I met Druggie last year and it was instant attraction. What can I do? I guess it’s true what they say about bad boys, they do have a certain charm – a je ne sais pas quoi about them that makes thinking logically and rationally go out the window. I was in the dressing room trying on some super skinny jeans, when he pulls open the curtains and starts to undress in front of me. We shared the dressing room not speaking a word, just casually staring into each other’s eyes. And just as suddenly he barged into the small space that we occupied together, he left with a wink and a kiss on my cheek. Fate must have wanted us to meet again, because the following night, I bumped into him at Bardo just as I was passing through the glass doorway. Again, we didn’t exchange words; only stares and a wink here and there.
Drug Boy just oozed with sex appeal and he was a bad boy. The baddest, in fact. He knew he was sexy and he was pompous about it. He had sparkling green eyes that contrasted deeply with his dark tawny skin; but the thing that drew me in like a magnet, was his smile. He had a snaggle toothed grin and I thought his one imperfection was in fact his sexiest asset.
A week had passed and I hadn’t seen my latest infatuation; however, through the magic that is Manjam (I'm being sarcastic, of course), he found me and sent me a rather provocative message which happened to include his number, attached with it was an equally provocative picture.
Our first date was actually tame, which was sort of a disappointment since I had other expectations about what we might actually end up doing. Instead, we had a nice dinner; followed by a ride in his car around downtown Beirut and the Corniche. He didn’t even kiss me or make a move, which seemed sort of noble from him since I was acting like a slut and basically throwing myself at him.
Okay, I’ll be the first to admit that back in the days I wasn’t as classy as I am today… I was sort of a slut, meaning I would flaunt myself at anything that even glanced at me, and I think that was factored in by my low self-esteem. I wanted to be desired by everyone, which I think is a common “illness” for the gays. But with time… and with more dating disasters under my belt… I learned to have more self-restraint and what I hope is a little more self-respect.
Although I was putting myself out there for him, I’m sort of a cock-tease as well. For those of you who are new to the cock-tease concept, let me elaborate a little: Basically, a cock-tease is one that flirts and makes it seem as though they are willing to go all the way; however, when it actually comes time to take to the next level, they back out. Cock-teasing (the verb) was one of my specialties and that’s because I always enjoyed the chase more; I like leading guys on and then leaving them hanging. But I learned that gay guys lose interest fast… Even if you do end up having sex, they lose interest. I believe gay guys must have some kind of sex ADHD… Anyway, after our third date and me acting like a complete hoochie-mama, he dropped his “gentleman act” and started to act a little rowdy when we were alone together, and I was no longer in control of the situation and that made me more than a bit nervous. When I was always finding excuses to postpone our “alone time” as he called it, he started to act more aggressive towards me. On one of our dates he invited a friend of his, who when I went to meet them, was already trashed and bumping into people when she moved. He apologized, coming up with a bogus explanation about why he had to invite her out with us on our date; but, I decided to play it cool and act as though I was not affected by the drunken-third wheel.
The second surprise of the evening was when I found myself in front of Acid when we had agreed to go elsewhere. Now for those who haven’t been to Acid before… It’s a nightclub that is still stuck in 1999, including the green laser and bad music that goes well with the trashy wall décor; although I doubt the people who frequent Acid take the time to notice such things. As we were making our way to Acid from the parking lot, he turns and hands me a small Ziploc bag.
“Take this and shove it in your underwear,” he urged, grabbing the back of my jeans and shoving his hand right down to my butt-crack. “They don’t check feminine looking guys,” he added. I was shocked by the fact that he (1) was using me as a drug mule and (2) had the audacity to insult me a la passant.
Once we got into Acid, with no one having to check my butt for illicit drugs, he “dumps” his drunken friend on me, and removed the Ziploc bag out of the “security” of my ass. I felt like those Mexican immigrants who shove drugs and other stuff up their holes in order to bypass US immigration officers. I watched him stride into the Acidic crowd, looking left and right, and what I assumed was him looking for his client. I struggled to keep taps on him because I literally had another body on-top of mine, and it wasn’t anyone I wanted to get cozy or intimate with. The drunken bitch was slobbering all over my top and was leaving a puddle of drool on the nape of my neck… It was not a pretty sight. I walked around Acid feeling like a Siamese twin looking for him because I wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. This date and this relationship were over… Like WAY over.
And there he was. In the corner of the grotesque club, making out with a guy whom I know was definitely not me. I’m not exactly sure what came over me, but I’m assuming it was a combination of anger and embarrassment – but I think anger fueled my actions more, because the next thing I remember doing was me hurling his friend on-top of him and his client/make-out partner. His friend fell face first on the floor and for those who have been to Acid before, they know the condition of the floor – it’s covered with glass. I stormed towards him and demanded that he never speak, text, or message me again. He stared at me with a glazed look in his eyes and I knew he was probably too drugged out to remember who I was or what I was telling him.
It was on that night that I ended my bad boy addiction.
Bad boys are like candy; you know you shouldn’t have them because they are bad for your health (your mental health included) and yet, we’ll do anything to have a taste of them. This applies to both candy AND boys! What I had thought was brooding sex appeal was in fact, a drugged-induced state of consciousness. Not only was he a drug dealer but he was a drug addict as well. I assumed him not talking much was part of his charm, you know the type… the strong silent ones that speak more with their eyes and smiles than with words, but it was probably because he was too high to actually form any coherent sentences. And that happy look on his face? I’m guessing it too was the effects of the drugs, because I doubt anyone would be THAT happy to spend that much time with me – I can be a bit loud, whiney, bitchy, and shrill sometimes; but I think that could be part of my charm! Or not… which might explain why I’m still single, but let’s not go there now…
After being used as a drug mule, having to drag an intoxicated carcass with me, and watch the guy whom I should have asked what he does for a living BEFORE going on a second date with him make out with a client of his; I realized that pinning after bad boys just leaves you feeling dirty, ashamed, disgusted with yourself, and wondering how the hell you got sucked into it all… The same feelings you have after you do something illicit. Bad boy rehab was probably the best decision I took.
Hi, I’m Gary and I’m no longer addicted to bad boys.
Unless… they’re really, really, really cute!
1 comment:
that much shit you went through, GOD. It is good u got out of it before even getting stuck further and deeper. Sleiman :)
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