Before going to Spain, I searched the entire CouchSurfing.com website to find people to host me in Madrid, Granada et Barcelona. CouchSurfing.com is not only a website to get hosted for free, it's mostly a website to meet people with whom you could be on the same wavelength. And if you have a depraved and desperate mind like mine, it's good as well to meet guys!!!
So I looked for the profiles of all the gays in Spain and I found some very interesting ones! There's one in particular that caught my attention... A guy from Barcelona, who had, on the pictures, a style that I liked, who had been traveling a bit already, who seemed funny and interesting... It's funny how quick you can imagine that you know or perceive someone just through some pictures and chosen words on an electronic page. You think it can work, you invent stories, you see yourself going with them on holiday, marrying them and even getting mad at them... After nearly 10 years of web dating, I still didn't get it: you can have a slight bit of a preview of someone's personality only by meeting them in real.
So I contacted him but he told me he was leaving to his parents for Easter. We sent each other a few messages and, very quickly, he just stopped answering. So ended my story with the man of my life #16789.
Well no, the predictions of all of these mainstream horoscopes (that is, 2 free horoscopes) didn't fulfill... Yeah, most boring day ever. Not even Mr Pornstache at the gym or a desperate guy on Gayromeo, nothing.
Not raining men!
What the fuck is that?
Not raining men!
Hey men!
My horoscope states, in the free newspaper of this morning, Metro:
Potentially a very dramatic day for your love life, with tears, tantrums and fireworks all over the show. It's certainly not boring but tempestuous emotions aren't a whole lot of fun. An "interesting" day to remember in years to come.
It's already 4.30pm and it's been rather boring so far. I'm waiting, shit free newspaper!
At the sexual health clinic this morning, the doctor asks me what kind of sexual intercouse I had:
- Doctoresse. That was anal receptive?
- Moi. Yes... How did you know?!
I still didn't manage to tell you about my spanish runaway, so I redirect you to the "reader's mail" column of Lola Lopsa, who answers Pénélope La Salope.
I found my vocation: I wanna be a gay bear!
Image credits: Bear Films
Yes, bears don't have to bother about their weight. The fatter, the better! I am then able to cancel my contract with the gym (that will be an efficient way to save money) and dedicate myself to my favourite sport: nutella.
Then, bears don't bother about hairs either. Likewise, the more you have hairs, the more you get to be loved. The days spent spreading hair removal creme all over my buttcheeks are over! (Especially since Mauvaise Langue told me it gives cancer, argh!!)
Finally, bears hate Britney Spears just like I do.
The only problem is that, in order to be a bear, you need to be at least thirty. Before that, you're merely regarded as prepubescent... I'll have to wait. Shit, I had finally found how to reinvent myself! (This is a reference to Burn After Reading.) Maybe I can give this idea to Madonna, who looks like she's lacking some.
When I was 12, I was the only one in the house who could use the VCR. My parents asked me to record Fassbinder's Querelle, a movie that "seemed good" on Arte, the French-German arty TV channel. But when they started watching it, they realised it was a gays movie! Therefore, they stopped watching it and told me I could erase. Fuck that! I watched it on my own, and I wasn't disappointed!
The movie's first erotic scene is between Nono, the bar manager and Querelle, who is a sailor or something like that... The two men play some kind of game and if Nono wins, he'll get Querelle's arse...
So, the first part of the scene:
The credits of that video must be on the website hosting it.
And the second one:
The credits of that video must be on the website hosting it.
So, A the Australian, F the Italian and I were all on our way to the party...
We were already quite drunk and we didn't make things any better once there! Nevertheless, very quickly, F left while Ada, Peter and their friends arrived. We had a lot of fun.
The Australian ("The Aussie" as they call them here in the UK) and I got closer until the transcendental atmosphere pushed us in each other's arms. We finished the party in the chillout room where we talked a lot, until we fell asleep, and then we went home.
It's nice to have someone to see...!
Fuck, meeting someone on Valentine's Day, this is so cliché!!
On Valentine's day, I had to meet two men I had found on Internet. So, I said to myself, let's kill two birds with one stone!
I met A, an Australian (met on Gays.com) at Piccadilly Circus, half-an-hour-late as usual. He didn't know where to go so I suggested to meet up with F, an Italian (met on travelers website CouchSurfing.com), and his girlfriends in Soho. On the way, I encountered the barista of the coffee shop at work, and a french girl met the day before. It is very unusual to meet acquaintances in London streets, given how big it is. I must have seemed so popular!
At the bar, things went pretty well, we all had a laugh, F and his friends were very funny, we had a lot of drinks. Very quickly, we were wasted. (And I was broke.)
We had planned to go raving with Ada and Peter, so I incited my mates to come with me, but only F agreed... although I would have preferred A to! I insisted and he accepted as well. As a result, we went the three of us. On the bus, I encountered Eu, a friend from Boom Festival, who was going to the party as well. That night was really crazy...
To be continued!
That Valentine's Day started well as, that Saturday morning, I received a text message from an old friend, who wished me a good Valentine's day. Mind you, it's the first time anybody wishes a good Valentine's day. He just happens to be in a couple for years, but er... it still feels nice!
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