If You Cannot Hear The Sound Of The Genuine In You

"If you cannot hear the sound of the genuine in you, you will all of your life spend your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls" - Howard Thuman

The Time I Realised the Dangers of My Perfection Mentality

You know, the longer I live through my days as myself, the more I've come to realise that I have unknowingly grown into a human being who makes his decisions, plans his life, and lives it according to a psychological syndrome known as perfectionism.

For those of you who think I might be talking about perfection for the egotistical and prideful way it sounds, no I'm not. I'm talking about the self-destructive version here. The part that is often dangerously found at the inner core of individuals, individuals such as myself. So, perfectionism, is it innate or self-made?

    "Do you think you have a problem with life's bad side? Why do you think it consumes you so much to the point of collapse whenever things don't work out, or go smoothly the way you want it to go?", asked the counsellor two years ago.

    "Because... because... Bb-bb... Because, it's not perfect. Dare I say it. It's not perfect! And I hate it. I hate it so much", I remember hearing myself say in defeat. It was at that powerful moment too that I realised for myself, that I am somewhat corrupted by this inexplicable syndrome for perfection.

In order to get to the bottom of how I ended up with this mentality without seeing it coming, I'll need to look at my thought process as a kid. Realistically speaking, I would have to say that my life doesn't deserve to be called bad. Really, in comparison to what is going on out there in the world, it isn't bad. But it definitely had its challenges as an emotionally weak gay kid from a broken family. For some reason, we always had a lot of obstacles or practical life issues that needed a lot of sorting out.

I often wonder if its because I never had that seemingly "perfect life" as reflected by the world or the peers surrounding me, that I unconsciously started the pattern of constantly daydreaming about the ideal situation, the perfect future, or the perfect movie to escape the current reality I didn't fancy.

I remember fantasising a lot about what my life will look like in a perfect world, a world without failure, a world without setbacks, a world where resources, financial or otherwise, odds, physicality and luck are all on my side. I don't know where this unrealistic form of thought arose from, but I think one of the things I could identify as the trigger was my perception of other people having it that way.

You'll always hear me say something like: "When I grow up, this and this will right itself. When I become successful, this and this will be perfect. When I am twenty five, things will no longer be as miserable and as low as they are now. When things get better, when I become more good-looking. When I, when I, when I."

Well, twenty five years down the road, I've grown into an adult struggling with the same concept of thought. However, the difference this time in this journal, is that my awareness of the problem might actually help me realise how severe this perfection disorder has corrupted me. And that I can now start to implement a conscious efforts to change the way I operate and think. To make better choices for myself and to be freer as a person, as a human being.

Here in this post, I would like to first write down for myself, my realisation of the dangers caused by this state of mind. Looking back and analysing my life, this psychological disorder for perfection has driven me to do many naive and unreasonable things in the past and in the present. They include:

• Why I had thoughts to want to end my own life prior to the year 2011 when I realised that being gay wasn't going to 'go away' no matter how many nights I went to sleep. I felt as if my entire being and existence was tarnished, and that I was the new ostracised defect. Which is so foolish when I come to think of it now, but that was certainly the thought of a person raised in a conservative cum religious society where homosexuality is still taboo. Anyway, that was the past and I am glad now to have survived that depressing state of mind.

• My unreasonable frustration and resentment with failures and hardships that never seem to into my life because psychologically, they remind me of how imperfect my life is. For I perceive them as elements that swallow perfection or rather a form of 'mess' or a 'nuisance' to the perfect movie or vision I've aspired to. Will work on it.

• Why I couldn't accept my body, my skin, or how I look. In other words, the 'physical container' I've been given by God for the longest time in life because firstly, I couldn't accept myself. And secondly, I allowed my belief in not measuring up to what people around me or society might perceive as a conventionally attractive male defeat me. I think that gave way to my long rooted battle with issues concerning the lack of masculinity and deep insecurity. Will work on it.

