Back in the Habit

Single and fancy free again, SLB was putting his post break-up, 3 day drinking binge behind him as he minced his was through a sea of West End Wendy's at last week's Sister Act opening night partyt. Lee Mead was on hand smiling daftly, as was present incumbent of the worst show in town since Thalidomide – The Musical, Gareth Gates. All SLB will say is that Joseph's amazing coat was rainbow coloured for a reason. Denise van Who? As the proceedings wrapped up, taxis full of half-pissed B-Grade wankers who had made it to the top of their profession (and didn't we all know about it) trailed off into the distance to a chorus of “See you later, darling” and “Let's do lunch soon, babe”. SLB eventually made his way to a certain up-and-coming director's house whose name shall remain unknown. Probably forever.

SLB scanned the room of loved-up luvvies and resigned himself to the fact that no one present would be a potential bed friend that evening. Proceedings were about as dull as the last London Gay Man's Chorus concert SLB went to, so SLB headed upstairs to make what turned out to be a rather fateful phonecall to Will. You see, SLB was followed by Dave. Average looking Dave was a leading man in a certain West End show that involved a lot of marching, and a lot of flag waving. Dave, at 20 years SLB's senior, could have been his Father. Dave discreetly slipped into the room after SLB and shut the door behind him. He had a suggestive look in his eyes. Of course, it wouldn't be the first time SLB had got into what one might call a “sticky” situation: SLB remembers being invited back to a well-respected London City architect's house to “look at some plans”. London's persistent rain that night met with the persistent strains of “Let's get you out of those wet clothes” Enough said.

However, tonight, this was a situation he'd prefer not to be stuck in. SLB was forced to say his goodbyes to Will on the phone due to the simple fact that Dave was pulling SLB's shirt up over his head! This unsolicited undressing continued with SLB's belt buckle and jeans. Dave then proceeded to start biting SLB's nipples and “Would you like to be the meat in my sandwich?”. Well, SLB promptly pulled his jeans up, re-fastened his belt, pulled his shirt back down and “No, I would not!” Nor would he like to be referred to as “meat” for that matter. David then outdid himself by waving his own little flag of revolution at full mast asking if SLB wanted to 'wrap his lips around this'. Well, it's not often that SLB turns down a cheeky gob job on a Wednesday night but honestly!

As SLB fled downstairs he was stunned to hear Dave calling behind him, asking if he'd like to me home with him. Well, SLB had been mistaken for a rent boy before, but surely he was dressing differently these days.

When Dave was preparing to leave with the rest of the Desperate Debbie's in tow, another round of “Gotta run” and “Let's have lunch” ensued, and SLB bore the brunt of two rather awkward pecks on the cheek. Let's hope Dave hadn't been to Mexico recently.

Riding the tube was never the same again. Never again could SLB look at posters of a young girl draped in rags without feeling red with rage at what had happened, green with envy at Will, who was sipping cocktails by a pool in Spain at the time, and blue at the fact Dave had a partner. Shame.

The Joe Experience

It was like sliding his willy into heaven. Knowing that he was experiencing the closest form of intimacy with another human was amazing. The feeling was intense. SLB was struggling to control the volume of his expressions of pleasure though, and, wanting to make the experience last as long as possible, was varying the speed of the 'intimacy' between positively pounding and more delicately dancing. It was exhilarating, given the nature of the situation...

SLB should probably mention that the guy he writes here about is not Joe of 'three languages' fame, but Ryan...of 'met three hours ago' fame. You see, things with Joe had moved so quickly, exponentially so, that the entire 2 month relationship had somewhat imploded before it even had the chance to get off the ground. Life with Joe was amazing, but had been rather intense since Joe had needed to move into SLB's two bedroom flat, three weeks into the relationship. So, when the inevitable break-up occured last week (as these things always do when you rush into them) SLB was left with a messy situation, and awful feeling in the pit of his stomach, and an unwanted house guest.

