peripathetic

They were there again tonight.

God, that sounds like the opening line of a ghost story. Except ghosts don't reach out and try to feel your bits. Well, usually they don't anyway, and if they do, we can only assume that all those writers have been censoring stuff for centuries. It's weird, I know, but I got drunk with dad tonight. Yeah, drunk with my own, usually non-alcoholic father. It was actually quite good. We both got drunk, and we both didn't argue. I think it was the food. We were both too hungry to fight, and then after we'd got through the first stretch of stuffing our faces and things had got more leisurely, there was no real urge to do anything but have more wine and slur more speech.

I've been looking at gaydar tonight. I know, I know. Slaggy gay website. Well, slaggier than my own haunt. And it's so bizarre. I went on it to look for my friend Lars (who still lives there and emailed me recently) and I can't find him, even though Patrick described his profile to me, because - would you believe it?! - there are actually over 500 entries for Aberdeen alone! I never knew there were that many of us there! Admittedly, a lot of them are people who just aren't us. They stand in the corners of bars and look for SEX all night, and if they don't do that, the environment they're in leads them to describe themselves and their needs in a really clinial, abnormal way. Instead of just saying "I am this person, and I want this sort of experience / person / chocolate / icecream", they say "I'm a male (never a guy) who wants to be taught (why not just leave it for later?) about blah blah". Can anything BE more of a turn-off? I like to know what people are interested in, *outside* the sheets. When you're done talking about the consistency of different types of cum, ewwww, there's precious little else you'd actually want to say. Whereas if you're talking about film, or music, or books, or countryside, or travel, everything's so much more real. And interesting.

I met a guy in London once who must have thought that I wanted sex with everyone I met. Like, I think he must have thought I wanted to shag *friends* all the time. I have *slept with* (as in, yes, actually snored beside) some of my friends in the same bed. By which he understood: "Pete has rampant *sex* with *all* of his friends, and is shockingly unapologetic about that, but rather than actually taking the trouble to find out whether this rather unbelievable thing is true or not, I'm going to run away with my own sense of shock, magnify it out of all proportion, and ignore any other aspects of Pete's personality. And then say limply and unconvincingly that I don't feel we're suitable for each other".

I saw the other day that he's moved within London, and is still looking for friends he really feels completely comfortable with. Now, I'm not knocking that. But. Surprise fucking surprise. Maybe he should move to another, earlier, century? I think so, anyway - for his own sanity at least.