Alan just gave me a phone call. This time, unlike the previous ones, our goodbye was meant for good. It was then accompanied by a salted message from him saying: “I love you. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” I know he was crying.
About 2 months ago, a good friend in college, a mutual friend of my old boyfriend and I, D, in one drunk sleepover night in my place, turned to me with something he’d been struggling to surpress. “Why has it never been me? Why do you never pick me?”. I was stunned, since we had been great friends for years.
And then just recently, Bathrobe gave me the ultimatum: either date him or every traces of him erased from my life from then on. I chose not to say a word cuz I know anything could led to something I might regret later. “So I will interprete your silence as the final answer,” bitterness lingered in the tip of his tongue as he said farewell.
Memories aren’t the only things they left behind. I remember hearing this from Alan: “When you’re no longer young, you think those men of yours are still going after you?” Such hard cold possible future scenario was resonated in one of my last phone calls with Bathrobe. No wonder why Alan and Bathrobe got along pretty well when we were travelling together. They even joked about forming a club, tracking down Ben , Jorge and Koen to sleep with them, taking vengeance on me. I laughed, of course, but treasured their affection even more.
I dreamt about Jorge the other day. The college guy, D, took a turn on my Jorge story, leading me to the thought that maybe I was the one at fault. After all, he’s happily following his life plan down the road, making love to the boys he meets.
I’m not wasting any time doing a somewhat similar thing, travelling around, running for the flesh. This past week alone, I shared bed with 6 different men, none of them really brought the heartache I’ve been yearning for since Jorge.
And here I am shooting down those people that were determined enough to see something worth embracing in me, one by one, let them fall to the ground so bleeding that the only way to cure is to get rid of my existence. Romance is a game but those who go on keeping scores might not be the winners.
Will this loop ever end?