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?
Sunday, February 7, 2010
From P., With Lust
Sunday, August 2, 2009
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.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Life In Fiction, Edited (L.I.F.E.): 073108
OVER BLACK.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
He always wanted to start his
birthday off with a bang.
THE SOUND OF TWO MEN GROANING
fills the soundtrack.
CUT TO:
INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT
TWO MEN are in the middle of a hot and heavy fuck session on the bed, softly outlined only by the limited pale blue light of the moon coming through a window.
Their GROANING and the sounds of BED SPRINGS CREAKING are the only things we hear until the NARRATOR's voice rises through the intimate noises.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
It was the only year he got
his wish.
We stay on the two bodies grinding forcefully in synch for a moment before we --
FADE TO:
INT. TAXICAB – EVENING (EARLIER)
A YOUNG MAN (20, of the first scene), dressed rather formally in a shirt, dress pant, and top coat (all black), sits in the back of a taxi cab making its way through a relatively affluent suburb, staring out the window with a glassy-eyed stare.
What am I doing? What the hell was I thinking?! Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Forgive him, Father, for he knows not what he does…
C.U. – THE REARVIEW MIRROR
The DRIVER'S GENTLE BROWN EYES sneak a glance at the young man in his backseat.
DRIVER
(trying to make conversation,
with a heavy Spanish accent)
You havin' a good night?
The young man tears his sight away from the window long enough to meet the driver's stare through the mirror.
YOUNG MAN
I'm counting on it.
He resumes his gaze out the window, ending the conversation.
Noting this, the driver CLEARS HIS THROAT at the awkward silence that ensues and turns on the radio to a SPANISH STATION, singing along softly.
YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
Thanks.
CUT TO:
EXT. HOUSE - SIDEWALK – NIGHT (LATER)
The taxi cab pulls away from the curb, leaving the young man standing awkwardly on the sidewalk of a quiet residential neighborhood.
He takes a DEEP BREATH as he looks out at the dark two-story house in front of him, a soft, muffled blue glow emanating from the ground floor window.
Oh, God. Here I am. Jesus, now what?
C.U. – HIS HAND
begins to tremble softly in nervousness.
He immediately shoves his hand into his coat pocket, retrieving a small silver cigarette case.
He extracts a cigarette from the case and lights it up, taking a DEEP DRAG before EXHALING SLOWLY- a sweet release for his anxiety.
His gaze never leaves the house as he finishes his cigarette off desperately.
He's in there, waiting. The man that holds all my hopes and dreams. He's there, waiting for me. The key to this night. Better make it last. We've still got a way's to go before midnight…
After a long moment he tosses his cigarette on the ground, crushing it with his boot.
He makes his way toward the front door.
CUT TO:
EXT. HOUSE – FRONT DOOR – CONTINUING
He pauses at the front door, hesitating.
Oh, God, oh, God. Is it too late to turn around? End this now? I can't do this. I'm sorry, I can't see you. See, it's my birthday and I really wanted to do this because it means a lot to me but now I'm not so sure you're the right man for the job. Jesus Christ, just turn the fuck around…
He raises a shaking finger and moves it toward the doorbell, inching his way closer until his finger is just on the button.
Here we go. Judgment day..
Immediately he shoves his hand back into the safety of his coat pocket.
Oh, God, I can't do this.
He releases a HEAVY SIGH and withdraws his cell phone. He scrolls through his address book, stopping on "R." and presses "CALL."
It RINGS.
No turning back now.
He SIGHS.
MAN (V.O.)
Hello?
The VOICE on the other end visibly catches him off-guard. He takes a moment to gather his bearings, CLEARING HIS THROAT before responding.
YOUNG MAN
Hey, it's me. I'm outside.
MAN
Hey! I just got out of the
shower, give me a second.
Why bother getting dressed?
YOUNG MAN
Sure thing.
He hangs up, taking in another DEEP BREATH.
A MOMENT PASSES before the door opens, revealing a shirtless MAN (30) in well-worn jeans, the grin on his face a mile-wide.
Jesus. I want it to be you.
MAN
Hey! Come on in.
The young man hesitates for a moment before he raises a foot over the threshold.
THE DOOR CLOSES AUTHORITIVELY behind him.
CUT TO:
INT. HOUSE – FOYER – CONTINUING
The young man glances around the room (formal leather seating, glass coffee tables, abstract paintings, an aquarium devoid of fishes) as he removes his coat and shoes.
The man locks his eyes on the young man, drinking him in with a disarming smile as he continues his glance around the room.
YOUNG MAN
What happened to Kool and
the gang?
MAN
Huh?
He follows the young man's gaze to the empty aquarium sitting opposite the large living room window, its blue glow ethereal and haunting.
MAN (CONT'D)
Oh. They got sick. Bad food.
YOUNG MAN
What a shame.
