Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Beaten




The days that leaded to Prince Mischief downfall, on one of my beloved night outings, I went home with one of these boys that normally, would make my senses explode.  During and after sex, I was still comparing how I did feel with each one of them: why little rascal made me go outside of myself in spite of being the total oppossite of what I like in a man, and why I did not feel much with this gorgeous creature.

People, rest assured that this is me, trying to get a grasp of what is it exactly that I look for, what do I prefer and what I would commit to.

I did not know much about this guy, just that he was on a sabbatical and was traveling around the world. I did know his name as he added me on one of his social networks after our first night together. For some reason I am still trying to figure out,  I have decided with some men, to dispossess them from their names; I do have on my contacts, a list of people identified as If they were gang members: The Chilean, xxx, a.m, Texas, Lux.  Perhaps as they say, If you don't name them, they do not exist.
 I have said many times that in the business of love and sex I am pretty practical. Or so I think.
He did leave the next day, and that was that for me. But having met him made me reflect on the type of men I feel extremely attracted to -and that is exactly what I want- I have seen (and I am absolutely grateful to all of them) that each one of my dudes bring something to me, that helps me complete the puzzle of him. This one was 6'2'' blonde, long wavy hair just right above his shoulders. Blue eyes, scruffy -almost yellow- beard. Thick, red lips. Hoarse, raspy voice just like the voices of these men that articulate directly from the throat. He reminded me of a devoted lover from Sweden who kept calling for 3 years, 2 of them from Sweden, whose phonation, speech pattern and demeanor was very similar.

After a couple of weeks, on a fateful Friday afternoon,  he asked me out. I thought the boy was long gone. Following night we met, and I saw him walking towards me and I just really couldn't do anything else but smile and prepare a sumptuous feast in my head. I was sitting there, all weaponry out. Not in the way you think. What I mean by this, is when I am at my most masculine-feminine killer-lover innocent-fierce 'A' fuckin' game.

We were at the bar and sitting -not side by side- but facing each other, eyes locked. Very close, occasionally grabbing legs, shoulders, backs, whispering, drinking, laughing. It was one of those moments where your surroundings matter very little and you are not interested on how anything or anyone looks. Conversation flowed, sense of humor was spot on, there was nothing odd or out of place.

He kissed me.

Hours later we came to my place, poured -at this time- unnecessary drinks, he started a fire, lit up candles and my favorite incense. I was laying on the sofa, just contemplating the entirety of the scene, he came to me, kissed me, and undressed me. Took me upstairs and we made love before instantly surrendering to what was left of the night. We spent the whole day together, fucking, drinking wine, bathing, watching a downpour of epic proportions, napping. Nothing I recalled from the last time, was similar to this one.  Nor the way I felt, nor the way he felt.
Maybe I did not recall shit. Maybe this was the real deal. Maybe we did open ourselves in a different way.
He was a caring lover, dedicated. A good listener. Very close and intimate. He would lay right below my chest for hours and would never stop caressing me, and it felt natural. He would allow all kinds of love on him and like he said 'sugar, was never enough'.

Boy, these people, I like.

Appetite was easy, but making the meal last what it had to, was not a challenge. This is what happens when you cut deals without knowing, but understanding, how both of you feel best. After all, I do think of everything as the now. Now. Now.

This was everything I wanted. He was leaving the country the next day. He left at night, and he asked me if I was going to miss him.

'Oh, yes. (Every inch of you.)'

I woke up the next day with the sensation of a void in my heart. I felt lonely. Why there isn't the same human being that I wake up next to for days, months, years, and we end up kissing endlessly? Where is this one that will make me share all I am, all I know, all I do, all I regret, all I miss?

I did think: if this is the level of love we can exchange with some people that you just met (yes, this is love, don't kid yourselves)  I can only imagine how great and infinite our love can be. I have had that.
I do long for the depths, twists, turns of a whole discovery of two, and nothing would make me happier than sharing this with the right one for a longer period of time, wherever you are, puzzle man.

I love being in two, my 'nows' are filled with two, but my 'nows' are full of different ones. Perhaps, my ego is so big I need to feel that power of getting yet another conquest. Maybe I cannot bear not being with someone. Perhaps I don't want to be comitted, perhaps this is the way it works for me. For some of you my 'nows' can be distracting. Truth is, I just really want one who fills my 'nows.' And I, will keep looking.

