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?

Say Goodnight And Go

I think we're done.

(It was fun while it lasted.)

I Wanna Rock Wit U

hey u want to hook up thresome

You sure know how to rock a guy's world.

- - -

I'm fascinated by the intrigue.

I never cease to feel as if my heart is leaping out of my chest whenever I hear from you,  think of you.

I'm not bored yet.

If anything, you leave me curious as to what you're gonna pull out of your sleeve next.

The excitement you throw my way makes me feel alive again, gives me that rush, that thrill that I had been desperately seeking for such a long time.

It's never a dull moment with you.

Let's keep this going.

Don't stop now.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but I am hooked on you.

- - -

I'm game if you are.

Having Your Cake (And Eating It, Too)

I thought this time around it would be easy.

I knew what I was in for. I knew the rules of the game: meet up, hook up, get off, go our separate ways— a clean break.

What I didn’t expect was my overinflated ego to get in the way.

It would’ve been so simple. It could’ve been so nice.

If it wasn’t for the awkward moment after the fact, I think I could’ve spent all day today with that goofy smile on my face.

But no.

Once again, Fate has conspired to use its entitled power to redirect a balance in my life.

Fate giveth, and Fate taketh away.

From one extreme to another, I’m still working on finding that middle ground again.

In the crossfire, the process of returning back to that state of homeostasis, I’ve managed to puff up my ego and, of course, shrink it back down to size— all in less than an hour, too.

Now I’m left licking my wounds and nursing my bruised ego, trying to figure out where it went wrong and where I can go from here.

It’s not about him.

It’s about me.

It always is, no?

I can honestly say I hold no judgment towards him, no hard feelings, no grudge. It is what it is on his end— what more can I expect of him than that?

What hurts me the most is the realization that I’m letting myself be punished by this. For taking it too strongly, too personally, when all it really was was nothing more than a silly game.

Tragic flaw #1: I care too much.

As much as I want to say, “What the fuck ever.” to all of this and call it a day, live and let live, let bygones be bygones, etc., I know this will simmer in me for a while unless I work it out of me via this entry.

I’ve yet to reply to his question.

I only remember my initial reaction as soon as I got that text was “Ouch,” and I think it has been ever since.

Not “Oh my God, I can’t believe this fucker!”

Not “Motherfucker, what an asshole!”

Not any of that.

Just “Ouch.”

It bothers me the most that I couldn’t have been enough, at least for the night.

It’s something with which I’m always struggling, I reckon.

It brings up old, hard-hitting insecurities that I am never enough, never good enough, simply not enough to captivate someone’s attention on an exclusive level.

That I don’t matter, just another face in the crowd.

I guess I still expected something out of the situation, no matter how much I told myself I was going into it with no expectations at all. I can at least give myself that.

I’ve tried to justify this to help myself realize that maybe I’m going through this for nothing, so I can just stop feeling sorry for myself now.

Maybe he didn’t mean it the way I interpreted. Maybe it was just an innocent question, one set forth by idle curiosity and chance.

Maybe I took it way more personally than I should’ve, once given survey of my consistent and naturally self-centered outlook on things. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe.

I can continue on making justifications left and right, but damn, I gotta admit, I’m still left feeling a little crushed.