> Lunch time! You'll be happy to know I'm having some sort of healthy
> stuff--veggie pasta.

Good for you ;) - um literally, I guess .

> I'll try to come up with something else then. ;-)

Ask, and it shall be given - probably.

> > It's definitely not meant to be this powdery crap in a paper cup, but :
> > vending machine - I'll take what I can get. It's before noon, it's still
> > the holidays and I'm back at my station, plugging on with the
> > dissertation. Go me.
>
> Go you! Put some enthusiasm in that. And you should be proud of
> yourself.

Coming back from my parents' early kind of offset the three day angst fest,
and I'm actually on schedule. I may even pass this thing. And American
literature : a survey is up to Walt Whitman. I guess I'm not doing so badly
after all. Cool ;)

> It was neat. :-) Think it's better for my sleep cycle to be dreaming at
> that hour though.

Maybe - fun is nice once in a while for variety though ;)

> You're smile is slightly crooked and you look to the left when you're
> thinking.

I don't, do I? I'm going to have to start thinking in mirrors - and remind me
never to play poker with you?

> > Note to self : fill in henchman application form.
>
> I have a great benefits package.

Oh yeah?

> > ok : Question. You have, in some general 'picture people naked
> > so you don't freak out while public speaking' sort of way, or me,
> > specifically, for whatever reason?.
>
> Christ. Knew I should have just let that go.
>
> Right. Okay. Deep breath.
>
> I've thought about you. Without your clothes. With intent. If you would
> like more detail I invite you to use the other e-mail address I gave you.

Oookay. Um. So my ego and my curiosity would like to ask you to please go
ahead and use that email address. Another big chunk of my brain would like
to know - well - why me? [I'm asking for details, I want to know the
answer, and I'm not planning on running screaming for the hills. Unless you
had me unclothed with the intent to flay me or something.]

> Still there?

No.

Ok - maybe I shouldn't joke - that must have been kinda scary to hit send on.
Yes, I'm still here, still talking to you.

> You know what curiosity will get you. Lots of information. :P

Excellent.

> > I'm getting this picture of your dad as being a bit of a hippie, wandering
> > feet sort of guy. Am I even in the right ball park?
>
> God, yes. That's my dad. Little flighty, very open, great soul. Giving,
> kind, passionate.

He sounds cool ;)

> > > Nope, not a musical bone in my body. :-)
> >
> > I did recorder in junior school ....
>
> Bet that was cute. :-)

That probably depends on how much you like music. I had a big gap between my
front teeth, and my hair used to be a lot blonder when I was a kid.

> Sorry. You know too much, I can't let you loose now. The only thing left
> to be decided is how much blame you get. I mean credit. Yeah, that's it.

*sidles away silently*

> Nope. Working my way up to it.

Maybe you'll end up practising on this David chap?

> You are *so* cooking for me. Henchman or not.

When you get the job and I visit you in New Zealand in your fantastic
corporate flat with it's lush designer kitchen, I'll cook for you, and who
ever else you have staying - deal?

> > You want me to start nagging *you* take out guy?
>
> I'll stop at the grocery store on my way home. Promise. And I won't even
> skip the produce section this time.

*stern nod*

> > There's a plan? I never got a plan!
>
> That's because it's *my* plan. Page four is all about.....never mind. That
> would be telling. Too much information and you'll be in charge when I take
> over.

And that would be a bad thing why?

Questioning the evil overlord's probably not my best career move, is it?

> Nope, that is really an okay topic. Had a few years to deal with it, and my
> Dad's cool.

'k - I thought I should check. Don't want to stir.

> Not very, but at least she's told me his name. Dave, apparently, works for
> one of the manufacturing divisions. That's the extent of my knowledge.

Is she likely to announce loudly that everyone else should leave now so You
Two Can Talk?

> Maybe I'll skip it. I dunno.

Why not go? If he's a real troll you can make your excuses early, but you
don't know he's not that good thing, right?

> Thanks, Tom. That made me smile. Actually, I smile a lot reading your
> e-mails. God, that sounds sappy. It's true though.

Well - good ;) I have to admit I'm getting so I really look forward to
yours, you know.

> Heh. And here's where I invite you to shock me. I doubt very much if
> you're perverted at all.

Um - I'll see what I can do? I'm going to need to pack up here and go find
one of the swipe card access rooms in the next 10 mins though so - under
separate cover? [Part of me would like to know what the hell I'm thinking,
part of me would like to prove you wrong. Clearly part of me is willing to
get into a pissing contest over *anything*]

> Hey, I get to go home early then! On a Friday! Bonus.

You *are* perky - this is a good thing ;)

> Not that there's anything to do at home, but maybe I can get some climbing
> in at the gym. Hmm. That sounds like a plan. Climb, swim, head home to
> read something cheap, trashy and vaguely pornographic.
>
> What a life. Yeesh.

You have my Friday night beat. Mine involves finishing up the chapter on
language and the melting pot, getting home in the freezing rain with all two
tons of folders, reheating my steak leftovers, and reading Walt Whitman.
Gods but I am so ruining the reputation of students everywhere. I should be
hooking up with a couple of old friends tomorrow afternoon though, for a bit
of a natter. Wish me luck? I'm going to bet that Dave's been promoted
*again*, and that Tan's missus still hasn't agreed to move in with him ...

> Hugh Jackman. rar.

Oh yeah ;)

> Came out like twenty years ago. Michelle Pfeiffer, Rutger Hauer (or however
> the hell that's spelled) Matthew Broderick when he was a young 'un. MP and
> RH are cursed--he's a man by day, a wolf by night, she's a hawk by day and a
> woman at night. They change at sunset and sunrise, all ways together, but
> always apart. It's fantasy and silly and wildly romantic. It's my secret
> shame, along with The Princess Bride.

Sounds kind of neat - pure unrequited love and all that - I'll have to have
a look for it.

> > > 9) Rope
> >
> > Nor this.
>
> Hitchcock, shot in real time. Well, I assume they shot it like a regular
> movie, but the action takes place in real time. Also, it takes place in one
> room, like a play. Very cool. Murder mystery, black and white.

Cool. Ohh - makes me think of - what's it called - Twelve Good Men? All set
in the jury room - fantastic script.

> > Shawshank Redemption
>
> God, another one. Loved this movie. Liked the Green Mile, too.

That was very cool - my two favourite Stephen King films for sure.

> > Mulan - and don't you dare laugh.
>
> Princess Bride. I *can't* laugh.

Mutual secret-safeness. Good. Good. ;P

> Now, back to work, then the gym etc before *I* check for a reply.

Have fun, and climb well ;)

Tom
*********
Remember : You are not a salmon.

To : Oliver Kurland [rkurls @ pdc.com]
From : Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Friday 7.03pm

Hey,

If you're wondering, I am totally getting cold feet - are you sure you want
me to tell you this stuff?

I don't know what you're expecting.

I mean - what are you expecting to hear anyway? - not just subject matter,
but - levels of detail? Are you thinking "I don't know if it's the jackets
or the boots, but uniforms, and fingers holding hard enough to leave
bruises" or I don't know - transcripts of the mental movies 'and then this
and he does that and it feels this'..

Or, in fact any of it

And I don't quite know why I want to tell you any of that, except, partly,
it seems silly not to after everything else that's come up in this
conversation, and partly, well, it's no different to people passing Pamela
Anderson posters around, is it?, and partly - partly I just kind of want to,
because you asked, and because I do want you to tell me - what you were
thinking - and ...

I'm going to stop thinking and hit send, and go home and let Walt Whitman
put me to sleep.

G'night

Tom
*********
Remember : You are not a salmon.

To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Friday, 8:42pm

Home again home again.

Gym was okay, managed the wall for an hour or so--had to stop 'cause the
only guy available to partner had to go--and swam for a bit. Got food.
Cooked some of it (more or less) and here I am. It's after midnight your
time, so I expect you're asleep. Or maybe not, being the weekend and all.

> > I'll try to come up with something else then. ;-)
>
> Ask, and it shall be given - probably.

I'll keep that in mind. Trust me.

> > Go you! Put some enthusiasm in that. And you should be proud of
> yourself.
>
> Coming back from my parents' early kind of offset the three day angst fest,
> and I'm actually on schedule. I may even pass this thing. And American
> literature : a survey is up to Walt Whitman. I guess I'm not
> doing so badly after all. Cool ;)

Excellent! There is something good to be said for empty campuses.

> > You're smile is slightly crooked and you look to the left when you're
> > thinking.
>
> I don't, do I? I'm going to have to start thinking in mirrors -
> and remind me never to play poker with you?

Never play poker with me. 'cause I lose a lot.

> > > Note to self : fill in henchman application form.
> >
> > I have a great benefits package.
>
> Oh yeah?

Uh huh. A cut of the booty, full dental, cool uniform and access to my
time. Pay scale is determined by how much we grab, and the access to my
time is determined by what you want me for.

> > > ok : Question. You have, in some general 'picture people naked
> > > so you don't freak out while public speaking' sort of way, or me,
> > > specifically, for whatever reason?.
> >
> > Christ. Knew I should have just let that go.
> >
> > Right. Okay. Deep breath.
> >
> > I've thought about you. Without your clothes. With intent. If you
> > would like more detail I invite you to use the other e-mail address I
> > gave you.
>
> Oookay. Um. So my ego and my curiosity would like to ask you to please go
> ahead and use that email address. Another big chunk of my brain would like
> to know - well - why me? [I'm asking for details, I want to know the
> answer, and I'm not planning on running screaming for the hills.
> Unless you had me unclothed with the intent to flay me or something.]

