they said it would get easier after the first time, that i would get used to the the relentless wave of moments, the blinks of bliss and the poisonous promise of a tonight. and perhaps i will one day. or perhaps not. maybe i'll just keep seeing the flaws of fucking without feelings.
in this case, we were just two strangers fumbling in the dark, patting at our pockets as if searching for misplaced morals sandwiched in between cigarette packets, credit cards and each other's surname. we didn't need each other. not in that way. not in the sort of manner that keeps couples glued to each other's side for five years while secretly wanting to shoot each other (or themselves) in the head. i guess we just wanted each other. the way one craves for mcdonalds after a big night out, or a hot bath after a long day at work. perhaps we even wanted to tame our own unspoken loneliness with anonymity. whatever it was to get us by.
i'm not used to this, i thought to myself. he looks like he knows what he's doing. but i'm scared shitless right now because i know this doesn't work for me. i can't kiss someone without feeling i need to love them wholeheartedly but i did it anyway. it struck me the instance we awkwardly arrived at the hotel lobby, constantly checking to see if the other was still under the influence of carnal degradation and hoping we wouldn't snap back into reality and save oneself from what would happen next. the hands intertwined up an elevator soon followed, feigning familiarity, feigning love beyond the fact that it was a mutual, rash agreement signed by a sneaky kiss on the dance floor. he opened the door to a balcony blanketed by the crisp, chill of the evening sky. with my cigarette alight and a million thoughts racing through my head, the most prominent voice of reason echoes and pounds through the system, far stronger than the copious amounts of champagne previously downed, screaming but you don't do this.
and then the stranger stares intently, he's but an inch away and here you are overanalysing once again. sobering up. trying to figure what he's thinking, whilst simultaneously trying hard to hide your tortured soul. he grabs your face and for that moment you feel as if you've known him all your life. that perhaps he is the boy you subconsciously dreamed about in high school and this moment, shrouded by the mystery of a foreign country with a foreign person for one long and arduous night, is but perfection in disguise. temporarily you know everything surface about him. about his nickname, his tattoos, his hometown, the way he likes to bite your lip while you kiss. temporarily you are the apple of his eye. temporarily you are drawn by such lust that takes superiority above all else. temporarily you are being offered the most expensive delicacy on a silver platter, free of charge. you are torn as to take it, knowing fully well that if you but have the slightest taste, you will never cease to want more.
and then you fall asleep in his arms. spooning the way you only wanted to do with someone you actually cared about. and in that fetal position, thoughts overflow, drenching the hotel room with a numbness, a wholehearted understanding that there is no repeat. there is no breakfast after. there is no late night conversations with your legs rested on your bedroom wall or picnics by the beach. there is no time, no agreement, no need for friendship and association after. it was fun. it wasn't fulfilling. we didn't need each other, you remind yourself. and as you rise from the rumination, embarrassed by your hungover, morning face you realise this. fetching your dress, looking into his eyes, there was no magic, he did not miraculous evolve or transform into a potential. he is still the same stranger who twirled your arm across the dance floor. the same stranger who is saying good morning to you from the bathroom, the same way he said good night in between the sheets.
and as you awkwardly depart the hotel lobby, go separate ways. you politely thank each other, express gratitude for the company and know fully well that it will probably be the last time you see each other ever again. and when reality strikes you both, he will forget your name, your face and associate you with another new years, another frisky time accompanied with feeling forever young. and you'll do exactly the same. they said it would get easier after the first time, but all i can still see is the flaw of fucking without feelings.
love,
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