Another day, another life

I didn't have a good day yesterday. It would have been, had things gone differently, my 22nd wedding anniversary, and, travelling to work last night, I couldn't help but reflect on the difference between the happiness of my wedding day in 1993, and the situation I find myself in now. That difference is my fault, of course, and in many ways comes back to the dichotomy encapsulated in that earlier, happy day, the fact that I married not because of who I was, but despite that identity. I did, genuinely, love my ex, and I'd convinced myself that marrying her was the right thing to do, for both of us, that she was the one to 'save me from myself'. The seeds of destruction were already there, though, even on that day - there was someone else there who had caught the eye of 'the real me', my sister-in-law's nephew on her husband's side, a pretty, blond thing of 11 or 12. Then, of course, there was the gorgeous Scandinavian boy (the one who, many years later, became the 'template' for Xander, amongst other things) I've written about before, poolside during our honeymoon. You can fool most people, most of the time, if you're careful enough, but the one person you can never fool is yourself. Which leads into another reason for my current unhappiness with life in general, and myself in particular. One thing I've tried to convince myself of over the years is that I don't want to have penetrative sex with a boy. Lips, tongue, touches, but not that 'ultimate' act. And, of course, I've had to admit to myself, finally, that my conviction simply isn't true. I do want it. Before anyone jumps to the conclusion that I'm going to rush off and force myself on a boy at the earliest opportunity, I'd like to ask for at least a moment of rational consideration - just because I want something doesn't mean that I'm actually going to do it, any more than the 'average red-blooded male' would force himself on a woman he found attractive. But when such an admission, even an internalised admission, is thrust upon you, it certainly doesn't do anything for self-esteem.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

36 hour day

In a manner of speaking, anyway. And all on about four hours sleep. I got in late on Sunday night, and stayed up later, all by design, with a view to sleeping in on Monday morning. That was where the plan fell down, though, because I woke up irrevocably at 7:15, and the way the day went, I didn't get the chance for an afternoon nap, so it was off to work feeling totally washed out. Luckily, it was a very quiet night, but then yesterday's rush began. The reason behind it all was that K was booked in for a day case operation, nothing at all life-threatening, simply having post-infection gunk sucked out of her ears (she had a very bad ear infection some months ago, and had been pretty deaf ever since), but needing to be done under general anaesthetic. So it was a case of getting back to the flat as quickly as I could, having a shower, then straight out again to take my girl to the hospital (not at all local, but with by far the shortest waiting list for the procedure). By the time she was done, awake again and ready to be picked up - it all went as planned, K's hearing, while not fully restored yet, is much better already -  and we'd made our way back, it was almost 7:30. I'd booked the night off work, of course, so that I could be around for K in her post-anaesthesia recovery stage, but it was just as well I didn't have to go in, because I was almost beyond tiredness by that point. I do vaguely remember 9:00 passing, but virtually nothing after that until 7:30 this morning. and I'm still shattered now. And I do have to go to work tonight. Meh!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Only twice today

Fallen in love, that is. On the way to work, with a 14-ish German speaking (presumably) tourist - Mütti was certainly taking plenty of photos - although, oddly, his family got on the bus at our local suburban bus station, and got off at a very nondescript stop opposite a big supermarket. Off the beaten tourist track, without a doubt. The boy on the return journey was a league or two above, though - you really don't expect to see grade one cuties on the tube at nearly 10:00 at night, even if it is a bank holiday weekend, but there he was, with parents and a couple of sisters, 12/13, drop dead gorgeous, reddish-brown hair and the most kissable lips I've seen on a boy for many a long day. Rarely have I more fervently wanted a tube train to break down so I could spend more time in his glorious presence, but, needless to say, it wasn't to be. Half a dozen minutes, and gone forever, in any foreseeable circumstances. Good job I've got a cold beer or two to console me!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Good manners....

