If I could go back and change one thing, I probably would have stayed in bed that Thursday night. I was all ready to go to sleep, but for some reason went online to check out things I hadn't looked at since the end of last year.
Some guy just sent a message asking me to text him. Hello, his number, and "txt me". And then I did. Some guy I wouldn't exactly be falling over myself to be with. I guess it was literally a case of 'anyone will do' that night. There are a couple of anyones I would have rather been with, but getting the cold shoulder from them leaves you feeling dejected and desperate.
Top Cat said you just have to chalk these things up to experience. I've not really got much choice. But I guess it cleared up how I feel about barebacking with strangers. It didn't add anything to the occasion that I really needed. Which isn't actually a new thought, it wasn't something I was particularly confused about, but this was confirmation. That's all I can chalk it up to, and it'll have to do.
*
Finished up the 5 day PEP starter pack, onto the 30 days' worth I picked up from the hospital on Monday. As I was looking at the prescription, at all the boxes to tick relating to paying for it, I was dreading that I actually was going to have to pay something. I don't get my regular prescriptions from the GP for free, but what I pay is just over 1% (£7.40-ish) of what a month's supply of PEP would cost in full (£600). It was a massive relief when they just handed the bag over, no payment mentioned.
For the second time so far, yesterday I missed my evening dose by over 6 hours as I was asleep and didn't get up to take it at the right time. If I think I'm going to end up falling sleep before I'm supposed to take it, I might just do it a bit earlier. Trouble is I feel tired pretty much all the time, staying awake is easier said than done.
Wednesday, 14 March 2012
Tuesday, 13 March 2012
PEP: Day 5
I'm just going to assume someone introducing themselves as "discreet" in a message saying they can meet is looking for sex. Wrong time, mate.
But if I turn him down, after he's just told me he's black, am I going to look like those men on Douchebags of Grindr? I'm honestly just more interested in something innocuous and innocent like a bit of a drink or coffee. Save sex for a time when I'm not feeling on the verge of throwing up.
Started on the nausea medication yesterday. I was thinking of leaving it until it got too much to cope with, but at the clinic they said I ought to start now so the side-effects don't get in the way of my daily life so much. Ended up falling asleep at about 6pm yesterday, having not slept properly over the weekend, and missed the evening dose by over six hours. It was 5am before I took it. I have places to go, so I'm hoping things start calming down as the day rolls on.
Next clinic appointment is the Friday after next. I found it good to go yesterday and just be able to talk about it. I think I need to get everything out of my head, basically.
I'm feeling rather mellow today. Just going to take things a step at a time, try to just keep going.
But if I turn him down, after he's just told me he's black, am I going to look like those men on Douchebags of Grindr? I'm honestly just more interested in something innocuous and innocent like a bit of a drink or coffee. Save sex for a time when I'm not feeling on the verge of throwing up.
Started on the nausea medication yesterday. I was thinking of leaving it until it got too much to cope with, but at the clinic they said I ought to start now so the side-effects don't get in the way of my daily life so much. Ended up falling asleep at about 6pm yesterday, having not slept properly over the weekend, and missed the evening dose by over six hours. It was 5am before I took it. I have places to go, so I'm hoping things start calming down as the day rolls on.
Next clinic appointment is the Friday after next. I found it good to go yesterday and just be able to talk about it. I think I need to get everything out of my head, basically.
I'm feeling rather mellow today. Just going to take things a step at a time, try to just keep going.
Monday, 12 March 2012
PEP: Day 4
Sitting in bed right now, about to get ready to go to the clinic. Since yesterday I've had this persistent feeling of nausea without actually needing to vomit. You can feel it in your stomach and the back of your throat, but you don't get the relief of actually throwing up. It just stays there, along with the strange taste in your mouth. But the diarrhoea has started now. Super.
For a day or two it looked like I might get off lightly as far as side-effects go, but my luck seems to be running out there. Might start taking the other meds just to preempt it getting any worse. But it's possible I will have to cancel a lot of/all my plans for at least this week. I don't want to be out of the house and having to rush to a public toilet and stay there for 15 minutes.
I did at least get my PEP taken at the proper times today, so that's something to be proud about. Not sure if I need to bother taking the morning dose out with me to the hospital, since I should be done and home by then.
*
Looking back on M.B., I don't really know what I was thinking.
I'm pretty open about 'types' of guys, but even in his better-than-the-real-thing photo he wouldn't fall into what I'd consider attractive. Take the thing where you see someone you find attractive in the street, and you end up looking back at them once or twice or more, if you can get away with it (at least I hope that's a thing and not just me). Even on the way home from the hospital on Friday, with a bag containing this box full of pills in my hand, I couldn't help checking out a couple of guys. I don't really fixate on model-level good looks or perfect physique, just as long as there is something I find charming.
M.B. didn't really do any of that for me. The closest would be that at least he was smiling in his photo. But overwhelmingly someone I would just walk past without a second thought.
Looking back, maybe my standards have been too open. Maybe I just took anything I could get because I didn't think I could get anything else. Cling on to anyone who showed interest. Which is probably the danger with combining sleeping around with low self-esteem.
If I had to pick the one guy as the most attractive, out of all the men I've met so far, it would be T.M. Possibly this new guy (who's going to be B.C.), but I've not even met him yet so things might not go anywhere. There's been maybe 3 others who were at the same or just slightly lesser level of physical appeal.
In the back of my mind I sometimes think, "who do you think you are, saying anything about how people look? It's not like you're one to be judging other people's looks." And yeah, while that's some old negative thinking I need to get rid of, I'm definitely not going to be scouted out to appear on some magazine cover with my shirt off. But I've come to accept that I'm not going to be everyone's type. Not everyone is going to like me. But I will be someone's type. But trying to please everyone doesn't work, and more often than not I'd just end up becoming a recluse. Again.
So here's another item for the list of things to work on. Not saying yes to every offer from a guy just because you don't want to hurt the other person's feelings.
For a day or two it looked like I might get off lightly as far as side-effects go, but my luck seems to be running out there. Might start taking the other meds just to preempt it getting any worse. But it's possible I will have to cancel a lot of/all my plans for at least this week. I don't want to be out of the house and having to rush to a public toilet and stay there for 15 minutes.
I did at least get my PEP taken at the proper times today, so that's something to be proud about. Not sure if I need to bother taking the morning dose out with me to the hospital, since I should be done and home by then.
*
Looking back on M.B., I don't really know what I was thinking.
I'm pretty open about 'types' of guys, but even in his better-than-the-real-thing photo he wouldn't fall into what I'd consider attractive. Take the thing where you see someone you find attractive in the street, and you end up looking back at them once or twice or more, if you can get away with it (at least I hope that's a thing and not just me). Even on the way home from the hospital on Friday, with a bag containing this box full of pills in my hand, I couldn't help checking out a couple of guys. I don't really fixate on model-level good looks or perfect physique, just as long as there is something I find charming.
M.B. didn't really do any of that for me. The closest would be that at least he was smiling in his photo. But overwhelmingly someone I would just walk past without a second thought.
Looking back, maybe my standards have been too open. Maybe I just took anything I could get because I didn't think I could get anything else. Cling on to anyone who showed interest. Which is probably the danger with combining sleeping around with low self-esteem.
If I had to pick the one guy as the most attractive, out of all the men I've met so far, it would be T.M. Possibly this new guy (who's going to be B.C.), but I've not even met him yet so things might not go anywhere. There's been maybe 3 others who were at the same or just slightly lesser level of physical appeal.
In the back of my mind I sometimes think, "who do you think you are, saying anything about how people look? It's not like you're one to be judging other people's looks." And yeah, while that's some old negative thinking I need to get rid of, I'm definitely not going to be scouted out to appear on some magazine cover with my shirt off. But I've come to accept that I'm not going to be everyone's type. Not everyone is going to like me. But I will be someone's type. But trying to please everyone doesn't work, and more often than not I'd just end up becoming a recluse. Again.
So here's another item for the list of things to work on. Not saying yes to every offer from a guy just because you don't want to hurt the other person's feelings.
Sunday, 11 March 2012
PEP: Day 3 (part 2)
I don't always think through to the big picture. It's living in the here and now, in the worst possible sense.
I'm going to eat too much of this because I like it or as comfort food, even though I know what the consequences will be and will have to work harder later to make up for it.
I'm not going to work out because I feel a bit tired or am doing something else, even though I know that it would do me a world of good in the end.
I'm not going to do this important task because I don't feel up to it right now, even though I know it will just mean more things to do in the future.
I won't take a chance socially because I don't want to deal with the momentary discomfort of things not going right, of rejection and making myself look foolish, even though there might be the chance it turns out well too and any unpleasantness is probably going to be over in no time.
I won't turn a man down because I feel like I shouldn't, even though it might not be what I want.
I won't stand up to people because I don't want to deal with the confrontation, even though problems won't be resolved if you just cower from them.
In a way I've had a comfortable life, but an unsatisfying one.
I have a half-finished screenplay on my computer. It's been half-finished for a while now. Not as long as some of the other ideas I've left gathering dust. Writing is something I've wanted to try for a long time. But despite the fact that I know I'll probably feel good if I finished it, I don't. Because I say to myself, "oh, no one will like that, what's the point?" All I see in my head is how boring it would be. I bet no one will read more than 5 pages, let alone buy the bloody thing. You wrote it. Of course they don't like it.
