No happy endings

   After it happened, I went right into the bathroom and pretended I was doing what people do in a bathroom. Of course, I had closed the door properly and, after a few minutes, I turned the faucet on to make water run and make them think I was washing my hands. But the truth was that I wasn’t doing any of that. I was staring at myself in the mirror, looking at a person that I knew but not really that well. I got closer to the glass and really tried to get in there, I really tried to see if there was a human behind those eyes. Maybe the one I thought I knew or maybe another, a new person that I had to get to know better.

 But no, it was me. It was me there, naked on a bathroom in which I had never been in. I decided right there that I wanted to leave but, after what was happening in there, I had no idea if anyone was going to let me leave. To be fair, they both looked like decent people, not the kind that put a lock on the door and then do something unspeakable. No, they really seemed like any other people or at least like any others that liked what they had started doing after a lot of drinks. But I did want to leave so that had to be my priority. In this day and age, I couldn’t just do as they pleased and forget myself in seconds.

 However, that was exactly what I did. I tried to forget myself for a while, trying to pretend I was some other person or that I was in some other place. It worked for short periods of time but then I had an interruption from reality and I had to start over again. But that had been a very good idea because, not much long after my escape to the bathroom, everything finished and we found ourselves catching our breaths. It was then I stepped out of that place, after arranging myself properly that is and checking that I had all my belongings on me. I know very well how rude that was of me, but there was no other way.

As I walked towards the bus stop, I tried to convince myself that was the best thing to do. After all, I didn’t even know them. I hardly knew their names and not so much more about them. I did not know what they did for a living and had no idea of the dog’s name, the one that had been sleeping in his little bed for all the time I had been in there. I didn’t get to ask how was it possible that they could afford such a nice place in such an expensive neighborhood, being only two people with, as far as I knew, fairly common incomes. But none of that was ever mention at any moment, as alcohol had played too much a role.

 I sat down at the bus stop. The place was lonely and freezing. Luckily, the next bus would pass in just a few minutes and I would be home in a rather short time, or so I hoped because of the late hour. When the bus got there, I noticed there were very few people in it at that time and the only ones there were all alone, not talking to anyone or having any kind of interaction. Somehow, I felt I belonged there at that moment, in that exact place in the world.

 When I got home, I checked my cellphone as I took off my clothes off for a second time that night. They had written me that they had loved their evening with me and would have loved for me to stay. I felt strange, wrong somehow. It was all made even weirder by the fact that the guy that wrote had a picture of their wedding as his profile picture on the app he used to contact me. It made me feel like an invader, like someone who wasn’t supposed to be there. And also, it made me feel lonely and not worthy of anything.

 I spent a few minutes in the dark, sitting on the edge of my bed, only wearing socks and briefs. I wondered about my life, my shitty little place, my horrible job and my absolute lack of friendships and real love possibilities. Instead of spending a fun night, which had been my intention all along, I was feeling horrible. Feelings of loneliness and sadness invaded my body and it was then when I moved to get under the covers and tuck myself in tightly in order for the warmth of the fabrics to make me feel a little less horrible.

 However, the mind always works more when left alone. So, I started thinking about the cute couple that I had met earlier. They had seen me at the bar, and we started drinking right then, drinking and drinking a lot. We did that for only a couple of hours and then they talked about their place and I just said “yes”, without any hesitation or doubt. I just pushed myself into something I didn’t know about, without measuring any possibility of danger or any outcomes. They had chosen me as their person for a while and it was just when I entered their place when I realized what I had become, at least that night.

 I was just a guy. I wasn’t me, with my personality and all the things that make myself the person that I am. They weren’t interested in that, so the alcohol collaborated with some part of my unconscious brain to just hide all that was me and “enjoy” myself that way. And I did, I cannot pretend I did not feel pleasure or happiness in different amounts. But it was right before running to the bathroom when I realized they just wanted a body there to be with them. I was not myself in the sense that there was no one inside that body, at least not the full me controlling everything, as it should always be the case.

