Position Vacant: Wingman

The prospect of having to travel internationally was one of the major factors I looked for in a job after I graduated from uni. I love travelling and visiting new places. I’ve done reasonably well so far in my travels having visited 22 countries around the world. I hope to make it 30 before I reach 30 (though quite how anyone will know, because I never intend to admit being thirty, I’m not quite sure).

The sad truth of it though is that travelling for work is not the same as travelling for pleasure. I get one day a week off here, and the rest of the time I’m working 11 hour days.

I’m staying in a pretty plush hotel, and everything is on expenses… I’ve developed a taste for Tanqueray & Tonic. I’m eating my dinner in a different posh restaurant every night too.

But it all gets pretty damn boring when you’re on your own, and there’s only so much posh restaurant food you can eat before you start craving something more normal.

As  much as I may think I’m quite happy with my own company, exploring a new place is always more fun when you do it with someone.

Take last night for example…

There’s a very big gay district in this city, (it’s called Chueca), and last night I decided to take myself to look around for a few hours with the intention of maybe having a couple of beers in one of the local gay bars.

Well, it would have been a lot of fun if I’d been here with a gay friend, but as a single guy walking around not speaking much of the local lingo,  I felt a bit out of it.

I have an pathological aversion to going to bars on my own, I just don’t quite know what to do with myself… do I stand at the bar and drink myself into a stupor talking to the barman… or walk around hitting on interesting looking guys… or do I wait and see if anyone comes over to talk to me? To put it bluntly, I just don’t do bars on my own – everyone needs a wingman…

Walking around Chueca was a new experience though…

There was a real party atmosphere to the place (it was a Saturday night after-all) and there were lots of people around. Lot’s of very pretty (and some not so pretty) gays.

But there was also a sleazier side…

According to my guide book, a lot of the bars had darkrooms…

Aside: A small confession – when I first heard of darkrooms a few years ago, I was surprised that they weren’t the same as the darkrooms I’d used at school for developing photos!

There were saunas, underwear shops & I think I saw clubs that cater for almost every flavour of gay there is!

Each time I saw another sign for a sauna, I couldn’t help but remember Bobby’s posts about what goes on inside and wondering whether they are the same the world over… but at the same time having no desire to go in an find out!

In the end, I didn’t go into any of them… Far too intimidating without a wingman.

And that friends is the worst part of travelling alone. I need to find me some new travel buddies for my next personal holiday… wherever that might take me.

Ohh and just for the hell of it… The ultimate homoerotic movie scene with lots of wingmen!

An embarrassing thing I did today.

I thought I’d have a cultural day today, so I took myself to an art gallery.

There was a picasso exhibition on at the time, and I was quite enjoying walking around looking at the various art works, and people watching too… (There’s no shortage of good looking guys here).

It was a free entry day at the gallery, so it was very busy and very noisy.

So when my phone rang I thought nothing of moving to the side of the room and answering it. (If it hadn’t already been noisy I wouldn’t have answered it)

But back to the story…

I answered the phone at the side of the room, and was pleased to hear a familiar voice having been wondering around on my own all weekend. I decided to chat for a moment a leaned against the wall behind me…

It seemed a little further away than I thought as I leaned back.

A split second later as I passed the point of no return, I realised that it wasn’t a wall…

It was in fact a fabric partition fixed at the roof and at the floor, and stretched tight thus looked like a wall.

I fell back… almost completely through it, and ended up in a heap on the floor of this gallery with what felt like everyone watching me.

I had to leave after that… I couldn’t bear to walk through the rest of the exhibition…

Ohh… and for a more blatant hint as to where I am…

dsc00014.jpg

absence note

It’s just after midnight, and in a little over three hours a car will be arriving to take me to the airport.

I’m not sure why I’m writing this now, it’s been three weeks since I last wrote anything; and this post is really just to tell you it’s going to be at least another month probably before I post again.

Maybe I realise that if I didn’t post anything for two months, I’d loose the few people that do still read my inane ramblings.

Another thought (which I’m too tired to really think about right now, and really should be getting some sleep before my car gets here) does this post count as Irony?

Hmmm… Maybe not.

Until next time

Adiós muchachos x