a quiet week and even quieter weekend


Last week Amy went out with Ramon on Wednesday evening, and Jan on Thursday.  The date with R was arranged on impulse.  He was going to go away on an epic work trip this weekend and remembered he hadn’t been in touch for ages.  She was happy to see him – they get on like a house on fire.  When he said on greeting her that he had had a very good day, much improved on seeing her (corny, but cute), she teased him that he might find simply getting out of bed was an improvement on remaining in it.   They met at a cinema, watched a film with an abrupt ending (Chronic) and went to a vegetarian Indian.  He walked her to her tube stop at the end of the evening and they kissed their goodbyes.   There was a short exchange of text messaging that was warming but the passion of yesteryear was nowhere to be felt.

Similarly with Jan, who cooked Amy dinner and then they went to a gig with his older brother in tow.  It was friendly and pleasant.  After dropping his brother off they talked into the wee hours over a few drams of Highland Park.  She showed him some pictures of where Thorinn had taken her and then he saw a photo of him.  He went quiet for a bit and  she sensed that he might have felt some discomfiture.  But it was only a fleeting moment and forgotten fairly soon after when they talked about other holiday plans.   He mentioned a motoring holiday on the 500 route in the Scottish Highlands and Amy said that would be great.  They are due to meet up just before she goes away, to another gig, this time in Oxford.  She slept over at his and drove home before the motorway got too busy.

This morning Amy received confirmation from Ewan that he was definitely going to make their date, tentatively arranged for the coming Tuesday.   He’s the only one she’s actually having sex with these days.  Having said that, it has only been twice; but Amy found herself aroused during the exchange of messages, although there was nothing risqué in the to and fro.   And she did not tell him.  He’s only seeing her and a few others because there’s no one else available.  But he is interesting and quite good in bed, and uncomplicated, perhaps because he lives about 500 miles away.

Goran said hello on whatsapp but Amy can sense herself feeling less infatuated.  All the same she immediately archived his messages when they finished their short conversation.  She is fairly certain now that by the time she returns from her holidays in May she would have been inoculated against  him, much like how she is with Michael, Pierre, and Max.

My weekend may be
lonely, but I get to choose
what I do with it


A mini blip

There are moments when my thoughts turn to Goran and when they do I might look at his whatsapp status to see when he was last online.  Once when I was looking I saw that he was also online and quickly clicked back, as if he might catch me checking up on him.  Of course he wouldn’t, he’d only see, if he had been checking, that I was also online.  I might be messaging someone else.  Still, I told myself to stop it and archived his messages.  Then it had only been about three days since we agreed to stop seeing each other until I came back from my holiday in May.

Archiving helped because his name was no longer on the screen when I clicked on the app to message anyone else.  And dating and meeting other people who were genuinely poly also took my mind off him.  I was beginning to miss him less and when thoughts of him crept up on me I would remind myself of those few days just before I left for Copenhagen last year and how it didn’t seem to matter to him how I might feel about being let down.  And the lack of reciprocity when it came to meeting up.  So I was able to forget him a little bit more.

But then in the middle of last week he sent me a message asking when I was leaving – and for two days after that the messaging back and forth between us resumed.  I asked him why he had got back in touch and he said he missed me, he also said he missed shagging me. When we told each other about our less than sparkling dates with other people and he related his near disastrous attempt at sex with his missus when he visited her back home I wondered if the real reason for his resuming contact was to make another date.   It seems the ex-girl friend was still lodging until next month when she had booked her ticket to go home and they were following a TV drama series in the evenings together.  He claimed they weren’t having sex with each other – that had never really been an issue for me – he had always maintained that he did not want to mislead her again.  So I asked him if he wanted to meet up that evening but he declined citing how cold it was and how he didn’t feel like leaving the house.  Well, that felt like a real slap on the face!

Consequently when he suggested meeting a couple of days before I was due to catch my flight in three weeks’ time I was not positively pre-disposed towards him.  I took my time in thinking about his suggestion – he then sent another message to say we should pencil in that date in our diaries.  Eventually I decided to make an excuse that my diary was full the week running up to my departure and told him that we should keep to our initial plan of radio silence until my return.  His Oh, Ok speaks volumes I suppose.  I despair at my own petty tit for tat retaliative tactic and remind myself that this was no healthy relationship and that I should trust my instinct which is telling me he was either not that into me or not able to be honest.

