HOLDING A NOTE
“Let it gooo , let it goooooooo”- I sang.
My tattered headphones were preventing me from hearing my out of tune voice, letting me believe I sound identical to Idina Menzel.
I was singing, walking along the port, on my way to a date when I got another of those emails.
I read the name of the sender on the notification and I kept singing, dancing on the streets, like a mad person, wanting to believe I was free as the song was suggesting, cowardly, avoiding the content of that message.
Due to my unemployed status, a faster transportation method wasn't an option, so by the time I was chanting Disney’s thirteenth song, I woman up and read it.
“Your application has been unsuccessful for the job.
We are looking for someone with more experience, it seems that you are truly passionate about the position, but we are simply not fans of passionate people.
Blah, blah, blah.
I’m not sorry for ruining your dreams.
Definitely, not Walter Disney.”
Without further comments to myself, I walked on my date.
Let's skip the meal, the drinks, and the conversation on this encounter and jump right to it.
A cute long curly hair guy, jack sparrow style, was on top of me, sweating his ass, literally, his ass and dorsum were all soaked since intense sex has been going on for about an hour or so.
It felt endless. We were on and on for an eternity, I cheered up myself, trying to focus more on the trip than on the destination, convincing me that I should enjoy the long intro without hitting the skip button, hoping if I compromised myself enough, he would finish.
I wanted to give him a good time since at a point I had noticed that he wouldn’t make me reach an orgasm, so I did until he said:
“I´m edging, I have been mastering tantric sex so I won´t cum for a long period of time.
I want you to tell me what you like, what I can do to make you cum?.”
Could you make your penis grow?- I thought.
As much as guilty I felt for my thoughts, by then I could recognize that we weren't a match.
I kept going, kissing him, trying anyway.
Less than five minutes had passed since he told me about the new talent he had acquired when he suddenly came.
“It was your fault, you are too hot. To be honest I'm quite new at this. I'm only halfway through the book.”- He said, pointing at a tantra book.
He stands up, strategically positioning his naked body in front of the window but facing me, and starts farting.
I awkwardly smiled and shovel down the leftovers of the red wine.
“Well it was cool to hang, I´m gotta go now”-I said
“No, no, stay longer we have just started. You haven’t told me what you like. Tell me.”-He enthusiastically insisted while farting loudly.
“Come on, don’t be shy, talk to me.”
He kept farthing louder and longer.
“We are good at this together, I can feel it, we connected.”-He said.
Farts were a background sound. Sort of the Spotify playlist he has prepared for intimate moments with girls.
He was holding a fart as a singer held a note.
Maybe he was reading the wrong book. He has mastered the art of holding a series of farts forever but he couldn't hold himself from coming.
“Please tell me what to do that will make you come.” He asked.
“I don’t want to tell you what to do, giving you directions for sex is the least I want to do, is the only moment my brain switches off and my body takes control.
I don’t want to decide anymore. I’m tired of it.
I want to meet someone that would tell me what to do with life.
That will guide me on the right path to become the famous filmmaker I’m supposed to be.
Where is that person? It appears in every story in the movies and has appeared for some of my friends.
So where the fuck is that person for me?
I appreciate your effort but don’t fill your mind with bullshit. We are not good at this together, I can’t figure out why you want to convince yourself we are.
I ain't denying you worked really hard, I was turned on for a while, but your dick it isn´t my style, doesn’t match with my vagina, it is slightly smaller than what I'm used to, simple as that.
Furthermore, I´m not into tantric sex at this moment of my life, I don’t want to expend hours locked in a room avoiding the amazing sensation of one perfectly humble orgasm to multiplied the effect hours later whilst I have so much shit to resolve.”
Maybe I overshared with him.
I took off.
He followed me.
“Where are you going? It is two am!!!.”
“To a fucking party, I´m already drunk, is late, is nothing I can do for my career now.
Do you want to come?.” - I genuinely invited him.
“Nah, I better go back to my book.”-He genuinely replied.
“Oh for fuck´s sake, live a little.”
I went to the party, and would you like to know whom I met?
Everyone except the future producer of my films.