remembering the tinman, part 4

february 2002, letter to g



dear g,

what else? i am writing to you because of a man. it's not a matter of life and sex, er, death. but seriously, this is different. how will i tell you? ok, better do it the quickest way.

i slept (read- been sexually intimate) with somebody.

before you pass judgement, let me just recount some details of what happened:

i first met this guy, M - (for anonymity we will call bloke) in the volunteers’ conference in february. immediately i had a crush on him. he’s 36, stocky, a londoner, a head of the dept. of social forestry in one of the universities here, and, seriously - a bloke. (like a lumberjack or something). because he's into social forestry we had a lot of things to talk about - with my stint in the community forestry program in camiguin.

after the conference, i e-mailed just to thank him for his company - as we had a lot of laughs (the male bonding type). then he responded and said he'll be visiting my province and might need a place to stay (!).

of course i was...afraid. i told him other volunteers live closer to where he's going. and even asked him to get in touch with one. so he was left with no choice. but not before telling me that he will be renting a car so the distance won't be a problem. i said, ok then. what else can i say?

when he arrived i insisted he meets up with another volunteer first so he won't have to drive another hour after his flight. he obeyed. but sometime during the night they decided that they will visit me and spend the next night in the plantation.

i was thinking, he’s with this girl – there shouldn’t be too much temptation. and he seems straight so i convinced myself that it will not pose a problem
.
they arrived. we dranked. we sang. the girl fell asleep on the floor of my room.

then bloke asked me, "what are you going do with her?"

to which i responded, "let her sleep."

then he said, "no, i mean it's your house, don't you have an extra room or something?" and then he started running his fingers through my hair and massaging my back.

i said, "oh." i woke up the girl and took her to another room.

when i came back, there were no words. he jumped me and kissed me. we made out like hungry animals. he’s so aggressive and a bottom (he’s first time, he said – like, whatever.) i was with bruises and scratches the morning after.

the point i wanted to make for relating all of that is that (1) it was all unexpected, unplanned and therefore confusing (2) i didn't even think of the consequences and (3) as you maybe predicted, i am finding i am liking this guy more than i want to.



and here is the dilemma in order of importance:

1.what does this all mean? does it mean i'm incapable of being faithful as i claimed i would be? is the real kiel the polygamous one not the one who professes faithfulness for the sake of love? is this a fluke? or is it a sign of the things (and dicks) to come ?(and cum?) already a 23 yr old black cute kid in the plantation is insisting he should spend the whole next weekend with me. yaiiiks!

2.do i tell E? if i should, will it be now? or when i come back? or when i'm sure he won't break up with me (like giving a hypothetical situation)? Or when i'm sure i can handle whatever his reactions will be? i love the guy, G. i want to build a life with him. but is it realistic? two years. sometimes i think i just want to go home to stop myself from getting into further trouble. to complicate things i just been offered a glamour placement. a communications coordinator for a sexual harrasment ngo in Johannesburg. so the other part of me is just wants to finish what i committed to.i said 2 years – i should be able to do it, right? so i feel worse, i cheated and then i decide to stay?!

3.how do i play it with bloke? i know i'm being neurotic, - at least we can be friends, right?

i don’t know hausmeyt. i’m so out of practice, i don’t know how to handle this. i want to tell him i want more than anything else to be his friend. of course, if i'll be honest, if he wants to be fuck buddies that’s not too bad, either.

we agreed that i'll pay him a visit in his university before i or he leaves (he's probably leaving by may). but now i'm having second thoughts. because (1) i might fall for him or/and (2) maybe all he really wanted was a one night stand. i am even doubtful if i should continue any form of contact.

help!

k.

remembering the tinman, part 3

January 2002, meeting M

The first time I saw him, he was talking to a group of people. I found myself staring at his legs. Beautiful muscular legs covered by the dusting of dark blonde hair encased in dark walking shorts that did not disguise his bubble butt. His upper body was similarly rounded with a hint of beer belly about to erupt in a few years time. He has a head shaped like an egg-a similarity heightened by his receding hairline and hair shaved close to the scalp. His Cockney accent was lilting. Sentences ending in an upward sweep making you think each one is a question.

