Stardust Diaries

by Swan, Tarn

  17th April 2006: Easter Urghs!

  A belated Happy Easter/Passover/Spring. Our Easter was a bit of a downer and yet also an upper. Yep, we both succumbed to the gastroenteritis bug that has been decimating schools and workplaces up and down the country. It was synchronised crapping and heaving from the very early hours of Saturday morning to late last night, with us both fighting a deadly battle for possession of the bathroom. The house smelled like a slurry pit. Of course I got the blame for it all. What kind of selfish, thoughtless man has a mother who infects him with gastroenteritis that he then passes onto his delicate partner? A real Dominant would have found a way of keeping it to himself. Of course the fact that he went down with it first counts for nothing. To be honest, the sound of him projectile vomiting was music to my ears compared to the sound of him nagging, blaming and complaining. That said I know he didn't really mean any of it. He just felt so very wretched and he was upset about missing all the holiday events at the PP. His nature demands that he offload his emotions and he knows it's safe to offload on me, well fairly safe. I do have my limits.

  In between bouts of bathroom activity we lay in each other's arms moaning, groaning, shivering and shaking. Of course he was much worse than I was, his stomach pain more acute, his sickness more severe. Naturally I fully acknowledged that his suffering was worse than mine and comforted him accordingly, as is my duty…just as cleaning the loo and mopping up any accidents was my duty too. As Twinks said, power has its price and authority must be seen to be authoritative at all times, even when it's feeling poorly and making bad smells and ghastly noises.

  There was an upside in that it got me off the hook for the fact that the new dress he'd bought on Friday didn't work out. Oh yes, I got the blame for that even though I wasn't actually with him when he purchased it. He claimed that my curbing his spending for so long had resulted in damage to his fashion sense and completely fucked up his ability to pick out a winning dress. I told him it probably wasn't terminal and he would recover in time. He could get a refund on the dress or exchange it so there was no real harm done and he could therefore stop bellyaching. (Prophetic words did I but know it at the time)

  We still went out that evening, though it's fair to say he was in a less than salubrious mood. It was made even worse when Natalie turned up looking glamorous in a pink version of the dress that Twinkles had bought in yellow.

  Twinks was gutted and his unpleasant green-eyed God put in an appearance. Despite my discreet warnings, it insisted on bandying unkind looks and bitchy remarks, muttering on and on about how he'd been done out of the pink dress and conned into buying the grotty yellow one. Natalie finally lost her temper when Twinks 'accidentally' snagged her tights with his sequinned handbag thus laddering them. She savagely belted him with her reticule, dislodging his wig. They ended up rolling around the floor making a spectacle, bashing at each other while screeching and swearing in a very unladylike manner, so much for Good Friday. I was furious and hauled them apart getting my hair pulled by Natalie in the process and my face scratched by Twinkles, though to be fair he was actually trying to scratch Natalie for pulling my hair.

  We very smartly headed for home after that. Once there we had some strong words regarding attitude and actions. I sent him to get undressed and remove his makeup, fully intending to give him a much-deserved spanking before bed. As it happened illness struck his stomach before my hand could strike his bottom. After completing his cleansing routine he padded into the bedroom saying he felt suddenly unwell and dizzy. I could tell at once he was sincere. There was a pallid look and sticky feel to his skin. I put my arms around him but seconds later he pulled away and headed for the bathroom, not quite making it to the loo as a stream of vomit arched out of his mouth and spattered the floor.

  When he finally stopped heaving and choking he looked at me through watering eyes and said it was no wonder he'd made a poor colour choice with regard to the dress he'd bought. It was obvious he had some kind of virus and it must have attacked his fashion glands.

  Well, he had a virus all right and an hour or so later so did I. I was fine one moment and the next I felt as if I'd been hit by a truck. Queen Twinkles was seated on the throne at the time with a bowl on his knees as his illness hit the pinnacle of awfulness. I had to use the sink. It was a long night, most of which we spent staggering past each other on the landing. The weekend was spent in bed drifting in and out of sleep in between dashes to the bathroom. Twinkles was so ill he didn't even mention chocolate eggs let alone complain about not being able to eat one.

  We then had tears on Saturday when Lulu, wearing rubber gloves and a scarf over his nose and mouth, arrived to collect the Miss Springtime Coronet ready to present to whoever succeeded as Spring Queen at the Easter Parade. I had to gently coax it away from Twinks (unfurling his fingers one by one) as he sobbed that he wasn't ready to let it go. He was all for taking some medication in the hope he could hold off vomiting and crapping long enough to get made up and take part in the beauty contest. Lulu sensitively told him that no amount of makeup could disguise how ghastly he looked and the only thing he was likely to win was sympathy and a prize for the worst complexion and most unusual scent…eau de sick.

  I told Twinks he would always be the best and most beautiful Spring Queen that the PP had ever had and his photo was in the hall of fame to prove it. This year’s Miss Springtime title was won by Melanie, which apparently sparked a quarrel about whether transsexuals should be allowed to compete in what was essentially a drag event. Elitism raises its ugly head in all walks of life.

