More of a Diarist than First Thought
Well, I thought this whole blog thing would crash and burn, but I am actually enjoying it. I suppose the difference is that I don’t have to think of smart things to write like you do with a professional blog. This is more of a diary really, and it is kind of nice to do the anonymous diary thing. Who cares if anyone even reads this?
So, at the moment I am sitting in the Virgin Upper Class lounge waiting to wing it home for some work and play. I feel on top of the world, but these feels are battered by feelings of inferiority. Yes, I seem to suffer from some sort of homosexual inferiority complex. Am I the only one?
Example – last night at a formal dinner with military types I had a great conversation with a military engineer. We talked about cars, politics and the work he did in Afghanistan – which was great. I had a great time and he was very friendly and asked if I like what I do and I said ‘I love what I do’ and “I’m very happy” and he was all smiley and he asked, “so are you married?” and I was like, “no, but you know I am still young” WTF! Why can’t I just come out and say, no, but I have this great fella and we are really happy and we bought a flat together etc, etc. I tell myself I am not ashamed and I don’t care what people think, but then why do I do stupid things like that?!
Same thing in the car today on the way to Heathrow. My driver Michael is great – this is a new relationship, I just discovered his services. If you are interested – navy blue stretch 7 series BMW, cream coloured leather, central London to Heathrow 60 quid, happy to recommend his fine services. But, I kept using the royal “we” without ever saying “D” or “my boyfriend”. I don’t want to admit it, but am I a self loathing homo? I think most of my friends would say no, but when it comes to the wider public, I still feel like I closet myself. Maybe it is my line of work, but it bothers me. I care too much about what other people think and I hate that. No matter how much I say, I don’t care, I do. I am like the druggie who can’t stop putting the needle of public acceptance into that big, fat blue vein in my arm.
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