Posts Tagged ‘tattoo’

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the one.

January 28, 2010

The most honest and one of the most difficult things that I have come to realise about the whole Mike situation (read back if you don’t know, although this entry will no doubt catch you up more or less anyway) is that he is The One.  Not that I actually believe in the concept of “the One”: I find it extremely improbable that out of the billions of everyone on earth, there is only one single person with whom you are meant to be happy.  I don’t believe in God, so I don’t believe in that sort of destiny or pre-determined fate.  I don’t find it logical in the sense of considering issues like gender, sexuality, race, religion, culture, even people of different languages?  I mean, what if my one meant-to-be person happened to be a female homophobic person from a tribe with their own language, living in the middle of the African desert?  I’d be more than a bit screwed, and it’s an unlikely match to start with.  So I don’t believe that there is one soulmate.

So let me clarify: when I say that Mike is “the One”, I mean that in my 24 years of living, he is the most important and closest thing to a soulmate with whom I could imagine spending my life with, that I’ve ever met.  Of course, he’s straight, he’s 11 years older than me, he’s married, he’s a father – so again, it’s not going to happen.  Last week we were discussing our feelings, the situation and so forth, and he said “I truly wish I could reciprocate your feelings.”  That meant a lot to me, and what else could I say but be honest and reply “I wish you could too”? I know that if things were different and he could be with me somehow, we would do it and that would be it, end of story, happily ever after thankyou very much.  But things aren’t different, and I ended the conversation with “In another life, maybe.” and left it at that, and proceeded to talk about other, less serious things (and I later got very drunk, vomited over a bridge near a swan and then stayed at T’s place).  Nevertheless, that discussion will be one of the many things that I never forget about Mike – there are so many even after just 5 months of knowing each other.  And before you say it, I don’t know if I believe in reincarnation either, but my mind is a little more open to that than the “one sole soulmate in the world” concept.

After starting the week with some insecurities over my friendship with the third member of our little love triangle (which were proven unfounded – I overthink things, misinterpret little subtle gestures and take them far too personally), I’ve made a real effort to be the best friend I can be to both Mike and V, and to focus on my burgeoning friendship with T.  Things look good, and although I’m not really comfortable at letting someone get close to me in a more-than-friends way, I’m starting to feel a little more at ease with it.  I’d still like to slow down the pace somewhat, but I enjoy spending time with him and I feel so flattered that he appears to think so much of me.  I’d be a fool to just throw that away, and I’m glad (most of the time) that I haven’t.  He’s a really good guy, so why not see if it leads somewhere?  My feelings for Mike are there and I acknowledge that, but there’s no need for T to know about them because that would just cause needless questions and possible hurt.  I am glad to say that I consider Mike one of my closest, best friends, and everything I’ve been through and we’ve been through has ultimately contributed to that rather than broken it down, which I think is testament to the both of us.

I spent the day with Mike today as we walked his son up and down Bristol docks on the train tracks (he educated me about trains, I taught him about raspberries), got Mike’s first tattoo (it looks fantastic, and watching him get inked up was a tiny bit sexy but mainly really interesting – as well as enthusing to play off his jubilation when he saw it in the mirror and was so happy – just like my reaction!), booked my second tattoo – the revolver – for next week (arrrrgh here we go AGAIN! No doubt I’ll post up the picture just like with the first one 😉 ), spent time with his family, had chilli and smoked lots, and watched Snow White with his son.  I was so privileged that they wanted to spend time with me – not just Mike, but his whole family – and that really means a lot to me.  He is one of my very best friends, and I hope to death that that is something that never changes, because losing him would be a catastrophe.  I feel close to his son, his wife is absolutely lovely, and although sometimes I feel that it might be weird considering the way that I feel about Mike, I adore watching his family interact (especially considering my own family’s ups and downs in terms of emotional push and pull) and feeling as if I am part of them.  Knowing his wife so well, rather than infuriating me in terms of “damn, you got my man first!” (I occasionally feel that, but really very rarely), seems to normalise me and I don’t think of Mike romantically so much when I’m in his family’s presence – it’s just not appropriate and doesn’t enter my head.  He’ll always be a sexy man, he’ll always have a sexual magnetism for me, but in that kind of situation the pull is less.  And considering my possible relationship with T, my close friendship with Mike which I don’t want to jeopardise, and the many ways in which my romantic feelings are inappropriate, whatever minimises my attraction to him is welcome.

