9. Sleeping With The Enemy pt. II
I can't even remember if it was a beautiful day outside. Probably not, since the day before, when we went on a date, it was freezing, winter still didn't want to let it go. We say in Poland that March is a mix of winter and summer. It felt like similar chaos was happening inside of my head and chest this whole month.
Suddenly my room got really quiet. I simply had no idea what to say. He told me he got it when he was very young and irresponsible. That he's taking the pills and it makes this biggest nightmare of gays to be undetectable and un-transmittable. It didn't matter to me, all I could think of was that I just had his enormous penis inside of my mouth not even 15 minutes ago. I panicked, couldn't think straight. Didn't know what to do or say, so I just started changing my bed and asked him some random questions about it. I got scared, because suddenly turned out that my biggest fear is right next to me, in my room, and I exposed myself to it like a silly lamb.
But soon I controlled the panic in my head, remembered what I was already reading before (and as a person always scared of this disease I was reading about it quite a lot). I realised if he's being honest, I have nothing to be scared of. The question remained: is he? I couldn't know, but before he left, we had some fun again, so I guess I preferred to believe him, risking everything. When he was getting ready to leave my place, I asked if he didn't forget anything, but then he smiled surprised and asked: I don't think it would be a problem, I will be back, right? His words put a smile on my face and we said goodbye.
When he left I talked to my best friend about the whole situation and she made me realise, that actually he did a horrible thing. That's not an information he should keep to himself and let me know after we did already something. It was a major red flag. Huge like Moscow. He either didn't respect me enough, to give me a choice or simply didn't give a flying fuck about it. Later on, when my other friend came over and I was just telling her the whole story, I said something about his nails being painted, something I was never fond of, to be honest. But I told her that actually I don't mind it in this case, I thought I could never date a guy with painted nails, but here turned out I don't really care. She said with a laugh: Ok, so the fact he is HIV positive and didn't let you know about it before, depriving you of choice, is not a problem at all, but his nails could be?
The problem was, I liked him. Visually he perfectly fit into my ideal picture of a guy. Big, tall, strong, visible he used to workout, but that actually never mattered to me. Pretty eyes, full lips, jawline so sharp it could cut the wood. And most importantly, he was very, very intelligent. For the first time in a long time I've met someone who could challenge me intellectually and it was so seductive. He knew a lot, he could talk about anything with me. An intriguing and fascinating person wrapped in a pleasant to my eyes package.
A perfect trap. What could I do? Well, continue like nothing ever happened, or make a series of mistakes, of course. I've decided to talk to him about what he did (or actually didn't do in the right time), if we ever meet again, didn't want to do it through texts and talk about the whole: You're positive and didn't let me know in time. But soon he started acting differently, or maybe the same as before, but not according to my plan or silly wish, so my dramatic and impatient ass spoiled it, just like it did with Ivan before.
We chatted a little bit, moved to Telegram (cursed app, I believe). In the evening he said he was sleeping the whole day, jetlag and all of that. I wanted to meet him again, mistakenly too soon, only the next day, on Monday, my only free evening that week, but he said he can't be sure if he's available then, so we will talk about it that day. We didn't, obviously, he didn't let me know the whole day, and my proud ass didn't want to initiate the conversation, since the last message was mine and his texts seemed rather reluctant. That's when I should have known that nothing will come out of it. If these silly games enter the chat, you can forget about anything. You see, guys are simple. And my iron rule of dating is: If they like you, you will know. If they don't, you will be confused. Simply take mixed signals as a no.
If a guy likes you, he will make time. He will find it. If he won't be able to, he will let you know, but make sure that soon, when possible, you'll meet. If he's interested in you, he will show it. If he doesn't want to show it though, and prefers to play these games, let him waste someone else's time, because the only thing he can actually offer you, is his dick and emotional damage. I knew all of that, yet I fell into this trap, because, as I said, I liked him. Started thinking that maybe it's not that black and white, but usually it is. Additionally, the whole uncomfortable affair with Ivan and Valentin surprisingly and very successfully threw Mr M. out of my head, just like that. For the first time in months I had to remind myself of him, kept forgetting that he was present in my head every single day for the last half a year. Now he was gone. Unfortunately, it felt like falling out of the frying pan into the fire. I've exchanged one guy for two. Only changed the faces of my problem.
