Fin de siècle
At some point every story sounds the same…
Well not quite the same. There are always variant themes, dependent upon one’s latest adventure, but in the end it’s like one series too many of a former favourite TV show. In other words, you’re better off with the odd one-off special now and again to stop familiarity breeding inevitable contempt.
Thus my friends it’s time to say au revoir (but not goodbye; as per the aforementioned occasional return). Ironically this isn’t the first time I’ve said it. I tried to bow out once before; and I even thought about leaving BD behind with the intention to instead explore a third way. But I eventually returned to what I know best. And thus I get older with nothing much changing – both my blessing and curse.
Perhaps two things from my more recent escapades have prompted this desire to seek some hiatus from these regular confessionals; and yet, even they are nothing new. But that’s the point.
Bastian Dash, that curious name I created online who really was no more than personification of a confidence I lacked, has brought me much. ‘He’ changed my working life as you’ve also heard tell, giving me the ruthlessness to be the greater shake in this or that grand scheme. And he got me laid far more than I had been up until I decided to wear his clothes too.
However, there was (and still is) a price to pay for that bit of the deal as I’ve continuously discovered. When I first encountered the real consequence of what I had become (in terms of my personal life), it was what happened with Jane; a tale which I’m sure you’ve realised has haunted me one way or another ever since. But not because she remains the lost love I let go in order to keep what I had; rather she’s the pervading reminder that even though that was the closest I got to ‘love’, it actually never was such because the L word may not be something I’m capable of.
This brings me to the first of these final observations for a while; another morning after the night before, another conversation in another bed. Well this was I wanted right. I mean last time I said didn’t I that I was starting to get the impression that the older us toymen get, the more ‘expectation’ seeps into our encounters. So just a bit of no questions asked bagatelle is exactly what the doctor should keep prescribing for now right? Hell yeah! So why then do we afterwards have to talk about someone she does have more feelings for, an admission proffered after we did what we did, and which had previously been kept separate precisely because of us doing what we do. Like was this something I really wanted to hear huh? And heck did she really want my advice about these deeper feelings she did have elsewhere. I mean really? After this?
You see it took me right back to a dinner I had with Jane at Pagliacci’s so many moons ago, the one you may recall where she confessed (and remember we were regularly sleeping together at the time) about a recent date she’d had. And she could tell me about it in almost throwaway fashion because what we were doing was of no consequence in her eyes (even though it was a major kick in the guts for me, the ‘real me that is – or rather, that was – at the time). This meant something in a way I didn’t; as if were nothing more to her than masturbation personified.
But what am I complaining about I hear you cry? How dare I still want to have my cake and eat it? You’re right. And to be honest in this latest instance I’m not really complaining. Instead I’m just highlighting the point that this song remains, in some respects, the very same seven years or more on. Nothing has changed. If I choose this, and want this, which I do (don’t I?), then this is all I can offer. But whilst it wasn’t exactly a kick in the guts this time to discuss the merits of another, I can’t say I wasn’t bothered by it either. I mean it’s a bit of a passion killer innit!
My second recollection also carries with it shades of an earlier, although more recent, event too; just to re-emphasise what I mean by simply trawling out recurring themes. This time it was over a drink with someone new (I’m moving from one to another with increasing rapidity at the moment, even for me; but I’ll leave you to judge why). Of course having long ago discovered I am capable of face to face flirtatious discussion after all (and once upon a time during my long ago Before this would have been laughable, truly), you can imagine the banter given the shallow scenario both of us (she was my type by the way – that’s all you need to know) were moving towards.
But as we joked about whether the other was bored yet, and were we going to meet again (both knowing full well this was already a night that wasn’t going to end in pure conversation), we then got onto one of those (in hindsight) dangerous questions about mutual first impressions. And that’s when she hit me with it. Of course the precursor was both of us boasting about our relative independence (although was that a bit of ‘the potential lovers doth protest too much’). Anyway, out came her thoughts on me; in that as independent as she thought she was, her own barriers couldn’t hold a candle to mine, and was that a slight ‘coldness’ in my eyes, the kind that reveals I can walk away if and when I have to without looking back; someone for whom the act of ever settling down would be just way too incongruous?
Scary huh; and not too dissimilar to being called ‘Dangerous’ a while back by another keen observer either – not to mention the ‘Jaded’ point that got thrown at me the other week. So you see, what’s new? I’ve been talking about my shut down for years now. How it’s my defence; because as much as BD, Bastian, is merely personified confidence, he is also a delicate construct that can only function if other emotions are kept in check. You’ve seen what happens to me when they aren’t. And I’m not just talking about Jane here. I’m talking about when I get drunk, or a green-eyed Dane, or a chance encounter at some posh dinner that momentarily throws me (and sends me right back into this game I need to play).
So yeah, what’s new? This is what I started doing around about thirty because it worked. At thirty-seven it continues to work. And I reckon by the time I hit forty it’ll still be going strong if I’m not careful; just me playing the only tune I know how to play without looking at the music.
In other words I now need to find a different story or two to tell you, or else why tell you anything at all? And by that I mean really different! But I suspect these are tales that are going to take a while to unearth; so as the sun sets and the scene fades and the credits start to roll to the distant sound of Vera Lynn on a 1940s wireless, I once more thank you all for listening to what’s been ‘the story so far…’ in the meantime.
And I know we’ll meet again some soon(ish) day…
Toyboy Warehouse thanks Bastian Dash for all the wonderful and insightful pieces he has written for the site over the last few years and wishes him the best of luck in finding what he wants.
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