I just saw my friends off, one to the train station and one to the airport. They are now left. They’re the only friend who knows almost everything about me, my routine, my music, my sexuality, those I’ve been with, my obsession and of course, you.
I had yet another unusual dream about you the other day. Memories from those days in the past are getting more difficult to get rid of as life has fulfilled me with unsatisfactions. I don’t want to sound like a creep (maybe indeed I am) but thinking of you, your bright blue eyes and your free spirit coated with sarcastic charm distract me from all of those negativity.
My friends arrived when I woke up from this unreal situation. They did help me find comfort with their companions, a lot, in the past week. Ruth is one of those wild, strange, maturely innocent and fun to be with. She’s not afraid to hug and kiss someone she’d only met once before like me. In her I find common passion in those 80s John Hughes’ high school flicks, in dark indie music, in the thrive to be able to do something wild for every once in a while.
Ruth allows me to be exposed to her vulnerability. I remember going ice skating and seeing Ruth standing still, holding the fence, trying to hide the fear weighted in those beautiful eyes. At that very moment, memories strike me back in time when I paid a huge amount of cash to go rock climbing with you and then was left hanging (or swinging) in mid air, alone and physically worn out, looking back only to find you were talking with a pretty Australian girl. That’s when I know I gotta get to Ruth.
Tiger is different. He knows about me and you. He was the one rooting for me coming clean to you when I had a chance. Somehow, in Tiger, I find the similar hardship growing up being surrounded by a set of rules and then realizing that all we want to do is escape. Most importantly, he shares his conquest to me as I do to him.
Tiger gets on my nerve from time to time. Sometimes I think whether our friendship should be maintained online, through means of communication only since our cultures and values clash every time we meet. He wants to explore the town by walking but refuse to walk to anywhere if it takes longer than 5 minutes. I always make fun of his no veggie no exercise lifestyle. He does the same thing to my taste in men. But it’s not always a bad thing, right? When I think of him, it’s those moments that I miss.
Now they’re gone, with all of those common uncertainties and heartbreaks that I share. I’m doing the only thing I could to fill that hole up: going out. Too bad, Friday night is getting old, drinking alone, same old bar, same old routine, even the DJs seem to be too lazy to mix new music. I went home alone thinking I should have picked up somebody or should have put on some promiscuous and fun cover to be picked up. And there I find my unconsciousness thinking about you again, thinking about what you’re possibly doing on top of the Himalayan or Taj Mahal. And I wonder if I ever slip in your mind like you do to mine.