The Poet

It was nearer half past one when Amy sailed into the coffee bar, their appointed point of rendezvous.  He was seated by the window and after they kissed their hellos presented her with Don Paterson’s 40 sonnets.  She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she already had a copy.  He graciously got her a coffee and they spent the next hour sharing about their polyamorous experiences.  So it would seem that he never gets jealous apart from the one occasion when his long term partner was chatting to someone in his presence at their home.  He said he got over it.  She was curious to know what he would be like in bed and he took her to Mecklenburgh Square where he had booked a suite at the Goodenough Club, a little haven of luxury known only to postgrads it would seem.

It was an indulgent moment, swiftly decided on, and almost as swiftly, once the deed was done, they parted company – he had a seminar to attend out of London and she was heading to an open mic event in central London.  The next bit of the afternoon was almost surreal when Amy’s friend Douglas messaged her to say that he was chatting to her poet’s current partner and things were getting very fruity between them.  It was quite extraordinary and she almost arranged to meet up with Douglas that evening but the poet had completely exhausted her and rather regretfully, she  gave Douglas her excuses.   They arranged to meet up another evening when she might be perkier.  Sitting in the cafe part of her next venue, Amy caught the masculine whiff of the poet on her hair and clothes.  It evoked the memory of their afternoon tryst afresh and she decided to return home earlier than she had initially planned.

Liam had sent her a message, which rather surprised her since they had met up only the previous evening and he had never been one for keeping text messaging contact.  She sent him a warm greeting and he repeated again that he was looking forward to seeing her in Sydney next month.  During their date last night he had confirmed that he would set aside three days to spend with her and was keen to show her around his adopted city – he had lived there for almost eight years before he got his current position in London.  Although they only met up about once a month, they had been doing this since 2014 and become fairly good friends.  She had wondered if things might ever be anything more but Liam led the sort of existence where his work was his life and very little distracted him away from it. She had been rather envious at the pleasure he derived from this hallowed existence even though a little voice told her that he might also be missing out on everything else life might have to offer.  As was often the case the text messaging did not develop beyond making mundane arrangements as to transport and logistics of meeting up once there.

She was also meeting up with other friends and visiting other places with a few of them and did not begrudge the time they might have together.  He was quite a sweet man and they had always enjoyed their dates in London together.

no valentine this year, but there’s a poem

It’s only 7am but Amy is not expecting flowers or cards, there’s no one she is dating who’ll fall for the commercial giddiness of an ancient practice.  By some lunar coincidence it’s also the seventh day of the Chinese new year and tradition demands that we celebrate our humanity today, by feasting on a salad of raw fish and julienned vegetables.

The dates of the past week have been fun but uneventful.  Ewan took Amy to a venue which was quieter than it normally might have been not only because it was mid week, but storm Imogen was on the prowl.  Still, they had quite a few salacious moments in a swimming pool, and then a log cabin furnished with soft cushions on a raised bed.  By the time they left, it was midnight and the following morning they kissed their goodbyes and Ewan left to catch a flight back up to Inverness.

Transgender dating man was sweet and interesting and took her to the cinema for their second date that week.  When he proposed a third the following Monday, Amy had to turn him down as she had made arrangements to meet up with Liam.  It seems unlikely that they would continue to see each other as she had not been inclined to kiss him properly.

There had been a concert date with Jan, but the following day he was driving up north to spend the weekend with NW who was rapidly becoming a regular GF.  So it had been a friendly date where they listened to some music, made dinner together, went to the concert, came back to his for a couple of measures of Highland Park whisky and woke up the next morning for some more conversation, and coffee and fruit.  She eventually left after wishing him a safe journey and good weekend.  Her day was filled with domesticity until the evening when she could unwind with a bowl of sake and some mindless TV drama.

Last night there had been a delightful to and fro between Amy and an Icelandic poet who is in London for the next few days.  Þórinn (or Thorinn) sent her several poems, of his own and a few from those Persian masters of old.  This is a favourite –

Sometimes I wonder, sweetest love, if you
Were a mere dream in a long winter’s night,
A dream of spring-days, and of golden light
Which sheds its rays upon a frozen heart;
A dream of wine that fills the drunken eye.
And so I wonder, sweetest love, if I
Should drink this ruby wine, or rather weep;
Each tear a bezel with your face engraved,
A rosary to memorize your name…
There are so many ways to call you back-
Yes, even if you only were a dream.                  Rumi

And so they arrange to meet up next Tuesday.  Dr Thorinn has the added advantage of being open to the idea of polyamory and declared that he was going to pen a poem, having enjoyed flirting with Amy whilst listening to music from his youth, which evoked memories of his first love.  His last words to her on the dating site had been –

I am fascinated by your profile photo, you have such deeply intensively intelligent eyes. I want to rub my nose with yours and kiss this mouth, then hold this woman and embrace her, feel her heart beat…