But I don't know that. I've never put that to the test. Like not approaching someone I find attractive, I tell myself that rejection is the obvious outcome. Might as well avoid it and just let it go. Keep my life comfortable, and unsatisfying.
So today, I opened up the file again. Wrote down all the stuff I've had in my head.
*
I might have to start talking those anti-nauseant pills at this rate. I've just eaten and it's gotten pretty bad now. Still not actually thrown up, but I feel like it.
I'm going to eat too much of this because I like it or as comfort food, even though I know what the consequences will be and will have to work harder later to make up for it.
I'm not going to work out because I feel a bit tired or am doing something else, even though I know that it would do me a world of good in the end.
I'm not going to do this important task because I don't feel up to it right now, even though I know it will just mean more things to do in the future.
I won't take a chance socially because I don't want to deal with the momentary discomfort of things not going right, of rejection and making myself look foolish, even though there might be the chance it turns out well too and any unpleasantness is probably going to be over in no time.
I won't turn a man down because I feel like I shouldn't, even though it might not be what I want.
I won't stand up to people because I don't want to deal with the confrontation, even though problems won't be resolved if you just cower from them.
In a way I've had a comfortable life, but an unsatisfying one.
I have a half-finished screenplay on my computer. It's been half-finished for a while now. Not as long as some of the other ideas I've left gathering dust. Writing is something I've wanted to try for a long time. But despite the fact that I know I'll probably feel good if I finished it, I don't. Because I say to myself, "oh, no one will like that, what's the point?" All I see in my head is how boring it would be. I bet no one will read more than 5 pages, let alone buy the bloody thing. You wrote it. Of course they don't like it.
But I don't know that. I've never put that to the test. Like not approaching someone I find attractive, I tell myself that rejection is the obvious outcome. Might as well avoid it and just let it go. Keep my life comfortable, and unsatisfying.
So today, I opened up the file again. Wrote down all the stuff I've had in my head.
*
I might have to start talking those anti-nauseant pills at this rate. I've just eaten and it's gotten pretty bad now. Still not actually thrown up, but I feel like it.
PEP: Day 3
Missed my morning dose by over 4 hours yesterday, as well as the evening one by about one and a half hours. This is what I feared would happen if I had to be taking medication at set times of day. On better track to take them normally today, though.
The hardest part of it, if I am able to pick one after just two days, is that there isn't anyone around me I can turn to for support. The sole exception being medical staff, who aren't exactly at my beck and call. The male hospital staff member I talked to before (who in lieu of a set of initials is going to get the name Top Cat instead, which is just what his initials reminded me of) said he'd be there on Monday when I went in, but I don't really have any guarantee I will be seeing him each time I go. And then it will only be once a week.
I only came out to my dad a couple of months ago, and even though he was supportive I don't want to follow it up with this. I never told my mum but assumed she has clued on, but I'm not really that close that I would discuss something like this with her. My brother is definitely out of the question. Even though he knows about my orientation out of invasion of privacy rather than me disclosing it, he's virulently against it. The main way we get along is by my never mentioning it. I wouldn't be telling him about the random people I sleep with anyway, but even if I just went out for coffee or a drink with a guy he wouldn't take it very well. He has had over 10 years to get used to the fact, but he hasn't made any progress. Instead I get told that he would never speak to me again if I do "anything weird" or that he would get me cured if he had the money.
There is only one friend I really trust enough to tell, and they're in America. The best I could do was send an email.
For financial reasons, I'm living with my mum and brother at the moment. I was made redundant a while back (I no longer say how long exactly because it is embarrassing at this point), and am trying to get retrained for a new career since I don't want to keep doing the job I was in before. Getting my own place is beyond my means at the moment, and there isn't anyone I want to share rent with right now. So I'm stuck here.
And 'stuck' is exactly how it feels. The person I spend the most time with is my brother, seeing as he's also out of work and has resigned himself to that. His idea of earning a living is now based on luck and a succession of schemes he never works on. Never works on, despite his complete lack of a social life (due to not trying to have one) and having no real responsibilities to speak of. So most days, he's the one I'm around the most if I'm at home. And he's probably the worst I could be around right now. There is little chance of him taking this news well.
Then again, he already thinks that every time I leave the house it's because I'm off fucking around with anyone and everyone. He acts like I already have AIDS every time I'm a little bit ill. If I'm a bit of an emotional mess during all this, he is the last person I should be around. And the one I'm most likely to spend most of the time with.
The guy I never gave a name, who will be T.M. now, asked me why I didn't just tell my brother if I'm going to meet a guy for a drink. And it is exactly the same problem that got me into this situation. I avoid the confrontation by keeping silent. He says some mean-spirited or just plain ignorant thing, and I put on a blank expression and ignore it because I know he is just trying to get a reaction out of me. Or some guy starts doing something I don't feel comfortable with, and I keep my mouth shut. That assertiveness course looks better by the day.
There have been some times when I've been close to just telling the truth. Before I leave the house, I'll get 20 questions. Where am I going? Who am I going with? Who is this? Where did you meet him? What does he do? Is he married? Does he have kids? He isn't gay, is he? (He is clueless enough to think that being married or having kids actually makes a difference.) Maybe next time, I will just tell him straight out. I'm going for a drink with this guy. Yeah, he's gay. And yeah, it's one of those 'drinks', as in a date. Because you already know I'm gay, you've known for years. What T.M. said about just telling the truth has stuck with me over the months. Now I just need to act on it. If that's the only thing I got from the short time I knew T.M., that's still enough.
I started coughing yesterday, which didn't last very long, not sure if that is a side-effect of the meds or not. I am supposed to be watching out for the signs of seroconversion, although a cough wasn't one of the things the doctor mentioned. I have a vague understanding of what it is like, but should read up on it. But when I had my first slip up (topping only) I got the flu shortly after and assumed the worst. I'm probably going to be like that at the slightest ailment for a while. But I don't seem to be needing the medication for the side-effects so far. Mostly it's tiredness and headaches that's bothering me, though I do at times feel a little sick. That, and I woke up with a strange taste in my mouth but that cleared up after I something. 'Assuming the worst' again.
The hardest part of it, if I am able to pick one after just two days, is that there isn't anyone around me I can turn to for support. The sole exception being medical staff, who aren't exactly at my beck and call. The male hospital staff member I talked to before (who in lieu of a set of initials is going to get the name Top Cat instead, which is just what his initials reminded me of) said he'd be there on Monday when I went in, but I don't really have any guarantee I will be seeing him each time I go. And then it will only be once a week.
I only came out to my dad a couple of months ago, and even though he was supportive I don't want to follow it up with this. I never told my mum but assumed she has clued on, but I'm not really that close that I would discuss something like this with her. My brother is definitely out of the question. Even though he knows about my orientation out of invasion of privacy rather than me disclosing it, he's virulently against it. The main way we get along is by my never mentioning it. I wouldn't be telling him about the random people I sleep with anyway, but even if I just went out for coffee or a drink with a guy he wouldn't take it very well. He has had over 10 years to get used to the fact, but he hasn't made any progress. Instead I get told that he would never speak to me again if I do "anything weird" or that he would get me cured if he had the money.
There is only one friend I really trust enough to tell, and they're in America. The best I could do was send an email.
For financial reasons, I'm living with my mum and brother at the moment. I was made redundant a while back (I no longer say how long exactly because it is embarrassing at this point), and am trying to get retrained for a new career since I don't want to keep doing the job I was in before. Getting my own place is beyond my means at the moment, and there isn't anyone I want to share rent with right now. So I'm stuck here.
And 'stuck' is exactly how it feels. The person I spend the most time with is my brother, seeing as he's also out of work and has resigned himself to that. His idea of earning a living is now based on luck and a succession of schemes he never works on. Never works on, despite his complete lack of a social life (due to not trying to have one) and having no real responsibilities to speak of. So most days, he's the one I'm around the most if I'm at home. And he's probably the worst I could be around right now. There is little chance of him taking this news well.
Then again, he already thinks that every time I leave the house it's because I'm off fucking around with anyone and everyone. He acts like I already have AIDS every time I'm a little bit ill. If I'm a bit of an emotional mess during all this, he is the last person I should be around. And the one I'm most likely to spend most of the time with.
The guy I never gave a name, who will be T.M. now, asked me why I didn't just tell my brother if I'm going to meet a guy for a drink. And it is exactly the same problem that got me into this situation. I avoid the confrontation by keeping silent. He says some mean-spirited or just plain ignorant thing, and I put on a blank expression and ignore it because I know he is just trying to get a reaction out of me. Or some guy starts doing something I don't feel comfortable with, and I keep my mouth shut. That assertiveness course looks better by the day.
There have been some times when I've been close to just telling the truth. Before I leave the house, I'll get 20 questions. Where am I going? Who am I going with? Who is this? Where did you meet him? What does he do? Is he married? Does he have kids? He isn't gay, is he? (He is clueless enough to think that being married or having kids actually makes a difference.) Maybe next time, I will just tell him straight out. I'm going for a drink with this guy. Yeah, he's gay. And yeah, it's one of those 'drinks', as in a date. Because you already know I'm gay, you've known for years. What T.M. said about just telling the truth has stuck with me over the months. Now I just need to act on it. If that's the only thing I got from the short time I knew T.M., that's still enough.