• My lack of commitment in allowing myself to truly like a guy properly for the long term, or take on recent guys at a chance of a trial run for possible boyfriendship, because apart from the worry that I first need to sort out my career path, I think I am also constantly on the wait and look out for other guys who might be better fits to my dream of a perfect love. Which I'm starting to realise might be unrealistic and a huge mistake. Will work on it.

• My constant blind wait for the perfect timing, "the perfect opportunity", "the perfect job", "the perfect price" or the "perfect design" at the expense of not getting anything done. This idea of idleness and paralysis brought on by the hope of waiting on perfection has recently been a recurring theme which needs to be tackled. Will work on it.

• Why my ex-boss from work was critical of my tendency to over-think on a task and strive for obsessive perfection that it impedes my professional output, speed and productivity at the work place. For in the realistic world that we live in, sometimes perfection doesn't carry as much weight, importance and value than practicality itself. Will work on it.

So there we are, examples from which I can recall spontaneously from the head. Although some of them might be a little too personal for me to elaborate here, which I will not get into, but my hopes of writing this down in the journal is that it will remind me of what I really need to work on, and to allow myself to remember this period of growth in the future.

The Time I Met A Bulgarian Guy

On Saturday, my childhood friend and his girlfriend decided to host a spontaneous dinner party of seven in their apartment, of which, I'm currently crashing in. I could hear the stubborn INFJ in myself go: "A dinner party of seven? Where I can't have in depth personal conversations with the guests? Think I'd rather skip it."

With the thought of wanting to escape the crowd I wasn't in the mood for, I immediately confirmed my plans to hop on a train to go meet this new guy I've chatted with on Jack'd at his suburb. When we first got in touch earlier this week, my initial impression of him was that he was a good-looking guy, and had him pegged as someone from either South-Eastern Europe or Latin America due to his look. He confirmed my geographical suspicion later on and revealed to me that he was originally from Bulgaria.

Prior to our meeting that night, he warned me about not being able to communicate effectively in English, which I thought was weird considering he texts fine. Then, upon meeting him face to face at the train station where I arrived, I learnt that his claim for the lack of linguistic proficiency was true, and that it was going to take a lot of patience from us to get through the night. 

What was even more disappointing however upon seeing him, was that he has gained a little bit of weight, and certainly didn't look as good as the candidate from the profile picture I agreed to meet. Well M, what are you gonna do? We're already here. A guy's just gotta make the best out of the situation.

In the spirit of not wanting to be that douche bag that says: "I'm sorry, this isn't going to happen because I now find you physically unattractive," I told myself that the date must go on. It's just that now, we can cross out sex from the menu. As soon as I switched my thinking, the situation didn't seem so disappointing anymore.

So from the train station, we stopped by the liquor store to grab a bottle of wine, for which he insisted on paying for, then to the nearby convenience store for some chips. Throughout the entire time we were shopping, he was very cold and aloof. Even with my warm and friendly conversationalist at work, he still had trouble responding in terms of the energy that he was putting out. Maybe he really can't understand most of what we're talking about you fool!

Back at his apartment, things were better and he gave me a brief tour of the place. There was this moment during the tour where I could feel that he deliberately showed me his bedroom. From what I could 'receive' on my end, was that I'm guessing it's to see if we had a shot at going to bed early. I stayed unaffected and pivoted us back out to the living room where we could sit down and have some proper hang out time. He looked shocked, and if I'm accurate in my judgement of people's emotions, a little unhappy with where things were going.

Then I started to feel as if what I was doing wasn't fair to him. As a genuine practitioner of honesty and respect, I decided to let him know then and there in the living room about the ending he wasn't going to get from me that night. It was my way of offering him a fast checkout card if we didn't want the same things. That way, it would save everybody the time and unnecessary trouble. 

I obviously didn't tell him the truth about why 'fun' wasn't going to be on the menu because I just don't see the point in this. It will only hurt someone unnecessarily telling them that they don't attract me, and what do I get out of it? So I made some lousy excuse to make it seem like it was my problem and not his.