So I hope that T and me work well, I hope that Mike and me are best friends for many years to come (as well as tattoo buddies!), I hope that I can always feel comfortable with his family and that they can always feel comfortable with me.  Within one month of 2010, I’ve got one tattoo, one on the way, a possible new boyfriend, and I’m working on passing my driving test – all with strengthening my bond with Mike.  I sense a lot of positive accomplishments to come, and that makes me really happy. 🙂

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creepin’.

January 21, 2010

So I’ve been seeing T for two and a half weeks now, and I’m slowly starting to get over my apparent fear of being with someone and letting someone in.  I had some fantastic advice from a multitude of friends, which was just to take things as slowly as I feel comfortable (and verbalise this if necessary, though I haven’t felt the need to yet), and not to feel guilty about not wanting to rush nor about keeping this blog private from him, because this is all very new and I don’t have to reveal every facet of myself right from the jump.  I think that it makes sense to keep some stuff back for me.  I’m still scared of what happens in the future, but as long as I just deal with right now, that’s fine for the moment.  Mike, astute as ever, said that “you seem to enjoy being with him a lot more than you enjoy the thought of being with him”.  I took that to heart, because it’s totally true, and realised that as long as I don’t overthink any of this dating / seeing each other / relationship etiquette, then I can enjoy myself and just relax.  I guess that I just get scared of calling someone my “boyfriend” and someone calling me the same, giving us that status and that link, with which comes a whole load of responsibility that I don’t really need to be dealing with just yet.

So we’ve been seeing a lot of each other, eating, drinking and getting jiggy.  It’s all good and I’m enjoying the cuddles, the conversations, the various excursions and my growing competence at Mario Kart Wii.  But between seeing T and socialising with my other friends (I had a wonderful afternoon of epic shopping and eating with Karina on Tuesday) I’m not spending much time at home with my parents.  I have absolutely no problem with this, but I feel like not only is it obvious that I don’t really want to spend time with them, but that I have to lie about who I’m with when it comes to T.  I mean, the past few days I’ve dropped his name to introduce a new person to my mother’s ears but inevitably I have to make up excuses about who I’m seeing or where I’m going.  When I got my tattoo done, I was “meeting Deena”.  When Mike & I were going to the tattoo studio to book my next one / enquire about his first one, we were “going to uni”.  When I stayed over at T’s house a couple of weeks ago, I got “carried away watching Gavin & Stacey at Hannah’s house”.  I’m 24 years of age and I feel I have to lie, not only about the fact that I might be having actual sex with an actual boy, but about simple, innocent things just to save questions from my parents on things about which they either would disapprove, or which they are suddenly intrigued by.

