Truth is.......

I apologize for neglecting this blog; even in my frenzied state, there were moments when I could have written, but I kept putting it off. Now that one account is finished, I found myself to be idle. And in that idleness, I panicked. I've been so used to burying myself in work, obvious to others that this is my way of moving on, that I don't know how it is to be idle. I was suddenly not doing anything. There was a moment of silence...and then the demons in my head started to talk.I'm fine, really. I just hate being idle. I want to work. Before doing so, I need to address something.One reader comments:
You wanna know the reason why you always end up with the wrong men and you seem to always land on those shittiest guys girl?It's because you're spoiled, you have too much air in yourself, and you overvalue your own worth.To you you may think that you're beautiful, seductive, witty, and all those things, but to the normal guy who has simple dreams of family and children, you are a disease to be ignored and if need be avoided.To most loser-males' eyes, you are nothing but a sex object. You have portrayed yourself as such and such will you be taken. A mere sex object, a toy, to be discarded once the initial thrill has passed.You think you are mature, but to be honest with you, you have the mind of a 14 year old brat who seems to be just coming of age. If you truly had any semblance of maturity, then you will try to patch the pieces of your life and take a detour to what's right and just.You want to be respected and loved. Treat yourself as such. You want a man with honor and decency, who will uphold your dignity as a woman, wife and mother. Then start with yourself by removing those bitch lifestyle that you have. You want children who will cherish you and grandchildren who will cuddle next to you and lovingly call you Lola. Then start by doing what is good and just.I do hope in your heart you still have the wisdom to see what is right.Normally, I ignore comments on this blog. I get flak all the fuckin time, I'm so used to it. I would like to believe that the one who wrote this is bitter, terribly bitter. For some reason, his writing style is so familiar and similar to the emails I received in my inbox from this guy I turned down for being so, erm, "assuming" and "feeling close". I could be wrong. It doesn't matter.Now, you bitter man, actually caught my attention. Woohoo. However, I cringe at the word "disease". Surely, I can't be THAT bad? I'm quite positive that there are a few who agree with this guy and I don't mind, really. If there's one flaw I have, it's being too understanding and accepting. Okay, so that's two. Seriously, because I understand where this guy is coming from, I won't give him crap for it. But I need to say something in my own defense, and perhaps of other women as well who copiously enjoy this lifestyle.The truth, bitter man, is that I dream of children and of a quiet life in the hills of Tuscany, where I can grow my own to-mah-toes and basil. I dream of a quiet wedding by the prairie, and no matter how hippie it can get, I want to be barefoot in my own wedding. Truth is, I dream of being a soccer mom, of shuffling my kids from school to ballet class, music class, soccer, whatever. I dream of being a good wife, greeting my husband with a blowjob as soon as he arrives home. BUT, I have long accepted that I cannot conceive, that marriage is not for me as men are dogs and they will need variety at certain points in their lives. I am meant to be alone. I will, however, have lovers. I need love to live, no matter how make-believe it is. I will never belong to anyone.I am an old soul, I belong to the old world. You'd be actually surprised if you talk to me. Most who found themselves talking to me could attest to this. I am actually nice. I am not an immature 14-year-old sex object as you think I am, in fact, you would actually wish YOU were single and YOU don't have a 14-year-old daughter. There's something about this blog that projects me as how you would like to perceive me. I won't even bother to correct that perception. That's the fun part, proving you guys wrong.So, bitter man, what does it mean to do what is "good and just"? Does it mean chasing after my dreams? But after the premises I gave you, it is quite obvious that it is simply impossible. Then this blog will have to close, and when that happens, that only means one thing: I AM indeed living my dream.Surely you don't want that to happen? You, bitter man, who find yourself reading this? But I am your only guilty pleasure. I won't take that away from you. I told you, I'm nice.

something about me!

