Ronny and i

I want to recommend this charming, subtle, heart-warming (and heart-breaking) film.  It's beautiful and quite perfect.  A minor masterpiece.

Ronny and i

I loves ya

Tom Daley

In a Youtube video a week ago, Tom Daley announced that he was in a relationship with a guy.

I note that he didn't say he was gay.   He said: “In spring this year my life changed massively when I met someone, and they make me feel so happy, so safe and everything just feels great. That someone is a guy.”  He added: “Of course I still fancy girls but right now I’m dating a guy and I couldn’t be happier.”

And that's exactly how it should be.  It might seem a meaningless quibble.  And perhaps it is.  But he is saying something very liberated: I love another man.  That's the key, not how he labels himself.  Or how we label him.  It's so simple, and the troglodytes find it so hard to understand.  Forget the labels, the categorisation, the this box or that.  It's something old as mankind, maybe older.  Something profound and vital.  Love.  What matters is not the gender of your partner or how you make love or any of those things.  What matters is that it is love.

Good on you mate.  And thank you for telling us, because it will make it easier for others also to be open and free.

Midnight swim

It's warm. I like him a lot.

 "Shall we swim?" I ask.

 "No bathers," he says, ducking his head.

"Nude. There's no one here."

"Just us."  He smiles.  Shy.

We dive in.  Water like warm silk.

He kisses me.

Marcus Mojo

Such a winsome smile.  Such beaut bloke.  Such a wonderful body.

Is it possible to fall in love with someone you've never met?

Is it because he reminds me of my first guy? Or because he seems macho, straight and sporty?

Will I ever be sure of myself, able not to turn to jelly when I see a straight-acting macho man who I hope will be my friend, my lover?

Ek weet nie.

Footy, chapter 27

Will was lying in bed, motionless, staring at the ceiling. Sean was quite unable to speak. He stood at the edge of the curtained-off cubicle, with its transparent illusion of privacy, staring at Will. Will hadn’t turned to look at him. Sean stepped into the space around the bed, and dragged the plastic chair over the bare lino tiles towards the bed. Will heard him, and turned his head briefly towards the sound. His eyes met Sean’s, and held for a moment. Sean stared into the toffee-colored depths, a lump in his throat, his eyes pricking. Still Will didn’t speak. 

Sean swallowed hard. “Will.” 

Will stared at him. Clear as pebbles on the bed of a mountain stream, Sean saw the emotions flow through Will’s face. Overwhelming and profound love. Grief. Unbearable pain. Anger. Indifference. Despair. Oh God, most of all, despair! 

Will turned his face away. He swallowed. “Go away.” His whisper was almost inaudible. 

Sean’s heart dropped, and sorrow filled his being like icy water. It had never occurred to him that Will wouldn’t welcome him back with open arms. His misery and anguish gave him the courage to speak, to say what he realised now, too late, that he’d thought so often, but never expressed in words, though he had in every other way that mattered. Except when Will had been unconscious – then he could say it. His cowardice sickened him. Not one moment’s further delay. He would say it now. 

“I love you, Will.” His voice cracked. This wasn’t how Sean MacDonald was supposed to be. He was a boy’s home graduate, and then there had been prison – and he remembered the General’s shrewd face as he questioned him about his record, and how he hadn’t been able to meet the General’s compassionate and wise and tough old eyes – and his parents, and oh God, his mother. Sean would have sworn he was hardened against this. He knew better now. Almost, he was angry with the man in the bed in front of him. Unable to articulate these feelings and judgments, he repeated the words, wanting to take the other man into his arms, knowing that if he could he would be able to make it all right.

Read the rest here.

Footy, chapter 22

I've uploaded it to my website.

But Will picked it up. “You didn’t get on?”

“You could say that. He used to beat us with his fists when he was drunk or drugged up. I was covered with bruises all my childhood. They took me to a home a couple of times, after one of his beatin’s.” The bare recital of the facts didn’t do the reality justice.