The logic of all this is based on my parents’ “all or nothing” approach. Usually, they couldn’t give a fuck about me, but occasionally they hitch upon an idea, a friendship or a thing I’ve started to do regularly, and interrogate me about it.  I think they think that they are showing interest, but I would rather they left me alone.  If they genuinely cared, they would ask me how I am more often, and make more small talk to find out how I’m feeling and what I’ve been doing, rather than suddenly remembering to ask every blue moon and then deciding to catch up on each facet of my life.  Most of the time they respect my privacy, but I have to lie to protect myself from the moods they have when they feel like being beyond nosey.  It’s self-preservation.  I remember mentioning Mike around the house when we first started being friends in September / October.  It wasn’t until just before Christmas that my mother dared to ask me a little bit about him, despite the fact that I saw him most days and sometimes he’d pick me up from home and we’d go and have a drink, smoke and a chat (one time this happened, my father stayed up until I got home at midnight, and then promptly went to bed as soon as I got in the door – why?!).  My parents both blatantly thought that I was having an affair with him, despite the fact that he is married with a child (something I’m sure I mentioned quite early on).  And yet, suddenly after Mike says hello to my mum when he drops me home one afternoon, she can’t stop asking about him! “How’s Mike’s road with all this snow and ice?” “What’s Mike’s surname?” “Have you heard from Mike?” “It’s really good of Mike to pick you up and drop you home.” I feel like, why are you suddenly interested?  You’ve gone from one extreme to another, it’s totally unnatural and invasive, and to be honest I preferred it when you just kept your mouth shut and ignored me, no matter what you thought of me.  I don’t like having my privacy invaded (one reason why I guess I’m finding it hard to adjust to this whole dating business) and yet I feel I have to answer these questions (followed by swift exit once I sense a barrage approaching) because I’m the son and she’s the mother; because I’m living under her roof (although I pay rent and am therefore entitled to take refuge in my room); because I haven’t done anything wrong and therefore have nothing to hide.  But I feel it’s unfair that when she is in a mood for whatever reason – even if it’s nothing to do with me – she will not speak even to be civil (which I think is childish), and yet I’m not allowed to have my privacy and I’m not afforded the same privilege of silence when I don’t want to talk.

So I’ve decided, sadly, that it’s easier just to lie and conceal certain things I’m doing and people I’m seeing to avoid the possibility of my parents taking interest.  I don’t care what they think about me being out all the time and going to my room as soon as I get in the door.  I don’t want to eat my father’s identikit hot cooking, I don’t want to watch TV programmes in which I have no interest (I am not able to watch anything unless both of my parents have gone to bed) and I don’t want to have to constantly listen out for conversations where I might be required to take part, only to have my point of view ignored or refuted.  I have my lovely friends, I have a decent job, I like uni, I enjoy seeing T, I’ve got plenty of positive things in my life.  I no longer need them to keep me down.  That’s why I’m creepin’.

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what we want.

January 8, 2010

It’s funny how what we want, on a smaller scale, changes. Presumably, nearly all of us ultimately want to be happy; it’s a basic thing.  But the little things, the goals we seek to accomplish on the way to that happiness, are different for all of us.  I was on the bus stop on Tuesday on my way to Starbucks, and I got into conversation with a guy who’d been waiting there for ages.  He was telling me that he had belated Christmas presents to deliver to his sister’s daughter, who lives across town. Because apparently he didn’t have much money (his brother owed him some but wasn’t paying him – bla bla) he couldn’t get what he wanted to buy, which was a pair of Timberland boots.  I get the impression that his niece was young, because he said that the following year, once she outgrew the boots, he would have had them dipped in gold (and then proceeded to tell me about how they freeze the boots in liquid nitrogen before dipping them in gold).  In my head I was furiously thinking that that was horrendously tacky (which it is), but looking at the man’s face as he was talking, he seemed so excited about the idea that it was genuinely sweet.  He really wanted it.  And if that made him happy, and it would make his niece happy, then who am I to judge his dream?

If I were to make a quick list of things that I want in the next year or so, I could go for ages and into specific minutia of jewellery, as well as vague wishes and hopes.  But concrete things that I would like, that I think are possible to achieve, and that would help me on the way to “happiness”, would be:

  • A good, decent boyfriend for whom I can wake up enough to appreciate him.
  • Passing my driving test and getting a car.
  • Finishing my careers guidance course and getting a job that enables me to have my own place.

I think that’s it really! Although sometimes I focus so much on these things that it feels like nothing that I have is ever enough, I appreciate that I have some really fantastic friends (it took me long enough to acquire them but in the last year alone, I’ve made three or four new bffs!), I am sorta good-looking and I lost plenty of weight so that apart from when I am having a little crisis, I know I am not fat.  I have nice things, including designer jewellery, decent technology and a wardrobe with which I am satisfied.  I have a pretty good singing voice, and the ability to make my own music and for that I am blessed, because even if it’s not on a grand scale, I have the tools to realise my own dreams.  And as you know, I finally got my tattoo!  None of this precludes me from wanting to improve or revolutionise all of these aspects of myself, but as things stand now, I am satisfied and I have made progress. My dissatisfaction just comes from a desire to keep moving and growing!  But in terms of goals, I only have those three main ones I listed at the top.