I started coughing yesterday, which didn't last very long, not sure if that is a side-effect of the meds or not. I am supposed to be watching out for the signs of seroconversion, although a cough wasn't one of the things the doctor mentioned. I have a vague understanding of what it is like, but should read up on it. But when I had my first slip up (topping only) I got the flu shortly after and assumed the worst. I'm probably going to be like that at the slightest ailment for a while. But I don't seem to be needing the medication for the side-effects so far. Mostly it's tiredness and headaches that's bothering me, though I do at times feel a little sick. That, and I woke up with a strange taste in my mouth but that cleared up after I something. 'Assuming the worst' again.
Saturday, 10 March 2012
PEP: Day 2
One day down. If I was experiencing side-effect after just the noon (actually 1pm) dose, it was tiredness. But then I hadn't been sleeping very well this past week anyway, and only got two hours of sleep yesterday before heading to the clinic. I actually fell asleep about two hours after the first dose, which I took at the clinic. Set an alarm on my phone for 1pm and 10pm, when I'd take the evening dose. Didn't quite go to plan, as I did hear the alarm but didn't get out of bed until 11:30. I was sluggish (already dropped my phone on the floor trying to turn the alarm off), and my arms felt ridiculously heavy. That kind of feeling you can get sometimes after having an injection.
The 'starter pack' includes:
20 Kaletra tablets (2 tablets twice a day)
5 Truvada tablets (1 tablet once a day)
30 Loperamide capsules (1 to 2 capsules when necessary, anti-diarrhoeals)
28 Metoclopramide tablets (1 tablet three times a day when necessary, anti-nauseants)
First photo of this blog, and it's of my box of pills. Exciting. That's a five day course, although I'm back at the clinic on Monday morning. See if I'm holding up okay and can take the full course of treatment. I haven't taken any of the other two medicines yet (anti-diarrhoeals or nauseants), but I am starting to feel like I will be needing them. Maybe I just need to eat something. Just reading the list of potential side-effects and complications is enough to make me want to take the Metoclopramide, mind you. Definitely not something I would want to be on continually.
The cost of the full course (which I don't have to pay for, the wonder of 'socialist' health care) is approximately £600. And it's lucky that I'm not paying for it, since at this point I couldn't without asking others for money and thus having to reveal what happened.
I think I have calmed down a bit now. Got things in more of a positive ("I'm not just sure. I'm HIV-positive.") perspective. I live in a lower risk city, the chances are low either way. I don't know the likelihood of having a natural resistance with my ancestory (Irish, English and Middle-Eastern), but maybe I got lucky somewhere down the family tree? (That might be getting too optimistic, now.)
Now I was able to again, I took the opportunity to check Mr. M.B.'s profile online. "Safe sex - always" rings very hollow from where I'm standing. (But then again, I say the same thing and look where it got me.) That was the first thing I checked before looking through the other boxes. Bi, not out, would love it if you brought your mates around to fuck him. Works at the NHS (National Health Service, UK's public hospitals), apparently. It would have been awkward if I had run into him when I went to the hospital yesterday. I might have punched him in the face and lost him another tooth. But that would be taking out the anger I have towards myself on someone else. I was half dreading finally reading it to see a bunch of "hardcore bb cumslut takes any load fuck and go!!!" and realising I had walked straight into it by not checking it out before I agreed. But except for general sluttiness (can't remember now if the phrase "anything goes" appeared is his bio), there wasn't much there.
The "safe sex always" thing is actually starting to really wind me up now I'm writing about. I try to be honest with my profile and the things I say. I guess I expect others to do the same. I mean, why not just put "sometimes" or "never" or "needs discussion" or even just leaving it blank if that's actually the case? I don't know, is the idea that you say you always have safer sex, it gives the impression you don't have anything so people will think, "hey, I don't supposed barebacking will hurt that much this one time!" or something? I might not have sex with you if you make it clear you're going to only fuck bareback, but I would appreciate the candidness if that was put forward clearly and directly.
It makes me feel like a hypocrite, given that I had that in my profile and ended up both fucking him and getting fucked bareback. But as to not be too hard on myself, it's not like I intentionally say that and do the opposite. I mean it when I say it, it's just a matter of other people respecting your wishes, and you stepping up if they don't. Maybe actually saying "no, this isn't going to work," picking up your clothes and leaving. (That said, he did lock me in his house. I'm bigger than him though, I think I could have taken him if I had to fight my way out. I did kung fu for a couple of months as a kid, that must surely count for something.)
Last time I saw my GP, she gave me this leaflet detailing a bunch of free courses running in the city. Mental health things. One of them includes a course on assertiveness. If I'm not blogging about how I'm doing on this course soon, I'm going to need someone to kick my arse into gear. The two times I've slipped up sex-wise, it's because I couldn't stand up for myself. Couldn't say that I'd rather not do this. Just let things carry on. So for the sake of my future hooking up and the general necessity for being more assertive in life, I'll be taking that course as soon as I can.
On slightly better news, there were two other people who messages me that night. Not looking to hook up, but just general 'getting-to-know-you' banter. One of them in particular seems nice. Same age as me (which is a bit of a shock, they are a minority when it comes to people paying me attention), looks rather nice (all his own teeth, for one), and what little there was in his profile seems promising. Of course, I'm not looking to hook up with him now, and he doesn't indicate he wants to at all (listed only as looking for friendships and relationships). It would just be nice to make a new friend. And keep one this time, but one step at a time here.
The only trouble was when he started asking for me to talk about myself. It's a thought that fills me with dread, but one I'm going to have to try to overcome. Until I get myself on one of those courses, I've got some other pamphlets and books to be reading. Pass the time before I start on day 2's doses.
The 'starter pack' includes:
20 Kaletra tablets (2 tablets twice a day)
5 Truvada tablets (1 tablet once a day)
30 Loperamide capsules (1 to 2 capsules when necessary, anti-diarrhoeals)
28 Metoclopramide tablets (1 tablet three times a day when necessary, anti-nauseants)
First photo of this blog, and it's of my box of pills. Exciting. That's a five day course, although I'm back at the clinic on Monday morning. See if I'm holding up okay and can take the full course of treatment. I haven't taken any of the other two medicines yet (anti-diarrhoeals or nauseants), but I am starting to feel like I will be needing them. Maybe I just need to eat something. Just reading the list of potential side-effects and complications is enough to make me want to take the Metoclopramide, mind you. Definitely not something I would want to be on continually.
The cost of the full course (which I don't have to pay for, the wonder of 'socialist' health care) is approximately £600. And it's lucky that I'm not paying for it, since at this point I couldn't without asking others for money and thus having to reveal what happened.
I think I have calmed down a bit now. Got things in more of a positive ("I'm not just sure. I'm HIV-positive.") perspective. I live in a lower risk city, the chances are low either way. I don't know the likelihood of having a natural resistance with my ancestory (Irish, English and Middle-Eastern), but maybe I got lucky somewhere down the family tree? (That might be getting too optimistic, now.)
Now I was able to again, I took the opportunity to check Mr. M.B.'s profile online. "Safe sex - always" rings very hollow from where I'm standing. (But then again, I say the same thing and look where it got me.) That was the first thing I checked before looking through the other boxes. Bi, not out, would love it if you brought your mates around to fuck him. Works at the NHS (National Health Service, UK's public hospitals), apparently. It would have been awkward if I had run into him when I went to the hospital yesterday. I might have punched him in the face and lost him another tooth. But that would be taking out the anger I have towards myself on someone else. I was half dreading finally reading it to see a bunch of "hardcore bb cumslut takes any load fuck and go!!!" and realising I had walked straight into it by not checking it out before I agreed. But except for general sluttiness (can't remember now if the phrase "anything goes" appeared is his bio), there wasn't much there.
The "safe sex always" thing is actually starting to really wind me up now I'm writing about. I try to be honest with my profile and the things I say. I guess I expect others to do the same. I mean, why not just put "sometimes" or "never" or "needs discussion" or even just leaving it blank if that's actually the case? I don't know, is the idea that you say you always have safer sex, it gives the impression you don't have anything so people will think, "hey, I don't supposed barebacking will hurt that much this one time!" or something? I might not have sex with you if you make it clear you're going to only fuck bareback, but I would appreciate the candidness if that was put forward clearly and directly.
It makes me feel like a hypocrite, given that I had that in my profile and ended up both fucking him and getting fucked bareback. But as to not be too hard on myself, it's not like I intentionally say that and do the opposite. I mean it when I say it, it's just a matter of other people respecting your wishes, and you stepping up if they don't. Maybe actually saying "no, this isn't going to work," picking up your clothes and leaving. (That said, he did lock me in his house. I'm bigger than him though, I think I could have taken him if I had to fight my way out. I did kung fu for a couple of months as a kid, that must surely count for something.)
Last time I saw my GP, she gave me this leaflet detailing a bunch of free courses running in the city. Mental health things. One of them includes a course on assertiveness. If I'm not blogging about how I'm doing on this course soon, I'm going to need someone to kick my arse into gear. The two times I've slipped up sex-wise, it's because I couldn't stand up for myself. Couldn't say that I'd rather not do this. Just let things carry on. So for the sake of my future hooking up and the general necessity for being more assertive in life, I'll be taking that course as soon as I can.