Sean didn’t want to meet Will’s eyes, afraid of what he might see there. So he forced himself to look up. Instead of contempt he saw compassion and love. His heart filled with gratitude and tenderness. “My mother was a druggie,” he said. “She died of an overdose. I found her body. I was fourteen.” This time, he was quite unable to bring himself to look at Will. He stared out through the plate glass windows at the dark sea. He felt Will’s hand cover his.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Seanie.” Will had never called him that to his face before.

Reluctantly, Sean met Will’s eyes. Will’s face was filled with pity and sorrow and love. All at once, Sean knew that the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with was right here in front of him. He’d always had a vague plan to get married, one day, and have a family. But the dreams were fuzzy, the spaces between the outlines unfilled. And memories of his own parents’ marriage kept on intruding. It was true – they did seem to have had a lot of sex. And perhaps, once, they had loved each other. But when he had gotten a more adult awareness of sexual love, he had looked in vain for some sort of affection between them. He hadn’t realised what a hole that had left in him till now.

He had kept on hoping his family would become ordinary – his parents going off to work each day, and coming home and having supper, and going on outings and camping trips. His ideas of what constituted a happy marriage were constructed out of the thin rubbish purveyed by TV, by the shiny women’s magazines his mother would buy when she got the welfare cheque before she shot up, she as mesmerized by the glossy falsehoods as he had been.

He had never truly believed he would find someone he wanted to marry. He smiled at himself—as usual, Sean MacDonald was being different. He wondered how his brothers would take it. And then, with a pang, he wondered whether Will wanted him that way.

On their route back to the motel, Will wanted to hold Sean’s hand, to sling his arm round his shoulders, but he resisted the impulse. He contented himself with putting his hand on Sean’s shoulder as they went into their room.

“Bed,” he said.

“Old man!” said Sean, grinning.

“Who said anything about sleep?” countered Will, his eyes warm toffee.


You can read the chapter here.

First Time ( A Ficlet)

He sits with his knees clasped by his hands, his head bent over them, the long blond curls obscuring his face.  In the east, the dove grey sky is streaked with rose and madder.  The light promises another hot day.  The crisp pre-dawn air is filled with bird calls.  In spite of everything, they lift his heart a little.


Somehow he'd thought it would be better, his first time.  More romantic.  He feels a fool now.  Maybe men aren't meant to share love.  Just sex.  He doesn't know.  There's no one he can ask.  He wants to be loved, but ... he's too proud, too shy, too inarticulate to confess it.  Last night he'd been so excited, so eager.


He sighs, and rises from the couch.  He thought it would bring the two of them closer.  A mistake.


He dresses quietly.  He wants to avoid embarrassment and humiliation.  His eyes would show too much.  Or not enough.  He leaves silently, carefully snicking the latch closed by hand.  


Outside, there's a vapour trail high above in the luminous paleness.  The mountains are dark against the jubilant light of the still hidden sun.  His arse twinges a little with each step.  The air is sweet.  He wipes his eyes with his hands, brusquely, and tries to whistle.

On a tree by a river a little tom tit....

I never look at his face

Naah, never look at a guy's face.

Never looked at the "5 o'clock shadow" stubble that sends my hormones on a route march when his cheek rubs against mine.

Didn't notice the way the corners of his mouth twitch slightly when he'd been angry with me but was about to laugh.

The cute dimples on his face when he pulled that wide smile? Didn't know he had 'em.

At night when he's asleep and the lights from the city below are the only light, that he has a cute cupid's bow? Really? I must have been asleep.

The sharply-chiseled triangle of a nose that juts out from the face? Must have missed that. Certainly didn't jokingly call him "button nose" since people said guys with long dicks had small noses.

Never felt a thrill up my spine when he would check me out from the corner of his eyes after I made a snide remark.

Nor did I react when he pulled one eyebrow up questioningly in response to something that wasn't quite right.

Didn't ask what he was thinking when the eyes that normally sparked as they flicked across my features would go still and focus on some unseen object 500 metres away.

Can't remember him 36 years later.

Naah. 

[A short piece from my mate Horatio Nimier in response to a discussion at my Google group.  You can read Horatio's stories here, here and here]

Majorca Flats -- 124

Without a word, Keith rose and went to the bar and returned with three brandies. In silence, he pushed one across the scrubbed table boards to Jason and the other to Luigi, then took a long swallow from his own glass.