(In the meantime, I will just let these feelings sit until the next best thing, comes along.)

Thursday, February 25, 2016

The Mirror



It was months until I finally decided it was time to cut the cord. It was extremely easy and I will get into that in a moment.
Our story was stained from the beginning: I saw in him nothing else than this spoiled kid that was good in bed and that was all. He possessed no other value to me than the fact he and I crafted perfectly sequenced orgasms but I knew from the get go, that I could never fall in love with this guy. I passed sentence to the whole relationship since I pronounced the first 'hello'.
He remained nameless for my friends -even thought they knew I was getting 'some'- therefore there were no stories related to him, no dates, no social events where I would wanted to take him, no feelings he sparked in me, no emotions.

I had a non human friend that made love to me, period.

What was the trigger for me deciding, I had to put an end to the whole thing?
After the boy was M.I.A for a few days I met a gorgeous man, nor was I looking for it, nor did I initiate anything. I was sitting talking to some new friends, and he approached me. His nordic height, hair, accent were an easy sell and boy, when I have these encounters I realize how much I crave the company of these humans that are so astonishing to me. Later that night, we became this convoluted mass of bicolored everything. I would stop just to see how his long hair would look next to mine, when he was under me and our foreheads were brushing each other. We made love many times, we laughed, we had champagne for breakfast and we also played dress up with my fur coats. He would prove my point as he looked better in them.

Sex was indeed pleasant but I couldn't help to compare between the two. Where was this boy that will take me to extremes and made me so hungry for us? Where was the one that while making love, made me feel we have known each other for centuries and with just a glimpse, we shared in silence our fears, our sins, our love, our inner battles. Our loyalties and our honor for both?

I missed him.

Over the weekend we met again with Mr. Mischief but since I saw him, I felt something changed. The night ran its course, with his usual routines of not listening to any conversations, to overcompensating for his lack of purpose and trying so hard, oh God, so hard to make himself useful with new acquantainces but not quite getting there. The run-ins for drugs, the lies, the tricks, the friends that were not for real. The absolute power, given to everything outside himself.

We came home and made love and everything I had for him, was gone.

Days after, I called him and said just exactly that: babe, I just don't feel it anymore...

I didn't want to get into the fact that I was never fully IN. I didn't want to say that I was completely worn off by the fact that I did see a human being with a lot of talent and potential regardless of what I saw our relationship shaping up to be. I saw a man trying to be liked, lost in his own mind, falling for every vice because being numb was always the option, a man for whom the word sobriety was closest to eternal pain, someone that had let his self love slip through his own hands every time the sun went down.

...And I started to despise him.

Maybe he was a mirror I did not want to see anymore, maybe he reminded me of me.



(Peace, bro)

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

The L Word



Over lunch I distinctively remember saying these words: 'for now I am in the clear, he has not asked me shit... but I know the clock is ticking' In a strange turn of events, the boy that had no option, no future, no nothin' dared to have the conversation, that dreadful talk for many about 'feelings'.

It usually starts with the question, How do you feel about me (us)?  And this time, was no different. I certainly was not expecting it to happen at the time it did, but once we got on that subject -and after I spat my tequila- I knew there was no way around it. But why was I dreading this particular conversation, if in general, I do complaint about the fact that people are not brave enough to talk about it even if it means shit needs to be over? I for one, end things with peculiar demeanor, and often.

The reason is kinda simple: I was going to be blunt and say the words that were the complete opposite of his feelings. So there I was. Eyes on the horizon, breathing in an unsucessful attempt to buy time with each intake, and thinking to myself (let's try  not to be so brutal) So I said: I do enjoy having sex with you, very much...

He did not let me finish, when he asked me,

Do you love me?
Because I love you. And I love you, a lot.

(Fuck)

And then, I felt like those dudes from the movies that give the chick some lame ass answer so they can get laid that night and if they are great at delivering their lines, hopefully many more times. 'Cause once you say I love you, chances are that if the receiving end doesn't replicate, with words and body language, he or she is getting fucked eventually and not in the good way, my friends.

... And I said, I love you too (pause) in a very special way. (oh shit def. not my best performance.)

My 'special' way of loving him was fucking his brains out with full dedication and why not, borderline devotion, because I do adored the way my body received his. With him my petite mort was a sacred, godly place we did build, that we shared in solemn silence and it also was, the most honest moment of us.

Shortly after, he made me wonder if this is the only way I learned to love.