Found old entry from 1996
Dear Diary,
I cannot believe it. Honestly, the bloke I just met has got to be the most attractive, most fit looking Texan geezer I’ve ever laid eyes on. This friend of mine, right, he was saying, “D’ya wanna meet this pal of mine?” and I was really thinking, “Not really” but then he pointed towards this blond, fit, handsome guy that I had been secretly eyeing up half an hour earlier.
He came over, right, and beamed the most heartfelt smile, leaving me weak at the knees. We were left alone, he didn’t stop smiling, introduced himself as Kenny and I tell ya, by the end of it he could easily have sold me my own knickers. And I don’t even use knickers! He didn’t seem to have any idea who I was, because he held my hand and asked in a soft Texan accent, “What’s your name?”
I think I said “George” but who the hell knows. I was totally fascinated with his eyes, it was like looking into the eyes of a tiger, it’s amazing. (Hmmm… Amazing. Note to self: Keep as possible song title for future.) All of a sudden I heard, “Do you fancy going out for dinner tomorrow?” coming out of my mouth and thankfully he said, “Yes, of course.”
I came home, had a wank (as you do) and started pondering if he was really gay or not. True, he was incredibly tanned for this time of year, so much so he looked like he’d got a subscription for access to sunbeds all year round (is that a straight thing to do?)(I did it when I was pretending to be straight…)(but that was the 80’s)(and it WAS pretend…)(anyway!) , he was incredibly fit (have not yet seen straight man with visuable abdominal muscles)(and could easily see his through his white T-shirt!) but…
So I kept up the ‘is he, is he not’ train of thoughts, he showed up for the date wearing a blue/greenish (possibly?) shirt that looked great on him, we had a great meal, I still wasn’t sure because he didn’t make any obvious attempts in my direction. Unless you count him constantly brushing my hand with his and staring straight at me for three hours. I tried to subtly suggest ‘fancy a f***’, but he said goodnight and hugged me farewell. He did agree to a second meeting though.
In preparation for our second date(?) I trimmed my chest, head and beard; plucked my shoulders and eyebrows; booked an appointment for drive-through teeth bleaching; called around to get ego rubbed by number of friends and was eventually ready. Again he was wonderfully attentive and handsome and gorgeous and fit and irresistible and I wasn’t about to let him go this time. So I said, “Wannu come back to mine?” and he said, “Sure, George” (
) and just as he said it I was so pleased I didn’t see where I was going and stumbled down a set of stairs and tore a ligament.
Kenny seemed concerned. Said we could do a it another day and that I should see a doctor. I said, through my tears, that I was perfectly fine and didn’t need a doctor. At that point I didn’t give a toss, cause I was so up for shagging him that nothing else mattered. He helped me into a taxi, didn’t say much, I don’t know why he wasn’t his usual chatterbox, but I was in such pain I didn’t know what to do with myself. As we reached the house, he helped me out – ah, gentleman – and I hadn’t even limped inside before he was all over me and was literally in my pants before I had a chance to take my shoes off.
By the time he left that morning I was pretty damn sure he was gay, which was a huge plus. My horny cowboy with his Texan smile. 
Stay tuned
George xx
PS: Everything is big in Texas! 
