…the best soy latte that you ever had and me

A small shiver just went down my spine as I try to put together in words my weekend with Ike. It was honest, relaxing and romantic without being contrived, without trying too hard. It was Friday night through Monday morning spent glued together, talking, singing songs, grinding beans and brewing coffee, watching movies, juicing, napping, cooking, doing dishes, holding hands and strolling, shagging, moving from one activity to the next in an organic manner without getting sick of each other. Not in a long time have I felt it this natural, this facile to spend this much time with someone and not run out of things to do or say nor feel any pangs of uncertainty or distrust. Continue reading

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Date # 30 of 2013 – A late night date in Wanchai

Since before I went to Spain for work in late November, I had been chatting with a free-spirited Canadian man. He seemed extremely nice on messages and asked me for a drink on his first message itself. I had politely declined as I was crazy busy at the time and proposed that we catch up after my Spain trip if we were still in each others’ memories after I returned. He was not outdone by this and stayed in touch and even pointed me towards a cute little Mexican place in Madrid where I ended up taking my brother out to dinner. We finally made plans to meet more than a week after I returned from Spain. This was because, again, I had all sorts of social engagements including the HK panto.

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Men, Dating and the fine art of Vortexing

Graffiti in Sheung Wan, Hong Kong

 

Here’s something I have been meaning to write about, as a concept, for a quite a while. Vortexing is a term Elvish Pixie and I are very familar with and use a lot. I think we coined it even.

It’s Monday morning after a wonderful weekend with Jin and Elvish Pixie, staycationing of sorts, wakeboarding, drinking wine, eating loads of cheese both on pizzas and off. I go into my bathroom, turn the lights on and before picking up my own toothbrush, I irreverently pick up the disposable toothbrush that Sam used to use. I swiftly toss it in the trash – it is a paradoxal gesture, too quick and yet ceremonial in a way. The loathsome toothbrush of a loathsome man – both equally worthy of the bin reserved for hair and used tampons. Continue reading

Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.*

Dear Sam,

You wanted me since the day you set your eyes on me.  I could see it in them. You chased me with kisses and invitations to dates. You pursued as much as you had to, only just as much as you had to and when you had me, you stopped. Much to my disappointment. The last couple of weeks, while I missed you, I wondered if you missed me, sometimes I was sure you did but you didn’t show it. I wish you had because the only thing I filled with that void was doubt. I was out having a blast in Spain with friends I have loved for decades and yet I made time and space in my heart for you. But you couldn’t even peel yourself away from a football game long enough to call me and say hello. That hurt but I tried not to make much of it. Continue reading

date #18 of 2013 – "I am so handsome"

Monday, May 20th:
“Yorkshire is renowned for being full of tossers. Richard III was from the House of York. Yorkshire puddings (which is an ok dish) are from Yorkshire. Yorkshire dogs are incredibly annoying. So there.”

This concise and hilarious blurb is in response to me reporting back to Santa last night after a date with a total tosser. He thought he was the proverbial shit. I simply thought he was shit.
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