....cost nothing, or so the saying goes. Unless someone really riles me, I genuinely do my best to be polite, albeit that it's often a rather cold kind of politeness, because, as I've said ad nauseam, I'm really not a 'people person'. But there are times when I wonder why I bother. Saturday night in my local, and, of course, it's pretty busy. I've just been to the bar, and, as I was heading there, a party of 8 or 9 were leaving for their next port of call, so I stood aside to let them pass. Not one, not fucking one of them,  bothered to acknowledge my action. Consideration for others seems to be taken as a sign of weakness nowadays. 'If you can't beat them, join them', to be as rude as the rest, is a very tempting prospect.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

And some excellent news from the Emerald Isle

Ireland has become the first country in the world to enact marriage equality by way of a referendum, 62% - 38%, too, so not that far from a 2 - 1 majority. And in a traditionally Roman Catholic society. Kudos to the Irish people for sticking two fingers up to the religiots!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Impulse buying - and other impulses

I'm blogging on a new toy this evening, a Google Nexus tablet I bought this morning. It was the tablet that I originally intended to get before I was seduced by the relative cheapness of the Kindle at the time, three years or so ago, I first decided to venture into owning this kind of device, so perhaps not so much of an impulse as all that, especially given that the Kindle has become increasingly reluctant to charge over the past couple of weeks, suggesting the battery is on the way out. This gadget was on special offer, too, effectively on a 30% discount, so a win-win, really.
And the other impulses? I've been out and about today, and been positively swarmed with cuties. At one point, in Ealing at lunchtime, I literally saw three lovely boys, none of whom were together, within thirty seconds, and then spent three-quarters of an hour on my next bus admiring another little darling - who blessed me with a smile - I'd happily have given my eye teeth to take home for loves and cuddles. No chance, of course, but even an old boylover can daydream!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

So, OK

I've said this once before, and didn't go through with it, but I really think it needs to be done this time. If I'm going to continue with the blog, it needs to be honest. Totally honest. What I do, what I think, and, probably most of all, what I am. If that alienates any of my meagre cast of readers, all I can do is apologise in advance. I don't expect to have too many years of life left, given my health and lifestyle, so to waste that diminishing stock, as I've wasted so much of the rest, by pretending to be what I'm not and denying my real self, is simply not what I want to do anymore. I've tried to do the 'right' thing, and ended up with nothing, so there's nothing to lose. The world hates me, generically if not personally, for even wanting what I want, so I might just as well be proactive and give them something substantive to hate me for.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Let's answer my own question

There is no point to it, any of it. Normal service will probably never be resumed.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Fear itself

Again, yet again. Saw a blog post about a subject of interest to me, found, from my perspective, at least two levels of hypocrisy in it, as well as feeling a good deal of anger about so-called 'liberals' wanting a child to have been thrown to the wolves of the 'abuse industry', wanted to blog about it in my turn. But, when it came to the crunch, I chickened out. After five years and more, why should I give a shit about what 'they' think? But still I find myself hamstrung by the fear of putting my head above the parapet. If I can't say what I think, what's the point? But, then, that's the question I could ask about my life in general. What's the point?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Demons

With one more early morning of my run of 9 to come, I'm almost too tired to think. And that's probably just as well, because many of the thoughts I have had over the past couple of days have found me in some thoroughly dark places. The usual subject, of course, but with a twist - I've not only had thoughts about what I might do to some hypothetical boy, rather what I might share with him, but whether I could get away with it. I really don't want to hurt anyone, but if that perfect storm of desire, frustration and opportunity was to come together, could I resist? I'm not hopeful.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

I've just seen a place....

....where I could happily live the rest of my life. Sadly, it's come onto the market about four years too early. FML!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Bigotry to the point of insanity

I was aware, through the news, of the train crash in Philadelphia last week, and, from what little I'd seen, early investigations had seemed to point towards some kind of track defect. But, of course, the Christian right know better. Given that I look after not just one train like the unfortunate driver in this accident, but hundreds of potentially life-threatening scenarios every working day, and that I'm not just gay, but a boylover too, how does this bigoted fuckwit explain why no-one has ever died on my watch. Or even come close to dying.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Annoyed

In my local (now there's a surprise, eh?!). On the next table is a party of four - three adults and a boy. And the so-called 'grown-ups' are simply ignoring him, carrying on their own conversation. He hasn't got anything to do, no 'electronic babysitter' in the form of a phone or tablet he can play games on. And, of course, he's getting restless - or at least he was, until their food arrived just now. K went to various pubs right through her childhood, but she was always engaged, we played games, traditional, like backgammon and draughts, word and number games of our own devising (a bit of surreptitious extra education, but, hey, it worked pretty well!), or just talked. But she was never ignored. Ever.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Hello, stranger

