Tumbling into love...

Yesterday morning, on the train back up to Edinburgh, I received a phone call from one of my coursemates: "Hey, we're all going to Hogmanay and we've got a spare ticket. Wanna come?". I guess so.

It was fun, although the evening its fair share of the usual NYE pressure (read 'stress' for some) of a dozen half-drunk people's desire to be in the same place as each other but also within a crowd of many. The atmosphere was good and, at times, I thought, rather romantic.

At one point, shortly after the fireworks, I noticed one particular couple: He was carrying her in both arms, with her arms around his neck and the two of them entwined in a kiss. Amongst all the noise and tens of thousands of others, to bear witness to this personal moment touched me, and I found myself wanting the same, with she replaced by T. and he replaced by me.

T. was, unfortuantely, in London; she has many friends there she hasn't seen since she came to Edinburgh. And so I found myself in what was, for me at least, a rather unusual situation: I was surrounded by pretty women - on the one night and in the one place that snogging strangers was de rigeur - yet I wasn't single. And so after years of chosen singledom, I now chose otherwise.

But my instincts and, yes, talents in the field of chasing pretty girls are well-honed, and part of me wanted to take advantage of that. But choosing not to wasn't self-discipline. Put simply, I wanted those other women to be T.: I missed her. Can we, then, distinguish thus: To desire women is part of being male, but to learn that real pleasure lies with one particular woman is part of being a man?