The ballad of boys

At some point I learned that this world may have been built by people like me but it wasn’t built for me. When young in age and youthful in thought, the world was a wondrous place, people were a passion to be observed, learned and lived yet when it became harder to walk up to someone and simply say ‘let’s be friends’ I felt disconnected and discouraged. Until my late teens I lived mostly a half lived life, living through others, feverishly devouring books about culture when I discovered I was creative, pouring myself into creating clothes, blogging and editing a magazine.

In this time I was dating but somehow with a yawn and isolated distance, looking back to protect myself mostly or maybe I just didn’t know how to be emotional or open, I mean I still ask myself do I now? I’m still in training in that area, consciously aware I’m undeveloped. 

In any case the first man worth a mention has to be he who I dated from 16-19, 30 years my senior (daddy issues? Maybe). I left my mothers house at 15 and to be honest he offered security and knowledge from a life lived, he also served abuse both mental and physical but when you learn to live with someone you swallow all parts of their being and somehow accept what’s on offer. I left after one extreme episode where I was left bloody, naked and lost. My self worth had plummeted to the point of thinking ‘All he can do is kill me’ as he smashed my belongings to pieces an Ikea cupboard he brought for me to furnish my bare council flat, reminding me of his level of ownership over my life. With one last burst of dignity I fought back only to be hit with a hammer cutting my eye, he then proceeded to tear my clothes from my body.... after I was left naked, his rage subsiding mine increasing. I agreed to visit the house of my friend who he believed I was having an affair with and we left my house. Fresh air brought fresh thoughts and as we made his way to his car I ran, I ran around the block and back into my house locking my door, he knocked and knocked and knocked but I knew this was it. He continued knocking for months before finally fading away. 

After that there was a brief fling with a marketing executive 28 to my 20. I needed what he offered, showing me how to live a life simply and enjoy moments made, from hanging with friends at dinners, planning dates and drinking, as boy did we drink. It ended as he needed or wanted something more stable and I started to feel that it only fizzled when it came to sex... After that I danced, drank and slept my way around, cautiously cool and never really that open with my sexual being but still falling into people and out of their beds. 

My first real boyfriend, someone I can say I felt a certain sort of love for, I met on an off chance in Manchester. I was there on a  whim after a friend invited me on a trip booked last minute. He arrived as my friend and I were overly bored from running across town with our host, he was drunk and confused yet brightened up the evening. We slept together that night and I didn’t expect much but that, yet somehow we kept in touch. We talked over Skype and he decided to plan a trip over to London, one of many. He had graduated from law school, but didn’t really know what he wanted and in truth didn’t really understand me but we had something. Young and in love he was dazzled by the big city he wanted to live in and I was appreciative of a feeling I’d never felt. In any case he just wasn’t enough, he didn’t understand me and was quite cold and unsupportive. My anger and resentment came out in mind games and verbal abuse, I hadn’t healed from my previous encounter in truth. It ended just before Xmas a holiday I hated, he didn’t understand why I wanted to be alone on that day and decided that I was attention seeking and called it quits. 

A year and half passed before the next at 23. I met him on the dance floor of G-A-Y Late, his eyes captivated me most, they were large and searching and I found them/ him so goddamn cute. He was with someone we mutually knew but who hated me as he blamed me for the demise of one his relationships with one of my friends. I begged my friend to distract the guy so I could talk to him. He was cold and dismissive and I left it at that. I met him a week later and we exchanged numbers. Before long he was living with me, attending all the fashion events/ launches I was invited to, partying with my friends etc. There was many reasons why this soured, he told me things like I should I get a normal job as clearly my creative work isn’t working.... (I did, selling coffee in a supermarket, I left after a month). He was mostly jealous of my creativity, my friends and my decision to not to live a 9-5 life. He had no passions except watching tv, he allowed my life to become the dominant life, barking if I wanted alone time with my friends yet gladly excluding me from his circle. He relied on me to plan all our dates, book all our holidays yet still belittled me. Before long we were simply nothing more than flat mates, a sexless relationship, he openly flirting with others in front of my face, and found on more than one occasion touching others in a club. We began to resent one another with the final straw being me called to New York by one of my close friends, distraught from a distance at the effect this relationship was having on me. He left as I was on holiday and I returned to an empty flat and a job offer from a high street retailer to looking after their menswear marketing wise. 

This was my last relationship defined in the word and also depth of feelings after him there’s been others but I’m yet to define the flings. 

There’s been: The teacher in training who cheated on his boyfriend with me, then dumped him and ultimately used me as his rebound. He decided single life was best for him. Then there was the writer who applauded my talent that I had put to bed and unblocked my passion for writing. He was cute but anxious and very dramatic, always making problems bigger than they need to be if there was one at all. 

After that there was the actor who was rather intense but still a disconnect, I ended up ghosting him on Valentine’s Day after I posted a status about being single - he begged to differ. In any case he proceeded to hang with my friends and even ended up sleeping with one of them... a lingering presence. 

The Irish boy I dated while I was living between London and Dublin, he introduced me to the world of drag pushing me into The George to watch his favourite, Angelina, a Brazilian drag queen perform. I fucked that one up by being a dick but somehow salvaged something as we became friends. 

Then there was he who I met through another, his good friend. I met the friend of one of the apps and he called me late at night saying hey come to my friends house party which was 10 minutes walk, it was late at night but I went along. When there his friend popped up, I found him hot and charming - an art photographer. We openly flirted in what I must say was a dick move but I couldn’t help the connection. After the party we ended up talking more and more and slowly started dating. It was a soft and sensual something, I look back fondly and favourably of the experience. I’d met someone right at the wrong time, we dated for 6 weeks before I departed for Berlin. 

Berlin so far has two chapters: 

The Russian who I met on Tinder, I proceeded to meet with him in IRL. I knew he was different from the off set, his words and warnings and the way he expressed himself reeled me in. Odd, intense and different. I had never experienced something like this it was extreme and somehow made me anxious, I was usually the one giving more, saying words being that odd ball, here the tables had turned and I didn’t know how to deal. The phone would ring and I wouldn’t answer, I’d be distance in their presence. I was scared of being able to read for once to have someone give something I could take and grow with. It ended due to me not being able to be present. 

Finally it concludes with the German lawyer who found me living in Berlin jobless, mourning the loss of my Nan and confused about what to do and who to become. He was sweet and charming but not my type. He begged to buy me a beer at cocktail’d amore and finally after the fifth time I said ok cool. I shared a cab with him as he dropped me home, there was no allusion to sex or anything along those lines and all I could think was ‘how sweet’. We exchanged numbers and talked, he called me on my birthday to wish me well despite knowing me a week. He also helped me file unemployment papers and translated letters, when I thought I couldn’t continue in Germany who he made it easier, Depression was heavy burden to carry and Honestly he took care of me. He was patience and caring and I believed in him, I thought hey he’s different from the fuck boys of the past. He would get me up and out of my house, introduced me to his friends, planned things to do. As I came back to myself he told me he was seeing an ex still and that he still felt feelings, he dangled me along for a while, me grateful for him being so nice and helping me heal, before I decided that behind the mask was a man that was quite ignorant, bull headed and actually dismissive of my lived experience. A privileged/ sheltered cis-gendered white male. I walked away bruised.  

Now I’m here, hoping for a rounded experience. Growing tired of the tinder and Grindr experience, yawning at being praised in clubs simply as a way to get me into bed. A romantic in a community that values thrill over persona, quick fixes over long long-lasting experiences. I’m trying to navigate choppy waters and land on pure shores. A rounded experience from a kind, cool and understanding man.