Then surprisingly, he said it doesn't matter and that we could just sit around and hang out like normal guys. Wow, he still didn't mind us hanging out in this place? Why would he put himself through this when he's clearly uncomfortable or aloof?

After opening the bottle of wine and settling us down, I started my conversation with him. During the first thirty minutes, the atmosphere in the living room was just very awkward due to his lack of response and seemingly cold façade. I could have easily chosen to end the night, but then I had an interesting idea of how to turn things around to make it more interesting.

Inspired by what I could achieve and what I did with the bisexual chef in the name of wanting to have some fun with my enthusiasm for therapeutic chats, I decided to try it out again with him. If I can get this Bulgarian guy who doesn't speak fluent English to open up or talk about his life, it could possibly be an unrealised potential or test to my patience, skill and spirit. This is going to be fun!

Remembering that the candidate has trouble with the language, I kept my questions really simple and clear. Initially the silent gaps were very uncomfortable, then gradually it became the norm in the conversation.

"Wait, let me think how to tell you in English", as he would often repeat, then take his time to think and give me short replies for which I am willing to listen and understand. He was quite good at communicating with me without having to explain excessively. And that was the inexplicable formula that really worked in this chat towards understanding each other.

His story was that he grew up as a purely heterosexual guy. He was one of those guys who always had a girlfriend and had no clue that he had homosexual preferences until he arrived in his mid twenties, where a one-time brief encounter involving his then girlfriend's hairdresser changed the course of how he started to sleep and go out exclusively with men.

    "Really? You never felt any attraction towards men while growing up? Never thought about it prior to that incident?"

     "No", he answered.

     "So will you ever want to be with a girl again?"

     "No. I am gay", he reassured me.

Throughout the next hour or so, we had a very rich conversation. I couldn't gauge if it was the way I asked my questions or if it was the way I listened to him that he felt so comfortable in opening up. It was like taking a walk and revisiting all the experiences that was locked away in his mind.

One thing that really stayed with me, was when he talked about being single, and that it is not uncommon for him to meet someone he really likes or wants to pursue, only to have that person not feel the same way or like him back. I think that part resonated with me mostly because I feel that as I venture deeper into my journey with meeting guys, I myself am starting to witness what he was talking about from the shoes of having been in both sides. Ah, life.

    "Do you work in... in... Wait let me think the word in English. Psychology? Or Journalist? You ask a lot of questions and you seem very curious", he looked me in the eye as he asked.
  "Nope. I'm just being me", I answered. By the end of two and a half hours, he was commenting on how weird it is to be seated here with a stranger he met on Jack'd and having felt like he just spilled his treasures. 

    "This is crazy you know. I've lived here for 2 years with the same flatmate, but I never told him anything. I don't talk about what I just told you even with friends.", he said. And for that, I thank him for being comfortable enough with me to talk about his personal past.

Seeing that the time was already close to 11pm, I decided to take-off to catch the bus back into the city. My session with him is done and I am very happy. I've given him free therapy in exchange for personal stories that are treasures in disguise for my learning experiences. 

As I help bring the glasses into the kitchen and picked up some of the trash that we left, I decided to give him a hug before I go. At most, maybe a kiss for being such a patient guy and then I will leave. A hug and a kiss? Yes a hug and a kiss. Sure. I can do that.

Then guess what, the hug obviously gave way to body contact, which gave way to a kiss, which gave way to a make-out in the kitchen. Just when I told myself that I'm going to stop and that this is as far as I'm going to allow myself to go, he lifted me up slightly and moved us back out to the living room where he let us fall onto the couch. The guy was a good kisser and certainly someone who knew how to caress and pushed all the right spots. On my neck, on my abdomen, on my skin. I was so turned on.

I knew that from a sensible point of view, I should stop if I was going to keep my word for not leading him on, but what was happening was just so fun and enjoyable that I let myself be lazy to take in the moment. "Oh come on, what's the harm with a little foreplay or make-out on the couch?", I thought to myself. Then, I couldn't recall how it happened, but he cleverly lifted me up slightly on my feet and we glided towards his room. The next thing I know, we were both already on his bed.