Through slightly more convoluted meanderings than usual, after I'd finished the first of my 9 straight early turns at lunchtime, I've found myself in a different Wetherspoons, albeit not a million miles from my local. I've only been in here once before today, mostly because getting to and from home is a bit fiddly by public transport, but, if anything, it's probably a nicer pub than my customary haunt. And as soon as I walked through the door, there was a familiar face - a youngish, maybe early twenties, barman who worked in my local a year or so ago when I first started using the place. And while I've no doubt at all that he's as straight as they come, the aesthetic appeal of the staff there was certainly diminished when he left. Or moved, as it now appears.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Scratch a Tory, and you'll find a fascist

Less than a week after they were swept to power by gaining a mere 37% of the popular vote, the Tories are already showing their true, authoritarian colours. Yesterday, threatening to scrap the UK Human Rights Act and withdrawing from the European Human Rights Convention - 'breaking the link between human rights and British courts' was quoted, leaving any rights at all, seemingly, in the gift of our elected dictatorship, in the form of some undefined 'bill of rights' - while today, the party are reportedly 'at war' with the BBC, apparently for a perceived pro-Labour bias during the election campaign. You weren't sycophantic enough, so we're going to defund you. The fascist one party state beckons.

1845 edit: And there's more. I've just seen a news story quoting the new Business Secretary as saying that new legislation is required to limit public sector workers' right to strike. We'll give you the right to be enslaved, what more do you plebs want?

2050 edit: And yet more. They're proposing to scrap paid maternity leave, and the new 'minister for equality' is a theocratic bigot who is against marriage equality, and thinks 'the church's' definition of marriage trumps all. And, most invidious of all, there are already mutterings about reintroducing the death penalty. And there's still, on paper, 4 years, 51 weeks and 2 days of this government's term to run. Emigration is looking like a more appealing option by the hour.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Lost weekend

Not quite in the filmic sense, because I'm well aware of how it's been spent, but pretty definitively wasted, apart, perhaps, from the time I shared with K on Saturday. I'm not actually back to work until Wednesday morning, but tomorrow is a write-off, given that I'll need to be up at just after 4:00 the day after. It's all self-inflicted, of course, I could've done far more worthy things than spending hours in the pub, but I can resist everything, as Wilde said, except temptation. The beer is, needless to say, a palliative to distract from the pain of what I want but can never have. And, right on cue, there he is, another cute 12/13 I haven't seen before, but who I'd sell my soul for. If I had one to sell.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Ghost, beautiful ghost

The bus stopped in Haymarket. He was standing a few yards behind me, so I had to turn and look over my shoulder, as it were, to admire him. And he noticed, straight away. And reacted - positively. He smiled and waved. I gave him a thumbs-up, and he waved again. Then the bus moved off, and I gave him a little wave. A wave goodbye, of course. His smile, his blond curls, his lovely face, gone forever. Another lost, beautiful ghost.

1845 edit: And now there's a beautiful boy in my local, not quite a 'ghost', because I've seen him once before. Yet more salt rubbed into my largely self-inflicted wounds.

2035 edit:  'Beautiful boy' has gone, 'little friend' has been and gone, and I'm just as alone as ever. Ain't life grand.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

In the cold light of day....

....last night's euphoria is shown up for what it really was, hollow and meaningless. Yes, I did enjoy my time with K, I was excited by the match and the way it ended, But I've woken this morning, like every other morning, alone. And with no prospect whatsoever of that situation ever changing. Given who I am and what I want, and the fact that I'm not prepared to 'pretend' and take another 'second-best', it can never change. It's like living in a vacuum, where up or down, win or lose, good day or bad, mean nothing, change nothing. Pointlessness made manifest.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

But then, there's the other side of the coin

Awesome, awesome day! Loads of quality time with K, together in town and then going for my postponed birthday meal with my girl, loads of eye candy - it was blond cutie day, in spades - and then the icing on the cake, watching the Saints pull off the third best second half recovery in AFL history (according to what was said in commentary, I haven't checked the stats personally) to snatch an unbelievable victory. If every day was half as good as this, I'd be a very happy boy!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The politics of selfishness and greed

So, it's going to be another five years of Cameron and his bunch of millionaire thieves feathering their own nests, and those of their friends, at everyone else's expense. I despair at the electorate's obvious disdain for anything resembling social justice. Vote Conservative - the 'I'm all right, Jack, fuck you' party. Disgusting.