No flaying. And you because of the various reasons I've mentioned over the
last few days. You're attractive, easy to talk to, honest, open, hard
working....did I mention attractive? I'll put the rest on the other
account, but if it matters at all, the first time was in Toronto--I needed,
and you were someone pleasant to focus on. More than just pleasant.

Wanted you, simply put.

> > Still there?
>
> no.
>
> Ok - maybe I shouldn't joke - that must have been kinda scary to
> hit send on. Yes, I'm still here, still talking to you.

Yeah, but it's getting easier--I think you're not running away is making it
easier to believe that you won't.

> > You know what curiosity will get you. Lots of information. :P
>
> excellent.

I'll remind you that you said that. :-)

> > > I did recorder in junior school ....
> >
> > Bet that was cute. :-)
>
> That probably depends on how much you like music. I had a big gap
> between my front teeth, and my hair used to be a lot blonder when I was a
> kid.

Yep, cute. :-)

> > Sorry. You know too much, I can't let you loose now. The only
> > thing left to be decided is how much blame you get. I mean credit. Yeah,
> > that's it.
>
> *sidles away silently*

*reaches over and brings you back.*

> > Nope. Working my way up to it.
>
> Maybe you'll end up practising on this David chap?

I doubt it. Leaning toward someone I know a little more about.

> > You are *so* cooking for me. Henchman or not.
>
> When you get the job and I visit you in New Zealand in your fantastic
> corporate flat with it's lush designer kitchen, I'll cook for you, and who
> ever else you have staying - deal?

Deal.

> > > There's a plan? I never got a plan!
> >
> > That's because it's *my* plan. Page four is all about.....never mind.
> > That would be telling. Too much information and you'll be in charge
> > when I take over.
>
> And that would be a bad thing why?

Because it's *my* plan! *pout*

So you really want to be in charge of me? I can get sort of stubborn. ;-)

> Questioning the evil overlord's probably not my best career move, is it?

LOL! I'll let it go this time.

> > Not very, but at least she's told me his name. Dave, apparently, works
> > for one of the manufacturing divisions. That's the extent of my knowledge.
>
> Is she likely to announce loudly that everyone else should leave
> now so You Two Can Talk?

Meep. That's exactly the sort of thing she would do. Right, making plans
to be busy on Monday...

> > Maybe I'll skip it. I dunno.
>
> Why not go? If he's a real troll you can make your excuses early, but you
> don't know he's not that good thing, right?

I don't know. I feel a little...conflicted. It's not like he lives here,
so even if we did manage to somehow get together there would still be big
issues. I'm not sure if I want to start a long distance relationship with
someone I don't know--already have one distance friendship that I like, and
if my life is destined to be played out over the phone or through
e-mail....well, I don't know if I want to start finding out about someone
else.

All of which makes me look like I'd happily start seeing someone local, and
that isn't the case either.

Maybe I just live to make my life more difficult than it has to be.

> Well - good ;) I have to admit I'm getting so I really look forward to
> yours, you know.

*beam*

> > Heh. And here's where I invite you to shock me. I doubt very much if
> > you're perverted at all.
>
> Um - I'll see what I can do? I'm going to need to pack up here
> and go find one of the swipe card access rooms in the next 10 mins though so - under
> separate cover? [Part of me would like to know what the hell I'm thinking,
> part of me would like to prove you wrong. Clearly part of me is willing to
> get into a pissing contest over *anything*]

And is it totally weird that I don't care what the motivation is at this
point? Just want to...hell, if I'm going to tell you about that night in
Toronto I'm going to look forward to whatever you want to share.

> You have my Friday night beat. Mine involves finishing up the chapter on
> language and the melting pot, getting home in the freezing rain
> with all two tons of folders, reheating my steak leftovers, and reading Walt Whitman.
> Gods but I am so ruining the reputation of students everywhere. I should be
> hooking up with a couple of old friends tomorrow afternoon
> though, for a bit of a natter. Wish me luck? I'm going to bet that Dave's been promoted
> *again*, and that Tan's missus still hasn't agreed to move in with him ...

Good luck! And Walt Whitman can be a pleasant way to spend an evening.

Right, I'm going to go check my other e-mail and send one off to you.

Have a good day,

Oliver

To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland [rkurls @ pdc.com]
Sent: Friday 9:12pm

Hey,

> If you're wondering, I am totally getting cold feet - are you
> sure you want me to tell you this stuff?

You don't have to if you don't want to. Really. If you're not comfortable,
that's cool, and we can go back over to the other e-mail and keep flirting
in socially presentable ways. ;-) Honest, it's cool.

> I don't know what you're expecting.
>
> I mean - what are you expecting to hear anyway? - not just
> subject matter, but - levels of detail? Are you thinking "I don't know if it's
> the jackets or the boots, but uniforms, and fingers holding hard enough to leave
> bruises" or I don't know - transcripts of the mental movies 'and
> then this and he does that and it feels this'..

How about I just tell you my details and you can go from there. Share back,
share less, share more, or just delete. Not going to make you do anything
you don't want to, and honestly? If you're not wanting to read this, I
understand. It's *okay*.

> And I don't quite know why I want to tell you any of that, except, partly,
> it seems silly not to after everything else that's come up in this
> conversation, and partly, well, it's no different to people passing Pamela
> Anderson posters around, is it?, and partly - partly I just kind
> of want to, because you asked, and because I do want you to tell me - what
> you were thinking - and ...

Take a breath. Don't stress.

Now, I'm just going to tell you what I was thinking, and let it happen--no
deleting and no edit, so if you want to skip it, feel free.

Short version is that I was upset and worked up and needed to get to sleep.
Couldn't, because I kept thinking about the guy in the steam room, and my
friend (whom I've not heard from, btw) and I was frustrated 'cause it just
seems so easy for some people--little play, get on with their lives. And I
can't do that, which means I'm stuck in hotel rooms, half hard from just
wanting to touch someone. So I touched myself and thought about you.

Space skipping for detailed version, feel free to delete now.

I took a shower after I sent that e-mail off to you and still couldn't
sleep, though I did manage to get into that warm and lazy place, you know
when you feel a bit better, but not just lazy enough to fall asleep? Was
still thinking about you, wondering how you'd react to the e-mail, and
wishing I could figure out a way to get it back. Didn't like to think about
falling apart on you like that.

So I was in bed, moving around restlessly, trying to get comfortable enough
to sleep. I don't know what I did exactly, but I rolled a certain way and
the sheets rubbed against my balls just so--went from 'half hard and can
ignore it' to 'too hard to ignore' and just went with it.

Not sure exactly why I let a full fantasy play out--usually I can just go
with sensation and jerk off without having a movie in my head, but this
time...I just sort of went with it.

Pictured you lying next to me, still in your trousers, but shirtless.
Imagined kissing you, tasting your mouth, pressing against you. Your skin,
the way your nipples would stiffen under my fingers. The smell--clean, but
the scent of soap overlaid with the way I imagine you smell. Wondered what
it would be like to kiss the hallow of your throat.

Imagined your hands on me, on my chest, down my sides. The way you would
sound when your breathing sped up. What it would feel like to move against
you, feeling you get hard against my hip.

I started stroking off, faster, imagining it was your hand on me. Your
fingers, warm on me, your mouth kissing me. I tried to picture you as I
stripped off your trousers. (Wonderful thing about fantasy--I want you
naked and you are.)

My hips sped up, thrusting into my hand as I imagined holding you, touching
you. Tried to feel your cock in my hand, your heat. Tried to feel the way
it would be, you and me together, touching and kissing and exploring.

I looked down at myself, imagined you there, your hand on me, and I came,
crying out your name. Wanted you so bad, Tom. Wanted to feel you all
around me. Wanted to hear you, and taste you, and make you feel good.

Still there? Okay, I'm going to assume you are, 'cause you haven't ditched
me yet.

Right. So, remember that, writing it, has me harder than stone and almost
coming in my pants, so I'm going to go take care of that.

Oliver

To : Oliver Kurland
From : Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Saturday 10.43pm

The universe really fucking sucks today. Really *really* fucking sucks.

I said I was going up into town to meet up with some mates, yeah? I got back
to the station tonight to find some cretinous little arsewipes have trashed
my bike - the frame's still chained to the railings but they stripped the
rest and the frame's going to fucking be staying there, seeing as they
super glued the lock, just for shits and giggles. This I did not need to
discover at 9.15 at night in a dark station car park in the rain. Just -
shit. What am I going to do? My last loan instalment should be hitting my
account next week, but that's pretty much earmarked for rent and stuff.
Little shits. I can't imagine that even my gear block can be worth that much
on the black market, you know? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Oliver? I'm sorry. I'm cold and soaked and royally pissed off with the
world at large, and I probably shouldn't be taking it out on you - just.
Fuck I'm pathetic. I can't face trudging back to an empty house right now,
and there isn't anyone who's doorstep I can show up on who's going to be in.
Sorry.