Yes. The clothes started to come off, and I ended up having fun with him in the bedroom for about forty five minutes. When we were done, he kept asking me to stay the night for which I declined and said I needed to get home. I couldn't tell if it was because I had my release, or if I felt ashamed for doing something I said I wouldn't do, but during the last moments of our goodbye, it felt a little awkward.

The time was about 12.15am and thankfully, I managed to catch one of the last few night buses that were headed towards the city centre as per his recommendation. Throughout the next few days, he texted me a lot, telling me he wishes to see me again and stuff. However, due to me not feeling any genuine attraction, I've decided to stay in touch but not lead him on. I then left it up to time to let things die down.

The Time A Bisexual Chef Opens Up About His Struggles

I am about two months behind my writing so most of these stories have actually taken place a couple of weeks earlier. Back in September, I remember going through one of those restless days where I felt so unfulfilled and started to cruise excessively on the gay apps. But as usual, nothing positive ever comes to fruition whenever I 'fish' this hard.

It wasn't until when I've decided to let things go and was on the bus home when a faceless profile on Grindr said hi to me. I couldn't remember if he did it immediately or after a few chat bubbles, but turns out, the guy was good-looking in his early thirties when he revealed a face picture. He asked to meet that evening, but I was already set on going home so we decided to regroup the following day instead via text message.

So on Friday afternoon, I caught a train from Central Station to meet him at his suburb. Upon my arrival at the destination, I got a text from him telling me that he was still on his way home from running some errands in the city, and will be here in about twenty minutes. Twenty minutes?! Fine. Fine! I can wait twenty minutes. I'll just humour myself with mental jokes while I wait.

Throughout the next thirty minutes, many trains came and go on the platform but still, there was no guy. He called me once to tell me he was on his way and I thought although that was a good initiative on his part, but I still felt a little annoyed. Actually scratch that, I was beginning to feel pissed.

I started to feel as if something isn't right regarding this behaviour, and voices started to appear in my head. "Forty-five minutes of waiting? Jesus M, why do you still bother? Why don't you just walk away? Wait, what if he turns out to be an inaccurate depiction of his picture? What if he is not a legitimate guy? What if he is on drugs? Why are we putting ourselves through anxious situations like these? For the experience?"

After about close to an hour, his text came and we met on the platform staircase. He appears to have gone shopping, was wearing shades and was dressed like a retired fraternity boy. I could have opted for making a big fuss about how he left me waiting for a goddamn hour, but you know what, nothing positive can come out of displaying such childish energy so I let it go.

Apparently, we needed to take an additional five minute cab ride back to his place. I was on the verge of losing my patience but told myself not to back out now. I was also very tempted to tell him that this sex date isn't going to work out due to me not feeling any good vibe. However, I kept my mouth shut and went with the flow.

The taxi finally came to a stop in front of this brick terrace house and he paid for it. On the outside, it looks like no one bothered to do anything with it. But on the inside, it was amazingly cozy and tastefully decorated thanks to his female house mate who works in fashion and publishing. He lives with a girl? His best friend?

He took off his shades and I thought his eyes were beautiful. I walked into the brightly-lit kitchen and hovered around the wooden dining table while we shot the breeze and he busied himself. Finally, I closed in on our distance and kissed him, although I swear I could have felt his aloofness. After a few more pecks, we moved into his bedroom which at the moment, was in an acceptable mess. I could have judged him, but decided not to. For some reason at the back of my head, I thought that there could be a story behind this, but never really dwell on it.

I would say that overall, the guy was physically attractive. He had a nice athletic body, nice eyes, nice hair, nice lips and nice skin. He smells great too thanks to his cologne which was the perfect mix with his natural odour. If he wore a tux at a formal event, he could hunt if he wanted to.

There were lots of kissing, sucking and foreplay on my part for a good fifteen minutes before he decided to come. However, throughout the time we were in bed, I could feel very strongly that there were vulnerable moments from him. My mind registered that he was either holding back on this sex date, or that he had issues pertaining to homosexuality.

