A bigger ending

Meeting M was even more painful than anticipated.

He let me use his shower and shaving facilities, and I took the opportunity to try to reshave my head, as he likes the shaven look. It was not a success because my week's growth of stubble was too long for the razors to cut properly, so the result was uneven with some bleeding.

He served mushroom soup, cumberland pie, boiled vegetables and potatoes fried in goose fat. His cooking was as excellent as before, and I washed it down with too much white wine, making me somewhat drunk.

Sitting on his sofa, he said he wanted me as a friend, on whatever occasions - rare or frequent - I was available. Lying in bed together, he finally said what I'd suspected from the beginning - he wanted me as a lover.

His previous kindness made it very difficult to explain again why I thought that was a bad idea. It had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with me. I couldn't cope with a relationship, because I was still recovering from the end of a very intense recent relationship, and because my life in general was uncertain.

This was broadly true. I didn't tell him I also found him rather dull - kind, helpful, generous, but not a terribly interesting person to be around. In any case, everything I said seemed to make no impression on him. Or conversely, everything he said solidified my conviction that the whole relationship was wrong.

I really didn't want to hurt M. If I'd thought the relationship could be made to work, or could be wound down painlessly in stages, I'd have stayed. In the end, I just said "I can't do it", and he took his arms from around me, and stared into space.

I tried to soften the blow for maybe another ten minutes, talking to him as I got dressed about how he was a good man and it was my messed-up mind that was to blame, but it made no impact on him. He just lay there, as though impatient for me to leave.

At the bedroom door, I asked if there was anything he wanted to say. He said, "Just go".

On the train home I made notes for a possible song about our relationship that never was. At 23:15 I recieved a text message from M: I never want to see or hear from you again. Perhaps this was M wanting to have the dramatic last word. If so, he's welcome to it.

Back in Portsmouth, I walked to my usual cruising area, more because I felt like a walk than sex. I had some brief sex with the one man who was there - he liked to kiss, but his mouth tasted strongly of tabacco.

Back home, I drank 4 large cups of tea, and watched the first half of the Dr Who adventure The Sun Makers on DivX.

I feel two emotions. Guilt that I have hurt M, and relief that it is over.

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