 One has to do what one has to do, so I did. I made them happy or at least did exactly what they had probably thought about for a long time. I was the vessel for their imagination, for their pleasures and fantasies. And that was nice, I guess, but I have to believe someone, only one person, can also feel something for me and not only for the me that moves around the world but for the me that lives inside this body, the me that thinks and hurts and feels insane sometimes. Maybe someone can find a way to actually love me for who I am.

 But I won’t keep my hopes up. This is life, not a silly movie. There are no real happy endings.

Onsen

   It felt very nice to be there. Outside, snow had begun to fall heavily but it was still possible to see the river slowly moving through the canyon, steam coming up from it. Plant life had been entirely covered by white and silence had fallen too from the sky, making the scene all the most bizarre and beautiful. The hotel overlooking the canyon was in the perfect place to be able to offer magnificent views of the whole natural spectacle, as well as a bird’s eye view of the little town that lay only a few kilometers ahead.

 I was looking at all of this from a private room where a Jacuzzi occupied most of the room. It was actually called an “onsen” and it was basically a hot tub filled with natural water coming from inside the mountain. It was heated by the amazing volcanic system of the islands and many people say that it has great properties that help everything from the skin to the innermost organs of the body, as well as the mind. They are normally located in big rooms, to share with others. But they have individual rooms here.

 The wind blew outside and it could be felt easily inside, as there was no glass around the room, no windows at all. Only a roof and that was it. Some of the snow was even falling inside the hot water and it was a beautiful thing to see. I walked closer and attempted to get into the bath as fast as I could, but the water was much too hot and it was better if I did it slowly, in order not to shock my body with the temperature change. After all, it was freezing outside and it wouldn’t be smart to just jump in a boiling hot tub.

 As I sat down, the sound of a bird flying in the distance made me turn my head, again, towards the outside. I saw it passing near some trees on the other side of the river. It was probably some kind of hawk or eagle. The sound reminded me of many of those animal shows I had seen all my life, where biologist and ornithologists chase after a very uncommon species of bird, normally a big one like an eagle or even a vulture. Of course, those did not live nearby but it was fun to think about something else for a change.

 I had travelled all the way to Japan only to escape my life, in a sense. It wasn’t as if everything was horrible or anything like that. I had a nice paying job and a tiny place for myself that I could afford.  I could buy whatever I wanted in the supermarket and have some drinks whenever I felt like it. Nevertheless, I had been feeling strange for a while, like I wasn’t supposed to be living what I was living. I suddenly felt bored at work, when in the past I had always loved what I did and had studied. It was such a sudden change that I didn’t know what to think or do. So I just booked a ticket and flew away.

 Japan had not been a casual choice. I had wanted to visit the country for a long while and the moment seemed perfect. I had enough savings to be there for at least a week, so money was not really a problem. I just told people at work that I was leaving and left. I couldn’t care less about the problems that I would be causing by leaving so suddenly, but the thing was I needed to take care of myself for a while and that was more important than a job I knew was not for me anymore. It had become something like a cage.

 I had been in Japan for two days and decided to get away from the city and visit a nice little town, far away from the craziness of people. Of course, I’m not adventurous enough to camp in the middle of nowhere, so I decided to stay for a couple of nights in that small and cozy hotel high in the mountains. It was fun because I didn’t speak any Japanese and they spoke no English but we managed to communicate when we needed to. People were always kind and respectful; they left room for my thoughts.

 It was not as if I had done something awful like betray someone or steal from the company I worked for. I was just lost in my own life, fed up with what I had been doing for a while. I actively wanted to change it all up, to evolve into someone else. I know people don’t really change at all but I did really want to know if I could be something else or if what I had gotten up to that point in my life was everything I could ever aspire to. Sometimes thinking about all of it made me a little bit dizzy and annoyed.

 The “onsen” was a great idea because I had always liked the idea of being naked. I was naked at home for the weekends and the moment I arrived from worked I just stripped and lay down in my sofa to watch movies or a TV series. I had always been comfortable with that. So the idea of bathing at the same time a beautiful natural scene was taking place outside, was just too good to pass. So I had come in a bathrobe from my room and put my legs in the water first, slowly getting used to the very hot temperature of the water.