Re-winding to Friday night finds SLB out with friends at Green Carnation, and Joe at home, still staying in SLB's master bedroom, SLB being gracious enough to take the spare room until Joe sorted himself out, inconvenient as it was. While not explicitly on the pull, boys presented themselves to SLB in all sorts of situations, and in these situations, SLB is just a boy who can't say no really, break-up or no break-up. Ryan was an 18 year old who modelled for Chanel. But when it transpired that Ryan still lived at home, SLB did what any self-respecting gay would do, and invited him back to his. SLB didn't have the heart to tell Ryan about his less than desirable living situation, and so, creeping in at 4 in the morning, feigned some long-winded story about his bedroom currently being painted as to why they were heading straight for the guest room and why SLB couldn't offer Ryan so much as a cup of tea. As SLB slid it in, he prayed Joe wouldn't hear them from the room next door...

The next morning, SLB engineered the situation so that Joe and Ryan's paths would never cross. SLB manoeuvred Ryan quickly and quietly out of the house (Sans shower) before Joe even stirred, thus avoiding what would presumably be the most awkward love triangle in existence.

'Joe with a flute' as he would now be known (purely for identification purposes rather than a reference to anything remotely sexual in nature) was now just another boy of the past and had moved out (flute in tow) this weekend just as quickly as he had moved in.

Goodbye Joe. Hello Summer.

The Ins and Outs

So many things we do, we do out of compulsion. Paying tax for one. Or having to put up with painful sex with those who insist on using saliva as lubricant. Or having to take rail replacement buses because the Victoria line can't deal with weekends.

The early stages of a relationship are a bit like taking the rail replacement bus actually: Full of bumps and stops along the way and you never do really know exactly where you are going or if you will ever get there. Stage One involves a lot of flirting, a lot of text messaging, a lot of phone calls and a lot of perfunctory dating. Stage Two involves a lot of sexual intercourse. You know, being shagged 9 ways to Sunday and back again. Stage Three involves a lot of emotional intercourse: The first 'I love you', joy, passion, trust, devotion. Jealousy. You know, if some fat slag tries to squeeze Joe's arse in a bar, then SLB is inclined to spike their drink with a healthy dose of horse tranquilliser. In the straight world this usually equates to some form of physical fight. Women call it chivalry, SLB calls it pugilism.

Anyway, it was all very exciting; SLB had been through all these stages (and more) with Joe in a very short space of time, despite thoughts of Kaleb with a K troubling him recently and potentially blocking SLB from realising how truly perfect Joe was for him. But, SLB knew it was time to leave thoughts of old flames behind (who spelt Kaleb with a K anyway?) and leap out of the frying pan and into the fire again. He felt compelled to do so. Not forced to do so, but compelled. In the good way. And who said that was a bad thing anyway? 'Moving too fast' is an urban myth for those too scared to explore an amazing connection with someone you have a lot in common with. And after another 10 weeks of unfulfilling romps and one-night stands, SLB felt drawn to Joe in a way that transcended even sex. Yes, SLB would venture into a relationship with Joe. His first official, adult, monogamous and mutually exclusive relationship! How darling. SLB would finally be a premiere gay! It was perfect: he could go for brunch every Saturday morning with Joe and they could pay on their joint account. Then they could lie in bed all day Sunday and have sex, and SLB would call it 'Sex Sundays' and Joe would laugh. They could adopt an African baby. And they could have dogs! One each: Liza and Beyonce after their own hearts. They could get a civil union, a mortgage, a house in Highgate, a holiday home in Costa del Sol and a pool boy!

The sky really was the limit. And SLB, full of the joys of Spring, was ready to fly.

Compatability and Pretense

SLB modelled for a life art class this week. He also went for his first date with Joe – an early dinner before Joe had to jet off into the sunset. One ended with nudity. One did not. The point SLB is trying to make here is this: it is not so much what someone does or doesn't do in a relationship (be it sexual or otherwise; long-term or short) but rather their mode of intention and how they execute those intentions. Unrequited love is one thing, but it is an entirely different scenario to say, expect sex on the first date; or lead someone to believe you love them, when you don't; or to convince someone to move across the world for you only to reveal that you were sending mixed messages about the nature of the relationship and hadn't actually fallen for them at all. Hypothetically speaking.

