Thursday, September 06, 2012

I had wised up a bit

I had wised up a bit and happily and regretfully, and with much restraint, cut Oscar from my life, once again.
People want to piss me off - play with my emotions. That is one act I would not tolerate from anyone. Fine, you want to swindle me for beer or food - but don’t fuck with what is left of my heart.
For the last few months, this Oscar character had played me like a harp from Hell and usually when I listened to my gut and followed my instincts - however fucked up they may be - I never deterred from my decision. He seemed like a nice guy - but the stench of deception clung to him like dried semen on the jacket of a pedophile.
I had no idea where he stood. The guy was always wishy-washy over what was going on in our friendship.
“I’m straight!”, he would thunder, all the while beating his chest.
Yet, he continued to visit me, sit and talk about work and money.  And, as a matter of fact, he would instigate the sexual liaisons, not I. Well, mostly.
However, and this is where it gets wacky - I truly began to harbor an attraction -  a strong, direct, emotional feeling for him and in a tender and romantic soliloquy one evening, I had to explain myself, yet again.
Under a baneful moon, I breathed, “Oscar, you are special, you know that? I think I am beginning to open up to you, to actually fall in love. You make me laugh, you’re fun to be around, and you ain’t to shabby in the sack. Be with me, Oscar, be with me and I will make your life - our life - so much better.”
In which, he blankly responded with nothing. Sat there in silence.
He claimed to be straight - and I mean, straight straight. And yet, he screwed my emotions by screwing my ass at his convenience.
I am far too set in my ways to change, now. I am not the cooing, sniveling pansy of yore - oh no, Dear Reader. I have been burned by far too many so called straights in the past. I want what all fags want and the bottom line to that is love. Simple love.
However, that privilege seemed unattainable. Especially down here in ol' Mexico. The motives of such characters are always - always - ulterior.
Either it being money or clothes or drugs, the time you shell out for these fucks are never for your enjoyment, but solely theirs. And what and how much they can get out of it.
The last couple of nights had been visiting straight bars and me flipping the beer bill whilst Oscar and his cronies cruised for broads and drank up my wallet.
Certainly, the evening usually ended with Oscar banging the bajeebus out of me – but, it was all so empty. Worse than a one night stand, because I was the one harboring romantic feelings for the boy. And he realized this, all the while beating his chest claiming his heterosexuality.
The previous night, Oscar and I sat in a cantina that was splashed in gaudy cowboy motif. Worn, wooden wagon wheels and barrels for tables, bent, dark floorboards, walls covered in oil paintings of the Old West - Mexican style. The place was empty, save for us and a silent, bloated drunk.
Oscar and I sat silent, uttering a few jokes to each other, yet I was certain he wished he was somewhere else. The bartender was a big-boobed mamacita with thick, black eye shadow. The more intoxicated Oscar became, the more she flirted. And, when Oscar began flirting with the fair sex, I became invisible.
“Let’s go.” I snarled, wanting to get Oscar away from that offending skank.
They smiled goodbye to each other and we walked out into the neighborhood’s night.
We staggered down the middle of the street to spare ourselves an attack by roving dogs or the occasional gangster. Oscar began to slow his walk.
“Where you want to go next?” He asked.
“Let’s go to my place - we can drink and watch movies.” I suggested.
I really just wanted to take my aggression out on him, sexually.
He stopped in the middle of the street, glanced drunkenly back at the neon of the bar two blocks away and said, “You want to invite that girl? She is hot and I wouldn’t mind fucking her.”
I went livid, “No, I don’t want to invite her! You asshole! I have shown you nothing but kindness and respect since we met and all you do is use, use, use! I’m tired of it! You have to make a choice - right now - it’s living like you do, a common street hustler or with me? I can’t tolerate both any longer!”
He stood in the fluorescent shadow of the humming street lamp, looking down and said nothing. I lit a cigarette.
“I’m going to go talk with her, I think I gotta chance with her.” He said, calmly.
Fuck!” I screamed in frustrated rage, causing dogs to bark, and I think in the distance a baby began to cry. “You know, we have nothing in common. All you see with me is a dollar bill with feet! Why don’t you grow a pair and be a man for once by supporting yourself?!”
“Luis…please…I explained to you…” He began, hands out, palms up.
“Goodbye, you asshole! Don’t fucking bother me anymore!” I sneered.
With that, I stormed down the street and left Oscar standing in pools of shadows.
I felt nothing except slight sadness - not for losing him as a friend, but that it had to be the way it was.
Son cosas de la vida...

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