You think, “This is life, this is just how it is and how it’ll always be.” But you are living through something. And while, logically, you must know that there was a time before now, when things were different, and that there will be a time after now, and things will change, it’s so hard to remember right now:
Everything will change.
Previously: When Life Gives You A Reason To Fuck
It merely took a day to spin out of control.
I saw it coming.
All these formless angst and anguish must take shape, and like an imaginary ball of lust, it bounced off over portals that masquerade as "dating sites."
So I was back in Wechat and Grindr, and by design, I also took a leave of absence at the raketship to make time for that ritualistic room overhaul, which I did only once this year. One week, to be exact. Seven unspoken days when I let the rage go unchecked and indulge what the groin has been desiring all this time.
At first, it was easy to get off, if you catch my drift. A dash of libidous words there, coupled with exchanges of photos in various states of undress here, and the horny self is satiated.
But it was never satisfied.
I had so much idle time that week, that i made double the rounds I do in a day. Soon I began engaging in video calls - with boys 10 years my junior. I would make them stroke their weenie or finger their hole, and at one time, I did some money shots to the delight of the 20 year old kid on the other side of the line.
On Grindr, I inflated my ego. I let myself get drunk on the complements I recieved from posting full frontal photos. A couple of times, the teasing almost lead to an encounter in a motel. And like I always do in situations like these, I find ways to retreat for reasons of self preservation.
Until the pent-up repression exploded into a real, mindless assault.
The first act happened one early morning. The Wechat guy sent an invitation to chat, which I accepted almost immediately. There were no pleasantries. Not even a request for a face photo. Five minutes after our introductions, I was already heading towards his place - a mere walking distance from my house.
It was a random encounter: a quickie that didn't end up in fucking (unlike the previous sextings where I usually tell the boys I'd stuff my schlong into their wet holes.) His was hung and amazingly stiff. I had a hard time letting it all slide down my throat. After the deed was over, I asked if he was a top. Without thinking it over, a nod confirmed my suspicion.
It was a one-time encounter, for I had removed the Wechat app after returning home. On Grindr, I have been talking to a chap who found me hours after installing the app. What began as wholesome conversations lead to dinner and drink invitations. And when one who enjoyed the other guy's company has a place of his own, getting invited to stay overnight is not far off the itenerary.
For the first time in two years, it was me who walked away from someone's lair.
The next day.
I would like to believe I'd be forgotten. That our tryst was a romanticized one night stand that you just shake off after taking a cold shower. But it didn't. Perhaps, realizing that both of us may have too many things in common, an invitation was forthcoming, and I got screwed once again during the middle of the week.
There were times that night, I'd take breaks from work-from-home job so I can steal a kiss and wrap my blanket around his upper body. He would show a faint smile before returning to slumber. Perhaps, an appreciation to a person he may never see again. In such idyllic setting, I was made to believe that it was possible to start over: that I would not have to use my own blanket when I take a nap beside him at daybreak. And I was convinced too of the possibility that maybe, if we hold on to each other a little longer, I might give feelings another shot, disproving that long held notion that it takes a long time before I get past the mourning.
But who am I kidding, really?
I did sleep beside him that morning, under his sheets with my arms embracing his hypermasculine frame, and in my dreams, I sincerely wished to return at that lavender spot, where I longed for the assuring hands of another and not this steely gloves I wear now.
For when I wake up, and that angst and anguish fill again the void once occupied by love, never will my care and devotion transcend into a full and unconditional union with the other.
The Fourth relationship attempt has failed. And like in the past two cycles I have been through, the mind dictates what I should have embraced all along.
That I am better off alone.
You are alive in a memory.
You, are once upon a time.
The Illusion Of Things Never Changing
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