From P., With Lust

0206-10 | 0942PM

A call from an unfamiliar number interrupts his thoughts, his solitude.

Curious more than anything, he decides to override his initial instinct to screen the call and just answer it.

He immediately regrets his decision once he hears the familiar voice on the other line- casual and nonchalant, but there is no denying the urgent need to fulfill a primal instinct belying an ulterior motive as the conversation progresses.

A brief catch up (How've you been? Alright. Me too.) serves as an awkward preamble to the meat of the of the matter, both comparing notes of their soonest availability and discovering a mutually agreeable opening in their respective schedules.

Put on the spot, his instinctive fear to commit kicks in, and he casually and nonchalantly in return asks for a raincheck, his gregarious nature leaving his response more along the lines of an open-ended regret than a flat-out rejection.

He hangs up as soon as the opportunity presents itself, remaining polite yet detached, and is surprised and ashamed to realize he's hard.

- - -

This loneliness thing is a bitch.

He knows what he wants, and it isn't this.

Or is it?

He can't decide.

He wants a committed, meaningful, satisfying connection with someone he can call his significant other.

His boyfriend.

His own.

But there doesn't seem to be much that, if any at all, headed his way lately.

So he figures, Why not settle?

Why not just go for something that is headed his way?

Even if it is just a meaningless fuck in a dark, dirty arcade booth of a sleazy adult video store?

Even if he knows this romance-less encounter will only leave him feeling all the more lonely, all the more empty inside?

Why not?