MAN
Tell me about it.
The young man looks over to him, notices his grin.
It's my birthday tonight.
He looks away.
CUT TO:
SEVERAL LARGE KOI FISH
splash frantically on the surface of a small pond.
CUT TO:
EXT. HOUSE – BACKYARD – CONTINUING
The fish are just quick flashes of white, black, and orange as the man, now wearing a sweater, generously sprinkles flakes of food into the water.
The young man watches from a distance, a slight smile on his face.
YOUNG MAN
Good to see they're doing
well.
The man looks over his shoulder at him, a proud patronly smile on his face.
MAN
Yeah, they're doing great!
I want to see that smile when I wake up in the morning. That smile will make this all worthwhile.
YOUNG MAN
They've grown bigger since I
was here last.
The man sets the container of food down, says a quick good night to the fishes, and makes his way back to stand beside the young man, his gaze locked on the pond.
MAN
("it's been a while.")
Yeah, they've definitely grown
since then.
Almost daring himself, the young man leans a little closer to him until he's only an inch away.
Noticing this, the man smiles at him.
It's my birthday tonight and I want it to be you.
He throws his arm around the young man and holds him close.
MAN (CONT'D)
C'mon. Let's go inside.
Oh, shit.
CUT TO:
INT. BEDROOM – LATER
The man moves into the room, peeling out of his sweater and turning the television on to the local news, before throwing himself onto the bed with a LOUD SIGH.
He looks over at the young man, hesitating at the doorway.
MAN
Close the door. My roommate will
be home soon.
So private. I don't know anything about you. What am I doing here? I want it to be you.
MAN (CONT'D)
C'mon. Relax.
The young man hesitates.
Oh, God. Here goes nothing.
After a moment, he makes his way towards the bed, removing his watch and emptying the contents of his pockets on the night stand, all the while being under the watchful gaze of the man.
He sinks cautiously onto the bed, nearly hugging the edge.
The man LAUGHS SOFTLY and places a friendly hand on his thigh.
MAN (CONT'D)
You alright over there? Why
don't you come a little closer?
The young man takes his suggestion, uneasily easing himself closer to the man.
I want it to be you. It's my birthday tonight. Here goes nothing.
He peels out of his shirt, leaving on his tank top and dress pants.
MAN (CONT'D)
That's better.
He places his hand on the young man's thigh once more, looks up at him.
The young man looks back at him with a gentle smile.
Don't hurt me. I want it to be you.
The man smiles back, a gleam in his eyes.
MAN
(softly)
You want to?
Of course. It's my birthday. I want it to be you.
The young man nods, slinking OFF FRAME to undo the man's jeans before getting to work . . .
FADE TO:
INT. BEDROOM – SUNRISE
Soft, morning light streams through the window, spilling onto the bed where the man and the young man lie on opposite ends.
The man sleeps peacefully, SNORING SOFTLY, as the young man watches him quietly from his side.
After a moment, he moves closer towards the man, nestling beside his arm.
It's my birthday. What am I doing here?
He reaches out a hand to gently stroke the man's chest, lingering over every plane of muscle as he works his way down.
Who are you? I wanted it to be you.
The man STIRS, opening his eyes softly and focusing his gaze on the young man beside him.
YOUNG MAN
Morning.
The man smiles at him.
MAN
Morning.
It's my birthday.
He wraps his arm around him and holds him close before breaking away.
I wanted it to be you.
CUT TO:
INT. CAR – MORNING (LATER)
The two men are on the drive back. SOFT POP ROCK plays on the radio as they gaze out into the neighborhood they speed through.
MAN
These houses are so nice. Must
be a nice neighborhood.
YOUNG MAN
Yeah, it's . . . nice.
The man YAWNS.
MAN
Jesus. I still gotta head
to work.
He turns to grin lasciviously at the young man.
MAN (CONT'D)
That was a nice way to start the
morning.
The young man grins back at him.
YOUNG MAN
Got a little pep in your step?
MAN
Maybe a little.
(beat)
I can't believe it's already
August. Time flies, man, I'm
telling you.
(beat)
Hey, isn't your birthday in
August?
I wanted it to be you.
YOUNG MAN
Yep.
MAN
What day?
The young man turns to look at him squarely in the eye.
YOUNG MAN
Today, actually.
The man reacts in complete shock.
MAN
You're kidding me!
The young man resumes his gaze out the window.
YOUNG MAN
Nope. Today . . . is my
birthday.
I wanted it to be you.
The man takes this in for a moment before slapping him on the thigh with an AMUSED LAUGH.
MAN
Well, happy birthday!
YOUNG MAN
Thank you.
As the man continues to let this fact sink in, the smile on his face begins to slowly disappear.
It's my birthday. I wanted it to be you.
MAN
(realizing, softly)
Happy birthday.
FADE TO BLACK.
THE END.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
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.
