:: One Saturday Morning

 

 

Saturday morning the sun is high so I can underline
All of my hopes to get out from my tears
So I, I can brighten

Will be sunshine in me
I'm living a life inside a broken life
Will be sunshine in me
I'm living a life inside a blinding life

Everyday morning I can play with the sun but I see you again
I wanna forget all your lies so I can go ahead, so I am

I can't stand off it
I'm turning around the same thoughts behind
I can't stand off it
I'm turning around the same thoughts behind

Saturday morning the sun is high so I can underline
All of my hopes to get out from my tears
So I, I can brighten

Will be sunshine in me
I'm living a life inside a broken life
Will be sunshine in me
I'm living a life inside a blinding life

I can't stand off it
I'm turning around the same thoughts behind
I can't stand off it
I'm turning around the same thoughts behind

Everyday morning I can play with the sun but I see you again
I wanna forget all your lies so I can go ahead, so I am
I can't stand off it
I'm turning around the same thoughts behind
I can't stand off it
I'm turning around the same thoughts behind

:: Smooth Operator

Diamond life, lover boy.
We move in space with minimum waste and maximum joy.
City lights and business nights.
When you require streetcar desire for higher heights.
No place for beginners or sensitive hearts
When sentiment is left to chance.
No place to be ending but somewhere to start.
No need to ask.
He's a smooth operator.

Coast to coast, LA to Chicago, western male.
Across the north and south, to Key Largo, love for sale.
Face to face, each classic case.
We shadow box and double cross,
Yet need the chase.
A license to love, insurance to hold.
Melts all your memories and change into gold.
His eyes are like angels but his heart is cold.

No need to ask.
He's a smooth operator.

:: Ride With You

As we were laying on the white sand of Northern’s Coast beach, enjoying the breeze and the sun while we were sharing one Heineken bottle, I asked him:

“How would you define Good Sex?”

He looked at me and said:

“It’s the one that you think of later and masturbate”.

:: Ride With Me

"Cuz I believe I know I will find it
All I need is written within me
I was only asking if you'd ride with me
Through this thing called life
I was only asking if you'd ride with me
Through this thing called life"

- Nadia Ali. Embers.

For the first time I get home and reopen my date's profile, browse his two pictures and notice that he was wearing the same swim suite while I was with him. I smile, remembering the twenty-four hours I spent at his sea-side house. I genuinely enjoyed my time in an indescribable way doing all my most pleasurable activities, from sipping beer on the beach with his company to cooking, smoking a dubie, listening to chill out, deep and progressive house; and ending with sensational sex in the garden.

I fell into his laughter and hazel eyes. Different. Real. Experimented. Human.

I am just worried: I want more. Very much more. And it is scaring me.

Freeze

He just told me, this very second, that he is getting engaged.

Alfie is inviting me for his engagement ceremony.

So, this cold grip I feel holding my chest, a bit of migraine in the back of my head and sudden silence in the chat screen while I am typing this blog. That’s how jealousy should feel like then!

Misunderstood?

For the first time, after all these blogs entries that I have been pushing about people, someone on my facebook account that I used to see for a while wrote this about me. For the first time, someone writes something about me. It feels differently strange when someone perceive's what the others think about him. Now I feel how the persons I blogged about might feel if they ever read my entries.

:: Ménage à Trois

My eyes are on you. They're on you.
And you see that I can't stop shaking.

- Elisa. Dancing.

One of my fantasies was not having a threesome – it actually was being “the third guy”.

I always fantasized that I wanted to be the third guest on a sex bed. Being wanted, kissed, sucked, controlled and lusted for by two other people; who are together.

As I have been advised by both my friends and TV shows, it is always best to be the third guy introduced on a couple’s bed – that way they both crave for you. They both want to satisfy you and totally want to enjoy you; since they have always been together. You’ll be their menthol, spicing up their sexual desires and collapsing their taboo; with another taboo!

When I got a message for a chat, the blurred face picture and firm body were inviting. He was visiting in 2 months Cairo and Sharm for ten days. He wanted to meet locals and have sex. As long as they fit my physical attraction rules, no other rules are applied. We chatted for a couple of days followed by Sacha asking:

“I’ve got a friend visiting with me; can I pass him your MSN ID?”