After he came, I decided to jerk myself off to ejaculation with the both of us lying next to each other. It wasn't the most smooth-flowing of sex dates, but that's fine. Then he cuddled me with an expression that seemed to suggest great confusion. The atmosphere in the room was awkward and resembled very much like I was in a sensitive moment, and that I was the only one making the moves.

Then he looked at me and apologised. He said that he feels a little weird right now after having fun because he actually just broke up with someone a few days ago, and it was a girl. An electrical wire in my head instantly jolted itself to live. Ah-ha! So that's why!

Upon hearing that, my heart soften in great empathy. I then took the initiative to reassure him that it's okay, and that I understand, and that he doesn't have to feel bad about this sex date. In this instance, I was very grateful to how honest he was with me. Because I'd rather go with transparency, than having to walk away later on, trying to figure out what went wrong or what was the damn issue. And now, I know.

Immediately after his confession, I tried to respect his distance and proceeded to put on my clothes because I felt his discomfort. My plan was to leave but he invited me to stay for a cup of coffee and I agreed, thinking that I might also use the additional time to help him talk about what he was struggling with.

     "Piccolo latte for you?", he asked while trying to handle the espresso machine.
     "Yup, thank you. So what is it that you do?"
     "I work at a restaurant in the city. I'm a chef."
     "Oh culinary arts! That's cool. So what cuisine do you specialise in? French, Italian?"
     "No specific genre, but generally western cuisine."

Finally, he walked over to the table with two cups of coffee in his hand, sat down, offered me some chocolates as we continued to talk on a chilly late afternoon.

     "So your house mate has great taste. This place is just so cozily decorated. I love it."
     "Yeah she does. She works in fashion and also in publishing."
     "Does she know you have guys over?"
     "Yeah, but only when she's not around or at work."
     "So are you guys close? Do you like talk to her about your personal stuff or whatever it is that you're going through?"
     "Yeah I do. We're kinda like best friends."
   "You know just out of curiosity, is there a label that you identify yourself with? You mentioned in the room that you just broke up with... a girl? 
     "Yeah it was a she."

    "Forgive me if I seem unusually fascinated. I've never actually met a guy from Grindr who tells me that he has relationships with woman too. It never crossed my mind that you are a 'bisexual' so to speak, although I don't know how comfortable you are in labels, or if it's even fair for me to use labels such as that to refer to your situation."
     "No sure, go ahead," he said.

    "So what's it like? Have you always known that you went both ways while growing up? Because for a long time in my life, I've known for myself secretly that I was sexually attracted to men, and men only. But during the closeted period between eighteen to early twenties, I actually dangled the bisexual card with some close friends to justify my denial and to test the water, even though I knew it was a lie. It was a denial-cladded tool for me to acknowledge my homosexuality without having to say, I'm gay. You know what I mean?", I added in detail.

    "Yeah. Being with both men and women isn't as fun as how people like to think it is. Contrary to having it all, this is something that has been bothering me. I mean I still struggle with it everyday", he says.

     "Really? You mean to come to terms with it or... to pick a side? Or..."

     "I don't know, it's really complicated, and hard to articulate", he answered.

   "Hey, that's okay. No judgement, I understand. You know I actually thought all along that swinging both ways is kinda like a privilege. A privilege that you can be open to both", I said.
    "Nah it isn't. It's like having two personalities living in you. You are not completely gay, but neither are you completely straight. I can't call myself gay because I'm not a hundred percent gay, and I can't call myself straight because on top of sleeping with girls, I have desires to be with a guy too. So I still can't figure out what this is and it's just really messy", he explained with slight despondency.

     "You know, maybe there really is no straight forward formula or answer to this case. Have you ever thought that maybe part of the lesson here is that you need to be okay with what you are and that maybe you really don't need to try so hard to put yourself in a box? Because the thing with sexuality is that there is an entire grey area that people refuse to acknowledge. People want the simple gay or straight which I think is no longer applicable in the 21st century that we live in. By the way, have you opened up to your circle of friends regarding your struggles?", I asked in the most understanding tone.

