Buying a bed and asking an old friend out

So when I said - what's the worst that can happen... this is it.

I got to my friend Clive's flat in Euston and pressed the buzzer.
"Hello?" I heard.
"So you are in you bitch. Why didn't you answer your phone?" I said.
"What?"
"Clive it's Matthew."
"I think you've got the wrong flat."
"Is that flat 5? No? Oh god I'm really sorry mate."
(noise of phone being slammed down).

So then I call Clive on his mobile. And he answers for a change. Turns out he's in Soho seeing two Italian friends of his boyfriend Robbie. We agreed to maybe see each other later but if not then we'd grab a late lunch tomorrow.

I wandered down Tottenham Court Road and popped into Boots for antacid remedies. Why is it that whenever I end up in Boots I always spend half an hour there, looking at everything from teeth whitening systems (like I don't have ten at home already), anti-aging creams and self tanning?

Then I found myself in Heals. God I love Heals. It's all about the cat on the stairs (seriously - there's a statue of the Heal's cat on the stairwell).

"Can I help you?" I hear from the middle-aged man in polyester.
"I need a new bed. Like yesterday." I replied.
"We have beds. Anything in particular?" he asked.
"That one will do. Though let me look over there as well." I demanded.

It came down to 2 types of bed and he was doing a good deal on both if I took the display model with the mattress and mattress protector thrown in at half price. I wanted the stylish one but the first one had wooden slats as the head board that could fit handcuffs to and enough wood at the bottom of the bed to put a cup of tea on. What more could a British gay man want in a bed? I paid and arranged delivery for 7 January. Fabulous. I'm now the proud owner of a Heal's solid wood bed (with room for handcuffs and cups of tea).

So from there I went to G.A.Y. Bar. I walked through the bar and felt quite good at the amount of attention I got considering all I really went in there for was a pee. So I had a pee and went up to the bar (after taking off my jacket and checking that my pecs looked good enough).

I got a pint of lager. Cute bar man. I wandered away from the bar with the mental note "try to pick up the barman".

I wander off to where I usually stand near the stairs.

"Hello you. I thought it was you." said Ricardo.

Damn, it was good to see him. I have known Ricardo since about 1994. He's so cute. He used to hang around the Village Soho when Clive worked there (after I got him a job there). We used to flirt like mad but he was going out with Jonno at the time (another bar man at Village Soho back then and now a good friend).

Ricardo and I never can keep our hands off each other whenever we meet up. He's been living away from London for a year as well and so we had a lot of catching up chat. The whole time I was with him I wanted to kiss him. Both of us had hands everywhere and in the end I just told him, "God I want to kiss you right now".

Once we started we couldn't stop. To be honest I was really, really happy. We were having so much fun. Kissing, touching, chatting and just being cute.

I bought him drinks and he bought me drinks. I bought lager. He bought shots.

He asked me when I'm finally going to ask him out - it's been 13 years after all. I told him that I can't ask him out until I get the new Heal's bed.

We laughed it off but the more I thought about it (and the more I drank) the more I thought "You know I could do worse". I asked him out 'provisionally', because I didn't want to ask him out standing by a cash point at the end of the bar. I took him to Balan's so I could buy him dinner and then ask him out.

Unfortunately, once at Balan's I realised that he was really drunk. I realised that after I had bought us a bottle of rose champagne. We ordered Fois Gras to start, Tuna for him and Swordfish for me as a main and then creme brulee as pudding for us both. But by the time we got to pudding he was so drunk the waiter couldn't understand his order and he was knocking things off the table. Each time he went to the gents it was an age before he came back and when he did it was embarrassing watching him stagger around the room.

Eventually, I went to the gents and when I came back he was on the phone to someone saying 'you know your problem is that you can't let anyone close to you' and generally being loud and obnoxious. In the end I just paid the bill and left. He didn't seem to understand why I would be leaving but I couldn't handle him any more.

I walked down Old Compton Street and got on the bus. I started to feel bad for leaving Ricardo in Balan's. After all, I've liked him for 13 years and he likes me too. Should I be so fussy? After all I've been drunk before. When we're together we really do act like a couple in love (when he's not drunk and I'm not being judgmental).

Of course I don't have his new number. I assume he doesn't have mine. So there's nothing we can do. I hope he was OK after I left - I'm sure he was.

I went over to my friend Simon's. I called ahead but he didn't answer. I text messaged him but he didn't answer. I went round anyway. His flatmate Patrick answered the door and we had a chat for a bit before Simon came storming down the corridor in his pajama bottoms telling us to keep the noise down as he and his boyfriend Aled were trying to sleep.

I left. I walked home cursing London and how unfriendly people I even consider to be my friends can be. You wouldn't get that kind of reaction in Manchester. I hate that my friends in London just don't bother picking up the phone when I try to call, or responding to the message I leave, or even bothering to text back when I send a text or leave a message - so therefore I don't know where I stand or what is going on. I'd rather people I consider my best friends on earth would just answer calls or send a text to say 'you know what I can't see you today/I'm in bed/I'm not up to it today' or something rather than just not being arsed. Surely my best friends should know me well enough to know that it's FINE that they're busy, but they should have enough respect for me to let me know so that I can plan what to do instead.

As I walked home I got more and more upset. Then it started to rain. By the time I got home I was soaked and so I just got in and went to bed.

When I woke up this morning I felt really rough. I woke up to a text message from Simon apologising for being rude. I arranged to meet Clive for lunch and headed out to Basuba in Soho.

Let's see what happens this time round.