On slightly better news, there were two other people who messages me that night. Not looking to hook up, but just general 'getting-to-know-you' banter. One of them in particular seems nice. Same age as me (which is a bit of a shock, they are a minority when it comes to people paying me attention), looks rather nice (all his own teeth, for one), and what little there was in his profile seems promising. Of course, I'm not looking to hook up with him now, and he doesn't indicate he wants to at all (listed only as looking for friendships and relationships). It would just be nice to make a new friend. And keep one this time, but one step at a time here.
The only trouble was when he started asking for me to talk about myself. It's a thought that fills me with dread, but one I'm going to have to try to overcome. Until I get myself on one of those courses, I've got some other pamphlets and books to be reading. Pass the time before I start on day 2's doses.
Friday, 9 March 2012
PEP: Day 1
Roughly 13 hours after last night, I was in the waiting room of the GU clinic. For some reason, I decided I'd ask them to call me by number rather than name this time. Don't really know why. I guess I just didn't want them calling out my full name in front of everyone. Turns out that was a pretty unfounded worry. Being a drop in patient, I wasn't high in the list of priorities. By the time my number was called, there was no one else in the waiting room.
This was a new doctor, or at least not one I saw the last four times I visited (for my first ever check up, then following appointments to check out the results and get shots for Hepatitis B). Things didn't go too smoothly when the first thing I said involved me mispronouncing PEP. I figured it was 'pee-ee-pee' but apparently it's just 'pep'. But stumbling over words aside, I got the point across. She showed me a little chart, conveniently right in front of her, listing the different activities and whether PEP is recommended in those situation. According to her, the city I live in isn't considered a high risk area. If I were living in Manchester or Brighton, she would be 'pouring PEP down your throat' as soon as the words were spoken. I left out the detail that I had fucked him as well. I honestly don't know why. I guess I was feeling bad enough about myself as it was, I didn't need to be admitting to anything more.
First they wanted to do a rapid test to make sure I didn't already have HIV. Which I was kind of glad about, because I wanted to get tested again anyway. My last one came back negative, but I couldn't help but worry about the chance of them missing something. But before that I had to speak with another staff member. I wasn't really in much of a mood to talk a whole lot, when the chance finally arrived. At least 85% of the time was spent with my head in my hands, and when I did speak it was barely a whisper. But again, I got the basics out. Wasn't planned, wasn't what I really wanted, but just couldn't stop it from happening. The closest I got to that arm around the shoulder I wanted was when he cleaned my finger to take the blood for the rapid test.
He tried to reassure me about the possiblility of having caught it. There's only a small chance anyway, it depends on the viral load of the guy (if he even had it), PEP helps in about 80% of cases. It was a different picture to the catastrophe I had painted in my head. Asked a bit about my mental state. Can I talk to someone about it. Go see my GP if it really gets to me. I opened up a bit more, but still kept whispering.
I waited around for about 30 minutes which the doctor dealt with someone else. I had a urine sample in a vial in my jacket pocket, the first piss of the day. Last time I was tested they kept asking if I had urinated already. So I used the vial from a chlamydia test they sent out to young people under 25, 2 years ago. I don't know if it was still any good, as far as preserving the sample was concerned, but I tired anyway. And didn't need it. I had to go all the way there and all the way home with a vial of piss in my pocket. That's as fun as it sounds. (Unless you're into that, I guess.) They wouldn't be doing these tests for another two weeks, to give any infections chance to show up.
The male staffer was back with the results of the rapid test. Negative. It was some relief to hear that. Not much of one, though. But this meant I could get PEP if I still wanted it. The doctor came back with another little chart, showing the risks of contracting HIV from various activities and from different groups. Recieving anal sex without a condom was about 1/2800 (except in London, where it's 1/1100). Topping was 1/52000 (I think 1/30000-odd in London?). Mainly 0.0X% of a chance, if not 0.00X%. But still. People defy odds all the time. The guy earlier mentioned thinking that 'you're going to be the unlucky one' and he was absolutely right. I didn't want to take my chances with it.
Before I got the tablets, I had more blood taken. Three lots, to run the standard sexual health tests and other more mundane ones. Third new staffer, a young nurse. She was pretty chipper about all this. It was a nice change from the gloom I had left myself in all night and morning. Kept asking if I was alright with the tourniquet, if I wanted to look away, to say if I started feeling faint. I've seen enough of my own blood not to be fazed by it. I actually rather enjoy watching it. Bit weird, I know. I wouldn't mind having the chance to actually test it myself, check it out under a microscope. But even just looking at it, I find interesting. Lucky that, considering I will be seeing a whole lot more of it in the weeks to come. She left in the same buoyant manner she entered in. Carrying a tray of my blood.
The doctor was back to explain the tablets to me. Turns out there is two lots of tablets, containing three drugs in total. The first is taken once a day, and the second twice. Have to be taken around the same time each day. Another, different nurse brought the tablets in. In addition to the two main ones, there is also medicine to help alleviate the side-effects. Together with the other meds I am currently taking, this means three pills at noon and four at night without the auxiliary pills. Five a day. Not feeling great about this, but it's only for a month.
I only have five days' worth now. I go back on Monday to see how I'm coping with them, and if I'm alright I'll get the full month's worth. Then I will have to go back each week so they can test my kidney and liver functions, and again three months after I complete the course for a final HIV test. Schedule looking a lot busier now.
So here's day one, after the first noon dose about two hours ago. I'm not sure if this tiredness is these pills kicking in, or if it's just because I only slept for about two hours last night.
This was a new doctor, or at least not one I saw the last four times I visited (for my first ever check up, then following appointments to check out the results and get shots for Hepatitis B). Things didn't go too smoothly when the first thing I said involved me mispronouncing PEP. I figured it was 'pee-ee-pee' but apparently it's just 'pep'. But stumbling over words aside, I got the point across. She showed me a little chart, conveniently right in front of her, listing the different activities and whether PEP is recommended in those situation. According to her, the city I live in isn't considered a high risk area. If I were living in Manchester or Brighton, she would be 'pouring PEP down your throat' as soon as the words were spoken. I left out the detail that I had fucked him as well. I honestly don't know why. I guess I was feeling bad enough about myself as it was, I didn't need to be admitting to anything more.
First they wanted to do a rapid test to make sure I didn't already have HIV. Which I was kind of glad about, because I wanted to get tested again anyway. My last one came back negative, but I couldn't help but worry about the chance of them missing something. But before that I had to speak with another staff member. I wasn't really in much of a mood to talk a whole lot, when the chance finally arrived. At least 85% of the time was spent with my head in my hands, and when I did speak it was barely a whisper. But again, I got the basics out. Wasn't planned, wasn't what I really wanted, but just couldn't stop it from happening. The closest I got to that arm around the shoulder I wanted was when he cleaned my finger to take the blood for the rapid test.
He tried to reassure me about the possiblility of having caught it. There's only a small chance anyway, it depends on the viral load of the guy (if he even had it), PEP helps in about 80% of cases. It was a different picture to the catastrophe I had painted in my head. Asked a bit about my mental state. Can I talk to someone about it. Go see my GP if it really gets to me. I opened up a bit more, but still kept whispering.
I waited around for about 30 minutes which the doctor dealt with someone else. I had a urine sample in a vial in my jacket pocket, the first piss of the day. Last time I was tested they kept asking if I had urinated already. So I used the vial from a chlamydia test they sent out to young people under 25, 2 years ago. I don't know if it was still any good, as far as preserving the sample was concerned, but I tired anyway. And didn't need it. I had to go all the way there and all the way home with a vial of piss in my pocket. That's as fun as it sounds. (Unless you're into that, I guess.) They wouldn't be doing these tests for another two weeks, to give any infections chance to show up.
The male staffer was back with the results of the rapid test. Negative. It was some relief to hear that. Not much of one, though. But this meant I could get PEP if I still wanted it. The doctor came back with another little chart, showing the risks of contracting HIV from various activities and from different groups. Recieving anal sex without a condom was about 1/2800 (except in London, where it's 1/1100). Topping was 1/52000 (I think 1/30000-odd in London?). Mainly 0.0X% of a chance, if not 0.00X%. But still. People defy odds all the time. The guy earlier mentioned thinking that 'you're going to be the unlucky one' and he was absolutely right. I didn't want to take my chances with it.
Before I got the tablets, I had more blood taken. Three lots, to run the standard sexual health tests and other more mundane ones. Third new staffer, a young nurse. She was pretty chipper about all this. It was a nice change from the gloom I had left myself in all night and morning. Kept asking if I was alright with the tourniquet, if I wanted to look away, to say if I started feeling faint. I've seen enough of my own blood not to be fazed by it. I actually rather enjoy watching it. Bit weird, I know. I wouldn't mind having the chance to actually test it myself, check it out under a microscope. But even just looking at it, I find interesting. Lucky that, considering I will be seeing a whole lot more of it in the weeks to come. She left in the same buoyant manner she entered in. Carrying a tray of my blood.
The doctor was back to explain the tablets to me. Turns out there is two lots of tablets, containing three drugs in total. The first is taken once a day, and the second twice. Have to be taken around the same time each day. Another, different nurse brought the tablets in. In addition to the two main ones, there is also medicine to help alleviate the side-effects. Together with the other meds I am currently taking, this means three pills at noon and four at night without the auxiliary pills. Five a day. Not feeling great about this, but it's only for a month.
I only have five days' worth now. I go back on Monday to see how I'm coping with them, and if I'm alright I'll get the full month's worth. Then I will have to go back each week so they can test my kidney and liver functions, and again three months after I complete the course for a final HIV test. Schedule looking a lot busier now.
