It’s knowing what you don’t know you know yet.
It’s the most unreliable advice you should always listen to.
It’s what I should’ve listened to the moment I first saw Guy #184.
It’s what could have saved me a lot of agony.
It’s doing what you don’t know you’re doing yet.
It’s the most reliable advice you should never listen to.
It’s what I listened to the moment I first saw Guy #184.
Two weeks later not even the hottest shower could rid me of the relentless itch Guy #184 had become.
The story of Guy #184 is the story of the most regrettable foursome I ever had.
It started one night when me and two of my friends were chilling at my place. We had some drugs lying around, some Grindr conversations going on and were in the mood to make the night interesting by means of chemsex, because issues.
To make this experience worthwhile we were totally dependent on bringing in other Guys. Me and my friends were just friends after all, comfortable to have sex in each other’s presence, but not looking to have sex with each other.
My goal was a room of at least six Guys: me and my two friends and one date for each of us. Organizing a Sunday evening sexfest however is easier said than done. The Guys on Grindr weren’t exactly biting. Like seamen harvesting a fish bowl, we ended up reeling in no more than one Guy, Guy #184. And I wasn’t even the one who had caught him.
In fact, had I caught him, I would’ve thrown him right back into his bowl, or preferably the ocean. I didn’t like Guy #184 based on his pics, and I liked him even less when I opened the door for him, when I saw just how much this Guy wasn’t my type.
Gauging Guy #184’s response, I could tell I wasn’t his type either. We gave each other an awkward hug as one does when you kick off an orgy get-together. Social obligation had stumbled into our relationship the second it started and it wasn’t going to disappear. I let Guy #184 into my house, doing what I didn’t know I was doing yet.
Fortunately for Guy #184, my two friends were into him. That for me should have been the end of it. I wasn’t at ease in Guy #184’s company, his skin didn’t quite strike me as healthy and I couldn’t help but notice he was scratching himself a lot. One of my friends even asked him if everything was okay, to which he said it was.
When you’re having sex with three other people and two of them are your friends, it’s socially acceptable to focus most of your attention on the one Guy who isn’t your friend. I witnessed my two friends having fun with Guy #184, hesitant to join in the fun but halfheartedly participating regardless.
But then one of my friends spoke up: “You should fuck him too,” he said after he had given it to Guy #184 for a while.
My intuition, amplified by the drugs I had taken, yelled at me, urging me to stay away from Guy #184. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I simply did not like the Guy and I strongly sensed the feeling was mutual. And then there was the scratching. When an itch is persistent enough to demand attention during a blowjob, something is clearly wrong.
Then again, isn’t it impolite to not do a Guy when a good friend asks you to?
Not wanting to disappoint, I followed my friend’s suggestion. It was unpleasant, uncomfortable and unrewarding for the both of us.
Thinking sex was kind of expected, I also fooled around with one of my friends a little, making him Guy #185. It was a whole lot better than my experience with Guy #184, but still awkward. It’s weird to do benefits with friends you don’t have benefits with, even more so when they’re obligatory, even more than more so when the one person you should be feeling attracted to attracts you like a moth to a popsicle.
The four of us spent most of the night on my bed, on my sheets, naked. I was enjoying the company of my friends, but regretted the sex I just had. And I regretted forging the orgy guidelines into my relationships with Guy #184 and #185.
And of course there was the fact Guy #184 kept scratching himself. All the time.
Two weeks later I was scratching too. Guy #184, as it turned out, had scabies. Perfectly curable, harmless and mind-bogglingly excruciating scabies. I was pissed off at him for spreading his itchy skin in my bed, but most of all I loathed myself for not listening to my intuition. I knew Guy #184 was a bad idea the moment I saw him.
I just didn’t know I knew it yet.