:: The Frog Prince

"... when the wrong one loves you right!" -Céline Dion.

I still remember that time before I got committed; when I was so weak and vulnerable. I longed for a warm hug and a thrilling touch. A tender look, a soft word. I got committed soon after and I longed for freedom. Fun. Naughty life and partying like crazy. Looks like we are never satisfied with what we have.

We used to gather in this UN representative house, Human Rights department (yeah, and Gay. Aren't all Human Rights activists gay? Who has the teddy bear heart, the positive thinking and the sense of giving but us, the Rainbow Generation?). I was around my 19th year back then, my Golden Years! That was when I first met Mahmoud. He was a very elegant, sophisticated guy. Such a classy person in the way he talks, entertaining while he speaks, full of wonders when you listen to him. Mahmoud used to go to Gym, play Tennis and swim regularly. He had a successful career and very good friends. He used to speak many languages: English, French, Spanish, Italian, German and Arabic of course. He's been around the world, experienced more! I am sure he used to be a drop dead gorgeous guy 45 years ago, when he was 23 years old. Yes, he was around his 68th year.

Mahmoud was attracted to me first time I was seen moving around that gathering. Back then, lack of experience, I couldn't read this in his eyes. He was gran pa' .. Cute gran pa' who is so friendly and nice. Cute wrinkled gran pa'. For the first couple of months, we used to talk every Thursday, when we used to meet in that gathering. He was fun. I found a familiar comfortable face in the crowd, specially that it was one of my very first home gathering experiences. Yeah, the guy was falling.

Halloween night: we were partying, lots of drinks, lots of heat, lots of hunks, one Mahmoud! I drank two Beers, one Bloody Mary, Scotch sec and 2 shots of tequila with some guy in between. Payback time! I just vomited in the bathroom. Mahmoud, of course who was keeping his eyes on me and following each and every step I did, came to my rescue quickly. He stayed there, tried to help me. "Leave me alone!" -how embarrassing when someone is next to you, puking in the toilet. "For God sake give me some privacy", sure all this sounded perfectly nice in my head: I didn't have the power to say it out loud. Between two throw-ups, I managed saying: "I .. *pwaaaaa* .. going home .. *pwaaaaaaaaaa* .. now ... "uughhhhh*" -Mahmoud just took me; and drove me in his car to my house. I couldn't drive of course. He wouldn't let me. "I will get your car tomorrow".

"Thanks gran pa' " -It sounded good in my head, I remember that.

SMSes showered me the next morning. He cared a lot about me, yeah he did. 68 years of experience, of course he knows how to make me feel special. I felt grateful for what he did, I felt that someone is really giving me the care I wanted. Yep. My missing gran pa' love that I never had. If he only knew how I felt towards him. If I only knew how he felt towards me.

He started taking me out, Opera house, Music concerts, his friends; whose ages were at least three times my age back then, fancy dinners that were preceded by fancy lunches and of course the pack should have a very fancy breakfast, in his house. His fancy house. Mahmoud designed it, inch by inch. Good sense of decoration he had, back in the 50s!

For some reason, Mahmoud used to enjoy hanging out with young boys. For me, I was pretty much mature for my age. I used to respect him a lot. On the other hand, other boys he used to hang out with used to treat him in a very childish way.. and the freakiest thing is that he used to act like them too. He was a big baby, and I am not saying it in a cute way.

By that time, I was depressed. My friends advised me to get into a relationship, and since Mahmoud has already told them how he felt, they proposed him.

"He cares about you in a magnificent way.. He's really into you"

".. but I am not really feeling anything towards him, but good friendship", yeah right, that's what I *only* answered. Damn. I was so naive back then.

"Try it Digg, just try. Who knows! The guy is really into you"

"Try? I cannot gamble with feelings", perfect sense of responsibility I had. Though I liked it, someone head over heels and me completely cool about it. And that's what I did. A time to know each other prior to any commitment, knowing each other on a higher, different level.