“He came to me. The club said that if he repaid the money and resigned, they wouldn’t press charges. As I said, he was very popular. His work was also ready to avoid a court case if he repaid. He came to me, and asked for money. I could easily have given it to him. Even if I didn't have it in my bank account, I could have borrowed some from somewhere. He might have had to leave the club and find a new job but at least he wouldn't have to go to jail.”

Jason took a long swallow of his brandy. The burn as it went down his throat promised anaesthesia to come. He relished both.

“I refused. Fuck me for a cunt, I refused. He didn't say anything, he didn't get angry, he just looked at me. I'll never forget that look. Never. I'll live with it forever.”

First Majorca Flats post       Previous MF post (#123)       Next MF post(#125)


Majorca Flats Episodes 1 to 10           Majorca Flats Episodes 61 to 70
Majorca Flats Episodes 11 to 20         Majorca Flats Episodes 71 to 80
Majorca Flats Episodes 21 to 30         Majorca Flats Episodes 81 to 90
Majorca Flats Episodes 31 to 40         Majorca Flats Episodes 91 to 100
Majorca Flats Episodes 41 to 50         Majorca Flats Episodes 101 to 110   
Majorca Flats Episodes 51 to 60         Majorca Flats Episodes 111 to 120  

Majorca Flats -- 121

“I think I fell in love with him right then. Love at first sight. Ridiculous, hey? I was so happy. So fucking happy. I suppose the gods were watching. But no, useless to blame anyone else. It was my own fucking fault.”

“Why?” asked Luigi, his warm shiny black-olive eyes filled with compassion.

“Yeah. Just what I was going to ask, too.” Keith was as concerned as Luigi, his eyes troubled. Jason felt a rush of affection for both of them.

“I'm coming to that. This is so hard.” He shook his head and looked away. There was a silence, neither strained nor impatient, while the other two waited for him to continue.

“Well, it wasn't long before we were a couple. The guys in his team didn't seem to care about us. They liked him. He was very likable, not just sexy, not just an incredibly hot guy. He was charming and funny and could get on with everyone. They just treated me like I was his girlfriend and friend all wrapped up into one, and they never hassled me or him about us. In fact they used to tease us a little, you know, saying when he got a bit ratty about something, or his game was off, that he needed a bit of nookie. And once, when we were in the pub and Brent got all amorous and pashed me, they all cheered and laughed. Holy fuck, I miss them too. They were the realest and best friends a man could have.”

 First Majorca Flats post      Previous MF post (#120)       Next MF post(#122)


Majorca Flats Episodes 1 to 10           Majorca Flats Episodes 61 to 70
Majorca Flats Episodes 11 to 20         Majorca Flats Episodes 71 to 80
Majorca Flats Episodes 21 to 30         Majorca Flats Episodes 81 to 90
Majorca Flats Episodes 31 to 40         Majorca Flats Episodes 91 to 100
Majorca Flats Episodes 41 to 50         Majorca Flats Episodes 101 to 110   
Majorca Flats Episodes 51 to 60         Majorca Flats Episodes 111 to 120  

Majorca Flats -- 119

Dear Gran,

As you see, your email arrived. I am so impressed! Underlining too! Next thing you'll be getting a pilot's licence. Oops! I shouldn't have said that, should I? I'll read about you in the paper, flying out to Oz in your single-engined Piper cub. Don't do it, gran! You might get arrested in Afghanistan or Iran. You know what's it's like there. Mind you, they might not quite realise what's hit them when you've finished with them!  And then I'll have to come and rescue you! 

As they say here, so placidly it's very funny: “it's a worry.” :-) That means a smile, by the way, gran, this ;-) means a wink, and this :_) is a lopsided grin. Now you know all about email 'smileys'!

Yes, you can give Amanda my email address, but please ask her to keep it from the others. I know I should give Mark my address too, but he was never really comfortable with me and Brent. I really do not want an email from mum or dad. It'll just be how ungrateful I am and how selfish and why can't I come home and go back to my studies and marry some nice girl. I just can't do it, gran. I feel so down and sad. I miss Brent so much. I miss you and Amanda too, but, just now, gran, I can't.