  "Yeah I did. I tried to come out as gay once but I just ended up dating girls again. Sometimes I talk about it with them but they can't seem to understand. Just like every other person in this world who might not be going through a certain problem, they can't relate or have no idea how it really feels."

     "Yes yes. I know what you're getting at and I agree."

    "Actually my ex-girlfriend and I kinda broke up because of this issue. I have a lot of issues to deal with and my insides are fighting with each other."

    "So tell me this, do you think... you're more attracted to guys? Or are you more attracted to girls? I know this might sound like a very personal and forceful question on my part, but just think about it for a moment. Reflect on your historical pattern, which side seem to exude a more powerful pull?"

      "Hmm, I don't know. But I can tell you that whenever I'm in a relationship with a girl, I want to be with a guy. But when I'm with a guy, I don't feel like I need to be with a girl." 

     "Really?", I nodded my head simultaneously as my eyes illuminated with heightened interest.

      "But when I'm with a guy for too long, I do still think about not wanting to give up that white picket fences suburban dream I share with a wife and dog."

     "Sounds like you really are trying to work out a lot of things and are struggling with your identity."
    "Yeah I am. And this, this... this is weird. I just told you a bunch of stuff I don't even really tell my friends. I've never met a complete stranger, or some guy for a sex date for which I end up telling him my story or have this kind of therapeutic conversations with."

   "Thank you. I actually love talking to people. It keeps me alive, and it's often the most rewarding and meaningful part of my meet with guys. Have you heard of the Kinsey Scale?"

     "Kinsey what? No. What's that?", he asked.

    "Kinsey scale. I don't know if this information might untangle some knots or provide you with a better understanding of who you might be, but look it up on the internet. Kinsey scale. It's a study coined by a man named Alfred Kingsley, used to measure a person's sexuality on the scale of 0 to 6, with 0 being exclusively heterosexual and 6 being exclusively homosexual. I happen to know that I am a pure 6. But his theory suggests that there exist an entire grey spectrum of sexuality for which people can fall anywhere between a 2 to a 5, ranging from predominantly heterosexual and incidentally homosexual or vice versa, to equally heterosexual and homosexual."

As soon as I finished that dialogue, his eyes lit up in curiosity, which seemed to suggest that I might have unknowingly opened a small window in his heart.

    "Can you send me a text with the name?", he requested.

    "Yeah sure. Maybe it might offer some form of light to your struggles? Anyway, you'll be fine. Don't worry. You'll figure yourself out eventually. Maybe there is just no straight answer to your search. Maybe you need to be okay with it. You know, this year I met a German backpacker who was so lost, and was struggling to find some answers pertaining to his life, and I remember asking him about how he would feel if reached 70 or 80 having never found what he commanded himself to look for. And he said something like, although he would be very disappointed, but maybe part of his destiny or goal for this life, is to learn how to be 'okay' with not finding the ending you want. To learn how to live in peace and to be at peace with the way your life has turned out."

He listened intently as I finished my last gulp of coffee. Then we timed my departure to coincide with a bus that was arriving in a couple of minutes at the nearby bus stop, headed for the train station. While on the journey back into the city, I remember feeling this very powerful feeling of gratitude that I get to witness and learn more about the world and its people through the eyes of these dates.

The Time I Met A Spirit Of Australia Flight Attendant

It was a gloomy Tuesday afternoon. The skies were grey, the weather was rainy and the temperatures were chilly. I found myself on a city train headed towards north of the harbour. It was my first time across the bridge on a train, and it reminded me ludicrously of a recent joke I made with a friend. North of the harbour? Like across the bridge? What's there?

As a visitor who doesn't call this part of the world home, crossing the harbour from south to north can sound very foreign. Much like naive dwellers and visitors on the island of Manhattan who never make non-airport related journeys across the Hudson or East River.