  We're both a lot better today, though our stomachs are still a tad delicate. That said Twinks has risked a nibble at one of his Easter eggs. He's demanding I go watch a musical DVD with him now. I hope it isn't The Sound Of Music, or even worse, Annie. I always fall asleep during them, no matter how hard I try not to. I think it's my way of trying to escape, but it makes my little queen cross and I get very sharply elbowed back to wakefulness. He’s confirmed that he’s chosen Annie…the sun'll come out tomorrow...please, somebody, give me a gun!

  19th April 2006: In These Shoes!

  I felt like I'd been caught in some kind of time loop last evening and been transported back to the parlour of a middleclass Victorian father who was in the throes of vetting would be suitors for his daughter's hand in marriage. An excited Lulu rang Twinkles to tell him that he had a date for this evening. Twinks was aghast. He thought it was far too soon for Lu to be dating after his last catastrophe. Lulu disagreed. Twinkles then demanded to know the man’s name, age, occupation, address, phone number, email address, height, weight, hair and eye colour and the make and registration number of his car...just in case Lu got murdered and the police needed a description. He then wanted to know his intent: was he after a one-night stand and quick shag, as per normal for Lu, or did he seem the potential partner type. He volunteered to act as chaperone on the date. Lulu declined and gave the basics required by the GGC (Gay Geneva Convention) the equivalent of his date's name, rank and number, or his name, age and rough locality.

  To my dismay Twinkles then took it upon himself to remind Lu what had happened when he last met up with a man. I was certain that Lulu had clear memories of what had happened, without Twinkles regurgitating them in an embellished form. I slapped the side of his thigh and mouthed at him to shut up.

  Once Lu had rang off, Twinks sat thoughtfully chewing his nails for a few minutes. He then got up and went into the hall, closing the sitting room door behind him, which raised my suspicions straight away as most of the time he acts like he was born in a field. I followed in time to hear him ask Directory Enquiries for the number of the North East police headquarters. I immediately guessed what his intention was and setting the receiver firmly back in the cradle and my hand even more firmly across the seat of his jeans I told him he was NOT asking the police to run a check on Lulu's date. It was unethical and they wouldn't do it anyway. I dragged him off to bed where I did my level best to distract him. A bi
t of carrot can often work better than a bit of stick, and I have to say, immodestly perhaps, that my carrot is rather fine.

  Mind you, stick and carrot was not a ploy I put into practice this evening. My patience was worn almost to transparency before we even got home from work. He had managed to wheedle information from Lulu with regard to where he and his date are meeting up this evening. The moment he got in the car he said he fancied a night out at a certain gay wine bar, which is renowned as a first date meeting place. I twigged what he was up to and told him bluntly that we were not gatecrashing Lulu's date. My words did not compute.

  He went off to have a shower as soon as we got home and came down dressed in his wine bar outfit of tight leather trousers, a tight fitting t-shirt and high-heeled diamante trimmed shoes. Looking like butter wouldn't melt he casually announced he was going out for a walk. I pointed at his feet and snapped, ‘in those shoes, I don't think so!’ He snapped back that he'd put trainers on then. I told him that the only thing he was putting on was the telly and he could park his little arse in front of it because he was not leaving the house in order to 'coincidentally' end up at the same place as Lulu. In short he was not STALKING his best friend.

  He drives me mad sometimes with his interfering. Yes, I know he worries about Lulu, but a lot of it is simply an urge to stick his nose into other people's business in order to meddle and take control of things. The taxi he'd slyly ordered to go out for his walk in turned up and I sent it away. I also put the phone out of bounds and told him I would smack his bottom if I caught him trying to contact Lulu by any means whatsoever. Lulu is not the brightest button it's true, but I was sure he would not fall into the same trap twice. He had a right to enjoy himself without being constantly interrupted.

  Twinks descended into a nitpicking mood thereafter. Dinner was horrible and did I really have to eat slurp my soup it was disgusting (I do not slurp) Television was boring, and there was nothing decent to read. Then he started hovering by the window to see if he could catch our foul neighbour littering our garden or letting his recently acquired dog deposit a pile of pooh at the bottom of our path.

  He suddenly darted for the front door, scaring the life out of me in the process, saying that he'd spotted an empty plastic bottle in the flowerbed and he was going to chuck it back into that bastard's garden. The bottle was there this morning. I suspect the paperboy. I'd meant to pick it up when we got home, but forgot. It was the last straw. I was fed up with his antics.

  Grabbing him before he could open the front door I slapped his behind and directed him back into the living room, where I imposed corner time on him. I've said before that I'm not a huge fan of the corner device, but it can work. I got him a chair, turned it to face a corner of the sitting room, firmly seated him on it and told him he could spend the evening concentrating on calm thoughts without talking. I turned off the television and settled down to read. I didn't make him sit there for the entire evening. There’s no point getting him to calm one agitation if he's then going to get agitated over being confined longer than suits his personality. After about twenty minutes I could tell by his body language that he'd let his agitation go and had relaxed. I gave it another five minutes and then told him he was liberated.