So here's day one, after the first noon dose about two hours ago. I'm not sure if this tiredness is these pills kicking in, or if it's just because I only slept for about two hours last night.
Failure As A Human Being
I have thoroughly disappointed myself tonight. "Walk of shame" never seemed so fitting as it does now. The only upside was that the streets were empty enough past midnight for me to mutter to myself all the way home.
After about 4 months of not having sex with anyone, I did it tonight. Some guy messages me, lived not far away (although I misjudged the distance by a long short, if I had realised I might have said no), and actually showed a bit of interest in me without it fizzling out. Fancy that.
We'll call the guy M.B., even though I don't think we'll be seeing much more of him. The picture he sent didn't look too bad. There are people who look better than their pictures in real life, and those who look worse. M.B. was the latter. There was some disappointment when he opened the door. I think he was even missing some front teeth, which wasn't highlighted in the one picture he sent. But who's about to put out a picture like that when you're looking to get laid? And I try not to be completely shallow, so I let it slide. Or rather at this point, I don't think I could have backed out. Keep this point about not being able to back out in mind, because that's pretty much the theme of this story.
This definitely wasn't the most sociable of hook ups. We didn't even exchange names until I was walking to his place (he also asked me my username, so I guess I wasn't that special to grab his interest). I had actually not even read his profile before agreeing. Free user account, so I only have a very limited number of profiles I can view before it just asks me to upgrade until the next day when the limit resets; I reached that limit randomly clicking on profiles whose owners I found hot, like you do. My bank balance is currently at minus £90, so I really wasn't up to resubscribing just for this.
The conversation (although with its lack of substance it barely warrants that title) was light on any details about what he had in mind for the night. The only clue was that he has the word 'bottom' in his username. And sure enough, that's what happened. I don't really feel like giving a play-by-play of how things went down, so I will just be skipping ahead.
I had him on his back, knees on chest and my cock by his arse. When he just took the tip of my cock and put it inside him. No condom, no lube, nothing. There had been no discussion about if I wanted to do that, there's nothing in my profile that indicates I'm looking to bareback strangers. It took me a couple of seconds to process what was happening. Maybe he's just going to put the tip in then pull it out, the rest of the time using a condom? Yeah, that didn't happen.
So there I was, inside this man whose very existence was unknown to me not an hour earlier. I know nothing about him, there's the chance he didn't even give me his real name. And I couldn't find the courage inside myself to say stop. This isn't something I'm completely comfortable doing. And in the end, I just went with it. Asked if he had any lube and just carried on. It's kind of like being on a diet, and you slip up. You have that one bit of junk food and think, "oh well, I might as well make the most of this" then start with the desserts and drinks to go with it. I figured if I went this far, I might as well see what all the fuss is about.
And yeah, it's not bad. I would need to do a proper test to compare with a condom to without, but still. Although my foreskin plays up sometimes and not using a condom it was a lot more sore than with one. Made sure to look at myself as I entered him, just to let it sink in. And all I really felt looking down at my dick going bare inside this guy I wasn't even all that into was disappointment. I had made up my mind before. I'd leave barebacking, if I did it, to someone more meaningful than some random bit of strange. And yet there I was. My resolve didn't account for much when it really mattered. I looked at the back of his head, at the bald patch his picture didn't show, and started rearranging my plans for the next day. It's time to move that much-delayed visit to the sexual health clinic forward. Tomorrow morning while the drop in clinic is open. I was curious about PEP before, I guess I'm going to be doing some hands-on experimenting. But I couldn't truly enjoy what I was doing, because I had let myself down. If there are some horrible repercussions from this, I am to blame. And given how it carried on, there's the chance there could be.
I couldn't cum. Too tired to really be fucking anyone, and these meds I take probably don't help. So after lying down for a while, he gets up for a cigarette. Comes back and starts kissing the back of my neck. Then my shoulders. Then his hands are on my arse and he's rubbing his cock against it. Next thing I know he's got more lube and is rubbing it in. I might be many things, but I am not completely oblivious. It's obvious where this is going. In my heart of hearts, I didn't want it. I had already disappointed myself once, but at least it was the less riskier way of doing so. Now this guy--utter stranger, didn't even offer me a cup of tea when I arrived--is about to fuck me. Sans condom, of course. And again, there I was. I didn't want this. I didn't want some stranger coming inside me, or even the risk of it. But all I did was lay there, face down. Not a word of protest. No standing up for myself. Let's just get it over with. I know I'm not going to be able to stop it. It has been well over a year since anyone fucked me, so I honestly can't compare how it felt.
He fucked me for a lot less than I did him. And then he stopped. Got off the bed, left the room, I heard running water as I kept my face embedded in the bedding. If he had come, he wasn't one of those guys who makes a noise. Didn't say anything about it, no "I'm gonna cum" or anything. His thrusting changed just before he stopped. But I didn't feel the kind of things people say they can feel when a guy nuts inside them. No throbbing of his cock, and definitely no ejaculation. When he returned, I took his getting dressed again as meaning he'd had his fill and it was time to leave. While he was gone I was looking at all the papers on his walls. Trying to find something out about the man who'd just done this to me. The man I let myself down for. He wasn't worth it at all.
Not knowing if he did in fact come inside me, I don't know if what I could feel after getting dressed was what it's like having someone's spunk still inside you, or if that was just lube. Either way, I don't care for the sensation. No lustful accounts how hot the feeling of it dripping down your legs is from this guy. It just felt uncomfortable. And acted as a reminder, as if I needed one. I tried checking my underwear, but I can't tell. It would probably be diluted with lube if it was there. I looked at myself in his bathroom mirror before I left, and asked myself what I was playing at. What was I thinking. (On a nicer note, I thought I looked rather handsome if I say so myself. So there's some improvement. Actually, I was pretty comfortable being naked today. Maybe letting myself believe I am handsome if others say so is paying off. Great timing there though, genius.)
The relief to be out of his front door was short-lived. After that, I just felt pathetic. Can I not even managed to live by the rules I set myself? It's not like it's really something hard to follow. I had condoms in my jacket. I was prepared. But I was weak. Too much of a coward to tell this man what he was doing wasn't what I wanted. Too spineless to stand up for myself. During my walk home I went through it all in my head again. And, too little too late, said out loud what I was feeling. What I should have said. How much I'd disappointed myself. I got things ready for tomorrow. Set my alarm for 7:30am so I can be up and at the hospital when the doors open at the clinic. Plan out what I need to tell them. Number of people I've slept with since my last visit (4: C.R., M.N., T.S. kind-of, and now M.B.), what I did with each. What I did tonight. If I can get PEP. If I can speak to someone. I tried to plan out what I was going to say. And started to wonder if I'm just making excuses for my behaviour.
Truth be told, I want the person I speak with to put their arm around me. All through the night, that is what I wanted the most. A bit of affection after a series of missed opportunities. Even if for a brief time, feeling like someone cares enough to show me a bit of affection. The moments I actually enjoyed tonight weren't any of the sex acts. It was just being there with someone's arm around me. At one point, he stroked my hair a bit. That did more for me than fucking him did. Christ. I think I need to go to one of those cuddle parties a lot more than I need to be getting laid.
I need to learn something from this. I try to learn something from every experience, but this one needs some good to come from it. I need to stand up for what I believe in, for the things that I have chosen. I need to do what's right for me, not what's right for someone else or what other people are doing. In very area of life, but especially where there are risks like this.
At least I will probably have something to write about, if I managed to get PEP. A whole month of me talking about the side effects of these pills. Aren't you lucky?
After about 4 months of not having sex with anyone, I did it tonight. Some guy messages me, lived not far away (although I misjudged the distance by a long short, if I had realised I might have said no), and actually showed a bit of interest in me without it fizzling out. Fancy that.
We'll call the guy M.B., even though I don't think we'll be seeing much more of him. The picture he sent didn't look too bad. There are people who look better than their pictures in real life, and those who look worse. M.B. was the latter. There was some disappointment when he opened the door. I think he was even missing some front teeth, which wasn't highlighted in the one picture he sent. But who's about to put out a picture like that when you're looking to get laid? And I try not to be completely shallow, so I let it slide. Or rather at this point, I don't think I could have backed out. Keep this point about not being able to back out in mind, because that's pretty much the theme of this story.
This definitely wasn't the most sociable of hook ups. We didn't even exchange names until I was walking to his place (he also asked me my username, so I guess I wasn't that special to grab his interest). I had actually not even read his profile before agreeing. Free user account, so I only have a very limited number of profiles I can view before it just asks me to upgrade until the next day when the limit resets; I reached that limit randomly clicking on profiles whose owners I found hot, like you do. My bank balance is currently at minus £90, so I really wasn't up to resubscribing just for this.
The conversation (although with its lack of substance it barely warrants that title) was light on any details about what he had in mind for the night. The only clue was that he has the word 'bottom' in his username. And sure enough, that's what happened. I don't really feel like giving a play-by-play of how things went down, so I will just be skipping ahead.
I had him on his back, knees on chest and my cock by his arse. When he just took the tip of my cock and put it inside him. No condom, no lube, nothing. There had been no discussion about if I wanted to do that, there's nothing in my profile that indicates I'm looking to bareback strangers. It took me a couple of seconds to process what was happening. Maybe he's just going to put the tip in then pull it out, the rest of the time using a condom? Yeah, that didn't happen.
