A 21st Century Whore (Yuuto)

Four cups of tea later, my music theory homework wasn't getting any more done. I guess that meant it was time to do some introspection. After replacing my tea with some hot amazake, I went outside to my garden where a cool, crisp breeze blew across my face. It was a nice change from Mark bombarding me with weird memes.

When I met him, I knew he was familiar, but I didn't know quite why. Was he the guy who stood me up during the summer? No, it couldn't be. Mark had a better personality. He knew how to build morale among everyone who met, kind of like this girl I met at another high school's prom. She was well-spoken, reasonably attractive, and didn't seem to belong at a high school dance. Two hours into the dance, we hooked up in a supply closet. Though I wasn't genuinely attracted to her and she acted like she was reading a script the whole time, it felt good for both of us.

That wasn't my first time. During high school, I went from girl to girl, breaking hearts and getting my heart broken. Though I tried to justify it by saying that everyone was doing it and that I was depressed and trying to alleviate the agitation I felt, I knew better. Being young, gay, and growing up during the local HIV panic prevented me from acknowledging my feelings towards other guys; my guess was that I used mindless promiscuity with girls to suppress it. Granted, I did use prophylactics most of the time, but I was surprised that I didn't transmit or contract an STD.

I thought I had forgotten all of that when I saw Mark, but, during a meal, he said that I looked familiar. A conversation about our high school lives came up and I revealed why we knew each other. It turned out, after we met again, that the girl I met was attending prom this year because she couldn't go last year, but neither of us cared at the time. Both of us were numb, confused, and looking to feel something.

If I could redo my life, I wouldn't have hooked up with that girl because neither of us really wanted sex. We wanted something different: for me, purpose and for her, now him, satisfaction. I want to blot out this stain my past as it ended in me crying in a hospital room. I didn't cry because I was relieved, but because I was disappointed that I woke up. Now that I'm more or less glad to be alive, a better person, and with someone I truly love, I found that I have died only to find I've come alive.