Tuesday, May 03, 2011

Rules of disengagement

There's something about that charge that makes me want that charge, right? I mean that charge from sex that actually feels connected, even when it leads to a dead-end there's still that feeling in my body pulsing for more yes more, and somehow that leads to this guy who I'm not attracted to – he's nice, actually, which can't be said for many of the people I am attracted to, but we'll get to that in a moment. With this guy I end up thinking let me just see if something in my body has really changed and now I can get fucked without too much difficulty, true enough it's true I mean it turns out to be true, in this second case too, even though it feels like some kind of physical experiment, afterwards I feel distant and annoyed, the kind of sex where you’re searching for the charge no I know there really isn't any charge and I'm going there anyway, that's what makes me sad. Like turning a trick and he even kind of looks like a trick, middle-aged but trying to hold onto youth slipping away and I wonder whether that uneasy resonance will ever leave in situations like this.

Then my energy drops down so low for the next few days, I'm not going to connect that to the disconnected sex necessarily, just terrible sleep and the aftereffects of the magnificent anti-parasite medications, specifications, ruminations, and what brings me out of this low? I mean nothing brings me out, but somehow I'm connecting with this guy who responded to my earlier post but then he flaked out, something about the weather and that was the day with a blizzard, gusts of wind although he was driving, right? I mean everyone here drives everywhere. And I'm looking for escape, that’s familiar, escape from the low of this low below low, and he responds right away, more emails but then he tells me he wants to text, hates email, I hate texting even more than email I mean I won't do it at all, never have, know it would hurt my hands and heart too much anyway so I call.

He sounds older and somehow what’s in his voice doesn't sound connected to his voice, something about how he's at his business downtown filling out tax forms but damn his pictures are hot, he wants to know if I want to meet him at a bar – I don't really drink, I say, but we could go on a walk or something. No, this isn't on the phone, it's from before – he's going to a bar for a drink, and then he'll call me later. He actually calls, wants me to text him my address, no this is a landline. He has text-to-landline service, he'll call a cab after he finishes his second cocktail, but wait, do you have anything to drink at your house? I have water. That won't work – maybe I'll stop somewhere on the way.

So, you can see how this doesn't exactly sound promising, right? But what could be promising about sex from the online world except that physical connection in spite of everything else, right? I don't know if I find that promising anymore, but no one’s promising me anything else, so, well, here we go. He's wearing the sunglasses from the first picture he showed me, the ones that make his face looks small – it's pitch dark outside, but I guess brighter inside, so he keeps them on while he asks me to pour his drink for him, I guess he likes people to do things for him, I'm kind of amused.

Did I tell you that he takes cabs everywhere when he's drinking, because one time when he was 17 he ended up crashing into four cars, and then another time when he was 19 and he got a DUI, but they changed it to a DWI and ever since then he doesn't do anything illegal, no he doesn't do anything illegal that will get him caught. He takes his sunglasses off, something sparkling in his eyes, along with disdain and alcohol or maybe that's just my attraction, he wants to know if I ever party, can't remember whether he told me he used to be a stripper, did the whole thing, porn, all of it, his mother died when he was 15 so he never had anyone to rely on, stripped from 18 to 22 and now he owns three businesses, moved here two years ago to open a spot, it's the biggest small city he's ever lived in – in June he's moving to Hollywood to open another business but he'll be here two weeks out of the month, promoting the business is a 24-hour thing.

What are the other small cities you've lived in, I ask. There are none. Oh – where else have you lived? Phoenix, Los Angeles. I tell him I moved from San Francisco – he likes San Francisco, the clam chowder at Fisherman's Wharf, and before I have a chance to call him a tourista he says something about how he used to strip at the Back Bar, downtown somewhere and Pier 51. Do you mean the Bench and Bar in Oakland? That's right. But what was on Pier 51? Club Papi -- he did the circuit -- Hollywood, Las Vegas, San Francisco, somewhere else, he was a Club Papi dancer, and I can't decide why exactly he's telling me all this, I guess to impress or scandalize me, like when he told me about the DUI at 17 he emphasized the 17 part, said something about how he shouldn't have been in the bar in the first place, right?

17 seems like the time for bars to me. I can tell he’s the type who will just talk about himself for ever and ever, not interested in anyone else and he's telling me about how it's hard to break through, something about how he doesn't fall in love easily, drinks the rest of his cocktail, asks me if I have any candles, something more romantic. Funny because I turned on more lights before he got here, always forget that people like dim lighting no I don't forget I mean it's just not my thing, I change the lights and when he comes out of the bathroom he says do you want to go in the bedroom, sure. I guess we were making out a bit on the sofa, once he finished the drink or whatever, now he lies down on my bed and I think about how the smell of his cologne is going to get into my comforter, but I lie on top of him anyway, we're kissing and then he says he doesn't like to kiss that much so I'm kissing his chest, biting his nipples, licking just beneath his armpits because I can't tell if he's wearing deodorant, probably not because there’s a stale sweat smell, much better than deodorant I'm just glad the cologne was mostly on the jacket.