Yesterday I went to lunch with a famous author! You'll never guess who he is. Amantha Masterton! And yes she is a he, a very manly he too. Have you read any of her (his) books? He says he's a best seller, and certainly he obviously has money, judging by his house. He invited me to lunch because he lost his husband years ago and he felt sorry for me. Normally, when people feel sorry for me I get annoyed or embarrassed, but he was so unobtrusive and careful and discreet about it.

Give my love to Mr Minim. My landlady has a wonderful little fox terrier called Bolt ('cos that's what he does if you open the door!) and he seems to have decided I'm his best friend. I think I'll tell him about Mr Minim. Though explaining all the character traits and intricacies of that dog will be hard.

I love you, Gran. Write soon.

First Majorca Flats post      Previous MF post (#118)       Next MF post(#120)


Majorca Flats Episodes 1 to 10           Majorca Flats Episodes 61 to 70
Majorca Flats Episodes 11 to 20         Majorca Flats Episodes 71 to 80
Majorca Flats Episodes 21 to 30         Majorca Flats Episodes 81 to 90
Majorca Flats Episodes 31 to 40         Majorca Flats Episodes 91 to 100
Majorca Flats Episodes 41 to 50         Majorca Flats Episodes 101 to 110   
Majorca Flats Episodes 51 to 60   

Zack

A short story you might enjoy.

Josh

A story about my guy, long ago. Well, based on him, anyway.

Someone else I loved found it very wrenching.  But then he was dying, poor bloke.  And he knew I'd written it for him as well as to exorcise something.

Josh

Majorca Flats -- 77

He was thinking back to something which Graeme had said earlier. “I'm not really into the scene,” he said. “I dunno. All those buff blokes, obsessed with how they look. Casual hookups. Not for me.”

“C'mon. You surely have picked up a guy just for a quickie?”

Jason laughed, but softly. “Yeah. Yesterday, as it happens. And I'm not saying it wasn't very good. It was. But what I really wanted while we were going at it, was ...”

He stopped abruptly, his throat tight.

“Mmm?”

When Jason didn't answer, he heard Graeme turn to look at him. “You don't have to talk about it, if it's too hard. But I'm a good listener.”

Jason, still not looking at the other man, said, “It's just … I used to have a guy. I loved him so much, And he's gone.”

“Did he leave you?” Graeme's tone was kind and Jason knew that if he didn't want to continue, the other man wouldn’t push him.

[Image from GayTwoGether] 

First Majorca Flats post      Previous MF post (#76)       Next MF post(#78)

Majorca Flats Episodes 1 to 10

Majorca Flats Episodes 11 to 20

Majorca Flats Episodes 21 to 30

Majorca Flats Episodes 31 to 40 

Majorca Flats Episodes 41 to 40 

Majorca Flats Episodes 51 to 60 

Majorca Flats Episodes 61 to 70

Majorca Flats -- 53

Luigi hadn't spoken to his parents again since then. And, as far as he could tell, nor had his grandmother. He stayed with her for nearly eighteen months. A year after he'd finished school and got a job, he moved out. He was nineteen. His thoughts were filled with men. With sex with men. And he simply couldn't bring his tricks home, to the house where his grandmother lived.

He made a point of visiting her at least once a week, and of taking her out to dinner in an Italian resto as often as he could afford it, not just because he loved her, but because now they were the only family each other had.

He was walking back from his grandmother’s house, in a good mood because Cody had just texted him saying, “Luvya, Lu,” when he saw a back he recognised.

First Majorca Flats post            Previous MF Post (#52)            Next MF Post (#54)

Majorca Flats -- 50

Luigi had never been as happy as he was with Cody. Their life soon a cosy intimacy and closeness that he revelled in. They were in love, and Luigi had never had that, never felt that level of belonging. They were indeed friends – and lovers too. Cody would often drop in to Luigi's flat on the way home. The front door would barely close behind him before they were kissing, and usually it ended with them making love. Sometimes they were so eager to fuck that they never even made it to the bed. And always, their sex ended with Cody holding Luigi in his arms and telling him how much he loved him, sealing their love with kisses quite different to the passionate lustful ones he used when they made love.