SLB has many admirers for whom he has absolutely no attraction to, but at least he doesn't lead these poor, deluded boys to believe otherwise. There's skanky David, boring Michael, Marc (with his penchant for feet...and stalking), creepy, creepy Jamie, Brandon Flowers, the list goes on...

Aforementioned Joe (of tri-lingual fame), also plays four musical instruments, sings like an angel, has a masters degree, is 6 foot 2 and has eyes that make you forget the time of day. For perfect Joe, SLB has unlimited attraction. And although SLB goes into liaisons with most boys as passionately as if they are both his first and last love, Joe was different. Honestly. At the tube station, before he left, SLB planted a simple kiss on Joe's cheek (the sign of a true romance) and then retired for the evening, a happy boy.

The night contained a steady diet of textual intercourse (par for the course in these early stages) which had the power to advance the relationship several stages without actual interaction and SLB wonders what people ever did without it. SLB has always thought however, that people should exercise discretion when messaging and only advance the relationship one stage at a time before seeing the person in person again. Someone broaching the subject of sex via text message is an altogether vulgar and presumptuous practice quite frankly.

SLB had butterflies from the whole experience. It was funny, every time SLB fell for someone, the attraction always superceded any attraction he previously felt for the plethora of boys before. It had all got very comfortable with Joe very quickly, and SLB was keen to see where this would take him. Hopefully somewhere lush.

If this sounds like altogether familiar territory, well, SLB concedes that he may just be flailing aimlessly around the Earth until Mr Right comes along. But surely, that's all any of us are doing...

"I'm Slutty! Get Me Outta Here!"

SLB slept with someone famous this week. It happened last Sunday (SLB loves drinking on a Sunday. It makes him feel so chic) when SLB went to a friend's birthday at Retro Bar – a kitscher than kitsch little bar owned by an angry lesbian, down a pokey little side street off The Strand. SLB was socially networking his tits off when he ran into X who SLB charmed into buying him his drinks for the evening. X introduced SLB to all kinds of interesting people: Adrian – rich lawyer from Kensington; Peter – who owned property in Leicester Square and Joe – the fit, tri-lingual musician whom SLB fancied above all others. X then bought SLB another drink before popping out for a quick cigarette before they left. Ugh. Smoking was so 80s.

From there, they all trotted over to G-A-Y Late (or V-I-L-E as Will and SLB called it) for the McDonalds of gay entertainment in London. God knows why, but X suddenly started masquerading as straight and married. Well aren't we all dear. But being gay was fashionable these days and X was in a gay bar for goodness sake! In fact, everybody knows that gayness does wonders for a celebrity's public image. A boyfriend (this year's must have) could really boost PR for X. SLB already considered himself to be 'famous by association', but couldn't help fantasise about being the new Colleen and having his very own column in Heat or OK or something. After all, in his advisory role as Slutty London Boy, he really felt like he was giving back to the community from whence he came.

SLB and X stepped out of G-A-Y for some much needed fresh (breathable) air, and yet another cigarette for X. Clearly X was gagging for it, so they slipped into a back alley and X slipped it in. X went at it like a whore on tequila, but SLB has to say that stamina is definitely a plus when it comes to sleeping with celebrities in seedy Soho side streets. Ah sex. Is there anything better?

Who could this mystery celebrity possibly be? Alan Carr, Tom Jones, Gok Wan, Will Young...Cliff Richard? A certain effeminate member of a certain well known UK boy band? SLB knows this hardly narrows the field but he does like to keep his readers guessing...

They returned to the club and didn't speak to each other for the rest of the night.

And then SLB bumped into Joe again, and everything changed...

Chocolate Sauce, Lesbians, and A Bed of Spinach

Was it just SLB, or were a lot of young, up-and-coming gays a bit too 'new age' these days? Too sensitive? A little heavy on the gay side of metrosexual?

Organic gays (Gays love a subculture) attend Flash Mobs; they go to festivals with names like 'Earthdance', and talk in terms of “exchanging energy”. They are likely to delete their Facebook accounts (and their Christian names), convert to Buddhism and backpack around the world on a budget of 20p. SLB knows all of this because he went on a (gasp!) date with one this week. SLB half expected Alex to turn up in flip-flops, with goats in tow and carrying half a bottle of chocolate sauce (for spreading across SLB later, probably).

