He lets the number
of unopened messages on Grindr reach hundreds because it makes him
feel good about himself.
He feels annoyed
when someone sends him a message because experience has thought him
that, even when the message is from a guy that is to his taste and
the attraction seems to be mutual, the interaction usually leads to
nothing. (That doesn't stop him from checking Grindr tens of times a
day, even when he is in the countryside and there is no one around,
or when he is abroad, has to use roaming and pay.)
He never shows any
initiative. He is always looking to be noticed.
He likes to suck
anonymous dicks in the darkrooms of saunas and sex clubs of strange
towns. When he is burning, faces don't matter much. He knows the
heavenly pleasure of putting his dick into a random guy's ass without
thinking of protection. He is chem-friendly.
He is often a big go
in the darkrooms because he looks more innocent than other guys
there. They want to corrupt him, but when they discover that he is
already much more corrupt than he looks, they want his number.
He also knows how to
derive pleasure from being dismissed.
New partners never
introduce him to new types of games because he has tried almost
everything in sex. He is often disappointed when he cannot play the
full repertoire. On the other hand, something terrible gnaws in him
when he discovers that there are guys who do more than he does. Sex
is a major competition in his life. In his competition who is dirtier
wins.
Sometimes
he feels tired of the competition because he knows that it is easy to
win. Then he detests all kinds of fetishisms and decides to take a
bigger challenge: to learn the art of seduction, to enjoy the hard
work of winning someone over. He decides to stop going to the ''dens
of vices'', delete Grindr, pick up some of his old hobbies and spend
more time with his girlfriends (he
has had sex with almost all his male friends). But then again he
feels he deserves some more fun...
He gets tested
regularly. He thinks that it is tests that protect him from
contracting STDs. He announces of the negative results of the tests
with the same confidence and ease as the people who have never had
sex and cannot possibly be sick.
He
was diagnosed with syphilis. When the doctor told him to notify all
his regular partners, he laughed at their naïveté
because
for him the partners are the past, not the continuous present.
He knows how easy it
is, when he is horny, to omit information about his diseases, to
deny, to lie.
He
deleted his Grindr when the doctor told him that it is quite probable
that he has also HIV. But then he remembered that HIV is no longer a
deadly disease, that he could live as long as everyone else or even
longer, that he could have sex just like before or even more.
Just when the syphilis treatment started to go well, he learnt that he had infected one of
his partners from months ago, one who had noticed him in the darkroom
of a sex club in a strange town, who took great pleasure in putting
his dick into his ass without thinking of protection, who wanted his
number when he learnt that he was much more corrupt than he looked.
His own disease was
not such a big deal for him, but the thought of having infected
somebody disturbed him.
The message he wrote
him on Whatsapp took half an hour to write and served as a brotherly
pat on the shoulder. He analysed the forces that he thought determine
his sexual behaviour, and because it was all about forces and not
decisions – forces which could be everyone's, not just his –, he
didn't justify himself. He said things he hadn't shared with anyone
before – that on Saturday nights he has no one to call to, that he
feels bored with people when there is no sex involved, that sex with
strangers is the only source of thrill for him – hoping that his
honesty saves him from having to say sorry.
When he read the
response, he learnt that his honesty had opened the door for another
confession. The solitude and the desperate yearning for love – even
for a faulty one – that echoed through it made him feel that he
hadn't opened the door, that the other had long been looking for the
doorknob in the darkness behind the wall and pulled the door open
once it was unlocked.
He pulled back. That
was too much.
During the following
months he had no sex; he didn't even masturbate very often. Instead,
he spent more time in his garden, went to cinema twice a week, took
care of the children of his girlfriends when they were away, got in
touch with his friends living abroad and had regular Skype calls with
them. He felt more happy with what he had.
But he was also
bored more often. Because he was bored, he reinstalled Grindr. Just
to check who's around, he said. The longer the boredom lasted, the
clearer became the thought that this new life of his was only
temporary.
At that time, there
were many manifestations taking place in support of the plans of the
government to legalise same-sex marriage in his country. He expressed
his support for the cause when someone asked his opinion, but he
really didn't care much. ''What for, that marriage? Do the guys that
I've blown and fucked in the clubs and saunas really want that
marriage?''
He remembered the
one that he had infected, his confession, his yearning...
He hesitated for
twenty minutes before he sent him his message. He saw that the other
had read the message. Still no reply.
He feels rejected.
He doesn't know how to derive pleasure from that rejection. The blue
number on Grindr makes him feel slightly better.
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