The moment I said my goodbye to the work group and boarded the train to Hualien, there was a slight surge of bitterness. I did not regret leaving early and skipping another fancy dinner and the Taipei tour program with the boys that reminded me of popular jocks at school, but I did regret not having another chance to discuss Japanese adult comic strips with the nerdy Erik over food or make another dumpling joke with the calm, quiet but resilient Maté. I did not get to give Kao, whose innocence and kindness had been proven so rare and intact in this business, a proper farewell hug like I gave these two.
In Hualien, there was no more sex, but there were friends. There was no more comfy suite but there was a dorm with drifting lives carrying stories to be shared. There was no collective naked hot spring session (which is worth another entry alone) but there was a natural one hidden in between the rocky mountains and the endless greenness of trees arching over the pathway of bikers in Taroko. And that was just enough.
Travelling alone was frequent. Sometimes it is OK but other times it does get lonely. I remember there was a night when I called Damian just to send him the sound of the sea in my most recent trip. (Speaking of which, it was coincidental that he just did the same thing just now). Anyway, I met a boy of the same nationality at the dorm. The moment I saw him, I knew he was gay. The moment he confirmed it, I considered him a little gay brother I’d never had.
We talked a lot about food and walked to the night market together to fulfill the checklist of must-try dishes. He told me about his boyfriend & his first Couchsurfing experience in Taipei which involved a host that tended strip to his undies in front of him. I told him about mine, as well as Matt’s story regarding a drug dealer he encountered. We drove to Taroko together and followed a pretty cute Taiwanese boy serving duty in the military to the hidden hotspring in Wenshan. He was even nice enough to see me off at the train station and leave me the bigger share of mocchi.
A few days earlier, during a meeting with the staff of Taipei government, I caught the eyes of a guy. He was rather feminine (which the immature boys made fun of). He was a bit sassy, a bit flamboyant, even more with that British accent, but more important, he was confident and powerful enough to rise above and shine through with his presentation. I stared at him, on purpose, in order to make him notice my eyes. I was cornering my prey, one that I admired but didn’t find sexually attractive. I knew what I did was not the right thing, but I just wanted to test how far it could go.
I guess I got the answer that night. He came to my hotel room after a few texts fetched from the business card. He sucked my cock and asked to spend the night. He was the first one to spend the night in Taiwan. We slept in 2 different sides of the bed, no touching. I guessed he noticed that I didn’t want to kiss or anything, just straight forward blow job.
But he was kind. I didn’t know how to return the kindness to people who want to be close. I didn’t know if my silence in bed and resistance to body contact would make him regret coming over. I didn’t want to offend anybody. I found out the other day that Fed had deleted my social media contact, while Dan decided to stay unresponsive. Those were people I was just trying to be friends with, here in town. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier to have gay friends if sex hadn’t happened.