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All posts for the month September, 2013

A Victim of Social Rape

Published September 24, 2013 by angrytinkerbell

Tarek was a happy child. Very joyful. Full of life. Born from a family that owned its business, he got all what he wanted. Surrounded with a lot of tenderness, life wouldn’t have been happier for him.

He got aware of his attraction towards men at a very early stage of his life. He was surrounded by many likeable male figures. He thought he was alone to have this tendency. He tried dating women, he wanted to prove to himself that he’s just like any other person. Tarek never felt anything emotional towards a woman. He had sex with plenty. His 1st time was when he turned sixteen, his brother took him to a strip club. That day he lost his virginity to a woman, but he knew it meant nothing for him, he was thinking of a man all along.

He had conflicts with the social dogmas in Lebanon. Everyone around him, everything around him, was convincing him that the normal thing consists of a man and a woman. His brother was notoriously known to be a womanizer, he was a social idol for his skills with women. Every love story he read joined a man to a women. All the romance TV series too. His religion encouraged marriages between men and women. Family members seemed to be all happy when someone is getting married.

He was asked all the time about his girlfriends. He dated very hot chicks. He was a handsome young man, and wealthy as well. He knew deep inside that it was fake, a cover to prove to his family that he’s following the same track of his brother. Women fell for his charm and elegance. He never felt the same for them.

He became a university student, a popular guy, outspoken and heard. He lived up to his entourage’s hopes, always there in the social happenings, building an image that pleases his relatives and makes them proud of him. And when no one was there, he always found time to flee the fake life he was leading and run into his alternative world, where he was true to himself, pursuing men in gay cruising areas. The sense of danger gave him a rush of excitement that he craved with time and became addicted to it.

In that world, he found a refuge that gave him comfort. His sexual encounters were full of risks but became also a necessity. He couldn’t sleep with men that knew his entourage. He could not afford that someone discovers his sexual orientation. He became a prisoner of the image he created for himself, the image that pleased his relatives and made them proud of him.

Having graduated and started working in the family business, Tarek couldn’t afford being with another guy that represented a love material. He was not attracted to such kind of men anyway. He was seeking those “straight” men that were never to be met in his morning life. He would do anything to get them. He enjoyed being submissive to their needs, giving them the lead in sex and the priority in pleasure.

He couldn’t form a relation, even if he felt something for someone. His homosexuality was a primitive form of sexual pleasure that existed only in the alternative world he created, and could not last till the sunrise. He couldn’t find manhood in gay men that were at ease with their sexuality. A “man” for him was a “straight” one that humiliated his needs, that had a fake attitude of machismo, that was rough enough to break his rebellion, tough to the extend of physical abuse.

The best 2 sexual encounters Tarek ever had, were when he was literally and not consensually raped.

Tarek was truly raped, and was craving to be raped again…

rape

A date at the checkpoint!

Published September 19, 2013 by angrytinkerbell

Sometimes, while surfing the internet, you’d see this picture of a man, who’s features would call for your heart to react. He called for my heart to react with a regular picture of his, where he was smiling all the way.

Lovely face you have there, i said.

Thanks.

Do you come to Beirut sometimes (as he was from Sidon)?

Always.

We should meet someday.

Whenever you want.

That was our conversation. In Lebanon, you learn not to be straight forward. Well men are not that “Straight” after-all. They like ambiguity, blurriness, vagueness. Yet the way he interacted was cool in any case.

I sent him my number and told him to talk to me on whatsapp. Two days after, i receive a message from him while i was at work, we agreed on talking when i finish. From 2:30 am to 5:30 am, 3 hours of talking and talking. I kinda made it clear i was looking for a man, not a buddy. He made it clear that he was a soldier, and interested. He was fluent in English, with very good background. He got me impressed. We spoke about a lot of things. The connection was beautiful.

The day after, a Friday, the night at Bardo was ending when i sent him a message. I wanted to see him on Sunday, my day off. I dunno how things turned into agreeing on seeing him that same night before he goes to the station to rest. He was on duty, on the checkpoint.

I closed Bardo, and headed with a lot of excitement and a bit of fear to meet him, at his checkpoint. Never have I done such a thing. I just felt it’s the right thing to do. I was driving, thinking of how crazy I am, but hell with it, we live once, he seemed hot and sweet, so let it be.