1300 edit: Just about the only bit of good news of the day - Farage lost in Thanet South and has resigned as UKIP leader. Good riddance to loathsome rubbish.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Self-praise is no recommendation

Just under a month ago, I posted a story in Nephelokokkygia.. It sunk without trace. I think it's probably the best thing I've ever written. If my writing is really that shit, I wish someone would have the balls to tell me, so I can stop wasting my time. But then my whole bloody life is a waste of time, so I guess my pathetic writing fits in pretty well.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

'Saints fans have a sense of humour'

As said by Dennis Cometti in commentary on last Sunday's game, which I've just watched the second half of this morning. And don't we bloody well need it! And a streak of masochism a mile wide! Defeat snatched from the jaws of victory yet again. Go Sainters!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Back on the treadmill

Back to work yesterday, after my week of sick/annual leave. Without enthusiasm of any kind, I have to say. I'm in one of my 'for two pins, I'd tell them to stick the job where the sun don't shine' phases, but, unless anything seriously annoying happens, I'll probably get through it and just settle back into my customary simmering resentment at having to be a wage slave! I tried to sugar the pill just a little by leaving a few minutes earlier than strictly necessary, and going most of the way to work by bus, but the cuties were thin on the ground, the weather not being all that prepossessing - there was a family in Baker Street, though, with two brothers, 13/14 and 11/12, either or both of whom I would quite happily have shared a cuddle with, in the vanishingly unlikely event that they would have agreed to being cuddled by a fat old grump!
Needless to say, the papers yesterday were full of the new royal baby. The timing is an absolute gift for the Tories, of course, a national 'feelgood factor' scenario just days before the General Election. The cynic in me wondered whether the royal couple had 'bred to order', given that, in the absence of anything unforeseen, everyone knew the election was going to be around now, but I guess something as 'hit or miss' as pregnancy couldn't be arranged quite so felicitously for the outgoing government. Could it?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Town, and country

The last day of my birthday week break has followed the pattern of its predecessors, so far, at least. I went into town this morning, without a particular aim in mind, but did end up at an 'event', of sorts, the 'Streets of Spain' food festival on the South Bank. I went last year, and wasn't overly impressed, and this year's version was little different, sadly - the food and drink on offer was stereotypical, and seriously overpriced. £6 for a small glass of rioja, anyone? There was, though, more than a little eye candy on view, most notably a mind-meltingly beautiful little fair-haired guy (his slightly older brother probably would've been cutie of the day in his own right, too, had he not been comprehensively eclipsed by his sibling). It was very much the double-edged sword again, though - yes, the cuties are lovely to see, but my reactions to them don't do overly much for my self-esteem.
But then, indirectly, the ultimate of all cuties sprang to mind, yet again - I read a blog post about the controversy surrounding a forthcoming school trip, from which several families had withdrawn their children, because it's an RE trip which will include a visit to a mosque. And the school? The Cornish primary that includes DBJ amongst its alumni. The school he attended when I fell helplessly in love with him. If I could pick a day as my 'groundhog day', it would be the sunny day in that summer when he was 11, walking past my old workplace and over the bridge in his translucent tennis shirt, the afternoon sun silhouetting his perfection. I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful, before or since.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

He's going to be my boy

Well, maybe, possibly, probably not. But it's 4/4 at the moment - I've seen him four times, in my local, and every single time, he's smiled, and, like tonight, by no means prompted by me. When I say he's going to be my boy, I don't. for a second, mean in a sexual way - he's much too young, and by the time he's old enough, I'll probably be dead - but I really believe he could be my friend. There just seems to be some sort of chemistry, some sort of connection. One day, if I'm very, very lucky, I might get a cuddle. And that would be enough, more than enough.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B