He came to Brussels and quitted everything for love. For love to himself, to his desires, his aspirations. To become the version of himself closer to that one already dreamed. And in the first week of the rest of his life he found that guy who years ago had been the most desired in the crowd. Life must be patience, he thought.
He found him, they matched and then met. With the Cretan too. Such a hot way to start that new path.
And they laughed and played. And the morning found them out soaking the sheets. And he embarked on another trip towards new eyes and shapes.
Again, they were just two strangers spoiling themselves like two mates, who emptied their hands of disappointments and fears and filled them with affection. With desire. In few minutes they played to be lovers, pretending somehow be the life-lasting one for the other.
_ How many years have you been together? People asked.
_ We met 24 hours ago. They replied with the biggest satisfaction all over the ocean.
Pretending to have a routine to scape from. Holding hands as the happiest guys in the city. Cuddling in the dark and in the shadow. Caressing grey beards in the sunrise and the sunset. Waking up together. Breathing together.
_ My fetish is your smile.
And he felt special in that homogeneous mass of figures and music.
And they promised madness, and they kept the promises. And he poured tenderness and they confused their bodies in a long squeeze like two lovers. It’s like they had known each other even before having met. Like in that Italian film, they thought that time and space won’t get in the way.
But that illusion passed as the storm passes. And he continued looking for his soul in other bodies, enormous hairy chests, enormous naughty nights. Never ending glances in the arcades. And again holding hands in the open air and tying their legs in that bed lined of passion. And this one also left. Other sailor. Other fantasy.
But again the unbearable attraction of new lips, new napes, new armpits … was diluted, melt, evaporated.
And building on his complexes and insecurities, he realised that in the end he was always himself. But having harvested this collection of smells and sweats, of moans and drops, had made him more authentic, closer to the version of himself that he always had dreamt of.
And a new Monday came. Again the first of the rest of his life, which started with a coffee and a sigh.