Ik heb penis angst……

21 Aug

Why did I take a wrong turning into the red light district on match night?

This sums up my life, it would seem I have a habit of taking a wrong turn in general and wind up in places the likes of me really shouldn’t be. My worse nightmare is quiet literally a load of scantally clad women licking a window with both their mouths, and a sea of men dressed badly in orange. Combined is just hellish – I found myself picking up the pace clutching my bag and my wine. It had been a very long day and the last thing I needed was this.

I had a Carrie moment today where something struck me, this thought will bear down for an episode (or in my case a week) and it will be my mantra. When we are newly single, we can only be described as a black hole, sucking anything in the form of attention towards it, subconsciously trying to fill the gap that was your relationship – this would explain one night stands, dating people who aren’t anywhere near your type, and the constant need (especially in my case) to text and dwell on previous partners. Now I am single, I speak to all of my ex’s on a weekly basis, some conversations cross that line of ‘friendly flirting’ and leap whole heartily into the sext-ing part of texting. I always seem to develop a case of post relationship cock fright, it is that bad I have even learn how to say it in dutch.

Ik heb penis angst.

Now I am not sure if this is a scientific phobia, but I have seen it on Geordie Shaw, so I know that I am not the only person in the world to be a little concerned by the one eyed monster. It would seem that I could only go with something familiar……and sometimes familiar becomes a security blanket this 20-something gay man could do without! Like most phobia’s, you have to look your demons in the eye and swallow…..and perhaps in this case the literal sense of the phrase would do me a world of wonders!


Three phrases no gay man wants to hear….

21 Jun

There are two phrases you never really want to hear from your ex that you still have feelings, well actually 3 now I think about it –

1) I am in habitat shopping with my boyfriend

2) I am going to a sex shop with my boyfriend

3) I am marrying my boyfriend

Luckily I didn’t have to deal with the third, but having the first followed by the second comment was a kick in the balls. I knew to save myself further from painfully longing to be with him and consuming the several bottles of bubbles in my fridge I would have to go cold turkey on most of my social media. Now you may think I am over reacting more than I usually do, but hear me out on this one.

Number 1 – if your ex is shopping with his partner for furniture, it is often a sign that they are overally smug in their relationship and if at this point they aren’t living together then they are certainly talking about it. I am always that guy in the furniture store who is by himself, and somehow you seem to get treated differently by the store staff. Perhaps they are that little bit extra helpful to you because they know you have the painful journey of getting all of your purchases home somehow and have the tricky task of assembling that wardrobe by yourself.

Number 2 – if your ex is shopping with his partner in a sex shop, it means that he is having amazing sex and want to spice it up either further. Or they are topping up on their lube cabinet because they are fucking like rabbits on heat,  they have ran out. An image of my ex I really don’t want in my mind, unless of course it is with me. Granted that sounds borderline stalker and ever so slightly narcissistic but you get where I am coming from.

And this leads me to……

Number 3 – if they are doing the above, a proposal is surely going to be on the cards soon enough.

As this thought dawned on me, perhaps it is time that I need to move on and stop reflecting the past and chasing after those ex’s who at the time were ever so perfect and cut them out. If weeds are left to fester, no matter how beautiful they are, they soon overrun your garden. Looking at my garden, I have been overrun by them and it might be time to reach for the weed killer, which metaphorically speaking is the delete button on my phone!

Carry on dating?

29 May

I find myself hungover once again, daring not even to venture out of the flat to see daylight I stay in bed, looking like a vagabond. No one needed to see my sorry state, so having a hermit day would make it a lot easier for everyone – myself included. Wrapping myself up in my favorite Carvan jumper, I loose myself in yet another tv series for a few hours. I had a horrible feeling in my stomach, I knew I had done something socially awkward last night but I wasn’t quiet sure what – waking up next to an empty bottom of Origina in my bed, and finding a framed photo of some random building from 1905 in my bag was only the start of it. I was too scared to even look at my phone, had I rung my ex last night or had I come on to ‘hot chris’ from the office, knowing full well he had a man back in London waiting for him? No, from some bizarre reason I had told a friend I fancied him – the text looked like it had been written by the teenage version of me; awkward and inexperienced. Did my drunk alter ego crave for attention, or was it trying to tell me to get back into the dating game?

