It’s Owen’s birthday in 5 more days. Here I am planning some bar nights, some cakes, beer and then of course a self-made CD containing a mix of songs that describe the recipient the best, from my perspective. I’ve always made CDs, for those I care about only since music is what best illustrate what my words have troubles communicating. And 5 minutes ago, the text came, calling it quit.
We’ve gone on a few dates, which is what I haven’t done in quite a while. The more conventional approach, like what Alan and I used to talk about the night we were laying in bed, is indeed what I did with this ill fated relationship. Dinners, biking, movies, some clubbing, some hand holding, and of course, some intimacy.
There was a problem, I don’t get fucked. Being a bottom has always intimidated me so much that I tell myself that it would only happen with the right one. And even when I was convinced Jorge was the right one, what came up in the aftermath was even more horrifying. I had never told Owen about that fear. So we ended up coping with just mutual kissing and jacking off. I’ve always believed that feelings are more important and once it reached a certain level, physical pleasure could come in various shapes and forms, not just by one fucking another.
I’d planned to write all about it, about Owen Night #2, #3, #4 and more since it always blew my mind after seeing him. He’s always looking back at me while taking off, saying goodbye, after our exchanged kisses in a dark corners to avoid any awake windows watching from above. Scenarios of a stable future, of a soft place to land, widened up right in front of me, not as vividly as it used to be with the others, but promisingly enough.
Just 2 days ago, we went to see Jurassic World and at the counter, he asked for the “sweet box” ticket which is a couple seat thing separated from the rest of the audience. The ticket boy turned to me with that “Really?” look while I was too busy handling with my blushing. But deep down inside, there was a slight moment of joy. The movie ended with us kissing in the dim light, fingers intertwined while the other hands still clinging on to the moving 4D seats.
What I’m trying to say is that there hasn’t been any signs of things that could possibly go wrong. The text, citing the lack of sexual chemistry, came right before our sleepover in the upcoming hours which I was very excited about since it was going to be our first full night together, not to mention the video games, the cooking and the new food places in town lying ahead. Not only did it hurt my feelings but also my sexual confidence since all of my past conquests, those heartless fucks, have always speak highly of their experience with me.
We are so strange. I have this one heart, and I spent it devoting to people who brings about disdain like Ben and Jorge, while accidentally breaking others like Bathrobe or Alan. And for a second, I felt like maybe all of those searching has been done, all of those haunted sleepless night might have paid off since I’d found a soft place to land. And once again, the heart has proved me wrong.
My co-worker has been asking me why I play lots of bright music since I started seeing Owen. I said I didn’t even know. It’s like subsconscious choice. But then it turned out to be Kodaline’s. Kodaline is never bright. It’s all darkness inside.