Navigation Bar Blue

Monday, 28 April 2014

My Last Moments With the German Backpacker

After meeting T and spending an unexpected 10 hours in his company, I couldn't get him out of my thoughts. I am pretty sure it's just infatuation, or even possibly a phase that is riding on hope that this might open doors to the "more" I have been waiting for.

Waking up to the immediate morning following the night we said goodbye was emotionally tricky. At the thought of not wanting to pursue anything more than what I assume is a one-night thing from his end, I never gave in to my urge to send him a text. 

However to my surprise, T reached out to me with some very nice messages via the instant messaging apps and my heart swirled in excitement. We stayed in touch briefly throughout the week and he finally told me that I should go see him when he arrives in my city from the south. He will be staying for one night before flying off.

On the evening of his arrival, I had butterflies in my stomach knowing that we were going to meet again. "How is this time going to turn out? Will he ask me to stay the night with him? Will we get to have some more bed fun?", a bunch of thoughts floated in my head. I quietly packed my toothbrush, cleaned myself thoroughly and did all the necessary preparations to account for the possible scenario in case it arises. 

I braved all rush hour traffic and went to see him at his hostel. We had street food for dinner. Afterwards, we went back to the hostel rooftop for some beer. Everything was going comfortably well, from the beer to the proximity of our chairs and to our conversation. God he smells good. His scent was intoxicating to me.

I enjoyed his company so much that I knew I couldn't let him go without spending a few more hours with him tomorrow. He is not gone unless he is completely gone. So even though he didn't ask for it, I insisted on us seeing each other again the next day so that I can send him off to the airport. It was the original plan I suggested when we said goodbye in my hometown and told him to call me when he came into my city.

He told me that he was to meet "a friend" around 6pm the next day, but doesn't know if the meeting is confirmed or will go ahead. It didn't occur to me what "meeting" that was going to be because it was none of my business, but I told him we'll meet each other halfway when he was done and he agreed.

The time was closing on to midnight and I didn't want what was going on between us to end. But unfortunately, I needed to catch the last train out of the city to head home. He came with me on foot to the station. It was nice.

Before tagging my transport card on the automatic barriers, he and I rushed to finish our conversation. The eye contact was intense and our bodies were close, too close in fact for two regular guys in a country where both public displays of affection and homosexuality are frowned upon. Had it not been illegal, I would have grabbed him longingly and kissed him without a care to world's end. For I love it when my face is close to another guy's.

When I got home, we chatted and flirted a little bit more via instant messaging before turning in. The next day, I woke up to nice messages from him. It was emotionally thrilling, but also confusing. What's going on here? I find myself falling for these kinda acts of romance but at the same time, trying not to be so naive.

On the all important final day of his departure, we remained connected via instant messaging throughout the day. All afternoon, I have been looking forward to spending some time with him. For some reason, I was still nervous but ecstatic about being able to see him again.

The plan was for me to pick him up at the final train stop with my car at the estimated time of around 9pm. That way, we can hang out over some food and talk for a couple of hours before personally driving him to the airport to see him off on his 3am flight.

He told me that he's appointment with "the friend" might end around 7.30pm. But due to rush hour traffic and other factors, he didn't know what the time was going to be like. It's all very uncertain and he will continue to keep me posted.

I was looking forward to seeing him. I showered, printed his ticket, did some work of my own while constantly looking at the clock, wondering when is he going to let me know what time to pick him up. I skipped dinner too because I thought I'd eat something with him. It was a mistake.

Right around 8.30pm, I suddenly had a very strong intuition that he might be enjoying his date with his friend and that his signal for us to meet might come only around 11pm. I started to feel a little weird. The emotions were a cross between being the fool who is waiting on someone and also the feeling of just being his side kick.

I drowned those unhealthy thoughts and continued to distract myself while waiting. I waited, waited and waited. Still no signal. I sent him a text at about 9.30pm, there was no response, no 'read' time stamp. At this point, I could guess what was going on at his end and it started to affect me. I was a little pissed, annoyed, hurt and to be honest, jealous.

An hour went by and still there was no 'read' time stamp. He's not on his phone like he usually does. I sent him a second message around 10.30pm asking him what the situation was and if we were still meeting. Still, there was no response and no 'read' time stamp. His phone was idle and I gave in to my assumption that he might be busy in bed with his friend. It started to hurt a little. Why does that thought hurt though? He is not your boyfriend!

It wasn't until the time was close to about 11pm that his candid reply finally came saying he's sorry he's late and that he just got back to the hostel. He is currently sweaty and unprepared. He will need a quick shower and leave in time to catch the last train out to meet me.

"The last train, no reply, no read time stamp for 2 hours, sweaty, needs a shower, a meeting that dragged on for a few hours. Yeah, he was definitely having fun fucking someone else during the final hours when I foolishly waited around for him since 7.30pm like a loser."

The thought killed me. I know it's none of my business and I have no right to have an opinion on what this single guy chooses to do, but for some reason, I was very affected by the whole thing. My heart shattered a little and I couldn't sensibly deduce why exactly.

I felt so despondent that I completely lost all sense of initiative and mood to go see him because I wasn't sure if I could face him while I was upset. I didn't think I could look into his face and act normal as if nothing happened with the weight of the entire thing bothering me behind my back. But then again, I can't act like he belongs to me. I have no right.