He suddenly looked my direction and caught my eye. His other body parts receded into background when I looked in his eyes. It is of indeterminate color that always seems to be smiling. He strode towards my direction, all the while looking at me with those mischievous pair as if we were sharing a joke even before he introduced himself. He had a crooked smile. I wanted to bite his lips.

"M," he said extending a hand.

"Kiel," I said, clasping his hand, trying hard not to stare. His handshake was firm. Yet his eyes maintained that mischievous glint that I started to wonder if there is any external manifestation of the unbridled lust I was feeling.



February 2002, the call way after the morning after

"You shouldn't expect anything from me," I detect his imploring tone despite the choppy connection of my mobile phone. I can almost see him frown. "I’m basically a selfish bastard."

Two weeks after M’s visit, this is the first time he calls. Separated by thousands of miles, perhaps just as well. I was afraid I was going to jump to the first bus to where he is in Eastern Cape at the slightest hint of invitation. Apparently, that is not forthcoming. Since he drove away from my house, I was listing down all the things I wanted to say when we finally get to talk. Now all I am left with is uneasy silence and an increasingly loud thumping on my chest.

"That's just it. I'm not expecting anything," my voice sounded unsure even to my own ears. "Let's just talk about it when we see each other in Cape Town in a couple of weeks."



February 2002, text messages after the call way after the morning after

"Thinking of you -," the short message in my cellphone read. It was from Brian. It was 10 P.M. - three days after his phone call.

"No shit," I muttered under my breath, thinking of that vague brush off in our phone conversation a couple of days ago. Where does he get off sending me a message like this?

I decided to play it cool- as all my friends seemed to insist, so I wrote back teasingly, "the sort of thoughts that give you wet dreams or nightmares? too bad you're a -selfish bastard- "

"WET DREAMS,"

"Well thanks. I've been thinking about you too but I don't know if that's something you want to know," I retorted. I imagine I can hear all my friends' indignation at the way I'm handling this. As I watched the miniature envelope travel from one phone through the other, I wanted to cancel. But heck, he asked for it.

"I'm confused, excited, interested and unsure in us." Finally, some truth. My heart resumed it's almost forgotten thumping.

With renewed confidence, I sent a message back that read, "Unsure is good. It's definitely an improvement from the don't-expect-anything line. Remember, I maybe feeling the same thing."

In two minutes, my cellphone rang.

"I'm sorry if I'm such a shit," he apologized not even bothering with the usual pleasantries.

"Why do you say that? Did I say that?" I asked, genuinely puzzled. I started walking out of my bedroom, out of the house and lit a cigarette.

"No, but I thought you may be thinking it." Brian explained. I wish I could see him try to get these words out. Why is he apologizing?

"I said -selfish bastard- but those are your words, not mine." I wonder where the guilt feeling is coming from. I suddenly felt afraid that he might feel sorry for me. Shit. That's the last thing I need right now.

"You'll have to understand. This is unfamiliar territory for me, eh? And there's all this uncertainty on how long you'll be staying in the country. Or how long I will." The thumping in my chest suddenly increased a notch higher.

"Hey M, one step at a time, OK?" I took a drag off my cigarette and blew the smoke out lengthily, thinking of words to say. I'll be damned if I let myself sound like a bimbo again. "I'm just wary of putting limits to anything before knowing what it is all about. The thing is, if I don't expect anything I don't have any options. And for me that sounds like a defeatist self-fulfilling prophecy."

"You're right. No options closed at this time. "Then there was the silence that lasted for a long time.

"Oh M, what am I going to do with you?"

"Right now I can think of something that I want to do with you so badly." His words taking on the familiar mischievous, naughty lilt.

"Oh. Right. That is precisely how it all started." How did we get here? I was asking him and myself silently. I know that our affair is not turning out to be a mess of Miss Saigon proportions. Then again, real life never had to have the absurdity of a musical to be tragic. And for those involved, utterly compelling.