Off Season For Love

During times when I felt I was absolutely choking from the still cold air of my hotel room and from the tired smell of instant noodle cooking in the microwave, he seemed to have come to my rescue. Fluffy may be too busy doing rounds with his buddies to give much priority to a pathetic visitor from halfway around the globe, but he, this different bundle of kindness and joy, couldn’t seem to get enough.

“Thank you for liking me.”

I stayed very still in his arms on the heated air bed of his room, stark naked except for a warm towel carelessly thrown across my stomach. If anything, those five words only made me cringe in an overpowering pang of tortuous emotion as soon as it hit my ears. I felt betrayed, for letting myself trade my body in exchange of some random caring and attention that were sadly just within convenient reach and nothing more. I felt pity, for I saw in his eyes endless nights of yearning for someone who would finally make his emotional investments worth while, of which I could, on many occasions, relate painfully to as well.

And then I felt a sense of panic, for the slightest hint of ill-anticipated affection would now launch within me an irreversible reaction to wildly reject any further act of love with cruel weapons of confusion, pain, agony and finally disappointment and defeat, to rid memories of any remnants of joy and to deny anticipation of any remains of hope. This is the perfect solution to a complication-free ending, my heart is never wired to handle and accept this concoction of goodness anyway, just like how I would pinch myself or blink helplessly in doubt when hearing an unbelievably good piece of news. My childhood curse in full bloom, nurtured to perfection with years of practice. I wish I had the strength to face it.

The bag of clothes he got for me is still lying at one corner of my hotel room, and has remained untouched since it arrived. I lied that they all fitted me beautifully.

I'm happy. I was.

BRAVEHEART ^[99]