Restraint

It was another Friday night and all the girls were indisposed. For such a small city overflowing with people, why was it that I was alone in my apartment and not in some restaurant or cafe having a fantastic time with a date? Where were the single gay guys? Were we all in our house clothes, staring blankly at our walls as we all wondered what to make of the time that stretched emptily before us? I never knew that singlehood was such hard work. How did other single gay guys like me fill their time? I had no new DVD to watch, no new TV series to follow, not even a laptop to use to go online: nothing to cover up the fact of my aloneness. All I had was my cellphone, forlorn and dejected on my empty computer table, taunting me with its silence. 

Uno had urged me to delete Lyndon's number after that day four weeks ago when he intruded on my date with his friend Nico. I should say I did but I didn't. He was still on my phonebook, along with Nico who at this point may never talk to me again after what I did to him, along with Jacob who walked out on me on our first date, along with my ex-boyfriend Alex who thankfully had not bothered me again after our post-breakup sex a month ago that freshened old wounds. I was beginning to notice a behavioral pattern: it seemed that I really had trouble letting go, whether it was contact numbers or the men themselves. Was it hope that kept me holding on, or was it merely stubborn refusal to do so? Was there really a difference? And will it take time for me to learn it?

I walked towards my phone even if I knew that what I was about to do was a bad idea.  In movies and television shows I watch, not much story happened if no one was making a mistake or was facing a problem, and my problem was who to text. Alex to say I still love him? Jacob to say I was over my ex and maybe we could date now? Nico to say I was sorry and could we start over? Or Lyndon just to say hi? I wouldn't have this story today if I hadn't at that moment made a mistake with my choice: I texted Lyndon. 

I regretted my decision as soon as I saw the sent notification. I didn't know what was going to make me feel worse, if he ignored my text or if he answered. If he didn't respond then Nico was truly right that I will never hear from Lyndon again, which meant that all he did was use me. But if he responded, I could already hear the judgment in the voices of my friends Uno and Dan who would tell me that this was a bad idea. At least I knew Adam would back me up, but that wasn't exactly reassuring, because when did Adam make good decisions? My only escape was that Lyndon was at work and his phone was in his locker. But no such luck.

“Hello yourself,” he replied.

“You haven't texted,” I replied.

“Neither did you.”

“Are you working tonight?”

“No I just woke up, why?”

“If you're not doing anything...”

“I'll do you?”

“:)”

“You have food?”

“No. Get take out on your way over.”

“Give me an hour.”

*

I met Adam for dinner the next day. Between spoonfuls of gising-gising and crispy tilapia, he was telling me about the weird date he had yesterday. 

“He was really into S&M,” he said.

“Like how?”

“I tied him up and I was slapping him and choking him.”

“Oh wow. What did you use to tie him with?”

“He brought it himself.”

“And how old is this guy?”

“Nineteen.”

“And he's already into that?”

“Wait there's more.”

“More than violence and getting tied up?”

“Yeah. When we were done he asked me to pee on him.”

“On the bed?”

“No, in the bathroom.”

“I'm almost afraid to ask where.”

“At first it was only on his chest. But then he aimed it on his face.”

“Did he open his mouth?”

“Nope. Would've been hot if he did.”

“Ewwwww, no! So then what?”

“So then we took a bath together, and then he left.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“Why not. I had fun. And besides, at least he's safe with me. I'm not going to take advantage of him.”

“Take advantage?”

“I won't overdo it.”

“I see. So it's an act of public service.”

“You know me, I'm nothing except charitable. So how about you?”

“No I'm not charitable.”

“Gaga. I mean what did you do yesterday?”

“Lyndon slept over.”

“So.... He's back.”

“I texted him.”

“And?”

“And he left the house with me earlier.”

“See that's just another form of S&M you know.”

“No I don't know.”

“You know he's going to hurt you. And yet you still texted him. That's masochistic.”

“What if he won't?”

“Do you really think so?”

“No, I don't know that for sure. Aren't you a masochist yourself? With Fred I mean.”

“I never said I wasn't.”

“I thought you were going to be supportive.”

“But you don't know the rules to this game you're playing.”

“Well I may just have to learn it by experience.”

“You could, yeah. But look where that got me.”

“That doesn't sound reassuring.”

“Who said I was?”

*

Later that night, I got to thinking about what Adam said. Was I really a masochist? Why was it that even though I knew that Lyndon was not good for me I still went ahead and reconnected with him. I've made rational decisions before, decisions that made sense and that benefited me in a good way. So what was it then about Lyndon that made a masochist out of me? For all my rationality, for all my intelligence, why did I, in the last few months, keep making decisions that were bad for me. What was it about love, and sex, and relationships, that had suddenly made me stupid? And was this going to be permanent?