SLB, a raging hedonist at the best of times, found Alex's minimalistic lifestyle a bit too hard to stomach at first. That, and the pretentious portion of boiled chicken on a bed of spinach leaves. SLB swears that had Alex whacked out a copy of Max Ehrmann's Desiderata and started reciting poetry to SLB, he would have been out of there faster than a whore's jaws in Amsterdam. But, for the sake of mass consumerism, SLB wanted a Valentine, and actually, it ended up being the most perfect evening. After a brisk stroll along Southbank (slight cringe) and a dirty slice of pizza (vegetarian for Alex) in Leicester Square, Alex paid for a taxi back to his loft studio flat that he rented off a lesbian couple...in Shoreditch. Of course.

The place smelled of incense and the sex was good. Good, not great. Alex, for all his tree-hugging, Earth-loving, whale-saving, tofu-eating goodness was hardly practised in the art of “love making” and didn't even clean himself up after the sex! That's not minimalistic. That's just lazy. SLB wasn't sure how to handle the situation (at least offer a shower or a towel...or anything!) but soon fell asleep anyway.

The next morning, Alex read SLB's tarot and told him that their souls were due to be aligned for about the next seven years or so, and that SLB was a very passionate, sensual “love-maker”. That's the problem with these 'new age' boys and their crazy ways, they just say what they are thinking. SLB responded by saying that he didn't think he was “feeling it”anymore and would it be OK if he left now?

Then he went and ordered a double skim latte on soy (no cream) with Zoey and got on with life. After all, that was the 'new age' thing to do, right?

Love and light.

Bond. J. Bond.

SLB met the incomparable Justin Bond last Thursday. Firstly, for those of you who do not know who Justin Bond is, shame on you. Secondly, Justin Bond IS iconic, queer, New York cabaret. He is a superstar who features as himself (or at least one of his stage personas) in the equally iconic and ground-breaking film Shortbus. Justin Bond is never afraid to be himself. Unashamedly, unabashedly, uncompromisingly himself. SLB admired that in performance artists.

SLB was having a drink in the bar of the Soho theatre, having just met up with an actor friend of his, Chris, who was talking about his next fringe venture in Battersea when, wonder of wonders Justin Bond himself sashėd down the stairs and into the foyer. SLB looked up from his vermouth on the rocks to see a vision in sequins breeze past him to the bar. Well of course SLB was on him in a flash and made no excuses about the fact that he was a fan, a groupie, an admirer. Flattery was awfully dull, but Justin Bond was a hot mess, and SLB made exceptions for a limited number of people.

As it happens, Bond had just been in the theatre to scope out the venue for future projects after the wild success of his previous one man show 'Lustre' at the venue last year. And like most performers, in 'real' life, Bond was an incredibly self-deprecating, intelligent, fierce individual: outspoken, yet shy to a degree. Camp, but endearing.

The evening was a coup. SLB learned all about Bond's American exploits with fierce showbiz side-kick Lady J and the equally fascinating transgender nymph, Novice Theory, while SLB in turn educated Bond on his most recent British conquests which Bond found intriguing having lived here himself. They talked about John Cameron Mitchell, Sean Penn in Milk, the Tony awards, political scandal, and the difference between British gays and American gays (which SLB always found to be rather obnoxious).

The drinks were flowing, the stories: outrageous, the humour: revolutionary. In short SLB found the experience of talking with le Bond enlightening and inspiring. It was such a shame then, when SLB had to cut the evening short to make an appearance at Punk. But, Kate Moss was calling.

As SLB left, he remembered the lyrics to a song he had seen Bond sing in New York once when he was there. A cover of Kate Bush's 'Running Up That Hill':

Come on baby, come on darling
Let me steal this moment from you now
Come on angel, come on, come on darling
Let's exchange the experience, oh...

Well what a moment SLB had had tonight. In terms of gays, it doesn't get much more stellar than Justin Bond. Hot!