Plus the foundations of this? I'm not sure if you're not the best placed
person to get it. I've been buttoning my lip and just letting it build all
day - I probably should have said something, but then I'd probably have got
beaten up, so I guess I shouldn't. Tam picked the sort of pub that has the
footie going on the big screen, right? They do a decent meal, and his team
have some sort of match on that he wanted to keep an eye on, so, ok, fair
enough. Except for the pissed up football blokes in the corner, screaming
at their team, and the ref, and every third comment was 'you fuckin' gay?
Wanker!' every time the ref made a bad call or something. Just makes my
blood boil. Shouldn't let it get to me. I'd say 'you wouldn't say 'oi
fucking nigger' would you?' except I have a sinking suspicion that lot might
not see why that was out of line either. Add a side serving of little teeny
girls on the tube with their 'oh that's so gay' and - Tom is not a happy
bunny.

But hey - I'm not too likely to be going back there for a while - I kind of
messed things up with Tam today, too. Got his girlfriend's name wrong. stupid
of me. I really *do* get why referring to someone's current with their ex's
name is a Bad Thing. I only apologised a thousand times. It's just his
attitude that set me off, and I actually walked out on them, hence the
coming home early. God I'm an idiot sometimes.

Thing is - Tam's always been the sort to refer to his current as 'the
missus' or 'the girl' - you know? It's mostly affectation - I lived with him
in my second year, and I've met his parents, and believe me, he is so not
'street' - tangent - sorry - but, yeah, you don't hear the girl's name every
time he mentions her. Plus I don't think he's ever spent more than about a
week between girlfriends, and I haven't; managed to actually meet up with
him since just after Christmas, so it was an honest mistake. Did not need to
hear anything he said after that though. God - just 'cos I wouldn't know
pussy if it walked up and bit me doesn't mean women are all interchangeable?
For fucks sake! The number of his ex's I still talk to and he doesn't;
should really sort that out. He was pissed. I'm most of the way there. Still
don't like hearing anything that - ugly I guess - from someone I thought was
a mate.

I should really go home and sleep it off, and not inflict it on the world -
or you - just...

No - I should go home. It's only a 40 minute walk, after all - oh happiness,
oh joy.

Fuck it - vending machine coffee it is - I need to thaw before I can face
the weather again.

Sorry.

Tom
*********
Remember : You are not a salmon.

To : Oliver Kurland
From : Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Saturday 11.17pm

Hey,

Um - if you read this one first? You could probably delete the earlier mail
unread. If not - sorry.

[My jacket's steaming over the radiator in the corner, and thank the lord
for change machines : two cups of coffee, one kit kat, one hot chocolate. Am
warmer, and soberer - and sorry for the outburst. I'm really *not* a drama
queen. Honest.]

> Gym was okay, managed the wall for an hour or so--had to stop 'cause the
> only guy available to partner had to go--and swam for a bit.

Good for you - good climb?

>Got food. Cooked some of it (more or less) and here I am. It's after midnight your
> time, so I expect you're asleep. Or maybe not, being the weekend and all.

Friday night spent with Walt Whitman, Saturday night in the computer lab.
Rock and roll.

> Excellent! There is something good to be said for empty campuses.

I could definitely get used to having constant access to a computer and no
queues in the library, that's for sure.

> Never play poker with me. 'cause I lose a lot.

Story to tell? I think I'm surprised - you've got the observant thing down
pat.

> Uh huh. A cut of the booty, full dental, cool uniform and access to my
> time. Pay scale is determined by how much we grab, and the access to my
> time is determined by what you want me for.

You'll have hench people for all the boring paperwork stuff, right? Can I
apply to not be one of *those* hench people? Hench climbing partner?

> No flaying. And you because of the various reasons I've mentioned over the
> last few days. You're attractive, easy to talk to, honest, open, hard
> working....did I mention attractive? I'll put the rest on the other
> account, but if it matters at all, the first time was in Toronto-I needed,
> and you were someone pleasant to focus on. More than just pleasant.
>
> Wanted you, simply put.

You're making me blush, and I wish I could have been there, been able to
*do* something to take the sting out of the day.

> Yeah, but it's getting easier--I think you're not running away is making it
> easier to believe that you won't.

You still talking to me?

I'm very aware right now that I seem to be very good at driving people off.

> > > Sorry. You know too much, I can't let you loose now. The only
> > > thing left to be decided is how much blame you get. I mean credit.
> > > Yeah, that's it.
> >
> > *sidles away silently*
>
> *reaches over and brings you back.*

Oh right - so you want to keep me?

> > > Nope. Working my way up to it.
> >
> > Maybe you'll end up practising on this David chap?
>
> I doubt it. Leaning toward someone I know a little more about.

Yeah?

> Because it's *my* plan! *pout*

You're going to have to point me at a picture of you where you look like
someone who pouts - you might look good in a suit, but it doesn't quite suit
the whole-you personality ;)

> So you really want to be in charge of me? I can get sort of stubborn. ;-)

Yeah? Maybe you just need a good second in command, to take the load of your
shoulders sometimes? [I'm not sure I'm really one of nature's natural
leaders - natural club secretary, maybe]

> > Questioning the evil overlord's probably not my best career move, is it?
>
> LOL! I'll let it go this time.

Thank you, oh Evil Overlord. I trust that will not adversely affect my
application chances?

> > Is she likely to announce loudly that everyone else should leave
> > now so You Two Can Talk?
>
> Meep. That's exactly the sort of thing she would do. Right, making plans
> to be busy on Monday...

Sounds - scary.

> I don't know. I feel a little...conflicted. It's not like he lives here,
> so even if we did manage to somehow get together there would still be big
> issues.

Distance and travel and trust type issues?

> I'm not sure if I want to start a long distance relationship

How far away is Portland from Boston anyway? I guess the amount of travel
you do already, avoiding the long distance thing is probably common sense.

> All of which makes me look like I'd happily start seeing someone local, and
> that isn't the case either.

No?

> Maybe I just live to make my life more difficult than it has to be.

Someone cursed you with interesting times to live in, maybe?

> And is it totally weird that I don't care what the motivation is at this
> point? Just want to...hell, if I'm going to tell you about that night in
> Toronto I'm going to look forward to whatever you want to share.

Me thinks I should go read that other email, huh?

> Good luck!

Didn't work - refund? ;P

>And Walt Whitman can be a pleasant way to spend an evening.

Maybe if you like poetry. It's work for me to read, you know?

> Right, I'm going to go check my other e-mail

Likewise - more in a few minutes then.

Tom
*********
Remember : You are not a salmon.

To : Oliver Kurland [rkurls @ pdc.com]
From : Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Saturday 11.32pm

> How about I just tell you my details and you can go from there. Share back,
> share less, share more, or just delete. Not going to make you do anything
> you don't want to, and honestly? If you're not wanting to read this, I
> understand. It's *okay*.

I want to. Especially after what you said in the other mail, It's - it's
weird-but-good, to think that someone thinks of me like that - thought of
me - this sentence is not going where I thought it was - I think you
probably get what I mean though. Hope so.

> My hips sped up, thrusting into my hand as I imagined holding you, touching
> you. Tried to feel your cock in my hand, your heat. Tried to feel the way
> it would be, you and me together, touching and kissing and exploring.
>
> I looked down at myself, imagined you there, your hand on me, and I came,
> crying out your name. Wanted you so bad, Tom. Wanted to feel you all
> around me. Wanted to hear you, and taste you, and make you feel good.

No idea if this does anything for my perv-rating, but God, Oliver, that's
just - to have someone say that - do that - it's - seductive? God - it's
hot - makes me hot. Maybe because it's you, and not some slime ball
stranger.

> Still there? Okay, I'm going to assume you are, 'cause you haven't ditched
> me yet.

Still here. Not going to be standing up to go anywhere for a few minutes
either.

> Right. So, remember that, writing it, has me harder than stone and almost
> coming in my pants, so I'm going to go take care of that.

Fuck if that isn't a mental picture. The idea of being someone's fantasy-
and someone who looks the way you do - someone who's you, basically - there
isn't a Miss Manners for this is there? Even if it was just once, one
really fucked up night, - I'm blushing, I hope you know - and I'm not even
sure that's biologically possible - the idea of being wanted like that just
gets to me.

That's always been something for me - something that works it's way in there
more often than not.

For the longest while it was Kay - hundreds of bits of memories and me
wanting nothing on earth so much as for him to let himself into the
apartment, be standing there in front of me, want me back, take me back.
Drop to his knees and take me there and then and make everything right
again. The idea of that used to drive me to distraction - when I was still
in Albuquerque mostly.

Do - do you ever think of Peter that way?

Way back - when I was first figuring things out. There was this guy at
school, Scott Karnack. He was a year older than me, first guy I remember
thinking 'please God, let him see me, touch me, want me' about - you could
say he featured a lot in my, um, imaginings back than. We'd be somewhere - a
quiet corner of the changing rooms, or a store cupboard, or somewhere not
quite private, but cut off from the noise of the school being busy all
around, and there was some totally reasonable reason for us being there,
just the two of us - we'd been sent to collect something, so it was always
the first thing. That he'd put down the whatever, and take my arm, and pull
me over, close to him, so he could talk, and I always imagined his voice
sort of low and quiet and intense - just meant for me - and he'd say how he
watched me, wanted me. With one hand he'd reach out, so gentle, and just
stroke my face, my neck, run his finger over my lips to keep me from saying
anything - [My subconscious clearly didn't trust me not to mess things up
for myself even in fantasy], but the hand on my arm : he'd hold onto me like
he never wanted me to leave. I'd imagine pushing his school shirt out of the
way, pressing into his skin, exploring him, thinking about how his chest
would feel - listening to him talking to me, feeling him wanting me, till we
were kissing, and pressed up close, and his hands would be urgent on my
back, my shoulders, my bum, wanting me there, keeping me there, pulling me
into him. And in the real world I'd be there in the shower, pulling away,
trying so hard to imagine what it would be like, to have someone else touch
me.