Mike told me that more than anything right now, he wants to move away from central Bristol to somewhere a little quieter, with more green space.  I can’t understand it myself because I’m the total opposite, but then he has a wife and child, he’s had a different upbringing, and so he has different things that will make him happy.  It’s really important to him in the next few months to achieve his dream.  I have a friend who is hoping to be successful in his new job application, another who wants to do really well in her finals at university, and one more who is on the next step to realising her dream of becoming a doctor – a journey which has taken her a really long time.  I admire everyone who has goals, because I think it’s goals that make us get up in the morning, work that little bit harder and keep it moving.  Looking at my parents, a generation older than me, and I don’t know if this is because relations between us are kinda tenuous at the moment, but I couldn’t tell you what they want.  I mean, they have done well for themselves in life, but I can’t imagine that at 50 years old, you suddenly just become satisfied with everything you have.  Isn’t it part of the human condition to always want something?  Again, by that, I think we all want to be happy ultimately, and we don’t stop on the quest for that happiness – but doesn’t everyone want at least one thing that puts them that bit closer to being happy?  I can’t imagine that changing with age… I hope that although I can always appreciate what I have, that I never feel completely satisfied… to me, that is a kind of complacency and I always want to be striving for more, for better, to be the best that I can be.  Tyler Durden in Fight Club said that that was a form of masturbation; the Army uses it as their motto; but I really want to be the best.  Not by anyone else’s criteria, but by my own – an even taller order.  Game on. 😉

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destiny fulfilled.

January 6, 2010

Remember this? Post – tattoo your name across my heart. (27th Nov 09)

Well, now look at this:

I did it y’all!  Got my tattoo, and I’m so so pleased with how it’s turned out.  I’m going to have to be careful concealing it from my parents (they will be unimpressed / freak, and god forbid my nan ever finds out) and I think I will have to give up the sunbed for a while (and once I do, I will be covering it up!) but I’m really happy.  This morning Bristol (among other places in the UK) was landed with a fair covering of snow, and I was furious because I’d been anticipating this tattoo since November!  So I was angrily refreshing the bus services page (roll on passing my driving test) and as soon as I saw some services were running, I went straight across town to the tattoo parlour, informed them I was early (they were going to shut early anyway) and that I’d be hanging around the area so I could pop in any time during the day.  About an hour later (2 hours earlier than originally anticipated) I was inked up!  It was murder getting home in the snow, but so worth it – I’ve had nothing but positive comments (thankyou 🙂 ) and enquiries about the pain (it was painless! just a pressurised buzzing against my skin).  I’m so happy… will think carefully before I commit to getting a little gun on the other collarbone (symmetrical), but this will do me for now.  I was understandably a tiny bit nervous sitting in the office while the tattooist was setting up, but I’d come too damn far to turn back and I felt that I wanted to embody the edginess I’ve been more in touch with lately.

Many thanks to Ben Boston and the Tattoo Studio on Gloucester Road – they are friendly, professional and really put me at ease and explained the whole process. I was recommended them by friends, and I can now recommend them myself.

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edgier.

December 10, 2009

Having been on my new university course for 3 months now, and having made some really close friends who are generally a few years older than me (my closest friends on the course are 33 and 35), I’ve really been able to see how far I’ve come as a person.

Looking back at myself even 4 months ago when I had only started writing this blog, I knew myself, but myself was unsure and nervous.  I felt as if I was in a rut professionally after graduating with a good degree from a prestigious university, personally I had had “friends” who turned out not to be friends at all slander me and accuse me of things (theft, bullying) that I had and have never done, and would never do in a million years.  I took it all on the chin and just had faith that things would get better, but I knew in my heart that I didn’t know what would happen.  Would this careers guidance course be the right decision for me?  What was going to happen to me?  Had I peaked already in my life?

