Men of Ireland 2007
Usually, when I go to Ireland, I only hang out with my family. This year, however, I had to spend two weeks alone. My parents did come to visit me. My mother walked in the door on a Sunday evening and the first thing she said, with a guilty glint in her eye was “We have to leave on Tuesday morning.” It was quite a reversal of a parent-child dialogue. Fortunately, it helped to assuage the guilt I feel for living so far away from my parents to an extent.
I made a few good friends from work. One teacher came up to me one day and said she thought I’d be great crack on a night out. I offered myself to be test driven. What followed was one of the craziest nights I’ve ever had, but my reputation was sealed and now I can walk down my brother’s town greeting people by name.
Gaydar was also useful. The first guy I met through it asked me to be discreet when we’d meet. When I met him, I couldn’t stop myself not being so and he walked away after seven minutes. I finished my drink in a bar on my own - something I would normally hate doing - but I quite enjoyed my own company. Neither was I upset by his departure. This was something bad that happened. So, now something good would surely come my way.
The second guy I met was while I was taking my parent’s dog for a walk. They had abandoned him with me to keep me company - the bastards. Anyway, we got talking. He was looking after two dogs for a friend. Conversation was interesting. At one stage, while I was yawning, I flashed a belly button. Desire swept through his face and I learnt that to be objectified as a sex object can be very pleasant.
I went to his house a few days later for tea and sex. The latter was very relaxing and tender. Then we just lay there caressing each other, I musing on how nice it all was. Then there was the sound of a key turning in the door. He froze.
* I’LL BE OUT IN A MINUTE! You have to leave. It’s my friend and he doesn’t know about me.
* Your friend’s dogs’ names are Fanny and Beatrice. He doesn’t strike me as being all that straight either.
*Sorry. You have to go. You know how it is!
Fortunately, I don’t
The next guy I met was in a profile I had seen. It didn’t all that impress me but I didn’t think I had anything to lose by sending him my phone number. We met up a few times and really hit it off. In Greece, as I am always either speaking Greek or English to non-native speakers, I have to speak slowly. With this guy, we’d usually meet up at nine. At around eleven fifteen, aware that last orders would soon be taken, we’d speed up the conversation. We were always the last two to leave the bar. Over time, there was a wonderful connection between us.
On what we thought would be our last evening together, he invited me over to watch a (gay) film at this house. During the film, I kept persuading myself that I found him ugly and I didn’t like his method of reasoning and that there could never be anything other that friends. Next thing I knew, he had his tongue down my throat. I was going to go home but I thought that I would never get laid again so I gave it a go, but not enthusiastically. When he took off his clothes, letting his belly wobble, and lay on the bed expectantly with his eyes closed and long piece of hair still sticking out of his nose, I wasn’t sure how I was going to get into the mood.
But the penis was willing and I had the second best sex I have ever had. He was wonderful and despite myself, I fell for him. Unfortunately, distance is not on our side so what-might-have-been had to end there.
The last guy I met was straight. We got talking while I was going for a walk and he for a run. He slowed down when he approached me so I took this as a sign he wanted to talk. Then I invited him for a drink. We went to a local, traditional pub where you walk in and, before you know it, you are part of everyone’s conversation. He was from Estonia and may as well have worked for its tourist board. I walked home with calendars and films from the region.
What I learnt from all these people is the realisation that my life here in Greece is difficult. It has taken me years to have the friends that I have here. I’m also too pale and skinny for the Greek market. Whereas in Ireland, it took no trouble at all to make friends and I found many men with a similar physique to mine, humour and attitude to life. Added to that, perhaps tired of seeing tanned people all the time, pale skin really gets me going.
I made a few good friends from work. One teacher came up to me one day and said she thought I’d be great crack on a night out. I offered myself to be test driven. What followed was one of the craziest nights I’ve ever had, but my reputation was sealed and now I can walk down my brother’s town greeting people by name.
Gaydar was also useful. The first guy I met through it asked me to be discreet when we’d meet. When I met him, I couldn’t stop myself not being so and he walked away after seven minutes. I finished my drink in a bar on my own - something I would normally hate doing - but I quite enjoyed my own company. Neither was I upset by his departure. This was something bad that happened. So, now something good would surely come my way.
The second guy I met was while I was taking my parent’s dog for a walk. They had abandoned him with me to keep me company - the bastards. Anyway, we got talking. He was looking after two dogs for a friend. Conversation was interesting. At one stage, while I was yawning, I flashed a belly button. Desire swept through his face and I learnt that to be objectified as a sex object can be very pleasant.
I went to his house a few days later for tea and sex. The latter was very relaxing and tender. Then we just lay there caressing each other, I musing on how nice it all was. Then there was the sound of a key turning in the door. He froze.
* I’LL BE OUT IN A MINUTE! You have to leave. It’s my friend and he doesn’t know about me.
* Your friend’s dogs’ names are Fanny and Beatrice. He doesn’t strike me as being all that straight either.
*Sorry. You have to go. You know how it is!
Fortunately, I don’t
The next guy I met was in a profile I had seen. It didn’t all that impress me but I didn’t think I had anything to lose by sending him my phone number. We met up a few times and really hit it off. In Greece, as I am always either speaking Greek or English to non-native speakers, I have to speak slowly. With this guy, we’d usually meet up at nine. At around eleven fifteen, aware that last orders would soon be taken, we’d speed up the conversation. We were always the last two to leave the bar. Over time, there was a wonderful connection between us.
On what we thought would be our last evening together, he invited me over to watch a (gay) film at this house. During the film, I kept persuading myself that I found him ugly and I didn’t like his method of reasoning and that there could never be anything other that friends. Next thing I knew, he had his tongue down my throat. I was going to go home but I thought that I would never get laid again so I gave it a go, but not enthusiastically. When he took off his clothes, letting his belly wobble, and lay on the bed expectantly with his eyes closed and long piece of hair still sticking out of his nose, I wasn’t sure how I was going to get into the mood.
But the penis was willing and I had the second best sex I have ever had. He was wonderful and despite myself, I fell for him. Unfortunately, distance is not on our side so what-might-have-been had to end there.
The last guy I met was straight. We got talking while I was going for a walk and he for a run. He slowed down when he approached me so I took this as a sign he wanted to talk. Then I invited him for a drink. We went to a local, traditional pub where you walk in and, before you know it, you are part of everyone’s conversation. He was from Estonia and may as well have worked for its tourist board. I walked home with calendars and films from the region.
What I learnt from all these people is the realisation that my life here in Greece is difficult. It has taken me years to have the friends that I have here. I’m also too pale and skinny for the Greek market. Whereas in Ireland, it took no trouble at all to make friends and I found many men with a similar physique to mine, humour and attitude to life. Added to that, perhaps tired of seeing tanned people all the time, pale skin really gets me going.