Of course, it goes without saying that he was hopelessly straight, and I
think he's even married now - but in my dreams he wanted me.

It's - it's almost always real people for me - real people, or characters
from films - actors and stuff is just too much like the whole scary
anonymous bodies thing.

God, Oliver - if I don't drown on the way home - will you be weirded out if
it's you?

Tom
*********
Remember : You are not a salmon.

To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Sunday 11:22am

> The universe really fucking sucks today. Really *really* fucking sucks.

Oh oh.

> I said I was going up into town to meet up with some mates, yeah?
> I got back to the station tonight to find some cretinous little arsewipes
> have trashed my bike - the frame's still chained to the railings but they
> stripped the rest and the frame's going to fucking be staying there, seeing as they
> super glued the lock, just for shits and giggles. This I did not need to
> discover at 9.15 at night in a dark station car park in the rain. Just -
> shit. What am I going to do? My last loan instalment should be hitting my
> account next week, but that's pretty much earmarked for rent and stuff.
> Little shits. I can't imagine that even my gear block can be
> worth that much on the black market, you know? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck
> fuck.

Ah shit. And not much hope of getting the parts back. Fuck.

So you need a new bike, and haven't the cash. That...Christ. That blows.

I'm sorry.

> Oliver? I'm sorry. I'm cold and soaked and royally pissed off with the
> world at large, and I probably shouldn't be taking it out on you - just.
> Fuck I'm pathetic. I can't face trudging back to an empty house right now,
> and there isn't anyone who's doorstep I can show up on who's
> going to be in.
> Sorry.

Don't be sorry. I've had my share of venting on you, and for less reason.
Man, I wish I was there. Wish I could take care of you.

> Plus the foundations of this? I'm not sure if you're not the best placed
> person to get it. I've been buttoning my lip and just letting it build all
> day - I probably should have said something, but then I'd
> probably have got beaten up, so I guess I shouldn't.

Sometimes it's hard to keep that in mind. But trust me, when in a situation
like you describe below? Standing up for yourself will only get you beaten
up, or worse. Not likely you'd have changed anyone's minds about queers,
only wound up in a world of physical pain.

I mean, shit. If people who love you, like your mom and Seth, can't get it,
the chances of some drunken idiot in a bar being swayed are nil.

Don't like to think about you putting up with hearing that crap, but I like
the idea of you in the hospital a lot less.

> Tam picked the sort of pub that has the footie going on the big screen,
> right? They do a decent meal, and his team have some sort of match
> on that he wanted to keep an eye on, so, ok, fair enough. Except for
> the pissed up football blokes in the corner, screaming at their team, and
> the ref, and every third comment was 'you fuckin' gay? Wanker!' every
> time the ref made a bad call or something. Just makes my
> blood boil. Shouldn't let it get to me. I'd say 'you wouldn't say 'oi
> fucking nigger' would you?' except I have a sinking suspicion
> that lot might not see why that was out of line either. Add a side serving of
> little teeny girls on the tube with their 'oh that's so gay' and - Tom is not a happy
> bunny.

God, I just...I hate that shit, and I know how pissed it makes you. But
like I said, if you'd have confronted any of them, it would have been way
worse.

> But hey - I'm not too likely to be going back there for a while -
> I kind of messed things up with Tam today, too. Got his girlfriend's name
> wrong. Stupid of me. I really *do* get why referring to someone's current with
> their ex's name is a Bad Thing. I only apologised a thousand times. It's just his
> attitude that set me off, and I actually walked out on them, hence the
> coming home early. God I'm an idiot sometimes.

You are not an idiot. You made a mistake, and he got pissy. You said you
were sorry.

We all make mistakes, Tom. Sometimes people aren't willing to let shit go,
though. I don't know a way of changing that. I know that you're still
stinging from it--but I hope you'll go easier on yourself when you're dry
and home and have had a chance to get some sleep.

> Thing is - Tam's always been the sort to refer to his current as 'the
> missus' or 'the girl' - you know? It's mostly affectation - I
> lived with him in my second year, and I've met his parents, and believe me, he is so not
> 'street' - tangent - sorry - but, yeah, you don't hear the girl's
> name every time he mentions her. Plus I don't think he's ever spent more than about a
> week between girlfriends, and I haven't; managed to actually meet up with
> him since just after Christmas, so it was an honest mistake.

Right, so at least you *know* it was just a mistake. That's good. Too bad
he didn't seem to see it.

> Did not need to hear anything he said after that though. God - just 'cos
> I wouldn't know pussy if it walked up and bit me doesn't mean women are all
> interchangeable?

He said that?

What was the word you used? Fucktard.

> For fucks sake! The number of his ex's I still talk to and he doesn't;
> should really sort that out. He was pissed. I'm most of the way
> there. Still don't like hearing anything that - ugly I guess - from someone I
> thought was a mate.

There wasn't any need of him saying that. I'm sorry.

> I should really go home and sleep it off, and not inflict it on
> the world - or you - just...
>
> No - I should go home. It's only a 40 minute walk, after all - oh
> happiness, oh joy.
>
> Fuck it - vending machine coffee it is - I need to thaw before I can face
> the weather again.
>
> Sorry.

Christ. I wish I was there. Wish I could do *something*.

But, at least there's another e-mail from you, so I know you didn't freeze
to death...

More from me in a few minutes.

Oliver

To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Sunday 11:52am

> Um - if you read this one first? You could probably delete the
> earlier mail unread. If not - sorry.

Read it, glad I did, stop apologising.

> [My jacket's steaming over the radiator in the corner, and thank the lord
> for change machines : two cups of coffee, one kit kat, one hot
> chocolate. Am warmer, and soberer - and sorry for the outburst. I'm really
> *not* a drama queen. Honest.]

I know you're not. I'm happy you're warmer--hell at this point you've
already gone home and slept, spent the day doing stuff--Fuck I hate this
time difference, can't be where I should be when you need an ear.

> > Gym was okay, managed the wall for an hour or so--had to stop 'cause the
> > only guy available to partner had to go--and swam for a bit.
>
> Good for you - good climb?

Yeah, not bad, but I think I messed with my hamstring--little tender today.

> > Never play poker with me. 'cause I lose a lot.
>
> Story to tell? I think I'm surprised - you've got the observant
> thing down pat.

No story, just suck at cards. :P I take chances when I shouldn't, push too
hard, hoping to wing by on a bluff. I should definitely not gamble. ;-)

> > Uh huh. A cut of the booty, full dental, cool uniform and access to my
> > time. Pay scale is determined by how much we grab, and the access to my
> > time is determined by what you want me for.
>
> You'll have hench people for all the boring paperwork stuff, right? Can I
> apply to not be one of *those* hench people? Hench climbing partner?

Hench climbing partner it is. And cook. Can't forget that.

> > Wanted you, simply put.
>
> You're making me blush, and I wish I could have been there, been able to
> *do* something to take the sting out of the day.

Feeling like that myself, right now.

> > Yeah, but it's getting easier--I think you're not running away is
> > making it easier to believe that you won't.
>
> You still talking to me?

Of course I am.

> I'm very aware right now that I seem to be very good at driving
> people off.

Only people who don't have their eyes open, Tom. I'm not going anywhere.

> > > *sidles away silently*
> >
> > *reaches over and brings you back.*
>
> Oh right - so you want to keep me?

Yeah.

> > > > Nope. Working my way up to it.
> > >
> > > Maybe you'll end up practising on this David chap?
> >
> > I doubt it. Leaning toward someone I know a little more about.
>
> Yeah?

Yeah. Tom, would you like to have dinner with me when I get to London next?

> > Because it's *my* plan! *pout*
>
> You're going to have to point me at a picture of you where you look like
> someone who pouts - you might look good in a suit, but it doesn't
> quite suit the whole-you personality ;)

I have a lovely pout. Makes people weak in the knees. Gets me sweets.

> > So you really want to be in charge of me? I can get sort of stubborn. ;-)
>
> Yeah? Maybe you just need a good second in command, to take the
> load of your shoulders sometimes? [I'm not sure I'm really one of nature's natural
> leaders - natural club secretary, maybe]

LOL! You can handle the note taking then, and make sure I remember to lock
the master plans away.

> > LOL! I'll let it go this time.
>
> Thank you, oh Evil Overlord. I trust that will not adversely affect my
> application chances?

Nope, you're a shoe in.

> > > Is she likely to announce loudly that everyone else should leave
> > > now so You Two Can Talk?
> >
> > Meep. That's exactly the sort of thing she would do. Right,
> > making plans to be busy on Monday...
>
> Sounds - scary.

Yeah. And I've decided not to go.

