Temptation

In the straight crowd, they say there is such a thing as the seven-year itch, which I think means that seven years into a marriage or relationship, reevaluation of the partnership happens, and infidelity tends to step in. Okay, fine. So maybe I’m not straight enough for this to even remotely apply. But honestly, I am feeling an itch. And it’s been just six months into my relationship. So it’s a six-month itch… not even close to seven years. But already, the itch is creeping in. Heavens help me.

Ex-boyfriends of years ago have been making their presence felt again. Not really wanting to try again, but just for old times sex sake. Even the one ex with whom my breakup was far from civil has been haunting me. As in he lied to me, cheated on me, owes me money, and made up stories, to the point that I’m tempted to infect him with my HIV and some STDs just to get back at him… But then, to give him the pleasure of my sex would just be too much in his favor, so I haven’t acted upon his advances.

Some former fuck buddies are back. These are guys with whom my trysts can still stir an erection in me even after all these years, so completely forgetting these hot guys and the hot sex is completely alien to me. I’m not sure if it’s a gift or a curse that I am able to keep fuck buddies of years and more years ago. I guess I try not to be a wham-bang-thank-you-man kind of guy, and can actually build a friendship on the foundation of great sex. And great sex it was indeed.

Pozzie friends should be expected. I’ve had more than my fair share of positively romantic proposals. And if I ever did give in, it would be more than just because we were both HIV positive. These guys are smoking hot and oh so my type! Some pozzie friends, have even been crossing from the Yoga for Life line. I’m beginning to question my principle of not shagging in my own backyard.

Speaking of backyards, I even have a neighbor in my list. As in the guy lives about a block away, in a house that I walk past every single day. Hey, it’s not my fault that he followed me home a couple of times and mustered up the courage to talk to me the next chance he got. But man, a block away? Who are the people in your neighborhood? I now know one of mine. How much more convenient can it get?

Strangers, of course. Buses, the MRT, the mall… good thing I’m not even really into bathhouses, gay bars and other more rampantly sleazy places. And then the internet. Oi. Fine, my fault for still having my accounts on personals sites up. But even without those, even Facebook is becoming a potential cruising place for me. Argh.

Unfortunately, fidelity has never been one of my strong points. I mean I have managed to be completely faithful to some guys I was with… okay, fine… I think I’ve done it twice out of seven. But those two periods I was able to do it, I did under my own power and choice. But, mind you, it was never easy.

I’m not blaming any of these male stimuli for being hot. It’s my fault for giving in to seduction. And until now, I have never regretted having sex with anyone. It was my choice every single time.

It’s just me. I love sex. I absolutely love sex. I love giving pleasure. It fulfills me. I gain pleasure from giving pleasure. And to a point, I let it define my role in life. Who doesn’t want to be of service to others? Some do it through charity. I just happen to do it through sex among other things.

So I really hope the boyfriend knows what he got himself into choosing me as a partner. I mean, yes, he does know every mince of past that I have. He knows I’m HIV positive. He knows I’m a slut. He knows I have the sexual charge of five grown men. He knows I have kinks others can only imagine. He knows it all. But the one thing that makes the story different is that he chose to accept it all. Darn.

So I’m trying. I’m trying extremely hard. It’s not frickin’ easy. At all. And the boyfriend hinting he’d be open to letting other guys into our relationship is not helping my noble cause. Argh.

We all know I’m no angel. So just wish me luck on my huge endeavor. May I make it through my six-month itch. And the seven… And the eight… And… And as Eva Eugenio once sang, O tukso, layuan mo ako.