“Sure mate, bring it on”. I typed while thinking about how would that visit turn out to be.

A couple of minutes later, I was chatting with them both. I understood that they were boyfriends and that they wanted to have something new and exotic during their Cairo visit. Best thing describing both desires would be a threesome. They asked me if I was interested for one.

Since I never had a threesome, this was the best opportunity to try it out. A foreign couple visiting town for a brief short of time – sounded awesome.

Sacha was a quiet, sexy and desirable 25 years old guy while Kelly was older and unattractive. When I first met them in their hotel’s lobby, Sacha captivated my attention with his deep male voice and wonderful eyes. His confident look and fit body. His macho attitude with a feminine spirit. When I looked at Kelly, I was wondering how they both ended together. Not only Kelly’s look were shocking, but a twist of a feminine attitude could be sensed. Kelly was 36 years old.

There was a wedding in the main hotel’s hall; and as I usually do to break my fascination and first time cold meeting moments; I just grabbed them both and mingled in the middle of that wedding:

“I am sure you never been to an Egyptian wedding; let me show you how things happen!”

They both laughed while Sacha whispered something to Kelly. I could read their lips saying something about how different cultures were followed by Kelly asking me about the ceremonies and procedures.

We stayed in there for fifteen minutes then we left. I decided taking them in a quick city tour at night; seeing the most interesting points till their real tour next morning. I started with Heliopolis and its 100 years story with Baron’s tale followed by random places on the way that we came across. I showed them many of the important points and, of course, the Nile.

They were impressed. Egypt’s impressive indeed.

After a quick heavy Egyptian dinner in one of the authentic commercial restaurants and coffee, in which Sacha mentioned that if he was about to eat that Mars cake, he should work out like crazy to lose any gram he might catch. Kelly wouldn’t like him any different than how he looked – and he looked awesome! I decided gaining some time and drive around the city now that it was around one in the morning. Kelly was sitting next to me while Sacha was in the back seat. Drowned in deep silence, Sacha only said few words with his unique deep voice whenever he had something to add while Kelly talked all the time. I could barely see Sacha’s marvelous hazel eyes in my mirror; and he turned me on just sitting comfortably back there.

“So this is your first time to visit Egypt?”

“Yeah”, replied Kelly, “we really like it. We’ve been to Tunisia, Morocco, Algeria. Egypt is different. It has a great mix. I mean look at all those mosques your have in here! Are you that religious?”

“Well”, I replied, “religion is actually rooted in every Egyptian. It’s actually part of us growing up. We just believe in fate, destiny, God”.

“That’s just amazing”, added Sacha.

We talked about different things till I reached what I wanted to really talk about:

“So you guys, have been together for…”

“Nine years”.

“Nine years?”, I asked.

“Nine years”, repeated Kelly.

“I mean. Nine as in one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine… YEARS?”

“Nine years”, assured Sacha.

“And how old are you, Sacha?”; I asked while looking at him in my middle mirror.

“I am Twenty-five”.

“So?”, I looked perplex.

“Well”, said Kelly, “We met when he was 16. I was 27. When we met, I just fell in love with him.”

You fucking pedophilic!

“He was underage, Kelly! How did that happen?”

That’s when Sacha answered: “We’re together till this very moment, and I love him so much”.

I was that close asking: and why are you seeking a threesome; but they just answered that without me asking:

“We wanted to have a threesome as a new experience. We’ve been together for nine years and I want us to try new stuff to keep the fire up between us. We always fantasized about a threesome but as I told you earlier no hard sex or intercourse. I just can’t handle that yet; I don’t think I may tolerate it”, said Kelly. “So we met you, Sacha liked you a lot so I did. I think it’s going to be the three of us”.

I was overwhelmed with the “nine years” relation notion. I thought they were just new crazy couple who are into kinky stuff; but that changed everything. I wasn’t sure what would I be doing “in there”. I was very comfortable with the no hard sex agreement that we had but I felt drowned under the weight of being involved in the middle of a strange bound. That’s when Kelly hit me: “Let’s go back to the hotel”.