So there I was, inside this man whose very existence was unknown to me not an hour earlier. I know nothing about him, there's the chance he didn't even give me his real name. And I couldn't find the courage inside myself to say stop. This isn't something I'm completely comfortable doing. And in the end, I just went with it. Asked if he had any lube and just carried on. It's kind of like being on a diet, and you slip up. You have that one bit of junk food and think, "oh well, I might as well make the most of this" then start with the desserts and drinks to go with it. I figured if I went this far, I might as well see what all the fuss is about.
And yeah, it's not bad. I would need to do a proper test to compare with a condom to without, but still. Although my foreskin plays up sometimes and not using a condom it was a lot more sore than with one. Made sure to look at myself as I entered him, just to let it sink in. And all I really felt looking down at my dick going bare inside this guy I wasn't even all that into was disappointment. I had made up my mind before. I'd leave barebacking, if I did it, to someone more meaningful than some random bit of strange. And yet there I was. My resolve didn't account for much when it really mattered. I looked at the back of his head, at the bald patch his picture didn't show, and started rearranging my plans for the next day. It's time to move that much-delayed visit to the sexual health clinic forward. Tomorrow morning while the drop in clinic is open. I was curious about PEP before, I guess I'm going to be doing some hands-on experimenting. But I couldn't truly enjoy what I was doing, because I had let myself down. If there are some horrible repercussions from this, I am to blame. And given how it carried on, there's the chance there could be.
I couldn't cum. Too tired to really be fucking anyone, and these meds I take probably don't help. So after lying down for a while, he gets up for a cigarette. Comes back and starts kissing the back of my neck. Then my shoulders. Then his hands are on my arse and he's rubbing his cock against it. Next thing I know he's got more lube and is rubbing it in. I might be many things, but I am not completely oblivious. It's obvious where this is going. In my heart of hearts, I didn't want it. I had already disappointed myself once, but at least it was the less riskier way of doing so. Now this guy--utter stranger, didn't even offer me a cup of tea when I arrived--is about to fuck me. Sans condom, of course. And again, there I was. I didn't want this. I didn't want some stranger coming inside me, or even the risk of it. But all I did was lay there, face down. Not a word of protest. No standing up for myself. Let's just get it over with. I know I'm not going to be able to stop it. It has been well over a year since anyone fucked me, so I honestly can't compare how it felt.
He fucked me for a lot less than I did him. And then he stopped. Got off the bed, left the room, I heard running water as I kept my face embedded in the bedding. If he had come, he wasn't one of those guys who makes a noise. Didn't say anything about it, no "I'm gonna cum" or anything. His thrusting changed just before he stopped. But I didn't feel the kind of things people say they can feel when a guy nuts inside them. No throbbing of his cock, and definitely no ejaculation. When he returned, I took his getting dressed again as meaning he'd had his fill and it was time to leave. While he was gone I was looking at all the papers on his walls. Trying to find something out about the man who'd just done this to me. The man I let myself down for. He wasn't worth it at all.
Not knowing if he did in fact come inside me, I don't know if what I could feel after getting dressed was what it's like having someone's spunk still inside you, or if that was just lube. Either way, I don't care for the sensation. No lustful accounts how hot the feeling of it dripping down your legs is from this guy. It just felt uncomfortable. And acted as a reminder, as if I needed one. I tried checking my underwear, but I can't tell. It would probably be diluted with lube if it was there. I looked at myself in his bathroom mirror before I left, and asked myself what I was playing at. What was I thinking. (On a nicer note, I thought I looked rather handsome if I say so myself. So there's some improvement. Actually, I was pretty comfortable being naked today. Maybe letting myself believe I am handsome if others say so is paying off. Great timing there though, genius.)
The relief to be out of his front door was short-lived. After that, I just felt pathetic. Can I not even managed to live by the rules I set myself? It's not like it's really something hard to follow. I had condoms in my jacket. I was prepared. But I was weak. Too much of a coward to tell this man what he was doing wasn't what I wanted. Too spineless to stand up for myself. During my walk home I went through it all in my head again. And, too little too late, said out loud what I was feeling. What I should have said. How much I'd disappointed myself. I got things ready for tomorrow. Set my alarm for 7:30am so I can be up and at the hospital when the doors open at the clinic. Plan out what I need to tell them. Number of people I've slept with since my last visit (4: C.R., M.N., T.S. kind-of, and now M.B.), what I did with each. What I did tonight. If I can get PEP. If I can speak to someone. I tried to plan out what I was going to say. And started to wonder if I'm just making excuses for my behaviour.
Truth be told, I want the person I speak with to put their arm around me. All through the night, that is what I wanted the most. A bit of affection after a series of missed opportunities. Even if for a brief time, feeling like someone cares enough to show me a bit of affection. The moments I actually enjoyed tonight weren't any of the sex acts. It was just being there with someone's arm around me. At one point, he stroked my hair a bit. That did more for me than fucking him did. Christ. I think I need to go to one of those cuddle parties a lot more than I need to be getting laid.
I need to learn something from this. I try to learn something from every experience, but this one needs some good to come from it. I need to stand up for what I believe in, for the things that I have chosen. I need to do what's right for me, not what's right for someone else or what other people are doing. In very area of life, but especially where there are risks like this.
At least I will probably have something to write about, if I managed to get PEP. A whole month of me talking about the side effects of these pills. Aren't you lucky?
Thursday, 8 March 2012
Gay Bar
I've never once been to a gay bar, or any other gay-oriented venue, in my life.
M.N., a guy nearby who I've been with a couple of times, said I'd probably be 'eaten alive' at one by bitchy queens. Admittedly, bitchy queens are a demographic I would much rather avoid. I will make the occasional catty remark, but not to a person's face and in general I try to keep civil. What's the point in spoiling someone else's evening for no real reason? I think he was probably referring to me being overly quiet and reserved. And at the risk of 'mind reading' (which I am trying to severely cut back on), maybe that came across as weak-willed and not likely to put up much of a fight to him. I don't speak up enough, but that's because I'm not happy with my voice and have yet to work on it.
I know where a couple of gay venues are in this town. One is a 'straight friendly' one, the other more traditionally gay. The straight friendly one, from the photos they have online, seems pretty much like a straight club right down to the photos of men and women feeling each other up. I don't know much about the other yet, other than it's open during the day as a bar and I am now liable to run into someone I know there. I've only had a relatively short gay career so far, about 2 years at the most. So I don't know that many people. I might be more likely to spot or be spotted by someone who has seen my profile online.
But this is where the trouble starts. Do I want to wait for someone to invite me there and actually follow through on their offer? Or do I just go alone? I have actually never been to a nightclub in my life either. Just never really cared for the idea. Sensitive to loud noises, you see. Music blasted out at high volume just makes me feel stressed and spoils my mood. Even people with the TV too loud winds me up. But having never been, I don't know what the standard audio level for clubs is. Maybe it's just right. (It's going to depend on the club, obviously. Some care more than others.)
Drugs is another. This is possibly a naive view, with a bit too much influence from fearmongering public campaigns about the dangers of drugs in nightclubs. But it's just not something I am interested in trying, at least not in a venue like that. And maybe it is just the old fearful part of me trying to put me off going. Excluding 'date rape' type scenarios, I doubt anyone would be pushing drugs down the necks of random strangers who aren't paying for them. A simple "no, cheers" would be enough to put an end to the situation, surely.
But I guess the biggest, especially for someone anxious about social events, is the 'going alone' part. I can see the benefits of it. If by some stroke of luck I happen to pull, I'm not going to be leaving anyone in the lurch by going home with the guy. But I can see a lot of downsides and potential pitfalls to it.
1) What are people going to think of me, all on my own like that? Is it going to look like I am just trawling for sex? Do people who go to clubs alone look like weirdos and freaks?
2) If I go there alone, then what? If there's no one I know, I am going to be in a room surrounded by strangers. Am I supposed to go up to a random people and try to start up a conversation? I am literally (as in I can feel it happening as I type) on the verge of a panic attack just thinking about it. So that leaves me either standing around in the hopes that someone will try to talk to or hit on me, or standing around alone as I order a load of drinks.
3) What if something happens to me? What if I'm kidnapped or attacked on the way home with no one knowing where I am? And what if they do end up finding out where I was? "Last seen at a gay club, possibly looking for a bit of ass."
4) What if someone does take an interest in me but I'm too socially dense to pick up on the signals? I look like an absolute bitch just because I thought surely that guy isn't interested in me? Or what if I think someone is interested and I'm way off the mark?
5) Are they likely to start asking about my life? What I do for a living or for fun? There is probably only so long you can deflect conversation away from yourself. Maybe overly loud music would save me here.
6) God, and what if someone does take pity on me and takes me back to their's? It's not so much sleeping with a stranger. Lord knows I have done that enough now to be used to the stranger part (I say like an expert with just over 10 notches on my bedpost). It's the whole getting naked and sleeping with someone. Which hasn't gotten easier. What if I looked better in the club's lightning? What if they get me home and change their mind? What if they don't? And I wake up with a strange man and have to deal with the morning after? In a stranger's home? Do I expect breakfast? Is he going to try to rush me out as soon as he can? Will I even get to have a shower?
