When love doesn’t work out our brains tend to warp reality.
So when things didn’t work out between me and Guy #96, around the time I was feeling devastated and sorry for myself, every remotely cute looking Asian Guy I ran into was a potential love interest. Literally every Guy I laid my eyes on was a potential rebound.
Guy #98 was actually pretty decent, Guy-wise.
We met when some of our friends became mutual friends. We would hang out with the same group of people and run into each other frequently. One time he even came by my house to get high with me.
It was to be the night Guy #98 and I were going to have sex. After all, weed smoothes the seduction process in ways similar to the lube I had on stand-by.
Getting high with Guy #98 was a lot of fun. Apart from being cute looking and Asian, he had a bit of a cynical mind worth exploring.
I soon realized Guy #98 was someone I could have meaningful conversations with. He had a good sense of humor. Not only that, he was Asian, just like Guy #96!
As is common when two gay Guys get high together, we eventually landed on the subject of sex. It was around that time he reached for my balls.
What I really wanted was for Guy #96 to reach for my balls, but I couldn’t deny Guy #98 was objectively better looking and just as Asian. I thought I wanted to become part of Guy #96’s family. I thought he was someone I wanted to grow old and adopt babies with, but maybe my long distance drama with Guy #96 had only been some form of cosmic preparation for my introduction to Guy #98. Maybe Guy #98 was the Guy that could make me feel loved, or at the very least reasonable enough looking to spend a lifetime with. He was touching my balls after all.
Anticipating my long awaited salvation from the burdens of heartbreak, I got immensely turned on by Guy #98’s initiative. The weed might have also helped, plus brains warp reality when you’re in love.
I gladly unzipped my pants for Guy #98, who responded with laughter. That wasn’t really the kind of groove I was hoping for. It’s never a good sign when someone laughs at the sight of your penis.
Still, Guy #98 was kind enough to fiddle around with my only naked part. He laughed, made jokes and didn’t seem to take anything seriously, but I wasn’t worried. After all, how could a hand job end up in anything but sex?
Just as I was getting ready to undo more of my clothing, Guy #98 covered my nakedness with my underwear and zipped up my pants. And then he lit up a cigarette, which I thought was premature at that point.
The Guy I was sure could make me forget about my broken heart turned out to be the Guy who merely added incurable horniness to my list of symptoms. In terms of friendship we had been and still are on the same page. In terms of sex and love, Guy #98 never intended to read more than the back cover of the book I had in mind.
Guy #98 never planned to have sex with me. He simply wanted to know if he had the option. Me, sad, desperate and all too available, obliged him in seconds.
It’s doubtful Guy #98 would have enjoyed the burden of my heartbreak, nor was it likely he could have offered me any relief.
We did become friends though. He would later tell me that grabbing Guys by the balls, turning them on and subsequently leaving them hanging in a seemingly perpetual state of unfulfilled arousal was kind of his modus operandi.
Like I said: Guy #98 had a good sense of humor.