12 February - Bread & Parrots

J. is 38 and has a fantastic party full of gays we love. Great flat, great people. It’s not cold so we’re all in and out of the terrace. I arrive, see chorizo and salami and cheese a plenty but no bread, but there seem to be some lovely big crumbs in a round dish on a stand and I think that’s possibly a design featurette of this gay apartment so have just scooped up some of said crumbs when a man shrieks and stops my hand from reaching my mouth. Seems this is where the owners’ parrots perch and that’s their food mixed up with their faeces. Ah thanks. The room was not well lit I have to add, am not that blind.

We go see the parrots in another room and it’s clear owners are besotted. The birds are beautiful but I don’t see them as pets unfortunately. A little beaky 'kiss' somehow does not do it for me. Still, at least they’re not snakes. Yes, I know they’re beautiful too but,you know, I just don’t believe they love you ok?

The BF is happy because he can wear a mauve roll neck that the previous g/friend had banished. This is the perfect occasion though a good percentage of the gays here are muscle marys and so no other mauve in sight. I wonder if anyone will hit on him but I ask M. if he can spot the gays from the straights and of course he's a 100 % accurate. There's a few hetero so I put them the way of C. and crazy opera singer A. but have no idea if anything came to any conclusion. I talk a lot to S. who's been dumped unexpectedly by his lover of 3 years. V. sweet, though you know, the lover did say 'Did you not notice we haven't had sex for months?' It always surprises me that people seem to think nothing is wrong if there's no sex in the relationship. Red flag no. 1 in my book.

The sangria is going down well and we’re all chatting away. This tall black woman manages to persuade me that she was, a long time ago, a g/friend of my gay friend. I kind of think no way… he’s got to be one of those who never tried ‘us’ but she’s very convincing. And after all he’s shortly to become a father through artificial insemination of a good friend who lives in Holland. His poor, devout catholic mother. She’s had a lot to come to terms with. Only later does J. fall about laughing and tells me the ‘old girlfriend’ is a writer and so likes to make up stories. He’s also invited a bunch of people he’s recently met at his club. I can’t help but think that only a Mediterranean gay such as him would be so hospitable to widen his circle without being too fussy. He truly believes the more the merrier. He also is as non possessive about books and DVDs as I am so I leave with an armful. I tell him I’ll email him a list so he can keep track of what I took and he says he’s not bothered about that.

We go home but his evening will finish at another party and eventually in the arms of a Brazilian boy called Fernando. Much younger than him but … sometimes you’ve to do these things.