I parked and the three of us walked up. When I got into their room, both Kelly and Sacha took off their shoes and went freshening up in the bathroom. I switched the TV on and Sex and the City was showing. I couldn’t get comfortable on bed as I was very nervous about how things were about to go. Not only it was my first time to have a threesome, but I was in the one that I wanted to experience; yet I wasn’t feeling comfortable!

Kelly came out first from the bathroom and sat behind me. He started kissing my neck and I showed no reaction. I felt that I was the one cheating on my boyfriend; not him; even though that wasn’t the situation at all. I asked him to stop and he was confused. He then asked: Am I not attractive?

Sacha walked out of the bathroom and laid on his bed, switching TV channels. I shacked a bit to the thought that his 9-years-boyfriend was hugging another guy. I wanted to have some time to focus so I asked:

“How did you meet up, guys?”

“In fact it’s a very funny story”, started Kelly while caressing my body. “I was chatting with someone online and he gave me his number. When I called, it turned out to be Sacha’s phone. I don’t know whether that guy did it on purpose or just pure coincidence with me copying the number. When I asked about the name and it was wrong number, I just asked Sacha to wait and we talked a bit. We then met.”

He smiled then added: “Afterwards; we were sitting together in a restaurant. I ordered him a cake and I was having coffee. He was so shy and cute; not talking or eating at all. I then told him if he wanted me to kiss him, he ought to eat his cake”.

“He then took a bite; and that was it ever since”.

If it were me; I would have puked the cake on the table, on the spot. That was the cheesiest probably made up story ever; but Sacha was smiling, in a mysterious, sexy and gorgeous way. That’s when Kelly resumed:

“So let’s have something”; and he leaned again kissing my neck.

I couldn’t feel comfortable with all that; Sacha was watching TV while his boyfriend making out with a guy in the bed right next to him. In fact I wanted Sacha to be doing that. I just stopped and said:

“Guy; I feel something in wrong in here. Are you both sure you want to do that?”

Sacha looked at me. He didn’t smile. He didn’t nod. He just looked at me.

Kelly answered: “Of course! We’ve been planning to do that ever since we decided visiting Egypt. We would experience new things without limit in here. We’d try out our fantasies.”

I then added: “You won’t feel any guilt the morning after?”. Again Sacha was silent and Kelly said: “We are doing this out of the ordinary in a different country. It’s a fantasy we both have.”

I surrendered. I made it clear and they know what they are doing. Kelly started kissing me again; and that when Sacha got up and kissed Kelly. He then held my hand and we started making out, randomly. My lust grew more and more for Sacha now that he was topless between my arms. Lucky Kelly.

I found my underwear off and Sacha sucking me while Kelly was on my nipples. It was wild and lustful. That’s when Kelly’s 5.5 inch fat cock showed up; and he made me suck it with Sacha. I turned from sucking into making out with the hot boy. It went on for half an hour till Kelly whispered something in my ear. I couldn’t hear it at first, he then said it louder, making Sacha hear it:

“I’ll let you fuck Sacha if you let me fuck you”.

What?

He repeated: “You can fuck Sacha if you want. I want you to fuck him”.

That’s when Sacha went all flaccid. I felt it. I felt the second Sacha’s heart broke. I could see it on his facial expression, penis getting soft and the way he laid on bed. Kelly was pimping Sacha.

Talking about love.

I slowly got up, took my clothes and excused. I couldn’t resume; I couldn’t be part of that stupid meaningless, selfish, testosterone and self oriented desires of Kelly. I wanted to slap Sacha on the face and ask him to fucking wake up and look at himself in the mirror. I wanted to tell him that a hundred other guy would fall for his beautiful eyes and macho look while he is comfortable of being bottom in bed. I wanted to yell at him, asking him to fucking smell the God damn coffee and give all this energy of love to someone who deserves it; but I just couldn’t find a way to give him his 9 years back. To let him live his sweet sixteenth birthday as it ought to be. I just couldn’t help a tear that I held till I got into the elevator and remembered the love I shared before and how it can be easily gambled.