> > I don't know. I feel a little...conflicted. It's not like he lives
> > here, so even if we did manage to somehow get together there would
> > still be big issues.
>
> Distance and travel and trust type issues?

Yeah.

> > I'm not sure if I want to start a long distance relationship
>
> How far away is Portland from Boston anyway? I guess the amount of travel
> you do already, avoiding the long distance thing is probably common sense.

Portland is actually only a couple of hours away. Which makes my whole
distance argument look pretty dumb.

I think....I think I just don't want to meet him.

> > All of which makes me look like I'd happily start seeing someone local,
> > and that isn't the case either.
>
> No?

No. Want to....shit. Look, I don't know what I'm thinking. Really. What
makes sense in my head isn't what the rest of me wants. I *know* distance
is hard. I know that being apart is hard, and should be avoided. I know
that me travelling is death to a relationship of any kind.

But if I'm going to try having a relationship with anyone right now I want
it to be this. You and me talking a couple times of day like this. Want to
see what happens.

Now you think I'm insane and fucked up, 'cause I want what's the worst thing
for both of us. But I can't help it, really. I like you, Tom. I'm
attracted to you, body and mind, and I don't want to go out looking for
someone else right now, just because he'd be closer geographically.

You can tell me to go to hell now.

> > Maybe I just live to make my life more difficult than it has to be.
>
> Someone cursed you with interesting times to live in, maybe?

Perhaps. :-)

> > And is it totally weird that I don't care what the motivation is at this
> > point? Just want to...hell, if I'm going to tell you about
> > that night in Toronto I'm going to look forward to whatever you want to
> > share.
>
> Me thinks I should go read that other email, huh?

God, I haven't even had the nerve to check that account yet. You may not
even be speaking to me at this point.

> > Good luck!
>
> Didn't work - refund? ;P

You bet. Any time you want it again, I'll say it for you.

Going to look at the other account now.

Take care of yourself, Tom.

Oliver.

PS--Don't suppose you would take a low interest loan on a two year pay back
schedule so you could get a new bike? I'm serious. Let me know.

O.

To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland [rkurls @ pdc.com]
Sent: Sunday 12:35pm

Hey, you're here. Wow.

__Deleted bits about me jerking off. Ahem.___

> > I looked down at myself, imagined you there, your hand on me,
> > and I came, crying out your name. Wanted you so bad, Tom. Wanted to
> > feel you all around me. Wanted to hear you, and taste you, and make you feel good.
>
> No idea if this does anything for my perv-rating, but God, Oliver, that's
> just - to have someone say that - do that - it's - seductive? God - it's
> hot - makes me hot. Maybe because it's you, and not some slime ball
> stranger.

Maybe. Hope so. Glad you didn't run away.

> > Still there? Okay, I'm going to assume you are, 'cause you haven't
> > ditched me yet.
>
> Still here. Not going to be standing up to go anywhere for a few minutes
> either.

That's....good to know. ;-)

> > Right. So, remember that, writing it, has me harder than stone
> > and almost coming in my pants, so I'm going to go take care of that.
>
> Fuck if that isn't a mental picture. The idea of being someone's fantasy-
> and someone who looks the way you do - someone who's you,
> basically - there isn't a Miss Manners for this is there? even if it was
> just once, one really fucked up night, - I'm blushing, I hope you know - and I'm not
> even sure that's biologically possible - the idea of being wanted like
> that just gets to me.

More truth? Didn't even make it to the shower, could barely move from
wanting you after I wrote that. Stroked off where I sat.

And there was one other time, after Toronto. When I was in the shower
getting ready for work.

> That's always been something for me - something that works it's
> way in there more often than not.

I want you. Believe that.

> For the longest while it was Kay - hundreds of bits of memories and me
> wanting nothing on earth so much as for him to let himself into the
> apartment, be standing there in front of me, want me back, take me back.
> Drop to his knees and take me there and then and make everything right
> again. The idea of that used to drive me to distraction - when I
> was still in Albuquerque mostly.

Does it still? Do you still want him back, want him to find you?

> Do - do you ever think of Peter that way?

I used to. I used to wake up at night, aching. Dream about him in me, wake
up almost feeling him. Then there was just an empty bed and I'd remember.
Used to torture myself, sometimes, thinking about him coming back and saying
he was so sorry he'd do anything to make it up to me. I used to wonder if
we could ever be together again and not have what he'd done come between us.

Mostly I used to think about him kissing me, soft and slow. But it's been
better the last four or five months--I don't dream about him anymore, don't
play out scenes over and over.

But yeah. I used to.

> Way back - when I was first figuring things out. There was this guy at
> school, Scott Karnack. He was a year older than me, first guy I remember
> thinking 'please God, let him see me, touch me, want me' about - you could
> say he featured a lot in my, um, imaginings back than. We'd be
> somewhere - a quiet corner of the changing rooms, or a store cupboard, or
> somewhere not quite private, but cut off from the noise of the school being busy all
> around, and there was some totally reasonable reason for us being there,
> just the two of us - we'd been sent to collect something, so it was always
> the first thing. That he'd put down the whatever, and take my
> arm, and pull me over, close to him, so he could talk, and I always
> imagined his voice sort of low and quiet and intense - just meant for me - and he'd
> say how he watched me, wanted me. With one hand he'd reach out, so gentle,
> and just stroke my face, my neck, run his finger over my lips to keep me
> from saying anything - [My subconscious clearly didn't trust me not to
> mess things up for myself even in fantasy], but the hand on my arm : he'd hold on
> to me like he never wanted me to leave. I'd imagine pushing his school
> shirt out of the way, pressing into his skin, exploring him, thinking about how
> his chest would feel - listening to him talking to me, feeling him wanting
> me, till we were kissing, and pressed up close, and his hands would be
> urgent on my back, my shoulders, my bum, wanting me there, keeping me there,
> pulling me into him. And in the real world I'd be there in the shower, pulling away,
> trying so hard to imagine what it would be like, to have someone
> else touch me.

Gah. Yeah, being wanted is good. Being *desired* is good.

> Of course, it goes without saying that he was hopelessly straight, and I
> think he's even married now - but in my dreams he wanted me.
>
> It's - it's almost always real people for me - real people, or characters
> from films - actors and stuff is just too much like the whole scary
> anonymous bodies thing.

Exactly--faceless bodies aren't worth much, don't do much.

> God, Oliver - if I don't drown on the way home - will you be
> weirded out if it's you?

Want it to be me.
Hope it was.

And I'd tell you all about what I'd want to do, except my phone just rang
and I'm being sent to Arizona for two days. Gotta catch a flight in three
hours. Hey, that takes care of Monday for me.

(Oh shit, I already went off about that, didn't I? And fuck it all the
e-mail's gone so I can't even delete the too much for you to deal with
parts. Fuck fuck fuck.)

Fuck.

I'll have my laptop, and will have e-mail access no problem, but not until
tomorrow.

Hope you're okay. And let me know about the money for a bike--I can wire
it, if you want.

Oliver.

To : Oliver Kurland
From : Thomas Moorfield
Sent : Monday 11:52am

> > Um - if you read this one first? You could probably delete the
> > earlier mail unread. If not - sorry.
>
> Read it, glad I did, stop apologising.

Sorry?

May as well reply to that here, in fact.

Had a phone message from Dave waiting when I finally got home, basically
saying that he thought Tam was way out of line, and he was sorry that it had
happened and hopes I'm ok, which is something. Also I've got an email from
Tam this morning - haven't looked at it yet. I'd rather talk to you.

Oh - speaking of which : yes, Oliver, I would love to have dinner with you
when you're in London next.

[I figure that's what you were going to skim for - you can sit back and read
the rest without worrying now ;) There's more stuff to say, but that's the
Executive Summary]

I'm talking to my dad about the whole bike thing - it may yet work out.

>> I'm really *not* a drama queen. Honest.]
>
> I know you're not.

Thanks ;)

> I'm happy you're warmer--hell at this point you've
> already gone home and slept, spent the day doing stuff--Fuck I hate this
> time difference, can't be where I should be when you need an ear.

Somehow or other, though, you seem to have me convinced that I can vent in
your direction anytime. Believe me : that helped. Helps.

> Yeah, not bad, but I think I messed with my hamstring--little tender today.

Feeling better? Take it gently, and lots of stretching, yeah?

> No story, just suck at cards. :P I take chances when I shouldn't, push too
> hard, hoping to wing by on a bluff. I should definitely not gamble. ;-)

Sounds like I should learn, just in case we ever end up playing for bets ;)

> Hench climbing partner it is. And cook. Can't forget that.

So long as I don't have to feed a whole canteen : I think I did dinner for
13 once, but that's really and truly the upper limit.

What's this uniform like, anyway?

> > > Yeah, but it's getting easier--I think you're not running away is
> > > making it easier to believe that you won't.
> >
> > You still talking to me?
>
> Of course I am.

That's a very good thing ;)

> > > > > Nope. Working my way up to it.
> > > >
> > > > Maybe you'll end up practising on this David chap?
> > >
> > > I doubt it. Leaning toward someone I know a little more about.
> >
> > Yeah?
>
> Yeah. Tom, would you like to have dinner with me when I get to London next?

And just in case you missed it : I'd really like that. I think.

> > You're going to have to point me at a picture of you where you look like
> > someone who pouts - you might look good in a suit, but it doesn't
> > quite suit the whole-you personality ;)
>
> I have a lovely pout. Makes people weak in the knees. Gets me sweets.

