Hunger

the wreckage

Excruciating. This feeling.

First, it felt like I just had a shot of heroin. Not that I would know. I just imagine.

Then, cold turkey.

I had to drag myself out of bed and out of my rented studio apartment. I opened the door and looked over the horizon that used to make my heart sing and used to put a smile on my face. The saltiness of the air did nothing to me. The bright sun bothered me.

I pulled myself forward on the sea promenade.

Lonely. Embarrassed. Disgusted with myself. I felt everything at once.

Couples were sitting hand-in-hand. It could have been me. Yet, I was here alone, looking for more freedom, more wildness. And D was back home alone.

Everywhere I looked, I saw myself with her. I missed her. Was it her body or her soul or both? Her constant attention for me? Her need for me to love her back?

Now, I had neither.

At nights, I got needy. I wanted touch, connection, belonging. Everything.

That one wild night with H. We were like animals. A night of fire.

She opened up a hunger in me. And now I was looking at all the women as fresh meat.

One day, I’m entangled with the soul of a beautiful human. The next, I’ve lost touch with all morality. I can only think of carnal pleasures.

Sex is a drug. I’m an addict. This is my hangover.

the cage

Together for five years. Engaged for one.

We had just spent one year living on a small island. We woke up together, had breakfast, had lunch, took naps, went for walks, ate dinner, went to bed. Together. I felt like a bird in a cage. I needed to fly again before I would forget how.

We were completing each other’s sentences. Every day began to look the same as the previous one.

I was the one to question everything. I was the thinker. She was the feeler.

Should we sleep with other people when we’re travelling apart? I tried to bring it gently. She felt not loved. I said it has nothing to do with her. We got nowhere.

Starting a family was off the table. Now we could invent our lives as we wanted.

With nothing really resolved, I left. It almost felt like it was over.

The cage was now open. I could fly again. But was I ever willing to return?

the meetup

I arrived in Las Palmas on a Monday. I rented an ocean-facing studio the next day. I moved in on Wednesday. Life was smiling at me.

The week before, I was strolling along the boulevards of Paris, driving around the enigmatic island of Lanzarote. Freedom never tasted sweeter.

That same Wednesday, right at the beginning of my Spanish adventure, I met H.

Blond and radiant. Half Swedish, half Australian. Always smiling.

And I was in a good mood that night. Calm and composed. Maybe thanks to the fresh sea air. Maybe it was that cigarette I had just smoked on my walk.

H greeted me enthusiastically. I sat down next to her. We started chatting and never really stopped.

At first, I didn’t make much of her. But the talking was easy. The air between us was light. There was no need for any kind of performance.

We kept getting drinks. We smoked a few more cigarettes.

She didn’t take herself too seriously and made me laugh a few times. I think my nonchalance made her curious. We were both relaxed. We talked about our desires to see the world and chase aliveness. She was my kindred spirit.

Time flew by. People were leaving one by one.

It must have been midnight. We were amongst the few who didn’t want the night to end. We all went to a loud bar with pool tables and the smell of beer.

H and I were not cut out for this. Instead, we went looking for a place that would serve Espresso Martini—her all-time favourite drink. We ended up in a bar with a few locals.

Our minds started getting blurry but our hearts were wide open. She was liberated in her body while never losing her cool and groundedness.

The deep conversations turned into fiery foreplay.

She crossed her long legs over mine. I had my Campari in one hand, while the other hand travelled across her legs, then her neck, then her breasts. No resistance. She kept affirming by leaning into my every single move.

But when I went to kiss her, she refused. There were too many eyes staring, she said.

But the tension was there. Her hand went across my neck, her fingers through my hair.

We moved to a more private corner of the bar with dimmed lights. There she completely surrendered. We continued kissing and touching each other in ways that were publicly inappropriate.

After some negotiating, we decided to go back to my place. But first, we both went to the washroom. We entered the corridor with two doors. She gave me a naughty look. We walked through one of the doors together.

I pressed her against the wall and kissed her. I lifted up her black top and started kissing her fully shaped, round breasts. She was melting into the experience, leaning against the white tiles, with her eyes closed. All I could read in her movements was that she wanted more and more and more. I couldn’t resist her fire. My left hand was holding her neck and my lips were engulfing hers. Meanwhile, my right hand went exploring in the lower regions.

We could have fucked right there, against those white tiles, in the public washroom of a Spanish bar. But something in us was too decent. We ran out the doors like kids. Hand-in-hand.

Back at my place, I was taking a quick shower, while she was waiting in my bed. When I arrived, she was lying curled up and topless. She had covered the lamps with a towel to dim the lights. I put on Hermanos Gutiérrez.

We lay there for at least two hours, cuddling and caressing each other. Her body was curving elegantly, as a snake, to the movements of my touch. She had blonde hair and a nose ring and enigmatic eyes that could take you to places in an instant. Her movements, her attitude, her smell even—it felt like a fairytale.

The space was filled with erotic tension. I couldn’t sleep, not after all that drinking and smoking and excitement.

I was lying naked and she started stroking my cock.

We tried to fall asleep a few times, but it was hopeless.

I took off her shorts and started kissing my way down her stomach. She was very wet. My body wanted more. “Only with a condom,” she said. But I didn’t have any.

Some time passed. I was lying flat on my back when I felt her shift to the foot of the bed.

She started kissing me from top to bottom. I was heating up with every kiss, wondering where she was going with this. Then I felt her warm lips on my cock. By the precision of her touch, I could tell she knew what she was doing. Her rhythm was right. Her pressure was pure bliss. I watched her head moving up and down, each time going deeper and deeper. At some point, she went full deep throat.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. Just earlier that night, we were two complete strangers. Now she was gifting me a sensational fellatio in ways I have never experienced before. It was pure ecstasy. I lost all contact with reality while coming inside her mouth. She swallowed my cum while gazing straight into my eyes with pure mischief.

the morning after

We cuddled some more before she got up to leave. There was no awkwardness. She said that she had gotten more physical attention in one night than she had received in the previous six months. But she had work to do that day and losing one night’s sleep wasn’t part of the plan.

One last kiss and she was gone.

Two strangers, complete freedom, no boundaries. I was too hungover and sleep-deprived to make any sense of it. I walked around like a zombie. I slept in short bursts, waking each time into the same strange emptiness.

H was a free woman who was not looking for a man to fill her cup. That’s what made her sexy.

I could also sense she was not looking for anything more than what it ended up being. She was travelling and on her own mission and she didn’t seem to want anything more.

The next day, I invited her for dinner but she refused, saying that we probably would end up entangled in each other’s arms again. She had work to do and she was counting down her last few days on the island.

How can two people get so incredibly intimate in such a short time? I will never understand.

the reckoning

I’m not sure if I’m the luckiest man alive or the saddest soul on earth.

H showed me what else was out there. But did I realize what D and I already had?

I was trying to understand the animal inside the human. That night unleashed it and then it started consuming me.

H didn’t show me what freedom looks like. She showed me what it costs. She refused to see me again because she was stronger than me. She could walk away because she didn’t need this to teach her anything. She was already whole.

Nothing comes for free. The more elevated the pleasure, the deeper the darkness.

I was lured in by desire, which put all my other attachments at risk. But I had to allow myself that danger to enter, to avoid circling around with wonder and ignorance of the man I truly am.

But to be wanted when I’m just me, that’s the real gift.

I want to offer the fullest expression of someone who has dedicated himself to love life and let life love him back, even if destruction and suffering are part of the consequences.

I wonder—who can hold both the freedom and the staying?