It was too sad. Sacha could have a better life and be more cherished. I couldn’t talk to him, I couldn’t tell him anything. I just hope he wouldn’t regret any of this later. He did all that against his will just to satisfy Kelly’s desire. Can love make us go that far?

Apparently being a guest on a threesome bed requires more than just a couple who want you. It needs someone much stronger than who I really am.

You, Who Made Me Believe

All my live I have been searching
For someone honest just like you
You left me here without a reason
Every tear belongs to you

:: Now I Know, Don’t Be Scared

There is much to be afraid of in this world. But what we fear has nothing to do with gruesome masks or plastic spiders or life-like monsters. No, it's the thoughts in our head that terrify us the most. (Shows Bree with Danielle) What if she comes to regret her decision? (Shows Susan sitting by the window watching Mike) What if he really is unhappy? (Shows Edie sitting by the window alone) What if the chance for love has passed forever? How do we conquer these terrifying thoughts? We start by reminding ourselves "What does not kill us, just makes us stronger." (Ends with a shot of Lynette, now in remission, watching her kids play).

:: untitled

It’s killing. I’ve been keeping this for a while now but picture what happened to me in less than 24 hours.

Yesterday, driving home from Gym, I was dying to push a simple blog with Nadia Ali’s ‘The One’ lyrics. I typed those very same letters 24 hours earlier to him, the one. He suddenly broke into my life, collapsing all my doubts about love, intimacy, long distance relationships. He just rocked me from head to toes. I can’t find a better description to his looks than one of those underwear models you crave for, and for his personality as a world leader, and for his attitude with me as a lover boy. I reconsidered everything in my life, believed in what I thought cannot happen. Collapsed all the forbidden rules and started breathing again.

I wanted to create a simple blog yesterday, calling it ‘The One’ and embed in it:

 

That was 24 hours ago; before he comes online a few moments and slap me with the truth. Looks like I am too blinded by my anger and hatred to my previous relationship that I started implementing words, attitude and behaviour to people around me, making them devastated and, well, I turn out wearing a mask on top of the protective mask that ended up fooling my own god damn fucking self.

Can’t sleep. Can’t think. Can’t function.

He made me smile. He made me laugh and blush in shame. He made me crave and fall. He made me want to be a better person for him. He made me believe in myself again.

 

I am in love with him. I love him.

Now that he is gone, forever. It took me two years to realize that, but it was 24 hours too late. Twenty fucking four hours too damn late.

It fucking hurts inside of me. I think, since a long time, I am crying. Passionate one.

:: Irony

“ A traffic jam when you're already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife

And isn't it ironic...don't you think
A little too ironic...and, yeah, I really do think...”

- Alanis Morissette

 

If I had this capability as I’ve been told of picking a few minutes in my life and strongly point a huge spotlight on it, expanding and transmitting all the feelings that crawl in my spine, down my stomach and up my brains; then this little story should be a wonderful treat.

I stopped joining many gatherings in Egypt for a while now. Not because only a few are worth a visit nowadays but I believe that I have gone out of that shell long time ago. I used to sniff around and wait to get invited to any of those home parties, not anymore, lost interest and I’d totally feel uncomfortable in one either.

However, I couldn’t turn down that invitation though when I was called up by a friend inviting me to Jeff, a dear good friend of mine’s, birthday party. I just squeezed my mind and couldn’t think of a gift to bring with me. I always believe that I will get inspired anytime; and that’s when it happened while I was chatting with Jeff:

“My tooth is killing me! I had it removed and the pain is really unbearable with the post effect!”, he said suddenly.

“Doesn’t your doctor give you any pain killer?”, I asked.

“He did but it doesn’t help at all. You won’t believe what I did though!”, he added, followed by a smilie face.

“What? Morphine injections?”, I pointlessly joked.

“Nah. Hash! I am smoking like a fucking old train!”

It hit me! What would be more meaningful as a birthday gift than a bunch of well rolled joints?

 

It was Thursday already and we were all gathered in my friend’s place. Some friend was DJing that night with good mix of music that actually met my taste. He wasn’t only that well into my crazy world of Trance, Vocal Trance and House; but he picked what could get along with the mood as well. I stood there, socializing with people as usual and poking fun out of any passing action. With a judgmental eye, I kept looking at people arriving and quickly classifying them in their appropriate category. I was eager to see new faces, if any existed, and socialize with some of those I lost contact with.