I'm sure it does - it still doesn't match the suit, so I'm going to see if
my novice-grade pouting skills can get me a photo. *pouts*

> > > LOL! I'll let it go this time.
> >
> > Thank you, oh Evil Overlord. I trust that will not adversely affect my
> > application chances?
>
> Nope, you're a shoe in.

Should probably apply then ;) - depends on the uniform though. ;P

> > > I don't know. I feel a little...conflicted. It's not like he lives
> > > here, so even if we did manage to somehow get together there would
> > > still be big issues.
> >
> > Distance and travel and trust type issues?
>
> Yeah.

Going to come back to this one.

> I think....I think I just don't want to meet him.

Well - that's the best reason.

> No. Want to....shit. Look, I don't know what I'm thinking. Really. What
> makes sense in my head isn't what the rest of me wants. I *know* distance
> is hard. I know that being apart is hard, and should be avoided. I know
> that me travelling is death to a relationship of any kind.
>
> But if I'm going to try having a relationship with anyone right now I want
> it to be this. You and me talking a couple times of day like this. Want to
> see what happens.
>
> Now you think I'm insane and fucked up, 'cause I want what's the worst thing
> for both of us. But I can't help it, really. I like you, Tom. I'm
> attracted to you, body and mind, and I don't want to go out looking for
> someone else right now, just because he'd be closer geographically.
>
> You can tell me to go to hell now.

Don't you dare go anywhere. Well ok - work stuff - , but - Oliver? Please?
Give me a second to figure out what I want to say before you assume I'm
going to want to see you burn in hell. 'k?

What do I want to say?

Thank you

I like you. The more I talk with you, the more I like you, in fact.

My head's spinning a bit, but yes, please, can we see what happens? Yes I'd
love to have dinner with you - go out on a date, even, to clarify which
version of English I'm saying that in. If it's not entirely obvious, yes, I
really really want to carry on talking to you like this - getting to know
you, getting to share bits of me.

I - I just have no idea what to say or do about the idea that it's the worst
thing though.

Well, firstly it's not the worst thing - it's not like either of us is being
buried in quick sand with jam on our faces and giant ants on the loose is
it?

But - the distance thing, and the trust thing, and the whole looming issue
of what I'm doing after June, and the voice in the back of my head that
insists this is some really elaborate practical joke ... they're all real.

Oliver - what are you expecting?

No - that's the wrong question.

What do you *want* to happen? The best case scenario? What are you *hoping*
for? If the world would just re-order itself so you can have exactly what
you want - what is that?

> God, I haven't even had the nerve to check that account yet. You may not
> even be speaking to me at this point.

Can we get one thing straight? If I ever decide I don't want to talk to you,
which I'm not anticipating, but, if I ever do? I will tell you. Promise.

> PS--Don't suppose you would take a low interest loan on a two year pay back
> schedule so you could get a new bike? I'm serious. Let me know.

I don't know if you know what the offer means to me - a hundred thank yous,
but in light of the above? I can't accept. That would just be one thing too
far. The fact that you offered though - you're a good man Oliver. Thank
you.

You've been more of a friend to me in just a few weeks than so many other
people.

I'm going to be kicking around here all day today - speak soon?

Tom
*********
Remember : You are not a salmon.

To : Oliver Kurland [rkurls @ pdc.com], Oliver Kurland
From : Thomas Moorfield
Sent : Monday 1.40 pm.

(just realised I don't know if you can pick up the other address on the
move, so sending it to both - think I took out the incriminating details.)

> I want you.

God I wish I could remember your voice better.

>>> For the longest while it was Kay

> Do you still want him back, want him to find you?

I sort of assumed I did - but - I don't think I do.

Part of me wants him to come back, so I can turn him away. I - I don't
think I would take him back. It's the strangest thing to write that, but
it's true. If he really meant the things he said, he'd have acted
differently when we hit a problem. He was lying to himself, and / or to me
and - no - I don't want him to come back. I'd still like to know what
happened, how he is, but I wouldn't give him myself again. Learned my
lesson.

And - it was better when I moved out of the apartment where we'd been
together, and I think of him - fantasize about him - less and less - not for
a couple of months now. It's not worth it - hurts more than it helps. I
guess I got better about making sure it couldn't turn into him, you know?

> But it's been better the last four or five months--I don't dream about him anymore,
> don't play out scenes over and over.
>
> But yeah. I used to.

Thanks for telling me that. It's not the sort of thing people talk about
much is it? 'am I a masochistic freak for fantasizing over my ex?' - doesn't
come up much in casual conversation.

> Gah. Yeah, being wanted is good. Being *desired* is good.

I can't tell if this is out of line again, given the other email, but - want
you - want your hands on me, want to taste your skin and find out how your
voice feels.

> > God, Oliver - if I don't drown on the way home - will you be
> > weirded out if it's you?
>
> Want it to be me.
> Hope it was.

After that email? It was.

> (Oh shit, I already went off about that, didn't I? And fuck it all the
> e-mail's gone so I can't even delete the too much for you to deal with
> parts. Fuck fuck fuck.)

This is where it's my turn to tell you to calm down, breath, and remember
that it's going to be ok, isn't it?

And to point out the irony of not-panicking over telling someone that you've
had naked thoughts about them in some detail, and then panicking about
telling them you like them ...

I'm dealing. In fact I'm grinning - even if things are still kind of murky,
the fact that this gorgeous fascinating lovely guy *wants* to ask me out has
improved my Monday quite a lot. Few butterflies in the stomach, but -
grinning.

> I'll have my laptop, and will have e-mail access no problem, but not until
> tomorrow.

That's today, right?

Hope you got there ok [and you weren't kidding about the short notice, were
you?] and - hope you get this.

Like I said - I'll be around all day today.

Kind of hoping I'll get to hear from you sooner rather than later, but if
little things like your job mean you don't get the chance - no guilt, ok?

take care.

Tom.
*********
Remember : You are not a salmon.

To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Monday, 12:16pm
Place: Phoenix, Arizona

Hey, Tom.

> > Read it, glad I did, stop apologising.
>
> Sorry?
>
> May as well reply to that here, in fact.
>
> Had a phone message from Dave waiting when I finally got home, basically
> saying that he thought Tam was way out of line, and he was sorry
> that it had happened and hopes I'm ok, which is something. Also I've got
> an email from Tam this morning - haven't looked at it yet. I'd rather talk to you.

I'm glad Dave called you, and I hope the e-mail from Tam is something you
want to read--I know you said he'd been drinking, and it's totally possible
he woke up to himself yesterday and feels badly.

> Oh - speaking of which : yes, Oliver, I would love to have dinner with you
> when you're in London next.
>
> [I figure that's what you were going to skim for - you can sit
> back and read the rest without worrying now ;) There's more stuff to say, but
> that's the Executive Summary]

*looks around conference room where people are eating sandwiches and talking
shop. Decide not to jump up and say "he likes me!"*

Wonderful. :-)

> I'm talking to my dad about the whole bike thing - it may yet work out.

Excellent, I *really* hope you can work something out. Being without easy
transport and stress relief sucks.

> Somehow or other, though, you seem to have me convinced that I can vent in
> your direction anytime. Believe me : that helped. Helps.

Good. It's true--feel free.

> > Yeah, not bad, but I think I messed with my hamstring--little tender
> > today.
>
> Feeling better? Take it gently, and lots of stretching, yeah?

The plane didn't help much, but I managed to stretch it out and spend
sometime doing the stairs last night. Seems okay today.

> > No story, just suck at cards. :P I take chances when I shouldn't, push
> > too hard, hoping to wing by on a bluff. I should definitely not
> > gamble. ;-)
>
> Sounds like I should learn, just in case we ever end up playing
> for bets ;)

And depending on what the bet is, I may play worse. :P

> > Hench climbing partner it is. And cook. Can't forget that.
>
> So long as I don't have to feed a whole canteen : I think I did dinner for
> 13 once, but that's really and truly the upper limit.

13? God, I am so not ever cooking for you. Except maybe that breakfast
stuff I can do.

Er... we can eat breakfast anytime, right? Doesn't have to be in the
morning--can be late at night or in the afternoon, and I'm babbling so I'll
stop now.

Nerves.

> What's this uniform like, anyway?

Mmmmmmm. Tight t-shirt, black trousers, (part of me is screaming to say
leather) long duster....Christ, I just described Spike from Buffy the
Vampire Slayer.

Uh, I'll get a design team on the uniform question.

> > Yeah. Tom, would you like to have dinner with me when I get to London
> next?
>
> And just in case you missed it : I'd really like that. I think.

First, good. Second, 'I think?'

Um. Okay, I'm just going to keep reading.

> > I have a lovely pout. Makes people weak in the knees. Gets me sweets.
>
> I'm sure it does - it still doesn't match the suit, so I'm going to see if
> my novice-grade pouting skills can get me a photo. *pouts*

Adorable. Will see if I can find one to send. Yeesh.

> > Nope, you're a shoe in.
>
> Should probably apply then ;) - depends on the uniform though. ;P

*leather leather leather* I'll get back to you when I get my brain unstuck.

> > > Distance and travel and trust type issues?
> >
> > Yeah.
>
> Going to come back to this one.

