Clueless

Somehow for me the idea of a gaggle of gay men brought together for fun and sun in a tropical paradise always means sex romp galore. Shockingly that hasn't come true at all - seriously there were no odd couplings in the closets ( that I know of ), no kinky nipple pinching or crotch groping ( that I heard of ) and certainly no inappropriate disrobing followed by the passionate oohs and aahs of impending orgies. Could it be possible that gay men simply aren't the morally loose, sexually depraved monsters that the heterosexual world is terrified of? Could it be possible that gay men are simply regular everyday joes who just have fabulous hair ( not with my spiky hair currently unfortunately ) and an alarming penchant for interior decoration and dinner parties?

After these two days however, the latter seems quite possible actually - which would mean the disposal of a barrel of lube and a freightload of condoms. It could actually be true that I might be watching too much gay porn :)

Still meeting some of the regular bloggers that I find online does give me some pause - and it recalls one of the things I've somehow failed to mention previously. Possibly I was too mind-numbingly stunned at the time to register the event properly in my mind.

As my blog has gained some little notoriety ( prompting some of my colleagues to confront me on it :) ), some of the little players in my comedy of acts have similarly gained a life of their own. With my odd penchant for assigning unusual nicknames to the people I know in real life ( have always done that in fact! ), it has left some of my friends wondering exactly who's whom.

Which is why a certain Dashing Dan spent a certain worthwhile evening sometime ago accosting various well-built, big-biceped specimens at a local gym demanding their identities, at the same time interrogating them for their intimate knowledge of a certain odd duck called Dr Paul. Shades of the intrepid Inspector Clouseau? :)

Shocking but true :) Since I found Dan seemingly hearty and well after the unfortunate episode ( without any signs of serious manhandling by his appropriately beefy victims ), I assume most of the protein-shake-guzzling, vegetable-munching muscle marys in question remained utterly clueless as to Dan's true intentions.

Although it does seem like a possibly good pick-up line. So big boy, do you know of a Tom, Dick and Harry? And if not, would you like to know me? :)