At that point, I really didn't feel like picking him up to the airport anymore. Then conscience kicked in that my withdrawal would cause him to be stranded and he will miss his flight. I snapped myself out of whatever it is that I was feeling and pulled myself up to fulfill this promise I said I would do. Because no matter the circumstances, what kind of an disrespectful person will I be if I don't keep my word? As a friend, as an acquaintance, as a one night stand, whatever.

I timed myself according to his signals and left the house. When I arrived at the train station, it was deserted. The shutters were closed, lights were dimmed and service for the day was ready to stop. I stood near the automatic barricades and waited for him. The sound of trains came and go, but still T was no where to be seen. I felt so foolish but this is definitely not the time to vent it.

Finally, at about 12.20am, a guy with a backpack in a stylish hat appeared. He was the only one on the last train in this last station. Despite feeling what I was feeling, I had to banish all emotions aside to do this as a friend, nothing more. "Hey, you made it", my tone was dull and calm as I forced myself to look at him and his after sex glow. I knew I was jealous and couldn't handle it, but I had no right.

We got into the car and headed straight for the highway to the airport. Throughout the drive, I didn't talk and was really reserved. My anger and annoyance needed time to subside. T on the other hand, didn't seem to realise anything at all. He had no idea that I was affected by what he did or how his actions might come across to me as being taken advantage of. I remained silent in the car while he talked enthusiastically like how we used to be when we first met in my hometown. My negative emotions slowly but subtly subsided.

At the departure terminal, the remaining minutes were spent finding the check-in counter, fidgeting with the backpack and making sure nothing else could go wrong at the final minute. After depositing his bag, there was still some time before he needed to proceed to his gate. He suggested to have a quick coffee. I almost declined and wanted to tell him to just go. You go on your flight and I head home, nothing more. We don't have to do this.

I asked myself whether I was angry for the fact that he slept with someone before coming to meet me, or was it because he made me wait for him like fool as means of transport to the airport while he was having fun with someone else. It was both. Then I thought, if I were to get angry at the former, I have absolutely no right. Shut up. But if it was the latter, then yes I have legitimate grounds. Because you don't make people wait around for you like an idiot, especially for someone who was willing to go out all the way for you.

As we sat down for the final cup of coffee together, we casually talked, but never about what just happened. I was kinda cold. I think he could sense my distance, I think he couldn't. But anyway, I hid everything and maintained a very professional façade. I was ready for him to go home to Germany and for me to move on with my life. I was prepared that I didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore, but my heart softened.

Before leaving, he decided to give me his vacation hat and a book he was reading. Jesus Christ, what now. I don't want to think about you no more! The hat was something he wanted to leave me with. The book was something he picked out from one of those old libraries where travellers from all over the world would surrender one in hand in exchange for another. He was giving it to me. It was a good spiritual book, a subject that we often talked about and I acquiesced.

I told him I'd like him to write a dated message in the book before giving it to me, he said he wasn't good at these kinda stuff but did as I wish. Soon, it was time for him to leave. At the departure gate, I didn't wanna get too close. But he came up and initiated a friendly hug. "See you soon", he whispered. I was a little touched and reciprocated.

As I walked to my car, I held his hat and inhaled the inside. It smells just like him, a scent I'm starting to have a soft spot for. I opened the book and it was written: "For M, who is my helper on the way". My 'helper' on the way it reads. Well I guess that tells me very much of how he actually feels about me. The feeling reminded me about something he said the other day regarding people feeling strongly for him more than he feels for them. I was moody and depressed for the next couple of days, but I know I will get over it.


  1. You are such an amazingly talented writer! It sounds so cliched but you really know how to take the reader on a journey and that is the sign of true talent. Please keep up this blog, I find it so thought provoking and just generally interesting :)

    1. Hi there. Thank you very much for your kind words of affirmation. I am not sure if my 'compulsive journaling' can be regarded as being a good writer, but as long as it helps 'give sight' to others and open windows to new perspectives, my purpose is alive and I am happy.

      To be honest, the last 3 posts really took up a lot of my entire being to produce, I don't know why. Maybe my ability to go on is slowly fading. There are times when I think documentation shouldn't be hard, but when paired with my boiling cauldron of cumulative energy, journaling can be mentally and emotionally very tedious. I hope my dedication to the work on this site will continue to flow.

      (I hope you are who I think you are! Write to me.)

    2. No problem :) I think that great writing can take any form and perhaps if a form such as "compulsive journaling" can be found to be moving, it is an even greater indicator of talent.
      And sorry to disappoint but I don't think I am who you think I am... :p

    3. Hey, no disappointment at all. In fact I'm glad you are not who I think you are. Because then it means that the writing resonates with more individuals than I am aware of. Thank you.

  2. Maybe it will help...keep your chin up ;)

    -You are not what you seem to be in moments of sadness. You are better than that.- P. Coelho.

    1. You and I will have an amazing time under the tree discussing Paulo Coelho Steve. Thank you! You're in my thoughts. Will write to you soon.

    2. Do you also like P. Coelho? ^^
      My mother red a lot of his books...I also like him but I only red some pieces of his books while my mother were reading!!
      Take the time that you need for writing and - especially - take care of yourself ;)