The plan was for the guy to pick me up from Milsons Point, the immediate stop that comes after Australia's iconic steel-arch bridge. I was a little anxious and worried as to how this sex date was going to turn out because firstly, it began as a faceless profile that initiated contact. Then came attached in the chat window were two photos of a good-looking man with a chiseled body. The catch? He's probably in his fifties.

While waiting for him on the side of a pavement, I got carried away in a sea of thoughts. Should I walk away? What if he turns out to be much older than his pictures? Am I sure I want to do this? Why am I so damn nervous? It's not like I haven't done sex dates before.

Then came a loud honk that jolted me out of my thoughts. I hopped swiftly into his car while trying to avoid the rain. The man wore a grey hooded sweatshirt and looked exactly like his picture. Thank God!

In his car, we shot the breeze and that was where I got to feel him out emotionally in flesh. I probably shouldn't be giving unaccredited advice to future 'gay and invisiblers' who are discovering their own experiences when it comes to sex dates, but for me, I tend to rely a lot on instinct, gut feeling and the personal energy that guys carry with them into the date.

A lot of people tend to ask me, especially my friends: "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is? How can you just trust somebody you've never met? With your life? With your whereabouts? With your body?" To be honest, I don't know. I'm afraid I am not at liberty to answer that because every time I meet someone, what I am taking is in fact risks. Big risks with no guarantee.

Back at his big spacious apartment, there was that quick apartment tour, prerequisite glass of water before the first kiss at the dining table. The kiss was not mind-blowing but no complains. The make out lasted for approximately two minutes before we adjourned into his bedroom and got down to business. 

He has a really chiseled body which I find amusing for a guy his age. His penis was pretty nice-looking too, with a silver cock ring at the base of his shaft. I've never been with a guy who wore or needed a cock ring so this was interesting. Although it is not up to me to judge what that ring is meant to do.

The session with him was good. Not too long a foreplay, not too long of other things. The blowjob was good, the touching was good, the rolling around in bed was good. I particularly love the part when he rimmed me. He was amazing at it and I suppose he was very clear about his position as a top so I played along with being the bottom again. Jeez, does anybody here ever ask me about what I want for a change?

Then he wanted to fuck me, with protection of course. Initially I was hesitant because I really am not a fan of bottoming for people, then I thought: "Oh what the hell". So with lots of lube and fingers, he finally slid himself in and what I felt wasn't as bad as how I anticipated it to be. As long as it doesn't hurt or provide overwhelming discomfort, I am fine.

When we finished, we cuddled in bed for about twenty minutes before he started giving obvious signals that he should be dropping me back at Milsons Point. During the drive back, I asked him honestly about his age, for I can't see no reason why he wouldn't dare say it now, now that the risk of me rejecting him for his age is gone.

     "So, how old are you actually?", I asked and he hesitated big time.
     "Hah! My real age or the fake one?", he asked in return with a slight grin.
   "The real one. You didn't put any on Grindr. And I mean come on, now that we've had our fun, what's the harm in me knowing? Although just to clarify that it wouldn't have mattered because you look all right."
     "I'm actually about two years from sixty"
     "Wow! Really? And you still fly?"
     "Yes. It's a job and the airline allows us to stretch our years to keep working."
    "Wow. You do keep yourself looking very good. I mean for a guy who is entering his sixties? I have to say that you still look pleasantly good in comparison to what many of us would become when we turn sixty."
     "Why thank you."
    "Really, I am just in awe. I mean if you're gonna ask God for a gift, you might as well ask him to let you age gracefully. Seeing you today, it kinda made me wonder how I would look like when I'm nearing sixty. But probably not as good as you I might have to say."
     "What is the oldest person you have ever slept with?", he asked.
    "Now that you've told me your age, definitely you!", I answered with a non-judgemental smile and he chuckled.

After turning a couple of corners, we were finally back to where he first picked me up. I shook his hand, said my goodbye and got out of the car. Back on the train, I couldn't believe that I actually had fun with someone who was almost sixty. On one hand, it was very tempting to judge myself. But on the other, I was very grateful for the entire human experience that came to me in the form of him.