 Slowly, I practically glided into the water and discovered it felt amazingly comfortable. Yeah, it was very hot and I was sweating at the same time I was in the water, which was very weird. But it was very nice. I found a nice place to sit down and enjoy the view. The eagle or hawk flew again, this time closer, and I followed its flight for a while until I couldn’t see it anymore. And then I realized that it was the first time in a long time that I felt at ease, relaxed. I had missed that because at work it was all about moving around and doing stuff every single second. But that was not the case up there.

 I actually felt I could breathe. Then, I realized I couldn’t actually breathe. I remembered the old man in the front desk trying to explain something about the temperature of the water. I think he meant it wasn’t great to stay in the water for a long time if I wasn’t used to, so I practically jumped out and stood there, close, for a while, dripping water and looking outside. There was something so magical about that forest and the river and everything that you just couldn’t pull your eyes away from it. It was amazing.

 Suddenly, I realized that I was feeling too bad for myself. Again, my life was not a mess. I wasn’t dying or needing money. My family was close and I didn’t have many friends but the few of them that stayed around were very nice and we could spend a nice amount of time talking to each other. And I had sex. Casual sex to be fair but it was usually great sex that I enjoyed and, apparently, the other person always enjoyed too. So why was I feeling so strange, so lost in such a great life? What was it? What was happening?

 I needed another soak in steamy water to realize it. As skin felt the warmth of the water, from my toes to my collarbone, I saw in my mind an idea. It was an image, like a scene from a movie or something. And in that scene, I was doing something else with my life. I was actually doing something that made me happy. I even felt it! At first, I thought it was the hot water but then it was clear I was feeling happiness feeling my from the inside, like something expanding inside of me. It felt beautiful and I wanted that.

 So the choices to make were simple: I would do whatever made me happy. Really happy and not only happy because I feel it’s the right thing to do or because I feel that’s what I should be doing. I was going to step up and just find out what would make me feel whole, like a person that has reached the top of life’s pyramid. Japan had taught me that keeping it simply was the key, so I just applied that to every single aspect of my life, the moment I came back home and had to make those choices happen.

 I quit my job and started working as a teacher for a while. I had always enjoyed doing it but, for some reason, I had distanced myself from it. Besides, I could make money to study at the same time, to do some workshops and find out new interests for me in this new life I’m still trying to build.

 The casual sex is still happening but I’ve discovered new ways to make it even better and it often involves a hot tub. Weird. As for the rest of my life, it’s still the same as before. I didn’t need to make everything different. Only the parts that were failing me, that had become someone else and not me. The real me.

Being wild

      As he went down on me, I started looking up at the ceiling. I had been drinking quite a lot and then, he had rolled a marihuana cigarette in seconds and we had smoked it together while laughing about people that we had met in our pasts. We shared a lot and we knew it but, for the night, we had decided to remember certain things and not the whole picture. We hadn’t discussed it with so many words but it was clear to both of us the moment he had stepped in my apartment that night.

 It felt nice what he was doing and, I have to say, he looked better than ever. He had recently entered a gym and the results were already showing. Granted, he might never become an Olympic athlete or nothing like that, but he did look amazing, just like I remembered him from the past, or even better. Back then; he was tall but very skinny, with a beautiful body that had virtually no curves. I never complained then because our relationship was based on love and he had been my first love.

 This time around, however, as I closed my eyes out of pleasure, I knew that everything we did was simply based on lust. That love that had united us so many years ago had been dead for almost as long as we had been apart one from the other. We had lived a lot and we hadn’t spoken much through the years, only following each other on Facebook and such social networks where you can take a peak on the lives of others, almost always just to have something to regret.

 But then, we reinitiated our relationship by talking at least once every two months and then more and more often. As the time passed, we realized we had grown to be very different people socially but very alike in everything that had to do with sex. Sometimes, we would chat online for hours, talking about what we would do together if we could and things like that. I didn’t mind at all, as I had vowed to be a single man for a long while. I was certain that kind of flirting wouldn’t amount to anything.

 Him, however, had a very different life going on. As we started talking, he wouldn’t say much about himself and would often prefer to talk about me or about the times we had been dating. But eventually, he had to confess that he was not only dating someone, but that he had been doing so for more than a couple of years. Furthermore, he hinted to me once that his partner had proposed to him with a ring and everything one would imagine, but that they had agreed on marrying after they were able to afford living together and everything that came with that.

