Text Is A Game We Play1,348 views
Previously on Living Gay, theRibz met this stranger he really liked on Manjam. After their first face-to-face meeting, theRibz returned home, wondering whether to text or call the stranger. And then his phone rang…
The guy sends me a text message: “I really enjoyed my time with u, hope we can do this again pikatchu.” My smile at this remembrance turns into uncontrollable laughter at what would have seemed mundane had I not been in a state of infatuation.
I’ve admitted my love to Pokemon while we were in Prague, and he’s made a joke out of me for it. But even so, I could not help but laugh at how sweet he was.
I tell myself I want to play hard to get. I will not reply to his message, make him wait, and make him suffer. So I put my phone back on the bedside and get up, pleased I had the chance to toy with someone’s emotions, the way that guy’s played with mine for a couple of years. So I start taking my clothes off, the smile never leaving my face, all the while a thousand ideas run through my head.
He texts me again. It means he likes me. Or maybe he’s just being sweet. He IS a sweet guy after all. Or maybe he’s just pretending to be sweet so we could get in bed. But no, he wouldn’t have waited THAT long, I’m not that hot after all. Or am I? Well, a lot of guys are after me, maybe I am worth waiting. But he’s not the kind of guy who would just sleep with someone and run away, or is he? Well, I don’t know him well enough to be certain.
I find myself standing in the middle of the room in my boxers, thinking about what that guy might want from me. Well, he sure as hell won’t be getting any message from me. If he really wants me, he’ll text again. But wait. What if he thinks I’m not interested. Khalas, you know what? I’m texting.
I ignore the fact that I’m half-naked, pick up my phone, and sit on my bed, thinking about what to write him. I read his message again. He said he “really” enjoyed his time. I smile. But he didn’t send the (K) emoticon he used to send online. What could that mean? I get angry. But I read the whole message again for the umpteenth time. And then I start typing:
“I enjoyed my time as well. J We sure will plan something again, talk online. Mwah.”
I read the message I just wrote a couple of times. Then I decide to cancel that last “Mwah” and I send it.
I keep sitting in my position. Will he reply? I start thinking to myself. But then something in the back of my mind slaps me hard. Maybe it’s my intellect, maybe it’s my experience. But all I know is that I start pitying myself for my ideas. Who the hell was the insecure guy talking inside of me? I’ve never been like this before, not with any other guy. What’s so special about him?
I can’t be falling in love with him, of that I was sure. And yet, how can the mind I thought was immune to such childish ideas be so blinded by what I scorned my friends who’d fallen for them?
I snap out of my confusion and decide not to think of him again. I get dressed and pick up the nearest book in an attempt to distract myself .
An hour or two go by, and I receive another message from him, asking me to go online. I throw away my book, and turn on my laptop. I log on to MSN, and we start chatting.
From his words, I understand that he’s interested in us seeing each other more, which is exciting. It’s not very common for me to be attracted to a guy who’s attracted to me too. It’s always either he’s not interested, or the other way around.
During our chat that night, I tell him that I bought a DVD that I wanted to watch but had not had much time for. He tells me he hasn’t seen it before and that he’s been dying to find it. I tease him about not willing to lend it to him anytime soon, not before I watch it myself, and he suggests we watch it together. He suggests he brings his portable DVD player, and we go somewhere secluded, and watch it in the open air. I agree reluctantly. Watching a DVD means coziness and popcorn and blankets even in the midst of summer for me. But it was a chance to see him again. So I grudgingly agree, and we decide to meet the coming Friday night.
I smile, thinking about this new acquaintance, And I hope our next meeting is not a complete disaster, and that he will not turn out to be a mafsoum1. I allow my thoughts to drift to past horrible experiences with guys until I start feeling repulsed by the idea of dating as a whole. But he seems different, and I hang on to hope that our next meeting will show that he might be a guy worth dating. But little do I know that our next meeting will be a turning point in my whole life.
- Contributed by theRibz