From The Rear

On Saturday night, Jonathan left my place with a smile and leaving another smile behind. He came over to deliver some cookies to my door which he made by himself. “You know, normally, I don’t do just 1 pack delivery.” We talked for roughly 90 minutes about his much admirable 2-year-already relationship, our jobs, his Belgium chocolate supply, Tinder and of course, Owen. He was also in the club the night I saw Owen with another guy. “There’s gonna be another guy,” Jonathan said when we exchanged our farewell. I guess he doesn’t know that his cookies and more importantly, his company, would mean that much to me.


I texted Bathrobe the day before, asking how he had been doing and it wasn’t until after 23 hours that his reply came through. Bathrobe was the one to give me the ultimatum of choosing either trying going on dates with him or him, a really kind person that I would like to keep in my life as a friend, vanishing for good. “Let me guess, somebody said no.” Of course, the whole Owen thing hadn’t happened when I decided to contact him. I just thought after 2 months, he might have thought it through and we could be friends again.

But then, here we go again with his critical comments about my blog, my sex life and everything. He said that I was wrong thinking that we could just be best buddies. He said he didn’t like me as a person, and that he felt intoxicated if I was around his area. And lastly, he wished me luck on the journey of looking for the right one.

What Bathrobe knows is the fact that I am a lovefool, or to be more exact, the fool for romanticized memeories. But what he might not know is that most of the time, I don’t hook up for the sake of stumbling upon the love of my life but for amusement, relaxation, satisfaction and physcial hunger. And more importantly, he doesn’t know that his describing me as something intoxicated did hurt, especially when my mind was still occupied by inquiries regarding the possible reasons of Owen leaving.


Owen is the first and probably the only person (so far) that is at my age, after Minh, my first authentic boyfriend. Owen is the first person, in a very long time, with whom the date, the getting to know each other, the butterflies, the awkward handshake on the first encounter and the even more awkward hug on the following came before the sex. Owen is also the one that made me feel like I had found a soft place to land. I didn’t have to always play the big guy. The attention was shared equally, no one had to carry the other’s bag or took off the coat to cover the other when it rained.

But on the other hand, that might be the problem since we didn’t have intercourse. We would have. I told myself that I could probably have done but I had to make sure first. It seems that he may not have been able to wait till then.


A few days later, I hosted a small party for some of the friends at my place. There were Matt and Alyona, my lovely two buddies, along with my supposedly best guy bud in college and his new (and first) girlfriend who is also my friend, another very kind but usually insecure friend of mine who I found out used to have feelings for both my first boyfriend and me not long ago, and a girl whose affection is compatible with mine but we have never got on because of my sexuality.

Anyway, we ended up kissing each other playing Truth or Dare. “It wasn’t a dream, right?” Matt raised his eyebrows referring to his blur memories of us kissing while knocking down on vodka about a year ago. The girl slept next to me in my bed (no sex involved) at around 4.30, confirming me of her belief that I wasn’t entirely gay but it was just a short period, and that we could still have a chance at some points. The guy and I made peace and he came to terms with his own sexuality struggle.

And in this messy random group of people who have no clues about life and the future, I found myself distant from all of those Owen thing, and his figure getting smaller in the rear view mirror, camouflaging in all those yellow dirts. That night, watching them curling around my rather narrow place, snoring and drifting into sleep as the sun was about to rise above this alcohol soaked room, I found peace.

This entry was published on July 4, 2015 at 4:21 am. It’s filed under Owen and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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