He hasn't changed, on the contrary, he was warmer, better caring and deeper in feelings; as well as he was a sex machine. A dried sex machine. Cum used to come out in a powder form: I needed a solvent. He was all the time asking for sex. On the couch. On the floor. On the bed. In the kitchen. In the car. In the elevator. For crying out loud even next to the UN representative guy on his bed while he was sleeping (don't judge me. We were traveling together, the guy slept in our room and The Frog needed to have sex, in this very moment!)

NOTICE: The following sequence might be inappropriate for some readers: If you suffer nightmares, a weak heart, photosensitive epilepsy, straight, kidney problems, digestive difficulties; please skip it.

Sex: The poor me used to sing for his sexual (now not anymore) reproductive tool in order to wake it up and make it face the crowd. I learnt the Hindu snake dance music and body motions just for him. He had the desire, but he didn't have the muscles and appropriate nerves in order to stimulate the right areas in his body. For instance, he might rise his finger, or his left eyebrow prior for his dick to go up straight: some errors in his nervous system. He used to go on top of me and start kissing, all over, all around. His saliva glands weren't working properly, by that time I understood why he used to drink a lot of water (other than preserving himself from dehydration). Then, he used to make sure that we were both totally naked (no glasses) and starts rubbing all of his body against mine, in a motion wave-like way, moaning, yelling, scream, squeezing.. a couple of powder packets are open and.. that's it. He goes aside, takes a deep breath, removing all the sweat he had and I light my cigarette, thanking God that this monosex has ended. The whole process couldn't get longer than 4 minutes (including the dry kissing).

He wanted to try intercourse; which of course ended in a very bad way. He couldn't keep his Pride One up for one full minute, and well, he couldn't handle me, for some prostate problems, it appears.

Result: a Total Failure.

NOTICE: You may Open your eyes now.

I tried to get along with the whole situation, after all, sex isn't the main thing (yeah, as if!) I planed some nice gatherings; some interesting meetings and, most important of all, kept myself from fooling around, though we were just dating!

Later that month, Mahmoud had a business trip to the States, for 3 weeks. I felt uncomfortable, seeing him leave. Who will cripple on top of me? Who will have the fever shakes now that he's gone? I just thought that this will be a great time, for both of us to come clear and touch deep inside. I felt uncomfortable, but free and relaxed during those 3 weeks. I even met some hot guy, exchanged numbers and waited for the right moment to come in order to remember how good, fluid involved sex was like! During those three Holy weeks; Mahmoud SMSed me less and less day after day. I was totally neutral about that.

That night, we went to Cairo International Airport to pick up my Frog, I really couldn't go alone. I begged my fiends to come with me. I didn't want to practice any Hindi actions; or black magic Voodoo spells. I just wanted to let this night pass; and tomorrow morning; we would talk about the whole thing.

"Hey, Mahmoud, let's have coffee", I proposed, the next morning.

"Sure, meet at johnny Carino's?" -he answered, not sensing my vibe.

"No. Marriott Bakery al Hegaz street"

"..."

Now he got it. Marriott Bakery al Hegaz was known among my friends and I as the "break-up" place. Even our straight friends used to dumb their girlfriends in their. The sound of "Bakery al Hegaz" was enough to make your saliva dry (Mahmoud didn't have the option to feel that effect, sadly).

Half an hour later; we were there. Mahmoud felt it coming. I talked, calmly. "I cannot accept, one day, while we're together, that I'd cheat on you. I will; I know it. We are not satisfying each other (hah!!!!!) fully." For the first time; I knew where all the water Mahmoud used to drink used to be saved: he burst into tears. This 68 years old guy became, all of a sudden, a 6 years old kid, and I am not saying it in a cute way, either! "Can we stay together, till you find someone else?" -it still rings in my head. Will I ever be that desperate one day? Mahmoud is a great guy; but why is he stuck with the young boys? He could very much date someone his age; or around his age; one of his great friends. They would totally fit together; their trips around the globe, their work, business, mind and life. Why would he always put himself in the same situation with every boy he dated (before and after me)? I couldn't tell him that. I wouldn't tell him that. I just asked for us to remain friends, like we were. I knew the equation is never reversible; he called me once every two days, once every couple of month.. then never again.

Mahmoud, I still keep the old classic watch you gave me. I still keep the silver ring. They both remind me that time, when I was loved right; but not correctly.