Chapter 3: Frustrated
I feel so used.
We’ll never meet, yeah.
No need to hate, yeah.
End of 2014.
Our lease expired a month later, but we did not renew it, so I had to move back to my parent’s place. On February 28, I decided to become a Digital Nomad, someone who can travel and work. All I need is a computer, a good wifi and a country that has easy visa procedures. I spent a month and a half in Prague, and on April 13th I moved to Chiang Mai, Thailand.
A month later, on Badoo — an app similar to Tinder — I met a Vietnamese girl called Nhung. We instantly fell in love and dated for, what was going to be seven months of crazy adventures. She was and remained a virgin. I loved her so much that I did not want to push her.
The language and cultural barriers were a challenge. Once, in the middle of a fight, I told her, “You are taking me for granted.”
“What does it mean,” she asked.
I faced visa problems which required me to spend time in Lebanon and hence forced us to do long distance. But, I did not want to sext. Instead, I wrote her sexy chat messages where I’d invite her to imagine us being together doing kinky things. I did not know that this was Erotica. We broke up in December 2015. I traveled back to Lebanon where I used Tinder. I thought that, maybe, by distracting myself with other girls, I’d escape my sorrow.
End of January, 2016.
Sample Tinder Conversation
Me: Would you like to meet?
Her: Maybe not.
Me: Why not?
Her: I don’t know you. I prefer to chat first.
Why the fuck would such a girl be on a ‘dating’ app?
I matched with Zoe who suggested we grabbed a drink. Finally, a normal human! We met on Friday. I drank more than usual and was soon quite tipsy.
“Have you ever tried something other than alcohol?” She asked me.
“Like? Cocaine?” I asked amused.
“Never,” I said no longer amused. “You?”
“Yes, I love it!”
“I dislike anything that I can get addicted to. So, no drugs. No smoking.”
I also disliked those who did drugs, but I kept this to myself. We hopped to another bar, and then another.
“How about we go to my place?” She said around midnight. “We can drink wine.”
God, I would love to have sex. But, I don’t really like her nose!
“Why not!” I said.
“My friend might join.”
“The more, the better,” I lied.
Once at her parent’s house, we headed to the balcony, and I crashed on the couch. Her friend Wassim showed up, and it was obvious he was gay. Still, I had more fun chatting with him than with Zoe. He was focused and sharp, while she was all over the place. When we finished two bottles of wine, we headed to the kitchen. There, Zoe found chicken in the fridge. She heated it up, and we devoured it.
“You know,” Wassim said, “I saw her naked pussy once…”
They glanced at each other, but I avoided their looks, feeling embarrassed. I wanted a threesome, but I preferred it was two girls. I didn’t know what to say, and I was sleepy and horny but indecisive. I finished my chicken and left home. Hesitation is the mother of all vices.
Later on, I tried asking her out, but it never worked out. I lost interest in her and never saw her again.
And, I was still horny.
I matched with Jenna who lived an hour away from Beirut.
“I want to show you something,” she told me sending me the picture of a dildo.
“How often do you use it?” I said, my heart jumping in happiness.
“Daily, of course. Sex is important.”.
“For me, sex feels like a sport. I prefer Mind games and power exchange,” I said.
“I’d love to try, but we might have to wait until we meet.”
“We could do it online,” I said then improvised, “Tell me one bad habit you have.”
“I smoke a pack of cigarette per day.”
“Then, Every time you exceed a daily limit we’ll set, you owe me a point which I would use to punish you. If you behave, I’ll reward you!”
“I like this. Let’s do it!”
We tried it for two days. She consistently broke the rule, and I lost interest. Still, I felt something tickling my heart. She looked beautiful in her pictures, and her personality felt warm, welcoming and strong. I wondered if she was the “one.” Have I fallen in love again?
On Friday, she came to town, and we had dinner then hopped at a pub to meet her close friends. She was reuniting with her bestie, and they spent most of the night together. I had to entertain myself with her male friends who had nothing interesting to say. Around midnight, she headed to her bestie’s house while I headed home alone.
The next day, we grabbed a drink in a pub. This time we were on our own. Our legs touched, and I wished I could grab them in my hands, squeeze and gently caress them.
“When was the last time you had sex?” I asked her.
“It was a while ago when I shared a house with my ex. We used to do all sorts of crazy things.”
“Like?” I said feeling my hard-on.
“We had sex on campus. Once, we went camping, and we ventured somewhere in nature, got naked and fucked in the river. It was wonderful! We also had ecstasy. With it, I can party all night long, and it feels magical.”
Another interesting girl that does substances.
“What about you?” She asked me.
Ah, my sex life. A glorious construct of geekiness, fueled by porn, and exclusively limited to masturbating at the sight of big boobs in video game loading screens.
“I never had anything wild,” I answered, “I also never came from sex…”
“How is that possible?”