Amsterdam is indeed full of very tall, hung, beautiful men – however I was yet to pull one. True I am newly single, in an exciting new city and am taking this adventure by the horns, but was I ready to add dating into this cocktail? The London gays had informed me that my ex was back on the dating wagon, cruising on tinder and grindr – and god only knows what else. Should I too take the route of so many and try online dating? Most gay men, unlike their hetrosexual counterparts are usually just after one thing, your dick and/or your ass – the scene can be more like a meat market and sadly not always filled with disco balls, glitter and creative men draped in designer labels wanting to settle down. Online dating, is a meat market on steriods – no gay dating profile is complete without a topless selfie taken in the gym, or your bathroom and a cock shot. Perhaps I am giving gay dating sites a bad name, is it more of a negative projection because I am nervous about the thought of dating again and opening up to someone? My head puts on my best Carrie Bradshaw voice as I start lecturing myself in romance and the notions of love at first sight – love at first site can’t come from pixels from a computer screen surely? Or can it? I guess if Shakespear was alive today, he would be writing sonnets about Grindr, and perhaps Romeo met Juliet on tindr instead of a party. Would this then change the ideals of romance and love, and indeed challenge my perception of it all? Either way I need to bite the bullet at some point, but there is no rush.

insta-crack and dating

27 May



The summer of Amsterdam, like most things seems short lived – the rain now has settled in over the city and I have a feeling it won’t be going anywhere soon. I find myself on my sofa, slurping on a near boiling cup of tea listening (randomly) to an Evita vinyl I had bought several years ago when I was in London – I always find myself reflecting on my life when it rains, perhaps I am hoping the rain will wash away those worries, sins and calories from the comfort of my sofa.

I think it has finally dawned upon me that I am single – I found myself yesterday giving advice to a very dear friend of mine of ‘how to pull’ in a variety of situations……but would I be so bold to take my own advice?

1) Always play the lost card in foreign ANY city – it is a great way to start conversation in supermarkets and on the street with strangers.

2) Never pay for the first date, this will keep the cost of being a dating whore down.

3) Never put out on the first date, just in case they pull out a gun in bed (an actual gun and not a cock – this has happened to a friend!)

4) Introduce a 5 date rule with the guy if you actually like him. If he likes you back then he will respect it.

5) If a guy says no, you aren’t going to die. More than likely you will never have the pleasure of meeting him again.

Though annoyingly I forgot to add – 6) Delete instagram and do not follow any form of #insta-couples if you insist on keeping it. 

Having a constant reminder that you are single, sun kissed and six-packless is never a good look, especially in a rainy foreign city – as the viewer looking into what you deem a perfect life, you always seem to neglect that instagram only ever pictures that perfect 2 minute moment in a couple’s day, and always through some form of a magical ‘rose tinted’ filter.  Even though my brain can see through the illusion of this, I find myself scrolling through strangers photos wishing that was me being part of the double #selfie….and with this the can of desperation worms slowly begins to open.

ImageWill this new found addiction of instagram’s gay-couples, double #selfies become more dangerous than crack? Ok, likening crack to instagram might be a little extreme but you can see where I am going with this. Should I wake up tomorrow and take my own advice? The question is do I go cold turkey with my insta-gaycouple-stalking (now I sound creepy!) or should I take baby steps? Lets see what happens when I have a spare 5 minutes and a coffee in my hand!

I’ve seen the wizard of oz, I know what happens…..

26 May

It was a cold rainy morning in London, loosing myself in Patrick Wolf I gazed out of the bus window mesmerised by the pita patter of the rain bouncing off the window. If my life was a film, this scene would obviously be shot in black and white and the viewer would barely be half way through the film. It had been a whirlwind week since I touched down on english soil – having fled to Amsterdam 6 months ago, it seemed a life time since I had been in London. Ghosts and memories had haunted me all week, it was a bitter-sweet wake up call. ‎Newly single I was travelling to Soho to meet up with an old lover, one who I hadn’t seen for over two years – the journalist. My stomach was doing a first prize series of somersaults, back flips and turns – I was unsure if it was my nerves of seeing an old lover, or was it rooted in the gone off milk that I had used in my tea that morning. Only time would tell.

