I've been dumped in Asia.

Let me get this straight: I'm gay. But that doesn't mean I should be treated like a piece of excrement, unless you are able to prove that you are a member of a right wing religious group. My latest boyfriend wasn't. And that's why I'm slightly mardy.

(Note: "mardy"=Leicestershire English for "pissed off", a remnant of a previous love story).

We were dating for half a year. And that was actually more of an effort than in most cases. Every time we wanted to have dinner I had to board a plane and fly twelve ours to Singapore. For the rest of the time we tended to make telephone companies rich. But still it was a very nice, very fulfilling relationship.

But we were both of the busy sort of people. Every time we met during all those months at least one of us was caught up in some highly sensitive creative work. Or just crap, but we were busy. So I was soo looking forward to my Summer holiday: two weeks in Bali. With just him and me. (And 10 staff at the villa).

But before we got to that island - and let me point out that I had already booked all my flights - I was to spend a couple of days here in Singapore. In the evening of day 3 he finally found the time to let me know that 'it wasn't working out for him anymore'. Tough luck, I guess. That's five weeks in Asia. And no more boyfriend.

At least I found a reason to finally open up my own blog and bore the world with stories of my exciting life. So, girls and boys, shiksas and goys, let me know your worst dump-ings ever. And if anyone out there will be in Bali around mid-August, let's have a drink. And bury our misery in an incense-filled hindu ceremony.