The answer to that last question, now I see, is an emphatic NO! Obviously I was only 23 (now 24) and to paint myself as an underdog who had it all and then lost it was more than a little unfair to myself.  I now know that I have so much going for me, so much to offer, and I am not an ugly or stupid person no matter how much certain people may endeavour to make me feel that about myself.  I deserve the best, and with this new qualification, new friends who seem to value me for me from the jump, and new confidence, I feel that I can get the best.  Once again, I’m back on track, and more than anything I’m so relieved.  I may paint myself as confident and assertive – and I am those things – but underneath I still get nervous and insecure.  Now, I finally see that I really am worth more.

I guess it’s a part of natural evolution.  I’ve grown up a lot, and although it took pointing out, I am older than my years.  I don’t feel out of place hanging out with 30-year-olds, because we have the same mentality and experiences.  People generally have trouble guessing my age (I still get ID’d for buying cigarettes on the one hand – which makes Mike LOL and envious at the same time!; on the other hand, a couple of people on my course originally thought I was late 20s because of the fact I can articulate myself and hold my own in discussions), but although I may tease my colleagues at university about receding hairlines, wrinkles and old age, I don’t feel any difference between us.  Aaliyah really had it right – age ain’t nothin’ but a number.  Usually it correlates to maturity, but not always.  At the end of the day, people are people, and we are all human.

These are things that I already knew to be true, but having them held up in front of me has forced me to accept these things as positives about myself.  It’s finally really sinking in.  And the truth of who I am as a man, as a human being, is finally coming out.  This is what I wanted to write about really, but it took the backstory above to get there! (Sorry… but I always give you the main course – no snacks here!)  I thought that I was an adult after university (by which I mean my undergraduate degree at Oxford), but it took me a bit longer.  Working at the Perfume Shop gave me a taste of the hard grind, working for not enough money and being treated like I didn’t have a brain (the saving grace was superficially decent friendships and getting to work with fragrance and deepen my knowledge of it).  My newer job at the hospital has made me see how people can be valued in their work, both monetarily and in terms of being treated like an intelligent human being.  My new course at university has helped me see what I really want to do, and now having that thrust forward has completed me and erased some of my doubts (not all, but some is certainly a step forward) about my future and my life’s purpose.

As things around me have been moving in the right direction, so I’ve been able to spread my wings and become more of who I am.  I love smoking – I’m not a moron and I know it’s not good for my health nor my voice, but I enjoy the feeling from it, the fact it kills time, and the socialising aspect of it – I think it goes hand in hand with being confident and conversational, as you often get approached by people who want a light / spare fag, and you end up conversing with strangers because you share an appreciation of nicotine!  In turn, smoking has reduced my hunger (allowing me to stick to my no-evening-snacking policy) and I’ve dropped a waist size – people at uni have christened me “good looking”, “pretty boy” and lots of other complimentary things referencing both my physical looks and my fashion style. I feel more confident in and out of my clothes – although I’m such a perfectionist that I’ll never be satisfied!  But looking at my vanity and my past issues with my own body and self-esteem, I’ve come a long way.  I feel happier in my skin physically as well as emotionally – and I’m feeling more confident to express the edgier, darker sides of myself which set me apart from others.