 

A couple of hours later, he walked in. I turned my face and looked at this newcomer. Looking at him took 5 seconds longer than the usual, I then looked away and smiled. I couldn’t find any pre-classified category to put him in. He needed a new one: Interesting People. I sighed and went to the kitchen to pour another Vodka-Cherry glass.

Since I only tend to observe and analyze rather than step in and talk, I kept following this newcomer and better understanding him. That far I learnt that he had perfect English, that he was a good dancer (judging his body moves when someone insisted that he’d step up and dance with him to the Latino beats). I also knew that he was a drinker as well but he wasn’t into smoking. He looked around his 27th year with his dark hair and finely tucked-in chemise. He seemed to be the kind of calm people but extremely wild if correctly poked.

When I noticed that he was talking to a friend of mine, I stepped in. He passed my first eye/action test, then was the time to have some conversation. I randomly talked about whatever subject they were discussing. He then told me his name:

“I’m Greg by the way. Nice to meet you!”

I greeted back and we resumed our talk. He was friendly, so friendly! He just took the initiative to break any ice and just let both of us mingle. I liked his way. In fact I acquired his move because of my fascination and believed that this is the smartest and most friendly action that anyone can do in order to break the first time meetings. We discussed trivial matters, but it was quiet interesting talking to him. His voice wasn’t that loud yet it was easily audible in that noisy environment.

Time flew and it was already 2 in the morning. Almost everybody left and remained the few people I knew, Jeff and Greg. That was the right time to take out my birthday gift and have a full internal celebration. I approached Jeff and said:

“Dude, how is your tooth?”

“Fine, I guess”, he said between a wine sip. “I guess alcohol is calming it a bit”.

“Well think no further buddy! Here you go. Happy Birthday!”, I said while taking out the joints.

“No fucking way I was craving for those!”, he yelled while taking a couple from me. “Light! I need light!”

I laughed and everybody came around. Seeing in their eyes the hash desire made me feel really excited and happy that I was able to draw that smile on their faces. A trivial gesture yet huge impact, that’s what I like to exhale in!

We all started smoking, that’s when I offered Greg to have a buff, he just declined. He wasn’t into hash and he looked really uncomfortable that Jeff was having:

“Dude are you okay? You’ll be driving stop it!”, said Greg to Jeff while I was talking to the latter.

“Nah, I’m fine!”, Jeff answered, unbalanced. That’s when I proposed that Jeff should take a cab that night. Not only because of hash, but because of the tremendous amount of wine he had earlier as well. Greg sighed and looked at me, blaming.

“Happy Birthday to the guy! Come on!”, I quickly said, shrugging.

My conversation, and fascination, with Greg grew as we continued talking. He turned out to be an Aviation Engineer who was living near my place as well. His music taste and movies-buff brain made me wonder if it was possible to have something with that guy, perfectly fitting in my twisted world. Each and everytime I meet someone who has the basic attractive points I need I can’t help but start thinking like a teenager girl if he could be the one, by any chance. Even though I am aware that my emotions were extremely rejected by my mind but I couldn’t control the fact that I still have emotions and hope even if they both are dismissed after the first sexual encounter of after knowing the person a little more on the personal level: Greg was just fine that far, and I was loving it.

Fourty-five minutes later and a couple of drinks with Greg after the joint I had, as well as two joints that Jeff burnt; and a couple others by everyone in the birthday night; my mind was rushing and jumping to ideas on what can be the next step that I should do towards Greg. It wasn’t my way to hit or ask anyone for a date but what if I needed to change my way? I might have lost very valuable dates that way already and I wasn’t willing to do the same towards that fine man.

I decided after finishing the drink I would say something cheesy like: Would you like to have another drink together? Like tomorrow around 10 PM or so? It would be too silly but what would happen anyway! We haven’t even exchanged our contacts that far.

“Diiiiig!”, quickly said Jeff while getting in my one-on-one conversation with Greg, “I see that you are talking to my beloved best friend Greg! Isn’t he adorable?”, I smiled and internally nodded. He was indeed.

