Friday. 9 am. Steve’s message. “We’re on the plane to Berlin to take care of my business. Mark is under the blanket, giving me a bj right now.” My heart throbbed and right away, the bitterness the previous drinking night left has been tucked right down my throat.
That’s when I was more sure about my feelings for him. My old man. My million dollar man. My could have been sugar daddy whose money I refused to take.
“Kidding,” he replied after my moment of silence. “Sex on the train, not on the plane,” he texted again, referring to our planned train trip in April. And then I wondered why the kind and caring man that I’d always known, the one who couldn’t even withstand homeless dogs being mistreated, could come up with such cruel joke and throw it in my face.
2 hours later, I received an email from him. He said that his lover was sleeping and described how nice it would be if he was able to see me and to touch me face, and that he was thankful for having me as, once again, friend.
“Friend”, that’s what we have both agreed to use for the status of our relationship. It’s like he was afraid of me forgetting that term of conditions so he had to remind me of that fact in every single exchange.
I then replied, thanking him for his companion all this time and wished him a great new chapter in life. Let’s face it, Steve has left his youth decades ago, any man could be his last man. Mark could be his last man.
I spent the day away trying to avoid the thought of Steve and his new boyfriend, looking forward to my date night with Koen which I think will help divert my thoughts into somewhere else. We were about to do the Jazz night with my favorite female vocalist in town. And then maybe watch a movie, and cuddle, and all that.
Too bad, the more time I spend with Koen, the more I realized that we’re just two lonely people pulled together out of desperation and lust. We haven’t shared anything rather than physical satisfaction. And any relationship based on such grounds are meant to rush quickly to the finish line. And as I’d expected, our sex this time was bland more than ever. We didn’t even mind doing intercourse. He sucked me off and then came with his own hand, pushing me aside.
What made it worse was that later, another message was sent to me from Steve, describing his train trip which he referred as “honeymoon trip” and how curiously amazing Mark felt upon first time exploring Europe. Just when I’d thought the cut couldn’t have gone any deeper.
Biking in the cold after leaving Koen’s place, I suddenly realized that I’ve got nowhere to go. There was no destination in my head except for those blurry images of some invisible land far away where people like Ben and Steve have been roaming, in the company of somebody else that wasn’t me. Maybe in another time and place, or another life, night time will be ours.