It sound so much like a cliché, I didn’t expect myself to be in such situation. I mean, who hasn’t ever heard of stories where a guy would be completely falling in love with someone, be cheated on, and then turn out to be afraid of making commitments in the future. More often, this guy even turns to be a heartbreaker. You see, it’s so common I became kinda like this, despite pushing myself not to be this typical douche guy.
Ok, so you know very well that I’ve been in an abusive, self-growth hindering relationship. It didn’t end very well and I just got through the whole moving on process. I have to admit that at first, I got desperate to have another boyfriend. It’s like, I felt the pressure to show everyone that I had really moved on by dating a new guy like how my ex did right after our breakup. It’s highly immature, useless, and selfish, but when you’re there, you know the feeling. Still, I proved beyond any doubt that I can be genuinely happy all by myself without having a partner in life.
I met this guy, this guy, and more other guys. None of them passed my standards of how my ideal replacement boyfriend should be, or none of them wanted to become my boyfriend anyway. A few months more of this and I got bored of it. I decided to just wait it out. If it comes, it comes. And I just enjoyed my single life.
But then, I met this guy. Michael.
It’s funny how our story goes. We met in drinking sessions I go to with the gay/bi guys in our neighborhood. We didn’t really talk with each other back then, just checking each other out. This may come off as shocking but the first actual intimate conversation we had was when he and my ex was giving me a blow job, in a threesome. Yes. And I wasn’t even drunk then. But from that point, we started going really close. You know, the usual friendship thingy, except between us, there was something more. More.
We had more of those mores. And the next fucks I had with him, there was just the two of us. We would cuddle after sex because we’re both such sissy cuddle-loving fuckers, or finish the cigarette we started while fucking because we’re both helluva multitaskers, dirty-talking and puffing smoke on each other’s face while fucking. Those in between rounds were the moments when we got acquainted better, when we told ourselves of our seemingly useless life stories, when we both promised that there should be no attachment or commitment in this arrangement, when we told each other of the fucks we have when we’re not together.
It’s so hedonistic, but it feels so great to be around someone who you can be yourself and not be ashamed, someone who I can’t be just physically naked, but spiritually as well.
I became so afraid that I might lose this connection with him. But hell, I was even more afraid that I might fall in love with this guy. I know, he’s perfect, cute, smart, and kind like any girl and guy would ask for. But when this guy is someone you met this way, someone who might meet another guy this way too, you know that he’s not the right kind of douchebag to fall in love with. If my ex-boyfriend was a loyal and committed person when we met and he turned out cheating on me, how would I expect this slutty dude to settle in a harmonious, two-way relationship with me? So I kept my heart as sealed as the condom-wrapped dick I shove into him.
This would have been a perfect set-up for us, but of course, life always had to ruin perfect things. He started actually liking me. Not just as a fuck buddy, but something more. He started bringing me to dates, to places where my ex used to bring me. Coincidentally, these places were where his ex brought him, too, and that the reason why he chooses to hang out there was to erase all our past memories and to replace them with the ones we presently make. He started giving me stuff. Couple shirts and flip-flops which would have been cute if it weren’t for the message they were implying. One time we met my mom when we were together, he annoyingly introduced himself as my boyfriend even though I insisted that we weren’t and that we’ll never be.
So when did this turning point occur? From someone desperate on having even a below-the-standards guy as a boyfriend to someone who turns down a perfect dude? Is it when I found out about the cancer I have and I don’t want anyone to miss me soon when I’m gone? I don’t know.
And I don’t know what to do with him or with the rest of my problematic life.