My So-Called Love Life

This site -- my anthology -- is the story of a man, a young man, trying to find his way to love. Experiencing everything in between and serving you his heart on a silver-freaking-platter to the naked eye, for the whole world to see; relate, indulge, delve, and hopefully learn from his mistakes. Happy Dating! Copyright © 2004-2011, "My So-Called Love Life" ® Mario Ion. All Rights Reserved.

Friday, December 18, 2009

N.Y. Roulette

Dating in New York City has become a game of chance encounter. Everybody has their own outlet to meeting the kind of person they want to meet; be it at a coffee shop, a bar, a club, or even online. It all plays part to a certain degree of "what to expect" or whether or not it's taking a chance.

I've taken my chance.

It was only two months into it that I started to realize that I've become victim to the bullet marked "Love." Was I falling, or already in it? Or maybe somewhere caught in between the crossfire. They say X marks the spot, and now all I can ponder is did they really mean Ex?

We were off to a good start; We got along, we joked around, we played it safe, and the sex was good. I even got along with his friends, for whatever that was worth.
But that's where the problem(s) began.
The timebomb that was triggered the moment we locked lips, seemed to trigger just a little bit more each time we took our relationship public.

One beer led to five, and maybe a few shots in between. And in his inebriated haze, he'd drop a bomb on me. One night it was the possibility of cancer. Another night it was to suggest I find somebody else. The atomic, was his ghost of a former love still lingering between us and in the sheets.

I did my best and played nonchalant. I tried to let it slip, but it was continued to be brought up. And I asked; "Is this somebody that can jeapordize any chance we might have?" and he simply, yet dangerously answered "Yes."

Chance... It's funny how it can be full of so many possibilities, yet so full of arsenal.
And I guess all that was left was to wait for the inevitable.

Through the trials and tribulations, and the wonders of "What If;" and through the shades of grey that dimmed on the spotlight that was our relationship... We took a chance. A few chances, I should say. Though there were problems and warnings signs to stay away, and though it was never meant to be; we played the game of N.Y. Roulette.

You can only play with chance for so long, till' it blows love away.


I've never understood what "terms of endearment" really meant before...
Or at least what exactly those terms were.
Is it flattery or chivalry? Romance or spontaneity? Passion or intimacy?
We have all these different aspects and prospects to finding a solid core
or substratum to sustaining a mutual comprehension of yourself and your beloved...
But what happens when your terms differ from theirs?

A few nights ago during one of my many regular boring nights at home,
I picked up the phone and called my best friend, whom I always toss my ideas and rants at
in hopes for some kind of insight, or at least a second-hand opinion to keep me out of my head.
He said something that really melted in the back of my head...
He said; "Everybody has their own different versions of love and how to express it."
It was a copacetic statement that couldn't have been more fitting to my current situation.

Over the last couple of weeks I've realized I'm really starting to develope feelings... Strong feelings... For someone I've been seeing. Granted it's only been a short time but feelings can't be controlled. They're there when they're there and when they're there, you can only face them or shelf them.
And in a sense, I guess I've been shelving them... At least until I know for sure.
Though some hints and ideas have been tossed my way, and thankfully I'm good at reading between the lines... The fine lines that prevent us from facing present reality.
I always believed it's best to wait it out and ride the wave, until the currents calm down and it's safe to swim to the shore... I guess I'm waiting. For what? I'm not sure.
Maybe a sign... Maybe for the door to open without my own hands turning the knob.
Or maybe I'm just waiting for things to turn sour.

I have a tendency of comparing my present with my past, and nonetheless always expect the same results I've dealt with before. Often times, this puts a strain on my usual open-mindedness, and even my open heart.

I won't lie, there has been times where things actually gotten to a point where it seems like contrary to what was happening, can lead to something going bad.
But those issues were surprisingly dealt with and mutually apprehended quite fast.
Maybe I'm just not used to the open communication and this amount of honesty, that it freaks me out sometimes. But when does it get to a point where some things are better kept to yourself?
That's where I'm at.

The ghost of his (not so far) past has been brought to my attention, no less by him...
And the detail of what they (seemed to have) shared really did a number on my ego.
How can I compare? There's an unresolved romance that's making the sheets a little colder than it is warmer; and residue from a lost connection still lingering in between.
Maybe I'm overreacting... Maybe I'm just expecting this to be the breaking point I always expect.

But I'm sparing a great amount of confusion and I'm trying to let it slide,
afterall... They'll never see each other again. Right?
I still worry. I may not be half the man I could be, or twice as strong as I should be...
But that's what makes me me... That's what makes me human.
A human with feelings that pattern to grow fast,
feelings that are frail and fragile, easily hurt.
It could be many reasons, from saying the wrong thing at the wrong time...
To making me feel like my feelings aren't enough.

So for now, I'll sit back...
And badger myself over wondering just how much is too much communication and trust.
Tick, tock...

Maybe, Baby

We've all got our ulterior motives in most cases, but when it comes to sleeping with the enemy, how do you really seperate the two with a fine line that defines a Friend or Foe?

It started one night at the expense of being bored out of my mind, with no one around to fulfill whatever it was I was yearning at the time. I could've easily called one of my friends and said "Hey! Let's meet at The Coffee Shop for some cocktails." but the more I thought about it, I realized it wasn't something a friend would satisfy.
So I met with someone that's been... In the works, for some time now.

Initially we met as means to "hanging out..." Right! Because my rising to the occasion as soon as we sat down wasn't obvious at all of what my intentions were. Although I've never been the type to liberate myself from my morals, what ever that is... Tonight I was feeling exceptionally lonely.

Sure we talked a bit, made it more comfortable, but at 1AM, talk is cheap... So we got to it.
He was quick to lean closer to me and lock his lips on mine...
What a good kisser. I couldn't help but quiver, as the synapses fired, sending orders:
Caress him, undress him, try to digress but can't help it...
Unbutton the shirt, slide down the pants, next thing you know we're assuming deposition.

It never ceases to amaze me how good it feels to expose yourself entirely to someone you don't know well. Even moreso to be able to condone this amount of bliss.

It took me some time to discover how you can tell whether or not it's just sex, or if somewhere between the climaxes, they feel some kind of connection to you. A lot has to do with vulnerability. But how can you discover that much about someone over just the course of sex?
You compare it to the times that I'm sure we've all had, where it was just a one night stand.
You know... The clothes come off, the act was done, and poof! Never to be seen again.
Well with him, I could tell that he wasn't just having sex with me, no...
He was passionate about it. He made love to me.

There's something about the way he holds me; close, tight, gripping me as if it's not close enough, as he penetrates deeper as though he's trying to penetrate my soul.
The eye-contact is stunning... The way he stared deep into my eyes, and sent a physical jolt as he sent a smile my way. And I'd tremor... Not because I'm scared, but because he has me. He's got a grip of me far more than my hips. And when he kisses me before his final moments,
I get the chills... As though I'm experience the same body high as he's feeling.

I knew it was more than just a one night stand, and it was justified when it happened again.
But even then I knew there's something more to it than the sex.
It's myserious, sensual, passionate, dangerous if I gave in to it...
But the moment he kissed me again, I gave in to it.

The way that I can tell that he's vulnerable is because he's got this fire to him...
This passion that seems almost impossible to miss.
When he holds me, it's like he's longing for something once lost or missed.
But for now, I'm going with it. No pressure. No reservations.
Because if it becomes something more...
Well maybe, baby, we're off to a good start