Romantic Interlude

On Saturday night my friends saw me talking for hours about philosophy and politics with a strange man, then getting rather drunk with him, and us leaving together - me reappearing the following afternoon. In between, a lot of talking, a little sex and a lot of cuddles.

He's a lovely guy and I really like him. In fact he's exactly the kind of man I always fall for - red hair, quite tall, something of a bohemian, hurt by life, intelligent but with a certain wide eyed lack of cynicism about political matters. I always fall in love with damaged dreamers.

But no, a relationship just isn't possible. Quite apart from living a hundred miles apart, he's a straight man who only discovered a gay side that night. It would be too much of a leap. We swapped telephone numbers, but I've got a feeling I'll probably never see him again.

Oh well, life is a stream of missed opportunities and bad timing. At college I was hopelessly pursuing R while P slowly fell for me - before I met C. At university I spent a year trying to make B feel about me the way I felt about him - but he wanted someone else, who didn't even like him. I threw away one relationship to be with S, who turned out to be an alcoholic. I let myself be persuaded that the gypsy lad E would lead me into a life of unhappy crime. I fell for D while he was still pretending to be straight, three years before he found the man of his dreams.

Perhaps I'll write a song about the man I knew for one night in London.

A lot more happened at Marxism, and I'll write about that next, when there's more time.


  1. Holy crap, for a second there I having a panic attack. All those letters... it's like algebra class coming back to get me.

    If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?

  2. Alright, perhaps I should've asked at what end of the 30 something scale are ya at. I swear the obvious goes right by me sometimes.

  3. I am 35. And don't worry about missing the obvious - most of my education consists in being shown the staggeringly obvious behind the cloud of conventional belief.

  4. ... The one you love is almost always the one who cannot love you back... I'm looking at myself on a large mirror...

  5. I use to do all that A, B, C stuff until I got tired of my own shite and allowed myself to love someone who loved me deeply, but who I initially though was not my type.

    Almost 7 years later, it turned out to be the best decision I ever made.

  6. The last time someone loved me, it scared the shit out of me, and I did what I'd previously promised myself I'd never do - tell someone that I loved them without being sure.

    It didn't end well, though the irony is he and I now make much better friends than lovers. Which is the way Kapitano's relationships generally go.

  7. Oh, that guy was me.... sorry I forgot to introduce myself.

    You rocked my world tho.


    Wait.... that wasnt me at all.

    Damn it.

  8. Heh. It's always embarassing when you get your lovers mixed up.

    I remember once walking dejectedly along the street, thinking of how much I missed B, and wishing he could be there with me.

    Then I suddenly realised...I couldn't remember his name. I struggled for half an hour, thinking of all the times we'd had together, trying to bring his name to the surface. It was a very disquieting feeling.