Okay. Figured that would be a topic in this one.

> > Now you think I'm insane and fucked up, 'cause I want what's the worst
> > thing for both of us. But I can't help it, really. I like you, Tom. I'm
> > attracted to you, body and mind, and I don't want to go out looking for
> > someone else right now, just because he'd be closer geographically.
> >
> > You can tell me to go to hell now.
>
> Don't you dare go anywhere. Well ok - work stuff - , but - Oliver? Please?
> Give me a second to figure out what I want to say before you assume I'm
> going to want to see you burn in hell. 'k?

Okay. I was over the top. I'm sorry, and I'm still here.

> What do I want to say?
>
> Thank you
>
> I like you. The more I talk with you, the more I like you, in fact.
>
> My head's spinning a bit, but yes, please, can we see what
> happens? Yes, I'd love to have dinner with you - go out on a date, even, to
> clarify which version of English I'm saying that in. If it's not entirely
> obvious, yes, I really really want to carry on talking to you like this -
> getting to know you, getting to share bits of me.

Well, good. That's...wonderful. That's what I want.

> I - I just have no idea what to say or do about the idea that
> it's the worst thing though.
>
> Well, firstly it's not the worst thing - it's not like either of
> us is being buried in quick sand with jam on our faces and giant ants on
> the loose is it?

True. That would be much worse than constantly being apart and getting
attached to a man you'd get to see about five times a year.

> But - the distance thing, and the trust thing, and the whole looming issue
> of what I'm doing after June, and the voice in the back of my head that
> insists this is some really elaborate practical joke ... they're all real.

The distance thing is real. The trust thing--I don't know. I don't have
any claim on you, can't tell you not to see anyone, don't expect you to say
no if a guy you like starts being more to you. At this point that just
doesn't apply. But I can tell you that I trust you as a good person. That
I feel like I can tell you anything, that I trust you not to hurt me by
lying to me.

About what you're doing after June...that's up to you, Tom. I want you to
do whatever it is that will fulfil you the most.

And this is no joke. Forget that right now.

> Oliver - what are you expecting?
>
> No - that's the wrong question.
>
> What do you *want* to happen? The best case scenario? What are
> you *hoping* for? If the world would just re-order itself so you can have
> exactly what you want - what is that?

Ah, the if the world were perfect question.

If the world were the way I want it, we would be in the same country. The
same city. You would have a job you love, I'd be doing what I love and
travelling less, and we could spend time together, get to know each other
better without time differences.

Go to movies. Hang out. Have dinner. See the same TV shows, anything.

But the best I can offer you is e-mail, as many trips to London as I can
trade for, and the vague hope that someday maybe we can find work in the
same city.

What do I *want* to happen? I want to keep talking, keep getting to know
you. Want to see you in London, hear you, talk in person. And then, after
dinner, I want to go somewhere quiet and talk some more. Want to touch you.

> > God, I haven't even had the nerve to check that account yet.
> > You may not even be speaking to me at this point.
>
> Can we get one thing straight? If I ever decide I don't want to
> talk to you, which I'm not anticipating, but, if I ever do? I will tell
> you. Promise.

Okay. That's the last I'll do that then.

> > PS--Don't suppose you would take a low interest loan on a two year pay
> > back schedule so you could get a new bike? I'm serious. Let me know.
>
> I don't know if you know what the offer means to me - a hundred
> thank yous, but in light of the above? I can't accept. That would just be
> one thing too far. The fact that you offered though - you're a good man
> Oliver. Thank you.

Not a problem, and you're right, of course. I just didn't want to see you
without a bike when it's almost a necessity.

:-) Here's hoping your dad can work something out for you.

> I'm going to be kicking around here all day today - speak soon?

'm here.

Hope you day is going okay.

Oliver

To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Monday 12:30pm
Place: Phoenix, Arizona

Gotta love that time change, I'm replying before you sent this. :P

> (just realised I don't know if you can pick up the other address on the
> move, so sending it to both - think I took out the incriminating details.)

Cool, thanks. I can't access the other one until after hours.

> > I want you.
>
> God I wish I could remember your voice better.

Yeah. Me too.

> Part of me wants him to come back, so I can turn him away. I - I don't
> think I would take him back. It's the strangest thing to write that, but
> it's true. If he really meant the things he said, he'd have acted
> differently when we hit a problem. He was lying to himself, and / or to me
> and - no - I don't want him to come back. I'd still like to know what
> happened, how he is, but I wouldn't give him myself again. Learned my
> lesson.

That? Is healing. Good for you. :-) Really. That's wonderful, Tom.
Hurty and yucky to go through, but healthy.

> And - it was better when I moved out of the apartment where we'd been
> together, and I think of him - fantasize about him - less and
> less - not for a couple of months now. It's not worth it - hurts more than
> it helps. I guess I got better about making sure it couldn't turn into him,
> you know?

Yeah, I get that.

> > But it's been better the last four or five months--I don't dream about
> > him anymore, don't play out scenes over and over.
> >
> > But yeah. I used to.
>
> Thanks for telling me that. It's not the sort of thing people talk about
> much is it? 'am I a masochistic freak for fantasizing over my
> ex?' - doesn't come up much in casual conversation.

Nah. Just *our* conversations. ;-) Goes with the sharing, I suppose.

> > Gah. Yeah, being wanted is good. Being *desired* is good.
>
> I can't tell if this is out of line again, given the other email,
> but - want you - want your hands on me, want to taste your skin and find
> out how your voice feels.

Oh God. I'm...at a big table with a lot of people around and you've just
gotten my attention. (Not complaining.)

Ahem. This is going to be an interesting afternoon. :P

> > > God, Oliver - if I don't drown on the way home - will you be
> > > weirded out if it's you?
> >
> > Want it to be me.
> > Hope it was.
>
> After that email? It was.

Oh good. :-) Feel free, any time.

> > (Oh shit, I already went off about that, didn't I? And fuck it all the
> > e-mail's gone so I can't even delete the too much for you to deal with
> > parts. Fuck fuck fuck.)
>
> This is where it's my turn to tell you to calm down, breath, and remember
> that it's going to be ok, isn't it?

Yeah. I'm calmer now, thanks.

> And to point out the irony of not-panicking over telling someone
> that you've had naked thoughts about them in some detail, and then
> panicking about telling them you like them ...

I know. Weird huh? Easier to tell someone you want him than it is to say
'I like you'. Society is fucked, if that's what it's taught us.

> I'm dealing. In fact I'm grinning - even if things are still kind
> of murky, the fact that this gorgeous fascinating lovely guy *wants* to ask
> me out has improved my Monday quite a lot. Few butterflies in the stomach, but -
> grinning.

I'm gorgeous and fascinating? I think I'm grinning like an idiot. And oh
yeah. TONS of butterflies.

*doing internal happy dance*

> > I'll have my laptop, and will have e-mail access no problem,
> > but not until tomorrow.
>
> That's today, right?

Yup.

> Hope you got there ok [and you weren't kidding about the short
> notice, were you?] and - hope you get this.

I got here fine, and yeah--short notice happens sometimes. Not that often,
but it does. At least I get to take the computer. (Forgot both my Palm and
the cell this time. )

> Like I said - I'll be around all day today.

Great! Talk to me. 'm bored.

> Kind of hoping I'll get to hear from you sooner rather than later, but if
> little things like your job mean you don't get the chance - no guilt, ok?

No panic, no guilt, and I'm here.

Study. Work. E-mail me. :-)

At either address, I'll check them both when I get free of this rabble.

Oliver

To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Monday, 8.35pm

The time zones are somewhat confusing - it's getting pretty late here. How's
the climate change?

> I'm glad Dave called you, and I hope the e-mail from Tam is something you
> want to read--I know you said he'd been drinking, and it's totally possible
> he woke up to himself yesterday and feels badly.

That's pretty much the measure of it. He apologised - pretty much in full.
Weirdly enough he thanked me for leaving 'before I could make any more of a
total tit of myself' - his words. There's not a whole lot of point holding
a grudge - just - well - forgiven but I don't know if I can forget.

> > Oh - speaking of which : yes, Oliver, I would love to have dinner with you
> > when you're in London next.

> *looks around conference room where people are eating sandwiches and talking
> shop. Decide not to jump up and say "he likes me!"*

*smiles* - I think I like the mental picture of that reaction ;) Maybe best
for your promotion prospects that it's only imagined though.

> > I'm talking to my dad about the whole bike thing - it may yet work out.
>
> Excellent, I *really* hope you can work something out. Being without easy
> transport and stress relief sucks.

At the moment he's offering to send me enough to get a second hand
rattlebag - it'll get me to campus and back, at least. I think the price of
a good mountain bike boggled him a bit. Well - in theory I'm not so far
away from a real pay packet, and it's rather less likely to get ripped off
again.

> > Somehow or other, though, you seem to have me convinced that I can vent in
> > your direction anytime. Believe me : that helped. Helps.
>
> Good. It's true--feel free.

You know that goes both ways, right?

> The plane didn't help much, but I managed to stretch it out and spend
> sometime doing the stairs last night. Seems okay today.

Glad it's on the mend. Doing the stairs?