“Greg”, Jeff continued talking, “You’re socializing well with people, aren’t you?”

“Yeah! Well everybody is nice around here and Digg is quite fun as well!”, answered Greg. Was he hitting on me? Was that a sign? Or was hash and alcohol playing me and understanding anything as I pleased?

“You know Digg”, resumed Jeff, “Greg is a great person! He’s getting married next month”.

ummm… what?

I froze right there. Here comes the “thing”. How could he without a “thing”. It’s impossible finding someone thingless!

“Getting married, are you?”, I emphasized while asking and reflecting in my eyes the fact that I was hit by a multistory van right in my chest, propulsing me a thousand kilometers away from reality.

“Yes, I am”, he answered with a cute smile.

Again, I asked: “To a woman?”

"They both laughed, then Greg said: “No, to my boyfriend!”. That’s when I felt I wanted to sit down and cry. Maybe take a corner away from all that smoke and faint lights and just cry! All my dreams breeze hit a big lifeless mountain.

“Geeee!”, I quickly said to hide all the amazements and disappointments on my face, “Dude sorry for all that I thought you were one of those pervert sick fags who get married to a pussy just to satisfy the community!”. Lie, but I am good at lying. Just like Ben from LOST.

“No dude! I am marrying my boyfriend in Amsterdam next month”.

I smiled, then said: “How long have you been together?”

“Almost a year now”, he answered. I couldn’t help stopping the flood of questions in my head:

“Why isn’t he here with you tonight?”

He said: “He has early work tomorrow and finished late tonight. I just came for Jeff. I couldn’t miss his birthday for the world!”

I smiled, that time, I was thinking about all the trust that they both have in each other. Even though it was a fag party, but the boyfriend trusted Greg. THAT’s love!

“This is amazing! Congratulations dude! I am so excited that people like you exist in this twisted world!”, I said while raising my glass. There went the next day drinks invitation. Let’s have the celebration tonight instead.

As I was leaving, wishing a happy birthday to Jeff and a happy marriage to Greg, I couldn’t help but think about Alanis’:

 

“ It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife

And isn't it ironic... don't you think? ”

:: Tantric: The Awkwardness – [Part IV]

The usual dilemma I fall in: should I go ahead and sleep with my date, or am I going to lose interest in him as usual? It turned out to be that this was my ultimate test and never-failing experiment I undergo to better understand how attracted I am to a person. Newsflash: nobody passed that exam.

 

It kept bouncing in my head: am I going to sleep with Mica, in answer to all his straight forward requests, or am I going to come up with never ending excuses as usual? I quickly ran the silly checklist in my head:

Attractive: check.

Smart: check.

Successful: check.

French speaking: check.

Into me: check.

Presentable: check.

Of course he had to pass my checklist, otherwise I wouldn’t have been tormented about the fact sleeping with him versus ruining this beautiful something; hell, I wouldn’t even have mentioned him in many series on my blog!

His craziness made me both repulse yet made me feel wanted and fucking excited. After the night I drove him to his place and turning down his invitation to sleep together, I decided that I’d fucking jump into the action no matter what would happen. After all, he only had less than a week for his departure back to his life abroad. I didn’t know that the following night he would re-engage me into that action:

“Digg, I can’t hang out. Come into my place”. I smiled, thanks to the phone he couldn’t see the ironic grimace I drew on my face.

“Sure Mica.”, I said while getting off my car and seeing him wave from behind his house’s gate. When I got into the garden, he slowly turned and put his finger vertically on his lips: “Slowly.. my parents are here”.

huh!?, it popped-up in my head. Isn’t he living alone in here?

“Aren’t you living alone?”, I asked, lowering my voice.

“Yes, but they are here because their place has no electricity yet”.

Fuck! I hate being treated like a bitch!

I slowly walked into his place. Magnificent, I must say. Big huge halls, three floors high and you can see the three-stories distant ceiling greeting you with wonderfully hand made ornaments built in. The big brown wooden stairs in the middle of the off-white house and Persian carpets made me want to find the lamp and call the Genie out. I loved this place; and loved seeing him in it.