7) What if no one takes any pity? What if I put myself out there instead, neck my drink and go hit on someone? Actually take the initiative? And what if I get shot down right there in front of everyone? I took it bad enough alone at home in front of a computer. There's a reason I never put myself out there like that, not enough courage to deal with the rejection (that and the constant expectation that I'll just get rejected if I try).
Writing these thought out kind of helped a bit. That's one of the points of writing them down, to see them outside of the context of my racing mind. And think of answers and alternate ways of looking at them. They look silly when seen there in black and white. If going home with someone is that daunting when the time comes, I can bring out the old "no, thanks" again. Not tonight. Maybe another time. If you're not willing to try again some other day, it's probably not much of a loss. And if I'm turned down if I try to hit on someone, is that really so awful? Unless the person makes a scene of it, it's not the end of the world. There will be more people out there, most of who will have been in those shoes before. And if they did put on a show like that, I think I would have probably dodged one of those man-eating bitchy queens.
M.N., a guy nearby who I've been with a couple of times, said I'd probably be 'eaten alive' at one by bitchy queens. Admittedly, bitchy queens are a demographic I would much rather avoid. I will make the occasional catty remark, but not to a person's face and in general I try to keep civil. What's the point in spoiling someone else's evening for no real reason? I think he was probably referring to me being overly quiet and reserved. And at the risk of 'mind reading' (which I am trying to severely cut back on), maybe that came across as weak-willed and not likely to put up much of a fight to him. I don't speak up enough, but that's because I'm not happy with my voice and have yet to work on it.
I know where a couple of gay venues are in this town. One is a 'straight friendly' one, the other more traditionally gay. The straight friendly one, from the photos they have online, seems pretty much like a straight club right down to the photos of men and women feeling each other up. I don't know much about the other yet, other than it's open during the day as a bar and I am now liable to run into someone I know there. I've only had a relatively short gay career so far, about 2 years at the most. So I don't know that many people. I might be more likely to spot or be spotted by someone who has seen my profile online.
But this is where the trouble starts. Do I want to wait for someone to invite me there and actually follow through on their offer? Or do I just go alone? I have actually never been to a nightclub in my life either. Just never really cared for the idea. Sensitive to loud noises, you see. Music blasted out at high volume just makes me feel stressed and spoils my mood. Even people with the TV too loud winds me up. But having never been, I don't know what the standard audio level for clubs is. Maybe it's just right. (It's going to depend on the club, obviously. Some care more than others.)
Drugs is another. This is possibly a naive view, with a bit too much influence from fearmongering public campaigns about the dangers of drugs in nightclubs. But it's just not something I am interested in trying, at least not in a venue like that. And maybe it is just the old fearful part of me trying to put me off going. Excluding 'date rape' type scenarios, I doubt anyone would be pushing drugs down the necks of random strangers who aren't paying for them. A simple "no, cheers" would be enough to put an end to the situation, surely.
But I guess the biggest, especially for someone anxious about social events, is the 'going alone' part. I can see the benefits of it. If by some stroke of luck I happen to pull, I'm not going to be leaving anyone in the lurch by going home with the guy. But I can see a lot of downsides and potential pitfalls to it.
1) What are people going to think of me, all on my own like that? Is it going to look like I am just trawling for sex? Do people who go to clubs alone look like weirdos and freaks?
2) If I go there alone, then what? If there's no one I know, I am going to be in a room surrounded by strangers. Am I supposed to go up to a random people and try to start up a conversation? I am literally (as in I can feel it happening as I type) on the verge of a panic attack just thinking about it. So that leaves me either standing around in the hopes that someone will try to talk to or hit on me, or standing around alone as I order a load of drinks.
3) What if something happens to me? What if I'm kidnapped or attacked on the way home with no one knowing where I am? And what if they do end up finding out where I was? "Last seen at a gay club, possibly looking for a bit of ass."
4) What if someone does take an interest in me but I'm too socially dense to pick up on the signals? I look like an absolute bitch just because I thought surely that guy isn't interested in me? Or what if I think someone is interested and I'm way off the mark?
5) Are they likely to start asking about my life? What I do for a living or for fun? There is probably only so long you can deflect conversation away from yourself. Maybe overly loud music would save me here.
6) God, and what if someone does take pity on me and takes me back to their's? It's not so much sleeping with a stranger. Lord knows I have done that enough now to be used to the stranger part (I say like an expert with just over 10 notches on my bedpost). It's the whole getting naked and sleeping with someone. Which hasn't gotten easier. What if I looked better in the club's lightning? What if they get me home and change their mind? What if they don't? And I wake up with a strange man and have to deal with the morning after? In a stranger's home? Do I expect breakfast? Is he going to try to rush me out as soon as he can? Will I even get to have a shower?
7) What if no one takes any pity? What if I put myself out there instead, neck my drink and go hit on someone? Actually take the initiative? And what if I get shot down right there in front of everyone? I took it bad enough alone at home in front of a computer. There's a reason I never put myself out there like that, not enough courage to deal with the rejection (that and the constant expectation that I'll just get rejected if I try).
Writing these thought out kind of helped a bit. That's one of the points of writing them down, to see them outside of the context of my racing mind. And think of answers and alternate ways of looking at them. They look silly when seen there in black and white. If going home with someone is that daunting when the time comes, I can bring out the old "no, thanks" again. Not tonight. Maybe another time. If you're not willing to try again some other day, it's probably not much of a loss. And if I'm turned down if I try to hit on someone, is that really so awful? Unless the person makes a scene of it, it's not the end of the world. There will be more people out there, most of who will have been in those shoes before. And if they did put on a show like that, I think I would have probably dodged one of those man-eating bitchy queens.
"So have you got any other pics?"
I dread hearing this phrase. It's a throwback to my dislike of any pictures of myself. There are no pictures of me from the age of around 10 to early 20s. The sole one that was taken of me, when I was 15 by someone with an instant camera, was promptly torn up by me.
I'm a little better with it now, but it still is a struggle. It usually takes about 30 pictures to get 1 that I'm happy with. I am trying to get past this, to not think of my face as more befitting Parisian bell towers than a photo frame. There's rough days, but I think I'm getting there. Looking at myself in a mirror doesn't elicit recoils of horror each and every time, for a start.
But no one asking for "other pics" are looking for some nice pictures of a guy's face, are they? It's the rest of you from the neck down they are interested in. And while I might be happier with the occasional mug shot, full body is still some ways off free and easy picture taking. I look at myself in the mirror and see only the stuff I wish was different. Wish I weighted 20 pounds less. Wish I were more defined or toned. Wish I didn't have so much hair there. Wish I didn't have any hair right here. Wish I was a big taller, that my legs were longer, didn't carry weight the way I do.
A lot of these are things that can be changed, though. Unwanted hair? There's a bunch of ways to get rid of that. Weight can be lost, muscle can be built. Fix stuff like posture and maybe you can be a tiny bit taller. All this can be hard work, especially if you have trouble getting started (like this guy right here). But change is possible. That's kind of my motto now. Words I'm trying my hardest to live by. I'm not completely stuck being who I used to be.
There are practical benefits to things like losing weight and building muscle (better health, being stronger day to day, more energy). But being honest with myself was a point of this blog. And in all honesty, being able to click that reply button as I send a bunch of photos in various states of undress with a bit of confidence and not prefacing it with apologetic snivelling about having "some extra weight, hope that's not a problem" and worrying about my doughy arse spoiling my chance? That is a massive motivation, vain as it is.
I'm a little better with it now, but it still is a struggle. It usually takes about 30 pictures to get 1 that I'm happy with. I am trying to get past this, to not think of my face as more befitting Parisian bell towers than a photo frame. There's rough days, but I think I'm getting there. Looking at myself in a mirror doesn't elicit recoils of horror each and every time, for a start.
But no one asking for "other pics" are looking for some nice pictures of a guy's face, are they? It's the rest of you from the neck down they are interested in. And while I might be happier with the occasional mug shot, full body is still some ways off free and easy picture taking. I look at myself in the mirror and see only the stuff I wish was different. Wish I weighted 20 pounds less. Wish I were more defined or toned. Wish I didn't have so much hair there. Wish I didn't have any hair right here. Wish I was a big taller, that my legs were longer, didn't carry weight the way I do.
A lot of these are things that can be changed, though. Unwanted hair? There's a bunch of ways to get rid of that. Weight can be lost, muscle can be built. Fix stuff like posture and maybe you can be a tiny bit taller. All this can be hard work, especially if you have trouble getting started (like this guy right here). But change is possible. That's kind of my motto now. Words I'm trying my hardest to live by. I'm not completely stuck being who I used to be.
There are practical benefits to things like losing weight and building muscle (better health, being stronger day to day, more energy). But being honest with myself was a point of this blog. And in all honesty, being able to click that reply button as I send a bunch of photos in various states of undress with a bit of confidence and not prefacing it with apologetic snivelling about having "some extra weight, hope that's not a problem" and worrying about my doughy arse spoiling my chance? That is a massive motivation, vain as it is.
Tuesday, 6 March 2012
The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret
What do people mean when they say 'discreet'?
Surely anyone reading this who has used the Internet to hook up with men (I don't know if women say the same thing in their ads, I haven't looked at enough to say) will have seen this.
