… 29 bottles of wine on the wall, 29 bottles of wine.

As a social drinker I very seldom buy wine for dinner especially when I’m eating alone. But after two bottles on an empty stomach I ran the risk of crossing over from a boy who does lunch to one losing it very quickly. And with the bloom off the job that a million girls would kill for I was left rethinking it all. When your expectation of the new job, a new man, and a new beginning don’t quite pan out you start to doubt yourself. Including your sanity. In the moment when you crane your neck backwards for the last drops from your last sip to fall back and down your throat onwards and downwards to anesthetise a discounted heart you start to question everything. The story of my life. Was I doing the right thing? Should I let him go too quickly? Where will this take me?

As I sat back in the haze of a bedroom filled with cigar smoke, the feint smell of a second bottle of wine and cheap sex I realised something about myself that I didn’t want to admit. In life there have been very few obstacles. Up until a few years ago life seemed to be an effortless progression from one fabulous job to the next, one great anonymous fuck to another and one suit fitting to the next at my ancient Italian tailor. But then I joined the family company and things started going wrong. I fell in love and that ended after a few years with his cheating on me. I lost my direction and focus and become a man about town. And then the company stumbled itself and we lost pretty much everything. But now everything seems to have opened up again.

Choices. Since birth we have been told we can do anything we want. Be an astronaut, the head of publishing company or even a work from home entrepreneur. There aren’t any rules anymore and the choices have endless. And apparently they could all be delivered right to your door with just a phone call and credit card. But is it possible that we’ve gotten so spoilt by these choices that we’ve become unable to make one? That a part of us knows that when you choose something: one man, one great apartment, and one amazing job another option goes away. Are we a generation of gay men that can’t just choose just one from column A? Did we have too much to handle or was my indecisive heart right: can we have it all?

Drunk and insanely horny even after an afternoon of fucking I got off the merry go round that had become my indefinable experience with the new guy. After days of not having text messages or phone calls returned he suddenly contacted me. Only then to disappear again for days on end. A million questions ran through my head but none of them could ever be validated because they could never be asked. Perhaps he did have a lot on his mind as he had explained and needed time to sort things out or perhaps he was just ignoring me because somehow I couldn’t fit into his neatly constructed world but either way I found myself scrolling through my contact list on my mobile phone and hitting the ‘delete’ button to his profile. ‘Are you sure?’ it intuitively asked. As if knowing the alcohol level in my blood stream and sober penchant for regret.

But I was sure. I know that I deserve a man who will love me – fully. And not keep me at an arms length because he’s still sorting through the break-up and baggage of his last relationship. Sure we all need time but when the timing is right – your have to let go and take a leap of faith into the unknown. Even if joint real estate keeps your past relationship present you have to build over the foundations and start again. Each time getting stronger and surer. But as I sat there, drunk and alone, I realised that this was the temporary choice I had made for myself. In opening up, yet again blindly and with faith, I had opened myself up to much more than just a great man. I opened myself up to a great life. Full of promise and infinite choices. All my mine to make.

I’m thirty years old, told by many that I’m very good looking (but would settle for better than average when examining my reflection in the shaving mirror), and have the capacity above all to be fucking extraordinary. Sure in the morning I’ll be sober and reflective on life in general but before then I’ll have posted this online. My new job takes all my considerable strengths, natural passions and places me in a position of influence amongst the very things that I excel at. Sure I don’t have a man to share it just yet but with very little effort could that not change just as quickly as a 24-goal polo match drawn in the 6th chukka? I know that timing is everything and that someday my dreams will come true. How many others could boast the same?

Until then I have the promise of a new morning, a possible hang-over and half-eaten bacon, mushroom and English mustard sandwich to keep me company through the night. Even if it’s all after 6pm, filled with fat, carbohydrates, and tannin you have to ask: who gives a fuck right? It seemed like a good choice at the time.

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