“Come over here”, he whispered while opening a door in the ground floor, leading to a small room. I walked in.

The room was empty, except for a small green carpet and dust. At that specific moment, I couldn’t understand what was I doing in there. I assumed it’s kind of a shortcut to another section of the house; but apparently my dream ended right there. He got me into that isolation room to have sex!

He moved towards me and boldly took off his shirt and pants: “Quickly! And don’t raise your voice”.

What the fucking fuck was he fucking doing! FUCK THAT!

“What the fuck are you doing?”, I said!

“Come on Digg, come on! Just don’t raise your voice. My parents are up there!”

“NO!”, I said. “What are you doing? What is this?”

Even though he looked damn sexy in his boxers, topless and holding his cock (yeah, I can’t help but smile while typing this); but there was something awfully wrong in this whole picture! I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Strange mixed emotions overwhelmed me! Was I the one who had high expectations and was clueless when it turned out to be just another fuck  to him, or this rush of unexplained and unfortunate events made me speechless and mesmerized to the extent that I couldn’t even have a hard-on?

I ordered him to instantly wear his clothes and that we should move out instantly. He begged me to stay, then he tried physically forcing me to. I was decided and clear. “Just put it in your mouth”. God! Sane good looking people are extinct?

He angrily wore his clothes then, just like how we went in, we moved out slowly. In the car, it kept bouncing in my head what happened. As usual, he asked me to drive him to the old Gym he used to go to in order to meet his friends for a quick hi, then we could go and have some fish soup in Mohandessin.

I tried forgetting what happened, actually hanging out with him afterwards would let me shake those thoughts out of my head.

The night went smoothly then I drove him back to his place. He then asked me to drive around his quiet area a bit, just like the first time we met. As I was driving near one of the under construction houses, I slowed down just to find Mica taking off both his pants and boxers. That’s when I had the first visual of his bare naked cock. I was in shock! That was the extremely last method I wanted to get introduced to his cock!

“Mica what are you doing dude!!”, I said, astonished with this extremely strange and unnatural sequence of events. “Digg, just hold it would you?”. I didn’t have time to answer as a cab was approaching in front of us.

“Shit!!!”, he said while wearing his pants back. “Act normally!”, he added.

Fuck that how could I act normally? Nothing was normal that night!

“I think you should go home now”, I said while pressing on the gas.

 

I didn’t know back then that all of what has just happened was nothing comparing to what I would see next with him!

 

To be continued …

:: An Inconvenient Lie

When I'm with you, 
I am taken,  
With the feeling that you've been chosen, 
What I'm longing is the best thing, 
In a long time that I'm not broken, 
 And I cant be without you 
So dont go anywhere, 
You show me love like no one else has done yet,
 And with the road ahead, 
This is the begining of this love story, 
Of this love story.

- Nadia Ali.

 

 

 

“Mum, how do we do Crêpes? It keeps sticking in the pan!”, I furiously asked my mother over the phone while extinguishing another fucked up pancake that I was vainly trying to prepare. I was running out of time, and I had to make it good.

“It’s all about the ingredients”, she replied, “make the easy one that I used to do. Listen carefully: mix 1 cup of floor, 2 eggs, half a cup milk and another half of water. Put a pinch of salt and melt like two small spoons of butter in there. Mix well and voila, you have your crêpes”.

“Thanks!”, I quickly answered while throwing my egg-less strange mix I prepared earlier. I hung up, looked at the wall clock: 8:35am. I barely had twenty-five minutes to go. Honey, jam and delicious Nutella were ready. Pancakes weren’t though! I could serve them alone, I always loved eating plain Nutella with a spoon, sparkling some sesame on top. Maybe do some grilled French toast instead? I am good at French toasts! God bless microwaves and grills.

“Two minutes, she said two minutes on the pan. It shouldn’t fucking stick this time!”, I said while crossing my fingers and trying to flip it. Indeed a nice non-sticky golden brownish side greeted me. I did it, almost on time.

