Equus

In retrospect, I was horny. Is that so bad?

Friday, March 16th 11:30 AM

I lay around. The morning sun overwhelmed the floor-to-ceiling windows and kissed my soft skin with its beautiful rays. I stared at the white ceiling, randomly tapping my foot against an imaginary floor. I had just come back from my morning run. Those 20 minutes, running alongside the Thames - first west down the battersea park riverside, across the Albert bridge, back up the chelsea riverside and, across the chelsea bridge- with my iPod blasting through my brains, obliterating any negative thoughts and giving me the the pep talk I desperately needed. Now at the flat, and after a long shower, I stared at the ceiling. My phone had vibrated only seconds ago. It was Brad, the hot Australian I'd met online not too long ago. After a few webcam sessions we decided it was time to give it a real try. I was half excited and half mortified. This was a deliberate, premeditated attempt at satisfying the sexual void my partner perpetuates. And I was calm, really calm.

The phone rang once more. It was Brad.

"Hey Brad, how do you feel?"

"Good good, I just needed a good nap, those Singapore flights-"

"Yeah it must be tough. Listen, well, if you want to get some coffee at starbucks first we can do that" Mistake, I shouldn't have said that.

"Yeah sure there's a Starbucks in Earl's Court just around the corner from my house" Oh shit, it can't be...

"Really? Which one? The one on Earl's Court Road or Old Brompton?" Please say Earl's Court Road, please...

"Old Brompton, that's right." Shit. Act cool.

"Sure, Ok. let's mee there in 45 what do you think?"

"Alright mate, see you there." Click.

Starbucks on Old Brompton. That's where James and I had our first date. Almost two years ago, we sat one chilly August morning and spoke randomly of all that came to mind. Now I was meeting my first bootie call since then at the same spot. I thought- this is an exercise. I need to start withdrawing myself emotionally from my relationship, and if that means pushing the limits then so be it. I wore the cologne that Jim always likes. I wore the belt he gave me last christmas. I put on the coat and shirt I bought in Madrid while he was on the phone with me. In no time I was out, making my way to Sloane Square. I hopped onto the west-bound District Line, and stared vacantly at the walls of the tube. Transport For London had started this scheme - Love Poems on the Underground. And now, a free verse passage stared me in the face.

"This book, this page, this hareball laid to rest between these sheets, these leaves, if pressed still bleeds a watercolour of the way we were.

Those years: the fuss of such and such a day, that disagreement and its final word, your inventory of names and dates and times, my infantry of tall, dark, and handsome lies.

A decade on, now we astound ourselves; still two, still twinned but doubled now with love and for a single night apart, alone, how sure we are, each of the other half.

This hareball holds its own. Let's give it now in air, with light, the chance to fade, to fold.

Here, take it from my hand. Now, let it go."

I read it, it gave me mixed feelings. Part of it said - times will be rough, but we (James and I) will make it through somehow. The other part said - we now live on two different islands and our worlds are growing further apart, its time to let go. To be honest the first time I read it I couldn't really gather the meaning coherently. I was too nervous

Yes I was too nervous. When I got to starbucks, I had a coffee with Brad- a sweet, sexy guy with a genuine attitude, but with whom I felt no spark whatsoever. He invited me over to his place, and I didn't hesitate to say yes.

In his flat, we locked lips and arms. He was hard, throbbing, I was trying to get there. We undressed each other until we were both naked in the sun-lit living room. He got on his knees and tried to blow me. My body was not responding. I pushed him towards the bedroom and forced him onto the bed. He threw his legs up and I devoured his dick, balls, ass. I was feeling my self get hard the further my tongue penetrated his sphincter. I was nervous, shaking. He brought out lube and a condom. The same lub e James uses, the condoms I always prefer. I couldn't fuck him. But eventually I did, and I wasn't that good. We both came, and in no time we were getting dressed.

Thank you it was good, we both lied. I got on the elevator and in no time I was back on that unusually sunny street. On the east-bound District Line I couldn't believe what I had just done. No concern for my safety, no honor or respect for my convictions, my decisions. No integrity. I wasn't always like this. I think. What happened? That afternoon my brain began to let go. All the discipline, the reserved and patient attitude I maintained throughout every aspect of my life, I felt it all unfurl and descend into chaos. I walked, I walked for a good hour trying to clear my brain. It didn't work.

That night, Sean and I decided to hit the town hard. From G-A-Y bar to G-A-Y club we got trashed. I almost managed to forget everything. But then, somewhere around 3 am, I remembered, and I got sick in the mensroom.

The following day James returned from his trip. Hi honey, I missed you. It's as if all that was wrong and evil in the world, including myself, disappeared when we were together. We spent a quiet but fun weekend together. He let me blow him a few times. On Monday, I decided to head into the City early in the morning with him. I spent some time in his office, then went to the bookstore and browsed books for the rest of the morning. On our way back, we both got onto the west-bound District Line, I vacantly looked up and there it was again. The same Love Poem on the Underground from my friday sexcapade. I couldn't believe it. There must be a good 40 trains that run through the District Line every day, each train with at least 7 cars. What are the chances that I would end up in the exact same spot in the same car on the same train as friday morning?

That night I stared at the naked body of Daniel Radcliffe in the surreal darkness of the Gielgud Theatre in the West End. Playing the role of Alan, the disturbed young man who stabbed 6 horses in the eye one night as his sexual repression exploded, he screamed:

"All the way, I shoved it.
I put it in her all the way...

Fuck off! I couldn't see her...

I could only see him. Every time I kissed her, he was in the way...You know who! When I touched her, I felt him...

When I shut my eyes, I saw him at once..."

Have I turned James into my Equus? A mortal god of every aspect of my life? My moral saviour, my moral compass, the alpha and omega of all that is worthwhile and decent? I think I must have. Slowly I lose my convictions, and slowly depression, anxiety, and unbearable stress creep into my head.

And now they are here to stay.

Unless I can shed my skin of habits I'd cultivated for years now. I need to start a clean slate. Kill my gods, mortal and immortal, and start from scratch. Build my conviction based on experiential and nurtural knowledge, not preconceived and ill-begotten notions.