But back to the Russian with a beautiful name. When he didn't let me know about the next date and actually didn't text me at all since our last chat on Tuesday, I've asked him if everything's all right. Then I got drunk on wine with a friend, as we had a call, and getting no reply, I texted him later dramatically, wishing him all the luck, that Poland maybe will be more welcoming to him than Russia or something like that. Done and done. For a week, when I finally came to my senses and apologised to him, even though the guy didn't let me know he's positive and then ignored me, a masochist with no self respect waving here to you now. He said it's okay and we set up another date, on Friday. He came to my place, wet hair, leather jacket, just looking like a typical bad boy straight from a movie set. We had a dinner, drunk some wine, talked about everything and nothing, later on planned to go to my gay club.
At some point during the conversation he told me he has ADHD and that he's polyamorous so I told him he's like a box of chocolates, if he has this and that and then I paused, so he added with a smile: And HIV. Gotcha. I told him yes, back to that. Explained my concerns about his behaviour, but he didn't apologise. He only got uncomfortable and said he didn't expect it to happen, he just didn't know how or when to say it. I can imagine it's hard to get dates when you have it. People are scared of it, even though it's been ages since Princess Diana shook a hand with a positive man, people still believe they can get it out of thin air. If you got it, you also get a horrible reputation. How could you let it happen to you? You must be a whore, had sex with anything that moves. So I understand people don't want to say it early on Tinder, but when you're on a date, I can easily find at least 10 good moments to say it, before putting your enormous dick in someone else's mouth. I got slightly irritated with him.
As he was saying, how he went on a date right after meeting me, the day he was supposedly sleeping or how he went to gay sauna (sex place, for uninformed), and to one bar with a darkroom, I got the picture. I was glad I got a chance to see him again, unlike Ivan, whom I started idealising in my head after just one meeting. I had a chance to break this curse of only one date and a perfect picture coming to my head after it. I could see him in a different light. I realised he's not the proper type of guy for me. He's a player, he only wants to have fun. We just wanted different things and the only thing he could offer me, was between his legs. I knew he's a fuckboy, but I played along. Quite soon he started the pleasant part of our date, approaching me from behind, then roughly and so amazingly turning me around, to kiss me. He whispered to my ear he loves surprising people, and as I love surprises and now he knows where I live and work, he could do it. Sure.
Then we moved our bussines to my tiny bed, had some fun there and that's where he pulled the final straw. I told him jokingly, that he can make me a hickey, he refused, so I teased and said I will make him one, then. He said no, that he doesn't like it and if I do it, he will slap me and not in a nice way. That was enough for me, but once again, I didn't react immediately. I was shocked a little, as before I felt safe with him, what he said now made me feel the exact opposite. I got uncomfortable, didn't know what to do. Went to the bathroom to wash some dinner stains out of my t-shirt, he followed me there, then back to my room, where I started changing. He asked if something's wrong, so I said: I think you should leave. He asked why, I explained shortly. He got confused, but started dressing up, left my room to put on shoes and a jacket and said something, but I didn't hear what was it. Lock the door behind me? No idea.
The moment he left, I shut the door behind him and loudly turned the lock. Maybe it was all cumulating in me - not telling me about HIV in time or even feeling sorry about it, ignoring me later, telling stories of who he really is, me getting disappointed by it and him in general. I could ignore it, laugh it off and continue to have fun with him in my bed, then at the club, but I wouldn't have any respect for myself. And if he said he will hit me over a silly hickey, what else he could do in the future? I was done with him, as it's the one thing I will never accept. I could stand being humiliated by the mixed signals, jumping like a pigeon on the crumbs he was throwing me when he was bored enough, but I will slap you and not in a nice way sealed the deal.
Unfortunately, later on I embarrassed myself, drunk texting him some random shit while partying with a friend the next week. Then I invited over one big guy, but he turned out to be a dirtball, who soon started having fun with me and then slapped my face, while screaming out of joy. I put his dick out of my mouth, sat down and looked at him dreadfully. He apologised, but I got scared. So guess who popped up in my head at the moment? Valentin. I kicked out of my flat one guy who threatened me he will hit me and then invited another one, who actually did it. What the actual fuck? I had my friend call me and pretend there's been an emergency and she needs to come over, because this guy just wanted to stay for the night and me, someone who would rather whip Putin's ass than offend someone and hurt their feelings, didn't know how to kick him out otherwise. Then I partied again with another friend and texted Valentin for the last time, on Twitter, inviting him to the club. He replied in the morning, but didn't know it's me, so when I informed him and said he should forget about it, he blocked me. The end.
