The day before Valentine’s Day I woke up very hung over. Where I’d been or what I’d done the night before I don’t remember, but I must’ve had a good reason for getting trashed. Anyway, as is my habit I ended up on everyone’s favourite bright orange app, grindr, and got talking to a cute-looking Australian guy who works as a steward for a huge Middle Eastern airline and lives in the UAE. He seemed nice enough, and asked me over to his hotel; however, astute readers will remember this was during gonorrhoeagate and I was unable to have sex, which I intimated to him. “Can you still cuddle?” Well that was adorable and endearing, so off I went. I’d only intended to stay an hour or so, truth be told, but we got on so well and he was so cute – in deed as well as in word – that I ended up staying, kissing and cuddling (and, yes, some hand action…) until he had to get ready to go to the airport.
Before he left he said that he wasn’t in my city very often but that he would let me know if and when he came back, and that he would try to come back soon. Yeah right, I thought, not really believing him. But when his shifts came through at the start of March, sure enough his request for a swap to a flight here had been taken up by someone who decided Milan sounded like more fun – and really, who can blame them? – and so last week, he came back.
I was really excited to see him again, and met him at his hotel on Saturday night more or less as soon as he arrived. We went out for dinner to a Russian restaurant in the city centre – I’d never been and was pleasantly surprised at how good it was, and how vegan-friendly – and then I took him to a bar in town I frequently frequent, before we headed back to his hotel. That night was hands and faces in some new underwear I’d bought for the occasion – I’m getting quite into knee-high socks at the minute – and the next day was spent almost entirely in bed, napping, fucking, tickling, kissing, rinse and repeat, until he had to get ready to go to the airport again.
He says he’ll come back again, and while there’s now some precedent to believe him, I’m not sure I do. Either way it doesn’t matter really – if he doesn’t we’ve had our fun and it’s a nice memory, if he does then great. There’s absolutely no scope for anything substantial, with him living eight hours’ flight away, but being together when we’re together is nice enough while it lasts, if it does. Once again, time will tell.