As most single people on Earth I have a hand full of affairs that never really have begun and consequently are not really going to end. Even though I never take it seriously, sometimes when I'm getting dressed to be undressed I have the uncomfortable feeling I am an humanitarian prostitute that shags not for money, but for the 'Cause'.
What is ironic about my dates is that when I'm asked out for some talk, to watch a film or to have some dinner I always end up in someone's bed, but when invited for some action I always end up talking, watching a film or having a snack with someone that has a very big mouth but has no idea whatsoever what to do with it.
Sex and silly romantic interactions had become far me more interesting to be watched than lived. If Edgar Wallace was right and 'an intellectual is someone who has found something more interesting than sex', I'm screwed, that's official I am an intellectual. This epiphany doesn't discourage me to keep being around people that give me orgasms, but honestly sometimes the District Line tend to weaken my sexual desire.
After two beautiful hours of a miserable tube drama I arrived at one of my friends' flat, we watched 'Shortbus' (a great film that - pretty much like everything that is meaningful and brilliant - is not for everyone), we kissed, caressed each others face and for a couple of seconds I thought of telling him 'I like you', but this thought was rapidly vanished by the fear of how it would be interpreted, maybe he would think of staying with me or maybe he would think of going away. And I wanted neither of the options, I want the gray area, that's what I crave for, relationship-wise I am colorblind.
After we did what God designed us to do we fell asleep, but my thoughts kept waking me up. I felt like a person that has a blueprint of a heart replacing the organ that once existed and I sadly asked myself what had I done to the old me. Hearing just silence I turned around naked and got back to sleep.
x B
No comments:
Post a Comment