> > > No story, just suck at cards. :P I take chances when I shouldn't, push
> > > too hard, hoping to wing by on a bluff. I should definitely not
> > > gamble. ;-)
> >
> > Sounds like I should learn, just in case we ever end up playing
> > for bets ;)
>
> And depending on what the bet is, I may play worse. :P

I'm pretty impressed neither of us has mentioned strip poker yet ..

Oops.

> 13?

Which is actually easier than something fancy for two ;) 1 big pan rice, 1
big pan chilli, 1 batch soft rolls, and a couple of batches of ice cream.

> God, I am so not ever cooking for you.

*pout*

> Except maybe that breakfast stuff I can do.

You're morally obliged to make me home chips, you know. Help me with my
studies in American life ..

> Er... we can eat breakfast anytime, right? Doesn't have to be in the
> morning--can be late at night or in the afternoon, and I'm babbling so I'll
> stop now.

You sound - caffeinated :) Breakfast food is good anytime. And who has time
to cook that stuff for actual breakfast anyway?

> Nerves.

Still just me.

Unless you invited the Evil OverLord Assessment Tribunal or something.

> > What's this uniform like, anyway?
>
> Mmmmmmm. Tight t-shirt, black trousers, (part of me is screaming to say
> leather) long duster....Christ, I just described Spike from Buffy the
> Vampire Slayer.

That's not necessarily a bad thing ;) - Except the part where he looks
better in it than me.

[Wow but that was vain and arrogant all in one - double points!]

> > Yeah. Tom, would you like to have dinner with me when I get to London
> > next?
> >
> > And just in case you missed it : I'd really like that. I think.
>
> First, good. Second, 'I think?'

Nerves, basically.

> > > I have a lovely pout. Makes people weak in the knees. Gets me sweets.
> >
> > I'm sure it does - it still doesn't match the suit, so I'm going to see if
> > my novice-grade pouting skills can get me a photo. *pouts*
>
> Adorable. Will see if I can find one to send. Yeesh.

Score. I thank you ;)

> > depends on the uniform though. ;P
>
> *leather leather leather* I'll get back to you when I get my brain unstuck.

I only said no to leather *straps* - that's rule #3 or something. Although
now that I go check, it actually says 'Similarly, outfits made entirely from black
leather will be reserved for formal occasions.' so - there's some leeway for
your design team.

> > > You can tell me to go to hell now.
> >
> > Don't you dare go anywhere. Well ok - work stuff - , but - Oliver? Please?
> > Give me a second to figure out what I want to say before you assume I'm
> > going to want to see you burn in hell. 'k?
>
> Okay. I was over the top. I'm sorry, and I'm still here.

Good - thank you ;)

> > What do I want to say?
> >
> > Thank you
> >
> > I like you. The more I talk with you, the more I like you, in fact.
> >
> > My head's spinning a bit, but yes, please, can we see what
> > happens? Yes, I'd love to have dinner with you - go out on a date, even, to
> > clarify which version of English I'm saying that in. If it's not entirely
> > obvious, yes, I really really want to carry on talking to you like this -
> > getting to know you, getting to share bits of me.
>
> Well, good. That's...wonderful. That's what I want.

*phew* - and I don't believe I just had the thought that this is like
playing Minesweeper with real mines ....

> True. That would be much worse than constantly being apart and getting
> attached to a man you'd get to see about five times a year.

When you put it that way ... the ants are still worse. Not having anyone to
be apart from might be worse?

> The distance thing is real.

Granted. It's the immovable object, really.

> The trust thing--I don't know. I don't have any claim on you, can't tell
> you not to see anyone, don't expect you to say no if a guy you like starts
> being more to you. At this point that just doesn't apply.

Ok - at this point. But - if it did? If things developed in a [I don't quite
believe I'm typing this] couple kind of direction - do you think it would be
an issue?

> But I can tell you that I trust you as a good person. That
> I feel like I can tell you anything, that I trust you not to hurt me by
> lying to me.

Thank you. I mean that. And - likewise. God - you think I tell every Tom,
Dick and Harry the sort of thing I've been telling you?

> About what you're doing after June...that's up to you, Tom. I want you to
> do whatever it is that will fulfil you the most.

Well - right now I'm more worried about 'am I going to end up homeless, or
living back with my parents and working in McDonalds' than 'is this the
perfect career' but - it's a stress point - I don't *know* where I'll be, or
what I'll be doing, or *anything* past a point about 8 weeks away, and
that's scarier than I'm entirely comfortable saying, and makes trying to
think about anything in the future tense - stressful. Plus - exams, and
dissertation, and the whole total lack of spare time between here and there.
Complicates things.

> And this is no joke. Forget that right now.

I think maybe part of me is going to keep expecting Jeremy Beadle to jump
out at me right up until I actually see you again. Things - people - this
good don't happen to me, you know?

> But the best I can offer you is e-mail, as many trips to London as I can
> trade for, and the vague hope that someday maybe we can find work in the
> same city.

Someday sounds like long term thinking. I guess I should just know, but -
I'm going to spell it out, because its not something I want to guess. If
things go the way you hope - you thinking of a regular casual thing? Or
something more - committed? Am I just imagining the long-term-ness of that
sentence?

I know - I know I'm pushing, and it probably seems like I'm asking for the
crystal ball, just - don't want to get my hopes too out of line - that way
lies disappointment and ick - or pressure and ick - or just *ick*.

> What do I *want* to happen? I want to keep talking, keep getting to know
> you. Want to see you in London, hear you, talk in person. And then, after
> dinner, I want to go somewhere quiet and talk some more. Want to touch you.

Oliver - you have no idea. That - that sounds pretty close to perfect.

> > Can we get one thing straight? If I ever decide I don't want to
> > talk to you, which I'm not anticipating, but, if I ever do? I will tell
> > you. Promise.
>
> Okay. That's the last I'll do that then.

Thank you.

> Hope your day is going okay.

It's going. Having trouble with the current chapter, but - I'll get there. I
managed to loose the front piece of a couple of key articles and wasted
about an hour and a half tracking down the citation details. By probable
publication and then by type face, if you can believe it.

I'm going to copy the other mail over here to reply in one - figure you'll
be in work a while yet. What are you doing in Arizona in a hurry anyway?

>> I don't want him to come back. I'd still like to know what
>> happened, how he is, but I wouldn't give him myself again. Learned my
>> lesson.

> That? Is healing. Good for you. :-) Really. That's wonderful, Tom.
> Hurty and yucky to go through, but healthy.

Thank you life-coach ;) - it's still kind of baby steps, but - yeah. Don't
need his shadow hanging over whatever's to come.

> > - want you - want your hands on me, want to taste your skin and find
> > out how your voice feels.

> Oh God. I'm...at a big table with a lot of people around and you've just
> gotten my attention. (Not complaining.)

Oh good ;) - for the record, your evil lordship - I have no choice but to
read anything you send me in a computer lab, which almost always means no
privacy. Think of this as payback in advance.

> Ahem. This is going to be an interesting afternoon. :P

I'll see what I can do ;) Well - that's safe-ish for this address, anyway.

> > > > God, Oliver - if I don't drown on the way home - will you be
> > > > weirded out if it's you?
> > >
> > > Want it to be me.
> > > Hope it was.
> >
> > After that email? It was.
>
> Oh good. :-) Feel free, any time.

You want details? You want to know that I printed out your email, which as
it turned out was pretty pointless, seeing as I think I must have had it
memorised, and that I didn't do much past getting in the front door before I
was in my room, reading it over again? That thinking about it - about you,
and about what you were imagining had me hard?

> > And to point out the irony of not-panicking over telling someone
> > that you've had naked thoughts about them in some detail, and then
> > panicking about telling them you like them ...
>
> I know. Weird huh? Easier to tell someone you want him than it is to say
> 'I like you'. Society is fucked, if that's what it's taught us.

It is at that. But - I'm glad you didn't manage to claw it back and delete
it, you know?

> > I'm dealing. In fact I'm grinning - even if things are still kind
> > of murky, the fact that this gorgeous fascinating lovely guy *wants* to
> > ask me out has improved my Monday quite a lot. Few butterflies in the
> > stomach, but grinning.
>
>I'm gorgeous and fascinating?

Looks like it from here ;)

> I think I'm grinning like an idiot. And oh yeah. TONS of butterflies.

Likewise. ;)

> I got here fine, and yeah--short notice happens sometimes. Not that often,
> but it does. At least I get to take the computer. (Forgot both my Palm and
> the cell this time. )

Don't you have an admin to chase you up on that sort of thing? And don't
your office get miffed if they can't get hold of you? [This would be me
being nosy about you and your every day life - what your office is like -
hell what your flat is like - all that sort of thing]

>Study. Work. E-mail me. :-)

Check, check, and check again

Although - I'm getting tired, and I think I need to eat something that
didn't come out of a vending machine, so, I'll head for home I think - look
forward to an email in my morning?

At least it's stopped raining.

Hey - Oliver? Hope this hotel's better than the last one, and if you feel
the need, you could always ring me? [Do expenses cover international phone
calls?] I'm the only one home and - I'm a student, I can sleep in tomorrow.
Just - if you need it, yeah? the number's on my CV, but 020 7668 2743

That's probably really pushy and forward of me but - not going to delete it.
Not going to expect a call though - just want to think that you could if you
needed to, and hope that nothing happens that you do ... - that make sense?

Night - well - afternoon, I guess.

Take care.

Tom

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