The Luxuries Of Being In Love: I Am Clueless

There isn't really an account of what Mr. P and I had behind closed doors. It started out as a mere senior-junior attachment. I don't know why but vividly etched into my mind are the first words we uttered to each other.

Hdaran: Kaale enna achi??? (What happened to your leg??? - he was suffering some sport injury)
Mr. P: Panthe velade mothe adi patterichi... (i hurt myself during a football match)
Hdaran: Aperum KS??? (How bout KS then??? -  KS is a football competition that Indians in the university I am formerly from, take very seriously)
Mr. P: Buta dot com tha. (Its blind dot com - A very Malaysian Indian way of saying 'its going to be a waste')
*walks into his room*

Mr. P NEVER appeared to be the good looking one of his batch-mates to me initially. I always found other guys in his group of boys attractive. He was not my 'type';

Too small sized (the body; yes, only the body frame).
Lacking facial hair (I loooooooove goatees and French beards on men).
Facial features too sharp.
Bad command of the English language. Wait, wait, no command over the English language.
Fashion blind (although I must say, my preferences in style may have brushed off him in recent times).

I never made approaches to get closer to him whatsoever. I've made up, in my subconscious, an unlisted, unspoken, untold rule about keeping my socio-romantic endeavours with outsiders only. I wouldn't mind if he was a graduate from the same university as long as the student-university bond was past tense; broken so to speak.

He, however, did. And that's how we became closer.

I sometimes look back at my love affairs and wonder. So far, I have never had passionate, warm, lovey-dovey moments with someone I truly loved.

Mr I Think I Am Too Good to Be True: I had one, just ONE friendly hug from him. The closest I've ever  physically got to him.

Godbro: We've laid on bed side by side on bed but nothing more....

Mr. P: The sexual encounters aside, it was only once he lied on me, both of us naked, his head cradled by my neck in each others' arms. (I was in heaven; that particular moment was like...............)

About our sexual encounters (Mr.P and myself);

It was mostly oral; I performed he received. Twice it came to almost anal, I turned him down the first time and the second time we were too drunk. He has never kissed me. He has never hugged me, cuddled me, slept side by side in bed with me (although once when I did accidentally fall asleep next to him, he kept putting his leg on me several times before I realised he was spotting an erection that led to another blowjob session). NEVER told me he loved me (once he said it on YM, ON YAHOO MESSENGER!!! I doubt that counts). I have never had a long proper conversation with him, just the two of us that was romantic. Most of the time, when its time for bed, those conversations were actually multi-tasked; massages for him. Romance-like conversations mostly led to his ejaculation unless of course we are interrupted (yes, that has happened, not in the act though). There were times, during exams, I used to help him with his studying and memorizing WHILE giving him a massage. And even if we did have long proper conversations with him, it was always ABOUT him. Yes, we did have countless proper conversations.

No, I thought to myself, I have never been truly, deservingly in love. No jolts after jolts of pure joy in my heart because I was cuddled up with the person I love, or an eye-to-eye moment where that person I love, says it, fully fueled with hormones; I love you. Never have I kissed the person I love with reciprocation nor have I had him lay on my shoulders just because he liked the comfort it provides. Never have I had arms around me from the back from the person I love with his warm breath down my naked shoulders nor have I had a peck from him in the morning when he wakes up to see me lying down beside him; his most precious belonging.

I know how it is like being truly in love but the luxury that it presents is an unexplored world of Tinsel Town to me; a toddler, pertinently. It is daunting that I am yet to properly say to a person fully comprehending its meaning and impact; "I Love You" or "Get Out of My Life" primarily because I am yet to be in a relationship and yet to stray out of one. Grey shades; doesn't get more grey than this to me.

Try as I've might, I just can't seem to feel the same way I used to feel. Like I am out there again, looking for love, like 'it' can ever happen again.

I still see him in everything...

My brother and his gf, my parents, alcohol, cigarettes, speaking Tamil, speaking English (because he was so bad at it), the word 'Love', the word 'Hate', every motorcycle, every maroon Wira, every vehicle registration plate that resembles his phone number or his motorcycle or car number, the Indian bazaars, dancing, makeup, my Facebook page, my hostel, my hostel room, any nasi kandar eatery, any Indian food outlet, KFC, dance clubs, baseball caps, football, some of my clothes, watching TV, computer games (whenever I spot people playing them), and on and on....

I seem to always, constantly and unknowingly, relate everything to him... Even God because his name also means God.

They say time heals everything... However, I am very vague about the dosage and its credibility...

PS: It is said when you involuntarily cough (because some fluid in you throat has gone in the wrong direction) someone is thinking of you very deeply. Superstition I know. Funny, every time that happens to me I think of one person whom might be thinking of me. Even as I typed the last sentence of this entry before post-script, it happened and one guess which face flashed upon my mind.