“I guess, I just get bored in sex and prefer kinky games.”
Her friends called, then we moved to Garten, a famous electronic club. The media portray Lebanon as a dangerous country surrounded by constant wars. But, the venues owning the underground scene rival with the likes of Berlin or Dubai. The sexually fueled dance floor has inspired many men to dare let their heart take courage, absorb unholy quantities of vodka, and charge forward to their inevitable rejection by the provocatively hot young virgins.
For the past two years, I’ve been partying alone. I’d take off my glasses and immerse in blindness. At least this way, I shy not when judging eyes sting me with the fire of their defying, insecure looks. This time however, I was with a group of people, and my full focus was on Jenna, my date… my love? She took my hand and guided me to the dance floor where we danced, hugged, touched, rubbed, and kissed.
She tasted like cigarette mixed with alcohol, but I kissed her nonetheless. Her soft lips sweetened up the combination.
Time passed. How much? I have no idea. But, I was tired, so I crashed on a nearby couch while she stayed with her friends. I lost patience, but then, I felt her hand ruffle my hair, and caress my neck.
“Missed me?” she asked.
“Hell yeah! You know, you’re the first girl I feel like kissing since my breakup.”
Our lips touched.
“I also love kissing you,” she said, “and… I want to make you cum from sex.”
“Oh,” I blushed.
I went back home after the party.
I met her and her friends at a bar on Wednesday. At some point she disappeared and her best friend told me, “Jenna wants to see you.”
“Where?” I asked.
She looked in the direction of the restrooms. I walk there and saw Jenna inside.
“Get in,” she told me, then closed the door behind me and assaulted my face. Her lips grabbed mine, bit and sucked on them. My first public bathroom kiss!
“I wanted to spend more time with you,” she said, “but it is hard with all my friends as you can…”
I squeezed her boobs and kissed her. She moaned.
“I must leave,” she said breaking our embrace.
I ignored her and kissed her again.
“I really must go,” she said. “We’ll meet soon.”
“Maybe Friday. Stay here and wait for me to get out first.”
She couldn’t make up her mind regarding Friday, and her indecision pissed me off. I went back home.
“Where are you?” she asked me at 10 p.m.
“At Starbucks working. You?”
“I am with my friends in a pub.”
She said nothing more. Why? Was she waiting for my move? Was it her excessive drinking and smoking? Was she high?
“Do you want to join?” she said fifteen minutes later.
“You know what… I don’t feel like seeing you. You live far which makes your coming to town a unique event, and on top of that, you are indecisive. Then, when you come over, you need to see your friends. I want to see you not your friends!”
“Wow, what’s with the drama?”
“Fuck it. I don’t want to see you. Forget about me.”
She called me.
I hanged up.
She sent me a voice note.
I deleted the message.
I left Starbucks and headed home. While I drove, she called me twice and sent me another voice note.
“Listen,” the note said, “most of my friends live abroad. They are leaving the country soon, and I won’t see them anymore. Also, why do you judge me on my indecisions? It’s really not in my hand. I can’t choose until the last minute because my decision depends on my work. Are you going to tell me what I am supposed to do, and how I am supposed to live my life?”
I wanted to argue, but, this small misunderstanding proved to me that this was not a girl I wanted to invest time in. I did not reply. She sent me text messages that I deleted until finally she stopped and the storm settled. Ironically, I hoped she’d send me more messages for me to delete as if I was feeding a dark pleasure from rejecting her. I never saw her again, and I went back home.
A new Calling
When I came back to Lebanon a month earlier, I had no job, and I didn’t know what to do with my life. A friend of mine recommended I ‘listened’ to what I felt like doing. I composed music, and I build a mobile app. But, I remembered the kinky messages I sent to Nhung. So, I wrote a short fiction story called “No Label” that I shared with my Tinder matches. The girls requested the second chapter. On January 16, 2016, I decided to become a writer.
This decision freaked my parents out. They worried that I was throwing away my future by making wrong decisions. Back then, I only saw this as a conflict. Words that better not to be said were shouted out loud. What should have been a constructive conversation turned into a series of fights. Anger was constantly floating in the air. So, for the second time in my life, I decided to pack my stuff and leave.
I was going to skip Asia because my breakup was still fresh in my mind. Europe and the US were pricey. However, the Ruble had recently lost half of its value. So, Russia was going to cost me a bit more than Thailand. Great!
I’m also the descendant of Russian immigrants who left Russia because of the communist revolution. A couple of years ago, my father worked hard for us to get back the Russian passport. Still, I had never visited Russia. I know how to read and write Russian, but I am not fluent in it.
So, it made sense for me to travel there. I felt a hint of pride knowing I was going to be the first of my family to return and live in the country of our ancestors. But, I was more excited about using Tinder, and finally getting laid.