Just Another Date
There's this Aussie man I've had the biggest crush on for the longest time. Big time crush, I'm not kidding. The type that makes me swoon everytime I see him across the bar from me, ordering his whisky and coke. The type that makes me speechless and blushing like a 13-year old everytime he says, "Hi Rye!". The type that makes me drop my cigarette go scampering for some gum everytime he says, "Smoking a lot again?"
He's 39 years old, very, very handsome, has a well-kept physique, a pair of gorgeous blue eyes, a nice set set of small teeth, and very, very masculine facial hair. He's extremely sexy --- physically and personality-wise. But I never fantasized about him. Ever. I've always thought he was waaaaaaaaaaaaay out of my league. He was, to me (ok... hold on to your seats and take a deep breath, what you are about to read next is disgustingly cheesy), like a star. A sight to behold. And just that --- a sight to behold and not to possess. Or even touch.
Monday night, I got an sms from him which said: "Hi Ryan! How are you?" I was dumbfounded. I didn't know how to reply. I couldn't even decide whether I should reply at all. For all I know, he could have meant to send that message to another Ryan. Eventually, I took a chance and said "I'm all good. How've you been yourself?"
What followed was an exchange of 64 messages in 2 hours, all in all.
At some point, our sms turned to flirting, which led to him asking me when I last jacked off. I shamelessly gave him an honest answer: "Before the first dawn of 2008."
"You've never wanked since then?" he asked again.
"No. I'm saving it for my first sex for the year."
"Oh! But it's been a week already."
"I know. I have to catch up. The first week's officially over in a few hours."
"Well, cutie, you have to get outta Tung Chung if you wanna get laid." Did he call me cutie? And was he suggesting I went to his place or something?
"I probably will if somebody interesting invites me."
"Hold on. Let me check if my flat is presentable."
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