  He flopped down on the couch and rested his head on my lap, admitting that he'd been a bit jealous of Lulu and had wanted to muscle in on his action, as well as being worried about him. I stroked his hair and asked if he were tired of me and wanted the thrill of the chase again? He tenderly told me not to be a silly arse. I offered him the chance of going out for a thrilling mystery walk, but he stuck one leg elegantly in the air and said, 'in these shoes, I don't think so!'

  In the end, like the good boys we are, we got out our toys and played happily and quietly with them, but not too quietly. My beloved is now sprawled wantonly on the bed eating postcoital chocolate Easter eggs. I think Nestle might sue if I describe what he's just done with their buttons, so I'll let discretion be the better part of valour.

  20th April 2006: Horrible People

  Twinkles couldn't settle last night. He kept checking his phone. He’d extracted a promise from Lu that he would text when he was safely home. A message finally came just before one a.m. Wonderful, we could settle down to sleep at last. If only life were that simple. The brevity of the message caused Twinkles some pain and vexation which thus caused me the same, as he vented about the brevity at some length. He had expected more details, and he was going to have more details and nothing, not even my 'irritating whining' about wanting to sleep was going to stop him. He was wrong there.

  I took possession of his phone and told him that not only did I need to sleep, but Lulu did too. He had to get up for work and there were also Lu’s parents to be considered. The sound of their son jabbering in the early hours was sure to disturb them and he could damn well wait until an appropriate time to quiz Lulu.

  So what does he do? I'll tell you. He gets out of bed and heads off to give Kev a ring on the downstairs phone, ignoring the possibility that he would probably be waking him up from a nice relaxing sleep. I was tired and consequently cranky and I nearly blew a gasket at that point, because I know my man and I knew that he was deliberately twisting logic and defying my embargo. He would persuade Kevin to call Lulu on his mobile while he relayed questions by landline and had the answers relayed back via Kevin. In short he was behaving like a spoilt, selfish brat putting his own wants above everybody else's needs. He didn't have to get up for work this morning, it was his day off and he didn't give a damn that the rest of us did. I had words of non-compatibility with him and he ended up front down over my knee getting his bottom made thoroughly hot and sore.

  He was still in a sour mood when I left for work this morning, pulling the duvet over his head when I bent to kiss him goodbye. We made up this evening though. He greeted me with a kiss and a cuddle as soon as I got home and said he was sorry and he didn't mean to discount other people's needs. It was just at times his own needs seemed altogether more important and he knew he was a very horrible person. I told him he was no such thing. We can all be inconsiderate at times. Being considerate is something we have to learn and cultivate and some of us are better at it than others. One of the reasons Twinks can be inconsiderate is his desperate need to be noticed and to be the centre of attention, regardless of how inappropriate it might be. It doesn't mean I have to put up with it or excuse it, but it certainly doesn't make him a horrible person and I wouldn't have him saying so. He is often the sweetest, kindest and most considerate of men.

  Lulu called and said he reckoned he was onto a winner with Tim, as his date was named, and he had been asked out again. Maybe there was something in this not having sex on a first date malarkey after all. It kept them interested. Twinkles advised him to stay cool and alluring and not offer to cook Tim a meal, ever, not even if they ended up living together and had their union blessed by the Pope. They could dine out or have food delivered, because Lu’s cooking was guaranteed to end the relationship.

  Twinks showed me a picture of a wedding dress he's interested in this evening. I hate to say this, but it's hideous, truly hideous, frightening in fact. I didn't say so of course. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. It looks like it's been made from thousands of scrunched up plastic bags. Talking of plastic bags I'd better go find one in order to gather up the mound of dog dirt that I almost stepped in when I got home tonight. I'm sure Twinks is right about Brownlow deliberately encouraging his dog to foul near our gate. By the way I discovered he was the one responsible for emptying bags of rubbish into our garden. When gathering up some of the spillage I found a couple of empty prescription pillboxes bearing his wife's name and their address. One Saturday when Twinks was at work I went round and had a word with him. He tried to claim it must have been kids taking rubbish from their bin and throwing it our way. I told him he'd better hope they didn't do it again, as I was keeping the boxes and the very next time our garden was strewn with filth I was calling the police. He called
me a range of abusive names, but funnily enough we've had no more dumping. Twinkles was incensed when I told him. He wanted to go round there and chip in his portion, but I warned him to leave well alone. Our dear neighbour has since acquired a dog and now we have piles of turds at the bottom of our path on a regular basis. To my mind, when it comes to truly horrible people, Ray Brownlow meets all specifications.

  24th April 2006: The Butterfly Effect

  Twinkles has a slight cold, so he spent much of yesterday curled up on the couch watching television while scoffing the last of his Easter eggs and self medicating with red wine. For him slight colds are an ideal opportunity to slob out and indulge. He got all fired up watching The London Marathon announcing an intention to run it next year dressed in full drag in aid of the Mermaids charity. I kissed him fondly, pinched a piece of his Easter egg, told him his intentions were admirable, but maybe he ought to consider running for a bus in full drag first to see how he managed, before going for anything more ambitious.