 At first, I had decided to slowly pull away from that friendship of sorts we had developed. For a while, I couldn’t understand why someone that was almost married would talk to me like he did. Furthermore, it was outstanding to read how he described my body with a precision I would never imagine a surgeon to have, much less a boyfriend I had spent less than half a year with. It scared me but at the same time it felt very flattering, as no one else was telling me the things he said so often.

 Then, one day, he wrote to me on my cellphone one afternoon. It was a weekday and he just said “Hi”. I said the same thing and then we engaged on the typical conversation one has with any living person: we talked about what was going on with both our lives, what we were doing right then and there and, finally, the weather and such things most people don’t really care about. Then, after about fifteen minutes of filler, he finally said what he had been wanting to say for a while: “I’m alone in my house now…”

 I immediately understood what he meant with that. He clearly wanted me to drop by and have sex with him. In minutes, he confessed he had been thinking of me for some time and that he wanted to feel again what he had felt with me back in the day. He was very flattering, telling me a bunch of stuff I was very glad to read. He told me I had been the best lover he had ever had and that my body was ingrained in his memory forever. He said all the right words, in the right order.

 However, I was reluctant because I remembered his almost husband. And I have to confess something: I have not been an angel all my life. I have been known to go to bed with people that had previous engagements, me knowing about the whole thing. The difference this time was that I actually knew him and I had been in a relationship with him. Somehow, that changed it all and I had to lie in order not to meet him for sex. One part of me wanted to but my true soul gained the upper hand.

 Not that my decision changed anything. Especially not after, one night during a shopping spree with a friend, I stumbled upon my former boyfriend and his fiancée. We couldn’t just pretend we hadn’t run into each other, so we decided to shake hands and talked a little in the middle of the mall. I don’t know how, but I ended up chatting it up with his partner and I have to say I found him to be a very nice person. He wasn’t the type of man I had envisioned for my former lover, but he was undeniable a good person and I understood why that relationship had formed and had lived through the years.

 However, I had no idea why the guy wanted to cheat on that nice man. I didn’t understand it at all and didn’t understood either when he called me out of the blue in order to invite me to a “game night” at their place. According to my former boyfriend, it had been his fiancée’s idea. I struggled with the decision of whether to go or not but finally the decision was taken for me, when the fiancée himself called me on my cellphone and begged for my presence. After that, I couldn’t say no.

 The evening, I have to say, was pretty tame. They drank conservatively and their jokes were just like their level of general fun: just average. Other friends of theirs were there, thank God, so the evening passed without a hitch until my ex-lover pulled me aside on the kitchen, touched my genitals over the fabric of the pants I was wearing, and told to my ear that he really wanted to fuck around with me. When he realized nothing could happen there, he told me the story he had created for his almost husband.

 He hadn’t told him that I was a former lover or boyfriend. He told him we had gone to college together and that we had gone out several times together because of mutual friends. But his lies proved unnecessary, because his fiancée never asked anything. He was being a gracious host and a nice person overall, not drilling into people’s lives or anything like that. That made me feel even worse when I got home. So that’s why I’m staring at the ceiling right now, trying not to think a lot or feel much.

 When he came back to kiss me on the lips, I did it in a very distracted fashion. He had come in to my apartment out of nowhere, as his fiancée had left the city for a couple of days because of a death in the family. He was in mourning, who know where, as the love of his life was getting rid of all his clothes and my clothes as well. Yes, I felt guilt but then I realized, or told myself at least, that none of that was my doing. I wasn’t the one doing something wrong, or so I told myself.

 As I had sex with him, I tried to dedicate my senses to the moment. The marihuana kicked in right when it had to. I heard his moans and I felt the heart of his body very close to mine. And we spent hours doing the same thing, in different ways.

 When he left early the following day, I realized that I was one kind of person. And I have to tell everyone that I’m not ashamed of that. I am the person that fucks someone that wants it and I’m the person that does something knowing the consequences and ramifications it could have, if any.