The words of my hairdresser echoed in my ear – ‘life isn’t like sex in the city Tom’. That was at the forefront of my mind, I had spent most of my twenties (like so many others) parodying my life to Carrie Bradshaw, it was only when you were nearing your 30’s that you realise that your ex was not Mr Big and there was no happy ending in a charity shop blazer. This soul-destroying epiphany could only be likened to when you discover Father Christmas was a fake. It is only when you look back and reflect that you manage to breathe a sigh of relief – I couldn’t think of anything worse than an old fat man depositing a sack of presence at the end of a child’s bed. So perhaps when I reach life after 30 will I breathe a similar sigh of relief when I finally realise I don’t want or need a mister big in your life.

The rain continued being relentless, and my freshly cut hair was already showing signs of fraying and curling, even several layers of clay product, spray and a brief prayer to the gods couldn’t protect my hair from London weather. He would just have to take me as I come, and if he couldn’t then he certainly was no Mr Big. I was half an hour early and couldn’t control my nerves so I had the waiter bring me a very large glass of wine – the shaking was obvious. I was paranoid that I looked like a smack head out of the Priory. I saw him pass the window and begin to approach me, I had begun shaking – what if my feelings for him had changed in two years, what if there was no connection at all and I had dreamed the chemistry? As the journalist came closer, my smile began to widen until it began to hurt my cheeks – he hadn’t changed, and it felt like no time had passed. Somehow we managed to fill two years worth of our lives into a shortened version that took a few hours of explaining and listening (on both parts) – I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and part of me felt his watchful gaze upon mine. Before I knew it, he had to leave me once again and as the Journalist walked out of the door, a flood gate of emotions hit me – and boy did it hurt. On queue of the Journalist leaving, this song started to play in the restaurant – I mean really, was this some sick joke or just coincidence !?!
It would seem, even though two years had passed, nothing had changed between us…..apart from the small problem of the journalist being in a relationship. A small problem…….well that is what I keep on telling myself – I don’t make things easy for myself do I?!

As if we said goodbye……

26 May

“I don’t know why I’m frightened

I know my way around here

The cardboard dreams, the painted scenes, the sound here.

Yes a world to rediscover, and I am not in any hurry.

And I need a moment……..”


In Search of Oscar in the new flat!

In Search of Oscar in the new flat!

I don’t know what made me stop writing, the days turned into months and before I knew it I found myself in a new city, in the same bed with the same mug full of tea. So much has changed in the last year and a half, yet somethings have stayed the same! I feel it unimportant to bore you just yet with this……partly because it is 1am in Amsterdam (which in fact is a city that sleeps) and I have work in the morning, perhaps later I will tell you of the tale of my whirlwind journey here. Instead I will leave you with a stunning song, that feels so appropriate to the kick start of this writing thing I try and do!

All kinds of wood in the morning

6 Mar

Now, now there is no need to be blushing at the thought of morning wood, especially mine. I am for once not going to talk about men, or how indeed I am drier than Africa in the bedroom (though I am hoping monsoon season hurries the fuck up!) or even my manic Monday that nearly involved performing a citizen arrest.

No this morning I am going to tell you about my other two favourite bits of wood. First is the delightful and very hypnotic songs from the rather special ‘wood kid’ – his videos are as captivating as the songs and I can’t help myself but play his music first thing when I wake up. Also the styling in the video I am about to play you all is to die for – I cant help but hope that Dior will snap this man up and have him sing on their next cat walk show! I can live in hope.

wood kid

The second fascination wood this morning is a company based in Copenhagen – wood wood. An effortlessly stylish brand that understand street style and blend it with the aesthetics of high end fashion to create something rather special. My favourite piece of ss13 is their W jumper (pictured below) it almost makes you want to change you name to Warren or Wayne when you wear it!!

So it would seem not all morning wood requires self pleasure or a partner, just a set of headphones and a credit card!