I guess the easiest thing to do would be to ask the people who put this, but I've never been the most direct person. I assume it's a sex/hook up thing. The way I take it is that you aren't going to be overt about what you're there to do. Like not mincing into the hotel lobby in the campest manner and most fabulous outfit you have and fawning all over the guy when you see them. And not going around telling anyone who will listen to you about the guy you just slept with in great detail. I'd consider myself discreet, using these definitions. (Maybe this blog is pushing the latter part, though.)
Mostly, I wonder if I should put this in mine. And for this blog. I don't really want to go into too much detail about the guys I've been with. I use initials made up of their name and some word to describe them (place they lived, job title, etc.). Keeping any personal details to a minimum. This blog is supposed to be more self-centred, after all.
I might find some way to write it in to my bio online. If I've got it right, it's something that I apply is most areas of my life. And if it gets me laid, all the better.
It's also something I wonder about with this blog. I don't really want it seem like I'm betraying the trust of the people who I've been with. So I try to keep things rather vague. Don't go into much detail about how they look, what they're lives are like, use actual names. This was about being open about myself, not exposing the lives of others.
There's still a lot of aspects on online dating that I need to get used to. Like when people stop replying to you when you message or chat with them. Especially chat, which I've only done once. I had no idea what was going on there, and just thought it was people being rude. And... I still do think it's rude, honestly. At least a "sorry, this isn't going to work out" would suffice. Just stopping the whole conversation dead, especially when they were the ones who initiated it, gets to me a bit. But I have probably appeared exactly the same in the past, at least in regards to messages I've been sent. But most of the time, I've just not been in the mood or state of mind to be meeting people. It's not like I'm off messaging other guys but not this one, I'm usually not answering anyone. Maybe when things have changed and settled down in my life more, I will stop doing that so much.
Surely anyone reading this who has used the Internet to hook up with men (I don't know if women say the same thing in their ads, I haven't looked at enough to say) will have seen this.
I guess the easiest thing to do would be to ask the people who put this, but I've never been the most direct person. I assume it's a sex/hook up thing. The way I take it is that you aren't going to be overt about what you're there to do. Like not mincing into the hotel lobby in the campest manner and most fabulous outfit you have and fawning all over the guy when you see them. And not going around telling anyone who will listen to you about the guy you just slept with in great detail. I'd consider myself discreet, using these definitions. (Maybe this blog is pushing the latter part, though.)
Mostly, I wonder if I should put this in mine. And for this blog. I don't really want to go into too much detail about the guys I've been with. I use initials made up of their name and some word to describe them (place they lived, job title, etc.). Keeping any personal details to a minimum. This blog is supposed to be more self-centred, after all.
I might find some way to write it in to my bio online. If I've got it right, it's something that I apply is most areas of my life. And if it gets me laid, all the better.
It's also something I wonder about with this blog. I don't really want it seem like I'm betraying the trust of the people who I've been with. So I try to keep things rather vague. Don't go into much detail about how they look, what they're lives are like, use actual names. This was about being open about myself, not exposing the lives of others.
There's still a lot of aspects on online dating that I need to get used to. Like when people stop replying to you when you message or chat with them. Especially chat, which I've only done once. I had no idea what was going on there, and just thought it was people being rude. And... I still do think it's rude, honestly. At least a "sorry, this isn't going to work out" would suffice. Just stopping the whole conversation dead, especially when they were the ones who initiated it, gets to me a bit. But I have probably appeared exactly the same in the past, at least in regards to messages I've been sent. But most of the time, I've just not been in the mood or state of mind to be meeting people. It's not like I'm off messaging other guys but not this one, I'm usually not answering anyone. Maybe when things have changed and settled down in my life more, I will stop doing that so much.
Sunday, 4 March 2012
The Outsider
I've been making a conscious effort to reconnect with people I started to get to know but fell out of touch with. That's a lot of people, to be honest. Including anyone I write about here.
These attempts haven't had the desired outcome so far. Either people not remembering me, or just not seeming interested.
It makes me wonder about how many little lies people have told me, and how easily I believed them. Things like how they'd like to meet up again, things like that. I say "easily believed" but I'm not sure if I really did believe them. I think I probably doubted how sincere they were being, even if I wanted to believe they were being truthful. It was probably just me being naive. Really most were just looking to fuck and that was it. "We should do this again sometime" has as much weight as a mindlessly thrown out "how are you?"
At the heart of it is kind of this notion of having to either trust everyone or no one. Look at it rationally and you know it doesn't make sense. But it's still hard to move from 'no one' to, not the other extreme of 'everyone', but a more realistic middle ground. Sometimes people are going to say things (or not say others) for the sake of being polite. Sometimes they are going to lie. I've lied, although usually only about myself (and even then just to cover for the aspects of my current life that I feel ashamed to admit). It doesn't always matter, it's not always a big deal.
But lately, it just seems like attempting to open up more just leads to hurt.
These attempts haven't had the desired outcome so far. Either people not remembering me, or just not seeming interested.
It makes me wonder about how many little lies people have told me, and how easily I believed them. Things like how they'd like to meet up again, things like that. I say "easily believed" but I'm not sure if I really did believe them. I think I probably doubted how sincere they were being, even if I wanted to believe they were being truthful. It was probably just me being naive. Really most were just looking to fuck and that was it. "We should do this again sometime" has as much weight as a mindlessly thrown out "how are you?"
At the heart of it is kind of this notion of having to either trust everyone or no one. Look at it rationally and you know it doesn't make sense. But it's still hard to move from 'no one' to, not the other extreme of 'everyone', but a more realistic middle ground. Sometimes people are going to say things (or not say others) for the sake of being polite. Sometimes they are going to lie. I've lied, although usually only about myself (and even then just to cover for the aspects of my current life that I feel ashamed to admit). It doesn't always matter, it's not always a big deal.
But lately, it just seems like attempting to open up more just leads to hurt.
Friday, 2 March 2012
Learn To Take A Compliment
"You're really handsome. I know you don't believe that, but you are."
C.R. said this to me while we were lying in his bed taking a break between sex. I never told him that I didn't think I was, but I guess he picked up on the fact that I don't. I must not hide these things as well as I'd hope, or maybe it's harder to hide things when you've that exposed. I get a bit too honest at times like that.
Posting quotes like this, I can't help but think it all looks like I'm trying to boast about it. Or fishing for compliments, which is unlikely when the only picture here is a headless Greek statue and I give no links to sites that might be showing more.
Probably because I grew up telling myself the opposite, how unattractive I am and of all the flaws I saw in myself, and the only time I remember hearing different was from a cleaner at my second high school making some comment about how I'd be handsome when I grew up. Which was nice of her, but I didn't believe her. So there's always some discomfort whenever people give me praise. I have had my picture online (socially and specifically when looking for men) and people have called me good-looking. But I find some way to dismiss it. The guys probably just say that to everyone, they just want to fuck. The women are probably just being polite.
Headless Greek statue fits nicely with what I wanted from this blog. Partly because it goes with the Greek name of the blog (though it's a statue of Hermes; apparently there are no statues of Ameinias for Google Images to show me). But also because I wanted it to be more about the emotional, internal side of things than the external, physical. More about what's going on inside my mind than my external appearance.
But I want to reach the point of self-confidence where someone telling me I look handsome or cute or hot doesn't arouse a feeling of discomfort inside me. I want my response to be an honest and casual 'thanks', rather than a forced 'thanks' used to cover up my disbelieve at their sincerity, or silence and turning my head away. Having that confidence would help me live life how I want it.
It's been a bit of a trial on the road to that acceptance. There's days when I can look in the mirror and be happy with what I see despite there being some things I'd rather were different. But there's the other days when I'm back to the old ways of thinking. Today has been one of the good days, even if I don't feel great all around.
C.R. said this to me while we were lying in his bed taking a break between sex. I never told him that I didn't think I was, but I guess he picked up on the fact that I don't. I must not hide these things as well as I'd hope, or maybe it's harder to hide things when you've that exposed. I get a bit too honest at times like that.
Posting quotes like this, I can't help but think it all looks like I'm trying to boast about it. Or fishing for compliments, which is unlikely when the only picture here is a headless Greek statue and I give no links to sites that might be showing more.
Probably because I grew up telling myself the opposite, how unattractive I am and of all the flaws I saw in myself, and the only time I remember hearing different was from a cleaner at my second high school making some comment about how I'd be handsome when I grew up. Which was nice of her, but I didn't believe her. So there's always some discomfort whenever people give me praise. I have had my picture online (socially and specifically when looking for men) and people have called me good-looking. But I find some way to dismiss it. The guys probably just say that to everyone, they just want to fuck. The women are probably just being polite.
Headless Greek statue fits nicely with what I wanted from this blog. Partly because it goes with the Greek name of the blog (though it's a statue of Hermes; apparently there are no statues of Ameinias for Google Images to show me). But also because I wanted it to be more about the emotional, internal side of things than the external, physical. More about what's going on inside my mind than my external appearance.
But I want to reach the point of self-confidence where someone telling me I look handsome or cute or hot doesn't arouse a feeling of discomfort inside me. I want my response to be an honest and casual 'thanks', rather than a forced 'thanks' used to cover up my disbelieve at their sincerity, or silence and turning my head away. Having that confidence would help me live life how I want it.
It's been a bit of a trial on the road to that acceptance. There's days when I can look in the mirror and be happy with what I see despite there being some things I'd rather were different. But there's the other days when I'm back to the old ways of thinking. Today has been one of the good days, even if I don't feel great all around.
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