The Proposal

"Hi Galen. How do I put it.. um I really need to be with someone tonight. Puwede ka ba tonight? Pasensya if it's carnal na talaga. If it's ok lang naman with you..."

If the stars speak of the fates of men, mine would be many choices to get laid as the days march into the coming of the new month. One was a near miss some Saturdays ago. The invitation was offered, but I declined at the last minute. It was a no-frills sex, a booty call of epic proportions. I backed off for I had one thing in mind: I was saving myself for someone better, I sense would come along. Another was offered last weekend. It was me who sought his invitation for the utol was out, and the Scorpions may reappear as the night gives in to twilight. The party stayed over and slept. We chose not to cross the line. The last invitation came this evening. It was from someone I didn't expect. His choice of words uncertain: his aggression made me upset.

Guys like me are no stranger to such proposals. Sex is sex and some guys I know would never decline an invitation. But I guess he underestimated my sense of control: That I seldom strike someone I consider a friend. Once, twice, thrice it happened and the price I paid was the total disconnection of fraternal bonds. Blame it on me, whose act of copulation I see as an insurgency. The line that divides attachment and hostility is drawn, always at the rib section of the bed.

So why did this last invitation made me upset? Maybe because he caught me not in the mood for it - NO. Maybe because I was never interested even before - PERHAPS. But I guess the real reason lies behind the choice I made when it was me who invited someone to stay over at my place...

I will cut my thoughts here, for things are still too early to tell.

Besides, if and ever I want to get laid. There are many places to choose and these realms will emancipate me from the pressures of searching it closer to my world.

Unless one speaks through his emotions - which I doubt - for emotions precede any act of lust.

Had it been my ball, I will go inside a bath house and strut my stuff for everyone to see. I would choose someone who equally complements my looks and appeal. It will not be me performing the opening salvo and instead let the other's hand do the talking. I will maintain control over the situation, my heart tucked under my sleeve, my lust demanding to hit hard and strike deep.

There's only one chance to leave an impression.

If not the bath house, the chat room would do well. I will post an advertisement. Tell everyone my location. Reveal my stats, my half-naked photos (which I heard, are being used by someone there) and seal the deal with a manly, direct and assertive way of telling someone how horny I am.

"Tangina pare sobrang libog ko na, chupain mo ako pagdating ko jan ha."

"Masarap ka ba i-fuck. Halikan tayo habang tinitira kita ha?"

"6.5 etits ko, anong gagawin mo sa kanya pag nakita mo ito?"

Guys like me never beat around the bush, nor tell openly to a bed mate how lonely we are. Sex is sex and gaining some hard lessons from the last bed battle I fought, affection, attachment and even the sharing of minds never happen if and when things begin by the stroking of one's stiff cock.

A preemptive declaration of lust is always a direct act of war.

---

His big arms, sweet as lullabies
humming soft melodies putting me to sleep.
Wrapped around my chest, it felt being shielded
from anything that would strike us as we rest.

The one I invited over knew where to draw the line
As we both feared everything will be forgotten
when the sun rises the following day.
Our decision not to shoot missiles against each other's fort
gave us time to explore the prospects

of a permanent peace.

And reinforces my claims that the meet up was a "diplomatic" mission.

Strange how the sleepover ended. It did change my perception of how...

affection begins.