I parked at the other part of the road at 3:30 and messaged him, declaring my arrival. He walks towards me, with his uniform, all tall, built, sizzling hot. My heart was beating, looking at him, walking towards me with his big gun. I’m talking about his actual big gun. He reaches my window and stands there, his bulge at the level of my face.

I acted maturely. Wasn’t gonna allow myself to look overly interested nor hyper fearful. Was barely smiley, a bit indifferent, as if i was used to such situations. Our date lasted for 30 minutes, during which we talked about Nietzsche. What?! He actually reads for Nietzsche, he started telling me how he was reading lately that guy’s theory of the weakness of people who hold their ferocity, human beings are fierce creatures by nature. I hate Nietzsche for that brain he had, I argued with him, telling him how weak i thought people to be when playing aggressive, doing fights, not controlling their anger and temperament.

He smiled to me. That was a good sign. What wasn’t a good sign, is when he mentioned how non gay i looked.  Yes, looking straight is offensive for me. But what can i do? I act like myself, and people judge me upon it. Yet it was definitely not a good sign. I was sure of it when he continued saying that he never tried it with a man but he’s curious about it. I hate it when people take me to be the right person to be curious with. I’m more of the person you come out with, you be flashy and provocative with. Urghhhhhhhhhh

At that point, i knew something is gonna go wrong. You know?! With that mentality, you expect him agreeing on the rules of the Lebanese army regarding gay sexual intercourse in the institution. You know that rule that states: A doer (fucker), is imprisoned for a while, a done with (the person that gets it in the ass) is expelled from the army. See? In the Lebanese army, they don’t just discriminate against gay people, you have a bigger discrimination going against bottoms. Something like, you take it in the ass, we kick your ass. Lovelaaaayyyy! The next thing would have been him pretending that i was a man with a pussy, or just gifting me some Lingerie so I’d fulfill his sexual fantasies.

My man, who was the sweetest thing at the beginning, turned to be all of a sudden just another regular one. My dream was about to fall apart.

The night ended with a “It was very nice meeting you” from both parts.

The next day he was gone….

And I went back to be real….

army

The Syrian Hunk, and the misery of a people…

Published September 15, 2013 by angrytinkerbell

He messaged me on Growlr. There was a guy all hunk in a pic. He liked my photo and decided to contact me. Few talks, he asked me about my role. I didn’t wanna do attitude regarding such question, so i answered him that I’m a top, he answered back saying he was a double. Double?! Well i got over the shock and understood he meant a versatile. Fine with me, we exchanged numbers and decided to meet for a fuck later on.

3 days afterwards, he messaged me on whatsapp, i was free, he was too. We decided to meet at 12 in the evening, he finishes work around that time, and i was off for once wandering Hamra as it was long time i visited “Le Marais” of Beirut, “Province town of Lebanon”. I told him to meet me in Costa, a classic that became a 24/7 for meetings. He didn’t know where that was. He asked me to meet him in front of Barbar Hamra. Fair with me.

We met, he was in my car.

Lately, I’m trying to project a certain rough careless indifferent look. What?! People are abusing my caring-ness and i was there for a fuck, sue my ass!!!

I managed to do so, till 5 minutes after we went to bed. The guy turned to be a “Shami”, from Sham in Syria. He’s been in Beirut for 3 months now. He was a teddy bear hunk. Never was I in bed with a guy like him. He’s a 170 cm guy who’s just big by nature. Like really big bones, big hands, big feet, like really big wide feet. Got me turned on i must admit. His skin was very soft, covering a lot of genuine muscles, which is the contrary of Gym muscles. Well he used to work in Shawarma in Syria, now he’s working in a restaurant.

So yeah! There he was, a genuine man, which is the opposite of “Straight Acting” one as they like to call it on Grindr. Urgh do people even realize how homophobic is that statement?!?! Dahhhh Ling are you coming out as an actress?! Like you think you’re staging Broadway?! Let me not go there….

So yeah! There he was, my man, he was a good kisser, strong hugger, someone who perceives himself as a man, and acknowledges the presence of a second man in bed. He showed appreciation for what i had down there.