After years of deliberation, changing my mind and refining my ideas, I’m finally set on getting tattoos!  One is a stylised A, which you can see here; the other will be above my left collarbone mirroring it, and will be a gun.  I’ve been inspired by Rihanna‘s gun tattoo, but I want it because to me a gun is a symbol of strength and power, of aggression and conflict, of edginess and darkness.  These are all things that I embody – I am tougher than some people initially assume, and I want an emblem of that grit and fire.  I feel it’s applicable to me, and also quite exciting and sexy.  And whereas before I might have balked at the permanence of a tattoo like that, now I feel mature and comfortable enough in myself to be able to wear it and pull it off.  This is me – maybe I’m a good boy gone bad, but I still have a good heart; I have just spent too long in my life pleasing others, and now I’ve finally lunged for myself with this course and am reaping the rewards much more than I ever did listening to other people’s opinions on what was best for me, I believe in my own capacity to make decisions.  I’m not an angel, I’m not a good boy, and I’m tired of portraying that.  I am me and I have a good heart and an intelligent mind, but sometimes I enjoy being provocative or sexy or pushing the boundaries.  That is just as valid a part of me, and my new friendships embrace that part of me too and love me for it.  My infatuation with a married man who has become my best friend and is actively ok with my affection and flirting and actively returns it has been a revelation to me.  We understand each other, we can control our affections (he feels the same way about someone else) and be mature adults, but we also have fun with it – we accept each other and I never felt so comfortable to be able to be so emotionally honest with someone I knew would accept me for who I am. From him I learned what it is to be a good father, a good husband, a good man, and also that whatever I’m feeling, I am a rational person and I should never feel guilty for my feelings.  I should never feel stupid, and the sign of a good friendship is being able to admit how you’re feeling and that other person accepting you for it and not telling you it’s wrong or silly.  Again, these are things I superficially knew, but feeling and living them is a whole other revelation.  I hope that my friends can one day think of me in the same way.

So my embracing my dark side instead of being afraid of it; my becoming edgier is a natural emancipation, a natural evolution of me.  I am free to be who I am, and I am proud of who I am.  I’ve felt ashamed, even in small doses, for too long.  It took a long time to get here, and I’m sure in the future I will still make mistakes and waver, but hopefully I can come back and read this post and remember my feelings right now, and that’ll keep me going.  Once a good boy goes bad, we’re gone forever – but I wish I’d gone sooner and I look forward to where I’m going and whom I’m going with.

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tattoo your name across my heart.

November 27, 2009

UPDATE: the finished article! : destiny fulfilled.

This is what Phill & Mike think I should do, because they are jokers.  Seriously speaking though, I am considering getting a tattoo.  It’s something I have always wanted to do, but it’s also something I have been somewhat reluctant to do because in the past, I’ve had ideas for designs and then changed my mind for a variety of reasons – I think that it is something that you really have to think through carefully.  Is it going to hold its meaning through the years? Is it in a place where you can hide it when necessary (e.g. job interview, angry grandparent)?  Is it personal and unique, or something that every Tom Dick and Chavvy has? Will the colours fade and the tattoo look tacky in time? These are all primary considerations for me – the pain doesn’t bother me at all (I have a high pain threshold, and I have had multiple injections in the roof of my mouth – WITH A NEEDLE before you get any ideas! 😛 – so I am not really afraid of needles nor pain. I can stand it).

So with that all said, I’ll unveil what I’m thinking off.  At the top of my right collarbone / shoulder, about an inch high (maybe less, but about that – so fairly discreet), I want an A. Because that is the first letter of my name.  Simple, personal (I am unlikely to change my name) and effective!  But not just an ordinary A! I toy about with various ways of writing my name during moments of boredom, and a few years ago I found a way of writing the ‘A’ that I like:

Ok, so you need to imagine this with the lines being straight as opposed to wiggly and uneven, and it would just be the solid black in the middle without the feathered edges, but you get the idea.  I think it looks edgy without trying too hard, and it is personal and unique without being outlandish or silly.  Simple, but effective – in other words.  On top my shoulder, its somewhere I can keep it hidden from people (and easily show-offable), but it’s not in your typical lower back / upper back / bicep region which could be passé / common.  I am quite excited – although it’s still only a plan I have and I haven’t made any kind of appointment, I know exactly where I would go to get it done, who to speak to (friends have recommended me), and Mike says that he’s up for going with me.  So it may well happen! Plus, since it’s just in black and not too big, it shouldn’t be too expensive.  I like this plan.

I just hope that a) when my mother / grandmother eventually sees it (which I know ultimately will happen), they won’t freak out too much; b) they will respect my right to choose to do what I want with my body.  I won’t feel guilty about getting it done, but I will feel sad about hurting their feelings, so I just hope that they will be mature enough to not let their feelings get hurt 😛 c) I don’t think it can be confused with anything stupid that I have somehow overlooked.  So it’s all systems go!  What do you think?