Diary: Travel Fallout

More from the decade-old diary, this entry is from my final year in the desert, just after returning from my first trip to the U.K., Ireland and France

8 February 1999
It seems it is the way to go, to begin writing again at the start of the year. Maybe it has to do with the thought of starting again and so one becomes reflective to learn from one’s mistakes. Of course I am always reflective, though I cannot say that I always learn from my mistakes.

I suppose the main reason that I am writing this is that Tuesdee pissed me off again today, or she was pissed of with me, it is all the same nowadays. I don’t know what to do about it all now. I would like to keep on seeing her but she makes it so difficult to enjoy being around her because she spends her time venting her resentment of my actions or revelling in the things that she has managed to scream at me when she was drunk (what a night that was, I am surprised I didn’t hit the diary sooner). Unfortunately I am beyond caring about what happened because she blames me totally for everything that happened and I see it more as a two sided affair, though when I try to discuss this with her she manages to only hear the times I blame her (either I am still too forceful with my reason or Tuesdee really does only hear what she wants to- in many situations). On top of this she has gave me clear indications in Ireland that she didn’t want me to talk with her about her life (even though she pleaded with me to tell her how I saw her) and I assume that includes the effect I have had on it. So at this point in time I tend not to speak to her at all because whenever I say anything beginning with ‘Why...’ she gets pissed off, I suppose I am supposed to keep purely to the weather and peoples’ health.

As you have probably guessed, and you have no need to because you already know, this all blew up on the trip through Europe, which, by the way was fantastic. It just got to the point that I didn’t want to speak to her and she, I think, didn’t want to speak to me. When it boils down to it we really are not compatible people, she is too much like I used to be and I find that infuriating because she won’t try to change. Yes, I know that that is pure unadulterated arrogance on my part but it hurts me to see her so desperately unhappy and then to absolutely refuse to change when she has admitted herself that it is the only way she will ever be happier. And then she constantly brings up all the hardships from her past which she claims to have survived even though they are so clearly still pressing on her, she is not one to let go of misfortune, instead she clings to it like a safety blanket.

Well, enough about that, anyone would think that I am hung up on her (hmmmm?) and if last year is anything to go by I will be getting back to not writing about her in no time at all. Instead I would like to discuss my trip to England and the surrounding countries, a fair tale that encompasses many of the loose ends that have been hanging from different sections of this electronic tapestry namely, Jo Reilly, solitary travel, oh and of course sex (oh and I can’t forget to describe this years teachers because I get such a laugh out of last years descriptions).

Well, like I said the trip was fantastic (excepting of course all the arguments with Tuesdee). I really couldn’t go into all the details but I adored Paris and all the confusing streets, street names and language barriers. As I look back I have the fondest memories of my trip in Paris and all the guys in the hostel. Met up with Pete and Mel there and saw so many famous art works and buildings. Highlights... Notre Dame at two in the morning on New Year’s day... the statue in the Musee d’Orsay... open air ice-skating and losing my boots behind the counter... staying up drinking red wine in the street...

Went to Stratford-upon-Avon and saw three shows, they were fantastic and the town was absolutely lovely. Stonehenge was cool, strangely mystical despite the touristy feel. Patch-work Dublin and Liz and Michele. Saint Paul’s at night. Running into Jake in all sorts of bizarre places. The Seurat in the National Gallery. The copy of David in the V and A, and the one on Ross’ fridge. Taking the piss out of British television. Taking the piss out of British television programmers. Taking the piss out of Americans. Pannini from that little deli in Republique. Gay clubs that play decent music. The Underground and Le Metro. Buying a porn mag in a Leeds newsagent.

Travelling alone is just so cool, you do actually meet a heap of people and don’t have to spend time alone unless you want to, and a lot of the time I ended up wanting to. Time alone by myself running through city streets at midnight. Expensive meals in Leicester Square... where I met up with Jo and ended up telling her that I was gay it is raining again and I have once more realised how much I will miss this place at the end of this year, the wet thunderstorms and Gershwin... she was really cool with it, I actually felt really comfortable with her from the very first moment we met in London, I connect with her somehow.

Which of course leads me to Ross and that whole mess. Well it wasn’t so much a mess because I tried my hardest to avoid him but that is also why it is a mess. I am surprisingly settled about the whole deal now but I remember a few days around Saint Paul’s feeling alternately joyous and woeful (yet always so very pleased that I could feel such emotions). Of course this all sprung from the fact that with Ross I totally enjoyed sex for the very first time. I adored laying on his chest all night and sucking his cock in the darkness of the morning, I could happily have lay in his arms for hours. Reality of course tells me that I am living so far away and that he uses too many drugs and that I really know nothing about him but all in all I didn’t want to leave his arms. I suppose it is good that I didn’t get too attached and there is always the chance that we will meet when I get to London next year...

Sorry, I will have to write about the teachers later as it is far too late at the moment and I am running low on batteries.

Previous diary entries:
I Wanna Play
Confessions of an Amateur Melodramatist
Before I Sleep a.k.a. Diary Drowsiness
Goodbye 1996!!!
Back To The Bush
How Time Flies
End Of An Era
Kissy Kissy
Diary Tonic
Diary: Losing My Religion Virginity
Diary: May Burst

Tags: diary, coming out, gay