Yet there were, right from the beginning, small tokens that all wasn't right. Cody never invited Luigi to his own house. They always met in a pub or bar or club, or at Luigi's flat. There would be times when Cody couldn't or wouldn't answer his mobile, and he would get moody if quizzed about it. Luigi trusted completely. He only asked once or twice and he quickly learnt his lesson. After that, he would wait for Cody to call him when he couldn't raise him on his mobile.

First Majorca Flats post            Previous MF Post (#49)            Next MF Post (#51)

Majorca Flats -- 49

“Fuck them,” said Cody calmly. No, thought Luigi, fuck me, and he had to look away so that the thought didn't show in his expression.

“I like to be different,” said Cody, his gaze intent.

Luigi couldn't look away. He felt trapped, and was quite unaware of the effect his soft dark eyes and the sweet shy curve of his lips was having on Cody. They were the only two people in the world. The chatter in the bar, the clang of trams on the street outside, the clink of glasses being collected and cleaned: all of these outside noises were hushed, remote. They were connecting without speech or touch, but with an erotic intimacy and emotional intensity which left them both breathless.

After an age, Cody licked his dry lips, and said without smiling, his eyes burning, “What about that Campari, then? I'm blowing away in dust.”

In silence, Luigi waved the waiter over. “Two Camparis please.” While the waiter was attending to their order, Luigi turned to Cody and said, “I like to be different, too.”

Cody smiled, his eyes glinting. “I know,” he whispered.

First Majorca Flats post            Previous MF Post (#48)            Next MF Post (#50)

Majorca Flats -- 48

He avoided the café for a week. But, after all, it was his favourite watering hole, and their coffee was superb and their wines good but inexpensive. So the next Saturday, Luigi found himself sitting at the counter, a half-drunk coffee and the local freebie gay news sheet open in front of him. He felt someone take the place on the bench seat next to him, and he looked up and there was Cody. Cody looked at the news sheet and then at him, and smiled a little.

“Haven't seen you around.”

Luigi didn't want to seem needy and desperate. “Nah,” he replied. But he couldn't help smiling.

Cody smiled back. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but then obviously and deliberately suppressed it. There was a silence which seemed to last forever. Then they both spoke simultaneously.

“It's a good place.” “Can I get you a drink?”

They both stopped at the same time and then they both grinned in pure pleasure.

“Yeah,” said Cody, “you can. I'll have Campari.”

“A Campari, huh? What will your friends say?” Luigi was determined not to give the impression that he was a lonely loser. And he'd seen a look in Cody's blue-grey eyes, a look of desire and lust and liking which made him all at once confident and ridiculously happy.

First Majorca Flats post            Previous MF Post (#47)            Next MF Post (#49)

Majorca Flats -- 45

He was muscular, with a slim waist, broad shoulders and rugby-player thighs. His eyes were a startling grey-blue and his chestnut shoulder-length hair thick and curly. He had the knack of half-closing his eyes when he wanted something which made them glimmer seductively. You never got the feeling with him that he was deliberately charming you, at least not when you were with him, because it all seemed so genuine. Afterwards, you'd ruefully think back on how once again you'd been conned and he'd got what he wanted. While you were with him, he made you believe that you were the only person in the world who mattered. Even though you suspected that he forgot about you as soon as you'd left his presence, it never seemed to matter.

That first night at the bar, Luigi just smiled at Cody. He made no move to respond to Cody's advances, but he didn't repulse them either. He didn't shrug off the arms over his shoulders, and he smiled enough to let Cody know he wasn't put off. But he was too scared to respond to Cody's overtures by touching Cody in return.

At the end of the evening Cody had given him one of the charm-filled smiles he specialised in, and asked, “Do you come here often, mate?”

Greatly daring, Luigi had replied, “Only in the mating season. With the right person. .”

Cody gave a shout of laughter and then, his eyes sparkling, he'd pushed his fist gently against Luigi's forehead, and said, “See you here tomorrow, friend.”

First Majorca Flats post            Previous MF Post (#44)            Next MF Post (#46)