scott Andrews, 24, is the British second. He is engaged/married (BITCH!) but he can still come around to clean my floor.

Moan, boy...

Came across this blog called MoaningMen where you can find audio tracks of...well, moaning men! I found myself oozing stickiness uncontrollably listening to some of the tracks. It is not any less horny than watching porn (which is sometimes quite boring) because you have so much room for imagination - another reason why I like listening to talk shows on the radio when I drive. I am not as vocal though when I shag - heavy breathing yes but no moaning. Keeping the noise down is a habit I acquired from university and the surrounding wooded areas. But I haven't lost the ability to use my vocal cord when necessary (like when it's fucking big!). Is moaning a turn-on for you?

Light bulb moment

There was a new guy in my lane today at swimming. We get one or two new members every month on average and people come and go for different reasons so the group has never grown significantly since I've been there. The previous addition a few weeks ago was a university student who almost looked underage. He is smaller than me. Dark haired, cute, black stud in his ear; small tattoos on his lean and toned body. He has the most typical 18 year old twinky-skater-boy-porn-star looks (and name). His perky ass is easy on the eyes but other than that I'm not interested. I have seen him rolling a cigarette after a swim. I don't understand why he bothers. (Probably forced to come by his boyfriend.)

Today's hottie is a 30-something who is bigger than our little porn star but still slightly shorter than me. You can tell he works hard in the gym from his strong but perfectly proportioned body. His pecs are more bulgy than the other muscle groups but I find it a great turn on because, really, the chest is the best place on a tight body for a bit of extra softness. Swimmers just don't get puffy pecs. He doesn't have washboard abs - I'm not into it anyway - but there is no fat around his waist. He is not bad looking either. Not the centre-of-attention kind of face but if I saw him in the supermarket I would go back an aisle to have another look. I keep stealing looks at his chest, legs and ass whenever we stop to listen to Coach. If he had a deeper voice and let his facial hair grow I would have accidentally backed up against his crotch.

Anyway, after training a few of us head to the pub for a drink. I don't normally go but I want to know more about this guy, who seems to be quite easy to talk to. So we have a drink, chat about swimming and holidays and shit. He's cool. His tenor voice makes him sound a little camp but he's not. Then I notice - the bloody ring on his ring finger. For fuck sake. He must have put it back on after swimming. And he is saying "we" are going to Sydney for a few weeks. Damn. I guess he will just become like the other two men I used to fantasise about but turned into good friends after finding out they were both happily attached.

Then there is a light bulb moment. I think the problem is I like men at least five ten years older than me. But all the good guys would have found someone by the time they are in their thirties. So how this ever going to work?

Happy days?

I found myself in the gym again on Valentine's evening. No dates. So why not? I don't feel left out - or no more than the other 364 days.


The wind is howling outside. The headlines this week have all been about the ongoing storms and floods in the country. The States is also covered in snow and it's so hot in Australia you could spontaneously combust. This climate change thing is getting down to business.