All posts tagged gay

Shsh…for a moment

Published October 1, 2015 by angrytinkerbell


I was laying there naked, on a couch facing the window wide open, a bit earlier than the dawn, at the last moments of dark.

What makes the dark special is that everyone is sleeping throughout most of it. You being awake is special by itself.

Few cars run the roads. Few birds start their day. Loneliness at that moment is precious.

Mario comes and lays down next to me. Naked also, his body stuck to mine. Says nothing.


A moment. That moment. When you remember the darkness of Nina Simone’s darkest songs. Dark? Yes dark. And the most tender of all moments….

I could see the shadows of Mario’s curves. I could feel his skin rubbing to mine.

Dark? Yes, cause why not?!

When it’s that soft and gentle.

I could sense his warmth, listen slightly to the mix of our heartbeats.

The romance of that moment. Romance is a cheesy word compared to the sophistication of that moment’s simplicity.

Calm. Yes the calmest of moments, where you can still hear those cars from far away along to birds spreading their first melodies.


Do not say a thing, do not move…

Let us become part of that flow.

Darkness, calm, lights dimming in the mountains far away. Loneliness, how soft it is, when you are next to me.

Crying! How joyful is that crying… when I cry with you.

Mario. Your warmth. The silence. The dark. Your shadow.

My thoughts! When we’re in our nest, me and you, naked, away from people’s eyes, away from their thoughts, holding each others, because we can, we are entitled to, in a society that discriminates, that judges.

Your shoulder under my armpit, your head on my shoulder. I am to protect you, I am to love you. I am to defend you from wild animals, you have my oath.

So Shhhh….my love. People like us need no talking.

ShSh! you and you, and you there. My love is laying next to me, naked as he was created, as we were both created, as things are created. That is nature. Basic nature.

I am alone with him, as he is alone with me. While you are all sleeping.

And few cars are running the far away streets, and some birds are starting their singing.

While me and Mario are having a moment…

It is not everyday that a stranger makes you write

Published May 23, 2015 by angrytinkerbell

Tonight, i came back home late just like every night.

Just like every night, i opened grindr to check my messages and spend some time talking to strangers on the hope of getting sleepy and let the bed embrace me, exhausted, surrendering my being and trusting a pillow to take my neck.

Tonight, a guy messaged me with a face picture, one that i spent 30 seconds contemplating, contemplating his eyes, those eyes that scream cuteness in your face, before i answer with my pictures, face and body ones, as i wanted him to see me uncensored.

He’s the type of cuties that make you feel insecure, unsure if he’ll answer back after seeing your photos, after realizing that you’re not the God of beauty, nor the God of hotness, nor a God.

You’re a regular charming person with a bunch of imperfections, you want to be appreciated for the man you are, maybe for those same imperfections.

He introduces himself, he shares your name. He shares your nationality too. A nationality developed abroad. You knew that. You couldn’t have missed on such a face in Beirut city. You joke about it. He affirms his nationality through dirty talk. He likes that. You knew that. You like that. He likes that you like that. He likes that you knew that he likes that.

Grindr starts with sex, and in sex we started.

We’re compatible sexually.

I analyzed his character through the sex talks. I could tell he’s free, doesn’t like to be bounded, he’s a rebel, he’s passionate, he’s cuddly, he’s playful, he’s authentic, he’s genuine, he’s curious, he’s loveable, he’s loveable…

Within all that sex, he sends other pictures of his. I found myself saying  “ur eyes …”. He takes a break, and says “you scored…”

Then the sex continues…

I tried convincing him to come, yet he couldn’t.

Then the sex continues…

He sends me a picture of his ass, a manly ass that I’d want him to trim. He asks me to trim it for him.

“Not before you become my boyfriend if it’s meant to be”, I say.

I do believe that words are the material expression of our thoughts and feelings.

He made me want to fall in love, he made a boyfriend material out of me.

I fell for the illusion of the illusion, he became the reality of my reality.

I got transported to where I became a confused soul, to where he became a beautiful idea.

Unless I touch him, nothing is real, nothing is real…