Okay, so Guy #208 and #209 weren’t really twins. They were a couple.
They did however look very similar to me: similar mannerisms, similar bodies, similar height and stats, similar names and whenever I saw them I saw them together. I’ve come to think of them as twins because I can never remember which one is which.
It’s because I’m bad with names, and often also with people. So attaching the right names to the right people is a reluctant and challenging exercise for me.
When I meet someone in a setting where gay sex is the agreed upon end goal, I tend to focus on the sex part. Sure I can carry a conversation and even laugh at the appropriate moments, but when push comes to shove I have little sincere interest in people when they cross paths with me.
This may seem harsh.
And it is.
And I wasn’t always like that.
But attend enough orgies and eventually even the people you’re intimate with become replaceable like toothpicks.
I used to try to connect with people I met at orgies outside of orgies, but in most cases the friendship dried up when my libido did. Sober me is simply not a social person. Forging friendships is not my forte.
Although there was a certain sense of mutual attraction, I don’t think there was much sexual chemistry between me and Guy #208 and #209. But sometimes you find yourself at a party with naked people and before you know it you’re sharing a bathtub with the twins, where casual conversation eventually becomes a few blowjobs.
Whether my oral efforts were well received I will never know. I was fairly sleep deprived and as such coasted all the way to third base on autopilot. Consequently, I never made a real effort to remember which name belonged to which twin. There were just too many similarities between them.
The thing is I quite regularly run into them, at orgies, in clubs or even at everyday gay gatherings where the clothes don’t come off. Slowly they’re becoming part of my social life.
It’s great that I’m making friends.
It’d be nice to know their names though.
And the longer I postpone asking for it, the more awkward it will be.
I don’t like confrontation or communication, so what little communication I can’t avoid I use to avoid confrontation. Whenever I see the twins I treat them like any of my gay scene acquaintances, always making sure the conversation does not require me to know their names.
Basically, it’s hanging out with Bert and Ernie, without knowing who’s who. The only thing you do know is you played with one of their rubber duckies in a bathtub this one time.
That’s not a metaphor for anything, by the way. There really was a rubber duck in that tub for some reason.
Orgies are weird.
Of course I never ask either one who’s Bert and who’s Ernie. The question would make me look irreparably stupid. And the only thing I dislike more than communication or confrontation is making an ass of myself.
***
I started this post about a week ago. Incidentally I ran into the twins again last weekend. Seeing as I was writing a post about me not being a social human being I figured I’d make the effort for a change. The twins are genuinely nice Guys and there’s no reason for me not to validate that except for being an ass.
So I summoned the courage and bluntly asked who was who. They simply told me and didn’t seem offended.
Sadly though I was high last weekend. I remember them telling me their names. I just forgot which name goes where.
I’m the worst.
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