Then he pushes my head down to his crotch, sounds good to me, and then he does that thing where he slams his dick into my throat right away like he’s testing me, no problem I'll go there and now he's hard, asking me the standard questions like do I like his cock and I'm giving him the standard answers, I mean with his cock in my throat and he keeps grabbing the back of my head, no problem but it would be easier if I angle to the side, at some point I say that but he says no I want you to get used to it, silly top talk but actually I think it's that thing of him imitating the way people treat you when you’re a hooker, you know how his stories weren’t really adding up I mean he didn't make enough money at Club Papi and the Bench Bar to open a business, that's for sure, but he certainly might still be in the business, if you know what I mean. But now I'm sucking his cock and he wants to see my ass, show business, he likes it, tells me he wants to come in my mouth and then in my ass, I know that means just in my mouth because he'll be tired afterwards and that's perfect, just what I want so he stands up and thrusts it into the back of my throat and somewhere in here I'm thinking about how he’s an asshole but I'm totally attracted to him, not the asshole part but his features, whatever that means, or maybe part of his features is the asshole part, but anyway then I swallow his come and he’s pulling up his pants, just what I thought so I put on my clothes too, forgot to tell you I took them off I guess and he goes into the other room for his phone, that's right I heard it ringing, he goes outside while I get more water, then I smell smoke, oh no, I close the door while he's talking on the phone.

He comes back in and says he has to go meet someone at the bar, Coyote Grill or something like that, have I been there? 25-dollar cocktails and steaks and fish, expensive but it's worth it, sounds like my type of place. He was supposed to meet these women earlier – I'm the cute young boy for them to be seen with, he says. But they'll spend $500 on one visit to my spa -- I'll give you a call later if you want to hook up again, that's what he tells me, but when does he tell me about how he's spending $17,000 to have all his top teeth replaced and his teeth did look particularly shiny, but no these are his old teeth, see the way those two in the middle aren't even, he could get braces for a year but instead he's having the front 10 shaved down to little nubs, fake teeth on top, and also he'll have everything move forward 10 millimeters to make his lips puffier, a bit further out too so his jaw is fuller, costs $1700 a tooth and since he owns three businesses his expenses are $15,000 a month, that's a lot for someone who's 23, usually he doesn't like to tell people about all of this because then they have ulterior motives for getting to know him.

23 my ass is what I'm thinking, but who knows really, when you get all that plastic surgery so young it always makes you look older – don't get me wrong, he's hot as hell, I'll let him talk at me about stupid crass consumerism and then fuck my face any day, even when he tries to get shady and says you look younger in your pictures. Younger and shorter. Do you party at all, he says. I'm just curious.

Then his cab is here, we hug goodbye, a kiss too and when he leaves I feel kind of satisfied, one of those strange interactions with that type of person I never want to know but somehow I know too well, from sex work and bars and sex spaces but anyway it was kind of fun, and then he actually does call, can't decide if I should answer because I'm getting ready for bed, definitely don't want to have sex again now, already told him probably not tonight but then I answer out of curiosity anyway, oh great a text-to-landline message, and here's what it says: "hey brother if you want to kick again you need to shower sorry brother but you were pretty rank."

Gross – why did he have to ruin it? Now I'm annoyed and can't figure out whether he's just saying something silly and shady because he's drunk, whether he's just trying to disavow his desires since remember, he's the one who said we should get together again later, or whether he actually did think I smelled. I mean he was pretty smelly, especially his crotch, but not in an overwhelming way, and I'm pretty sure I didn't really smell at all, although of course we all have different senses of smell, right, and I certainly wasn't wearing cologne or deodorant, to some people that might translate as smelly I guess. But the annoying part is this text-to-landline thing, there's no way to figure out exactly what he means and so I get ready for bed.

In the morning of course I'm still thinking about it, trying to decide whether I should call or email or just ignore the whole thing, I don't want to have sex with some pompous self-obsessed asshole anyway. I guess email would just be so I wouldn't have to talk to him, do you see how even the smallest thing just circles around in my head, like I keep going back and forth about email or phone, I mean I always think email is a terrible means of communication, and then when I start thinking about calling I notice I get kind of scared, what am I scared of? Some annoying interaction, I guess, something that feels like less truth rather than more, something that drains me or makes me sad, but when I realize I'm actually afraid of calling him, that's when I decide I have to call him, just to get over that fear, right?

So here I am all nervous at the first ring, second, third, fourth, oh good it's voicemail, his name or the name he told me anyway and not the name that shows up on my caller ID, and that's when I really think kept boy, right? But what do I say? Hey, I got your text-to-landline message, and I didn't respond right away so I missed my chance and then I thought I could email, but you don't like email so I'm calling. I couldn't figure out whether you were just being shady or whether it was something serious – I had fun last night and of course I don't mind taking a shower beforehand if we end up getting together again, but it was obvious that you didn't take a shower beforehand this time, so I assume you would next time, but actually that didn't bother me, what bothers me is cologne so if you wouldn't mind not wearing cologne, that would be great – anyway, hope you had a fun night, and feel free to call or email any time.

When I hang up I feel so relieved. I mean I'm pretty certain this guy isn't going to call me again, but I'm so glad I was able to say what was bothering me without getting shady, that I didn't let it stew in my head forever and ever or just say forget it and play by the rules of disengagement that I hate so much. Now I feel relaxed and ready for a new day and new promises and new possibilities, but I guess all I have right now is a new day.


Campbell B. said...

That guy is a jerk. Good for you for saying something. You're way braver than I would have beenm

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Thank you, Campbell!!!

And, so many of these jerks, oh my…

Love –