Yes i was trying to be indifferent, yet he wouldn’t let me. He imposed his presence in the cutest oriental manly behaviors. He made me smile several times. He wondered why i was smiling several times, with his “Shami” accent that i imitated several times. He was a genuine, a cute genuine, i had the feeling that i really had a man laying there, made me remember why i was into men in the first place. I even felt it was exotic, you know, similar for what Europeans look for in Arabs. Some even come here just for the sake of being with an Arabic oriental man. I hear you Sistas. I know why you seek it now.

I was with a man, “manly playful like a grown up child”, rubbing his beard on mine, making me lick his armpit, holding me with force so I’d do the same, trying to wrestle me in my own bed. He held my chin sometimes while looking deep in my eyes, held my dick sometimes too, he played with my legs, kissed my feet, smelled my skin. Not only that, he told me he was praying that I’d have a belly. He said it in a cuddly way, “Battoun” was the term he used, the Arabic cuddly nickname of a belly. What?! Praying for that?! Why waste your prayers?! Well obviously it meant to him a lot. He dived in it. Like literally dived into it, putting his nose on it and rubbing left and right quickly. I have high admiration for myself, my small belly included, yet he made me feel at a certain point like, well, a belly. He just focused on it. He made me smile again. And again. And again. Well it was ticklish. He bit my meat! No I’m not talking about my dick you perverts! I’m talking about my actual meat. Woof!! Man, he was rough.

He highlighted the size of my dick, he said he was too tight to take it. Well true he was, he couldn’t take it, we tried, yet i never perceived my dick as a big one. Well he was tight, and he appreciates small dicks. Some people would die for a big dick stupid! Not him, he even preferred if his was smaller, “what is it for but for peeing?” he said. He has a point. I never understood how we cultivated in us the admiration for “Big”. Does size really matter?! Well yeah, if you had the tunnel of Shekka down there (a well reputed tunnel in the village of Shekka in Lebanon). Not his case.

Fine with me, sometimes the act of penetrating doesn’t really matter, as the feeling of conquest was there, that day i conquered a man, a real man, he conquered me too, the rest was meaningless.

Do you miss Syria?! I asked

Fuck Syria, and its sands…

It’s not nice to talk like that about your country

When you don’t have anyone that matters left there, you know it’s not your country anymore…

He had a tear in the eye.

Syria

The Man, behind the Ray-Ban

Published September 10, 2013 by angrytinkerbell

No it wasn’t sunny. We were in his gloomy blue-painted room.

No he wasn’t a cop, neither an aviator. Well he was flying, but with no plane.

He received me naked, with his Ray-Ban on.

The guy was high, and already have set boundaries between me and his soul.

He insisted on me visiting him for a quicky, or as he explained later on, it’s just after you get your 30 minutes of UP, the rest of the effect is that you become in a loving cuddly mode.

Well he chose to spend that time with me. I would’ve appreciated if he told in prior.

I would have expected I’m gonna spend an afternoon, well a noon and an afternoon with someone, something, out of this world, let me correct, someone, something, of this world, who’s from above the clouds, who’s dream is to fly over the rainbow, so high.

I laid there with a skeleton, with a Ray-Ban on. In that gloomy room, listening to Trans music, that he was enjoying.

I was there, with my “Zen Mode”, with my “Angelic Face”, with my “Beautifully well drawn Features”, with my “Cuddly body of a Teddy Bear”, caring for nothing but to keep him flying, up and up, trying not to make him lose it.

He refused to let me see his eyes, i knew his eyes from before, for some reason that day he just hid behind his glasses, all alone, well i was with him, but not quite with him, he chose loneliness, even in times of companionship.

I was with him, but not quite with him, myself too was left alone, i was trying my best not to strike him with reality, the reality that i felt when i was by his side.

That guy was a handsome man, successful man, with a charming smile, yet he refused to face his lonely moments, he refused to acknowledge that sadness exists. Sadness and loneliness are just there, on our front door every day.

Facing it, acknowledging it, embracing it, have made me a stronger man, a more human one.

While him, he just fled it. He hid behind his Ray-Ban. And he gave lectures about life.

He went on in his life, avoiding reality, not seeing the beauty that comes out of its darkest moments.

He ended up in darkness, in a gloomy room, behind his Ray-Bans, seeing the darker version of his surrounding.

Was he happy about it? I doubt it.

He made me sad, as I was always sad about others reality and not about mine.

We both fell asleep. I woke up and left.

I dunno if he ever woke up….

america