8:57 am – even though I knew that nobody ever really respected his accurate time, but I had to prepare these pancakes before 9 in the morning. He told me that his grandmother used to do them and he never had better. Fuck yeah! I can server delicious pancakes as well, thanks to mum and to ready made jam, chocolate and miss bee.

He likes tea as well! I remembered that I had some tea from Kenya, courtesy of some friend I don’t remember (rude, but no time to remember names in this very limited time and challenge).

I prepared the breakfast table, made sure that the pancakes are well aligned four in every plate, topped with honey-jam or honey-chocolate mixture. Tea was in the pot as well as French toasts were on the table: my signature, how could I let it go?

As I prepared the table, I felt that time was going slowly. He didn’t know that I prepared all this: I wanted to see the surprise on his face. As I waited in the balcony, I saw his small black car parking somewhere near my parents’ place. My heart raced: I could almost visualize the expression that would draw on his face: he’d say hi to me, look at the table then draw a faint smile on his face and say: “What’s that?”. He would then go to the table and nibble, that’s when I would tell him to sit down and try my pancakes. He would, and he’d be pleased having this surprise breakfast. He’d also complain about his weight, blaming me that this meal would need a lot of trade mill and a lot of calories to burn after.

What the hell. Fuck calories. Fuck problems. Fuck break-ups. Fuck love or hatred: I would just enjoy seeing that on Mostafa’s face.

 

I just remembered this moment because Samer, my best friend, gave me back the ‘memories book’ that Mostafa used to write yearly about our relationship. I gave it to him in order to push it away from my sight and, specially for this reason, wanted to know if I was guilty anywhere in that 3-years long relationship I had with Mostafa.

Samer gave me back the book a few days ago, asking me to do whatever I please with it. Destroy it, burn it, keep it or just, in this case, blog about the first thing that popped-up in my mind.

I really loved that love story.

 

Thinking about Nadia Ali’s melodic voice, tunes and lyrics; as well my twisted mind; it just occurs to me what happened to Deborah Morgan in Dexter show. Because she dated the Ice Truck Killer; she lost faith in relationships afterwards. Her great doubt made her stay away and not try to start or keep on anything. Her constant doubt and lack of security made her brutally accuse Gabriel, a very fine date and lover.

She was lucky she found Gabriel at the first place! Someone who was not only hot, but the one who would totally understand and get along with her psychopathic, sick, tormented and hurt soul from her past experience. The perfect package, but hey! It’s just a TV Show.

I dated someone finally, I tried. I swear I did try to date someone and I did my best to invest my power; but it just ended. I was worried that I was taking a very dangerous edge; since the last chat that we had together made me explode in a hysterical laughter. We had a cold and frigid chat after a 10-days business trip he had:

Me: Hey.

Date: hi.

Me: :) Are you back?

Him: You know I am.

Me: No I don’t, because I sent an SMS on Friday and it didn’t deliver!

Him: Well, I got it and I answered it.

Me: It didn’t deliver and I did not receive any answer from you!!! (this is the truth – it seems that the network is also helping me to screw up everything).

Him: OKay.

-- silence --

Me: Why the attitude?

Him: Bos, plz don’t talk to me again ana 5alas keda gebt a5ry mennak.. it’s over.

(Look, please don’t talk to me again. I just reached up to here from what you do. It’s over!).

I laughed. I laughed like crazy. I can’t really understand if it was a relief laughter, or just trying to comfort myself that I was a big failure (and just proved myself) that I couldn’t and wouldn’t even start a relationship or any kind of love bound with anyone anymore. Maybe because he wasn’t prince charming? Nobody is; nobody will.

I just answered: OKay. And that was it.

OKay.

 

I believe what I would feel comfortable with is my actual life style. It might sound repulsive to some people, it might sound tempting to others but, hey again, that’s me and everyone tries to reach his balance. I just blew someone off in his place a few moments ago. His mother was outside (talking about his fetish to do sex in danger) and I didn’t mind. I liked that we said “bye” afterwards and left. I loved that, before I get in my car, asked him: ya dude, did you listen to Nadia Ali’s new single? He answered: “hell yeah! that bitch rocks!”

I drove off back to my place, laptop opened, music uploaded and blog typed.

Make and follow your own rules and never regret the past – I know I try to do.