The biggest problem was, I got really confused with Ivan and Valentin. Maybe I shouldn't expect other people to do things the way I do. For example, if I'm not interested in someone, if I don't like him, I won't do this whole carnival of staring eyes, comparing hands, staying over and then doing all of that again in the morning. Sure, I can have sex with him, but nothing more, he won't get anything more than animalistic, pure fun. I can't pretend like that. They can, obviously, and what I thought was a nice date, for them was only one night stand. I started feeling like some innocent, ignorant fool who doesn't know how all of it works. Because whatever they did to me and with me, felt like they mean it. Like they genuinely enjoy my company and what I felt was mutual.
That was something I couldn't get over with and started being afraid, that if I do learn this lesson, I will become numb, cynical and bitter. That if a good guy will come to my life and behave exactly like they did, I won't take it seriously and treat him as another fuckboy ready to waste my time and play with me for his own satisfaction. I just couldn't get out of my head the question: Why? How do they do it? I've heard one metaphor for that recently, how is it, that when you meet a guy it's going great, but once you two go back to your places, there is nothing. Imagine seeing a puppy on the street. It's so damn cute, you can't stop yourself from petting it and playing with it for a while. But once you go home, you do not think of this puppy anymore. You simply forget about it and go on with your life.
Maybe another problem was, that I was the first or one of the first guys they've met after moving to Warsaw. And Corona changed a lot, actually. It made people want to enjoy the moment and run to catch another one. Nothing lasts forever, nothing is certain, we are here, now, so let's enjoy this ride. Maybe they thought - well, that was okay, but what's next? A whole bunch of guys waiting for them to discover in this city. Why would you leave the party after having only one drink? But all of the drinks are the same. Different flavours maybe, but all the same in the end. Some of them more disappointing, some more interesting, but then also more fucked up. Or getting you more fucked up. Years ago I would play these games, I actually did it a few times. But it was all for nothing, all this stupid contest who will have the upper hand doesn't lead you anywhere. I know what I want and if I like them, I will be honest about it.
Finally I could stop all this madness. I don't know what is it with texting guys while being drunk. I think we don't do it, if the pain was too big, like with Mr M., whom I texted only once, but about our dog I was missing. But if it was just a fling, if it didn't end with atomic bomb, maybe it feels unfinished. I was disappointed by Valentin, a decent guy would apologise, but to be honest, a decent person would never say something like that in the first place. I was getting disappointed recently quite often. I was in a freak show indeed. Suddenly, the universe started sending me all the wrong guys and I couldn't help but wonder, why do they come to me. But they all had one thing in common - me. A walking mess that prefers to push down everything instead of dealing with it in a normal, healthy way. What could I do? Stop partying, end this marathon of mistakes, maybe only wait for an opening of a new gay club in Warsaw, to see if it's going to be any different, although I doubt that.
It's been quite interesting, these last six months. I got abused, robbed, kicked some guys out of my flat, had some walks of shame, dated pointlessly, got under someone only to get over a special someone. Last night I went to my club for the last time. Kissed some dudes, met a bunch of guys I blocked on Grindr and ghosted on Tinder. At the end, had a ridiculously long walk home at 4am, went straight through the area where I used to live with Mr M. And suddenly, I felt nothing. Maybe those Eastern Slavs came to my life only to help me remove him from my head and finally move on. I wasn't planning on meeting another fuckboy, this time from Ukraine to get the whole picture. For the first time in months I felt I'm finally done with this. Kinda empty, but calm. Finally, I found the way out of this rabbit hole.
After a breakup it always feels like we will never find happiness again. We can't see any positives. But that's not true and soon we meet new people, we fall for some of them, we get our hearts broken a little again and again, and we break others. I waste my time on guys boring yet attractive, or smart but not appealing to my eyes. Walking red flags and fuckboys, that I confuse for someone else. And I'm right in the middle, not hot enough for the hot ones, too hot for the ugly ones. Too stupid for the smart ones, too smart for the stupid ones. The more I date the more I lose my hope, but I still hold onto it, I still believe it's possible.
I think having hope is one of the bravest things we could do. No matter what happens, how many times you trip and fall down, you get up and keep on going. Probably there will come a day, when I read everything I wrote here and will laugh at my current stupidity and ignorance. It's a dark moment in my history, full of mistakes and alcohol, but it's always darkest before the dawn. Deep down I know my person is out there. Maybe I've met him already, maybe I haven't yet. But he is out there, and he’s looking for me too.