Thursday, June 14, 2007

Crying Games

One stuffy afternoon, many years back, I had company in my room. He’s someone I met from IRC, the in-thing back then, before MSN messenger, Gay.com and Fridae, together with its wannabe sister Axcest, infiltrated the local online cruising scene.

I could not recall much detail of the fun we had, that was because it got memorable only after the climax was out of the way. I remember we were in an embrace, he on me, and I was just waiting for him to finish the session perhaps with a comment about the hot weather and the need for a quick shower, or the amount of work waiting for him back in the office. But he held on and stayed very still. And then something very strange happened.

He started to cry.

It was a muted sob at first, coupled with intermittent sniffing, which I brushed off as the symptoms of a momentary lapse of the body’s defense system after a (good) climax. But the sobs quickly accelerated in pace and intensity, becoming more and more definite with each turn. And soon the writhing began, limbs started to shiver and then got contorted in an awkward way, as though trying hard to fight the onslaught of pain. Finally the reservoir of grief could hold no longer, and it quickly degenerated into an ensemble of acute display of defeat.

Utter defeat.

Over my body ran streams of tears that picked up my sweat along its path, before rolling off and landing on the bed. The mid afternoon sunlight filtered through the fading curtains and threw a cloak of intricate pattern of twigs and flowers on our entangled limbs, and then this peculiar matrimony of bodily deposits was complete.

I started to feel his pain, the indescribable urge to tear your aching heart out of your ribcage. Yet I have no idea what or who caused this. Perhaps I could, if he has allowed me a few years of exploring the scene, if only I know of the sheer brutality that this queer world is so capable of. But at that time, I did not move a muscle, or say a word. It didn’t seem necessary at all.

Before long, there was silence.

The stream of tears finally run dry, his eyes incapable of any further onslaughts of sorrow. Slowly, he lifted himself from me; his face was a wet clutter of twisted expressions. I looked at him and lifted my hand to trace it across his cheeks, wiping away the concoction of tears and sweat along the way. He looked back at me and broke into a weak smile.

So from the depths of the fathomless pool that had consumed him earlier, he rose again, freed and liberated, for now, from the dark water of yesterday. The sorrow had subsided, banished once again into the darkest recess of his subconscious mind. He turned and looked towards the bedroom window, and took a deep breath.

“Hey, didn’t notice the pretty curtains earlier.”

••

We didn’t meet again after that afternoon, but the image of his weak smile after the broke-down solidified in my memory as a single moment of renewed hope and new-found peace.


Life just goes on, doesn’t matter how painful it gets.



8 comments:

coolgardy said...

Didn't u asked him why he was crying? Was it because of guilt?
I found this so anti-climax...

Legolas said...

Probably his lover betrayed him and fooled around, and he was so heart broken that he wanted to take revenge by doing the same thing, but then realised it totally didn't work, and he cried.

Well, just my imagination. Probably that was his first time. That's all.

livelife said...

life is also the sum of choices we make

Fable Frog said...

wah like scenes of a movie~ Seriously, if someone cried after having sex with me, i sure felt weird. Like the sex not good enough!! But no matter what reason made him cried~ i think you did good by not interrupting his teary eyed moment.

Anonymous said...

Most of us forget that it was some time ago when people like us have it hard to come out and discover this side of life. I came out rather late in life (late 20's)and just discovering how good it feels to express the very nature we are born into were both a revelation and breathtaking experience. The rolling of tears could means sheer joy that his long kept desires can be unleashed or the regret that he could have had those experiences more in his younger days.

Anonymous said...

God, that was one freaking LONG spam!!!

Ah-Bong said...

agreed... u got spam in ur comment box. LOL
but really, that guy must've been someone really... erm... odd yet i think he's a sweet guy. :-)

David said...

If you are reading this, you may want to refer to my comment (the 9th one) in "How Could You Just Let Go?" written by BravingKL on 18th June. You know, when you just wake up one fine morning from your sweet dreams, and then realised that the reality of a painful event hits hard on you, you might just feel like as though your chest can't hold on the pain any longer, and you just burst out, starting from a soft sob to a real cry. You cry out loud, just to let out your emotions and your feelings. You might feel just how fragile all these affairs may be, and just don't quite understand why these events happen rather unexpectedly, especially moments after the event has occurred. It dawned on me that indeed sobbing and crying is the only way we let go of all the pressures and stress built up inside our very self. It has happened to me a few times.