I tagged myself. It's contagious. You read another person's blog, and you feel like doing the same thing too. Happens all the time. Anyway, i can't help it. So indulge me. :)ABOUT YOURSELFEye color: Dark brownHair color: Dark BlackPiercing: Two (ears and tongue)Tattoos: NoneBoyfriend/Girlfriend: None. There's gotta be somebody out there, right?Overused phrase: Right. (sarcastic tone)FAVORITESFood: Italian. Pesto pasta, pizza. Pepper steak. Lays' (sour cream and onion). Teehee.Candy: Ritter (white), TrufflesNumber: 1Color: Red. Duh, isn't it obvious?Animal: Cats. White ones.Drink: Diet cokeAlcoholic drink: VodkaLetter: ABody part of opposite sex: Loins. Sexxxy.THIS OR THATPepsi or Coke: Diet CokeMcDonalds or Jollibee: Jollibee hands down.Strawberry or watermelon: StrawberryHot tea or iced tea: Hot peppermint teaChocolate or vanilla: Chocolate when I need to perk myself up, Vanilla as a base for my experiments.Hot chocolate or coffee: Hot chocolateKiss or hug: KissDog or cat: CATS hands downRap or punk: PunkSummer or rainy season: Rainy season. I just wanna curl up in bed and feel lazy.Scary movies or funny movies: Funny. You CANT make me watch scary movies. I'd be covering my eyes the entire time.YOUR…Bedtime: 4 amMost missed memory: Getting stoned and laughing so hard with my three roommates in UPLB.Best physical feature: Eyes and mouthFirst thought after waking up: "Did I win that bag on eBay???"Goal for this year: Be emotionally stable.Weakness: My nephew, Matthew, bags, TrufflesFears: Drowning (cos I don't know how to swim )HAVE YOU…Ever drank: Duh, yeah.Ever smoked: Occasionally. Trying to quit now.Ever been drunk: Uh, yeah.Ever been kissed: ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!Ever been in love: Barely, but yes. I am, indeed, capable of loving.IN A GUYFavorite eye color: Blue. Sigh. Wish ko lang. Haha. Anything. Doesn't matter.Favorite hair color: Brownish-tawnishShort or long hair: Bald, long, or cut right. Height: Above 5'7"Style: Extremes. I like em rockin' and I like em clean and smart. No slobs, please.Looks or personality: Personality, hands down.Hot or cute: Hotttt. You gotta make me wettttDrugs and alcohol: Uhm... hehehe. Don't make me answer this one.Muscular or skinny: I hate skinny guys, and I get really uncomfortable with muscular ones. Especially when they start flexing. Oh dear. RANDOMS:Number of regrets in the past: 3 (1, my first sexual encounter. wrong choice. 2, academic pursuits. 3, some guy I shouldn't have hooked up with)What country do you want to visit: Italy! Santorini, Greece!How do you want to die: Intoxicated, knocked out, or in a coma. Do you like thunderstorms: NoHealth freak: Yes. I'm being careful now. Somebody taught me to take Vitamin C and lots of water everyday. I miss that someone. Do you think you're attractive: Hahhahahahahahaha. Do I really have to answer that? Hahahahahhaha.Believe in yourself: Hahahahahhahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. And I've been getting sooo much flak for doing so!Do you smoke: Yes, occasionally. Hasn't this been asked already?Do you drink: Yes, occasionally. This one, too!Shower daily: Twice.Been in love: Yesss. Do you sing: Yes. And I think I sing good, especially if I got a goooood mic :)Do you dance: Yes!Want to get married: Yes, but not possible. Refer to my previous entry.Want to have kids: Yes, but I can't. Again, refer to my previous entry.Age to lose virginity: Huh? Age I LOST it, you mean? Hang on, is this whole trivia thing from a teeny bopper slumbook?! Well, so, yeah, a couple of weeks before I turned 18. Do you hate anyone: Uhm, no...I actually don't. Wow.

Broken Promise to my Classmates in MA'HAD!

I noticed that I write between finished accounts and new ones. I simply cannot distract myself during an ongoing project. Perhaps that's just how I operate. Like a horse.Lately though, I have been in such a lull that it took me quite some time to snap out of it. Spacing out between meetings, sleeping late, staring at the blank screen, picking on food, no drive at all. I was beginning to be pissed at myself for being unproductive, but no matter how I drag myself from one meeting to another, conduct brainstorming sessions, I still preferred to lay down and sleep. Sure, we do get tired sometimes, and we should allow ourselves to rest for a moment or two, to take a breath and calm ourselves when things don't pan out the way you wanted it to. When situations or people disappoint us, it takes a while to get over it. Recently, I had a growing share of people promising things but not fulfilling their end of the bargain. I don't bother going after them anymore. I learned my lesson not to humiliate myself that way. Let them be. Let karma take care of them, I always thought.When I lost a recent lover to natural circumstances, I was in a state of denial that thinking about him was not an option, and that work was my refuge, even my strength. While most of us succumb to depression, I didn't. I thought I was done with love, and that I never really loved him anyway; he was just someone who happened to be there. I cannot afford to be weak. Many people depend on me, and I cannot ignore my responsibilities.I was at a Funeral Home visiting a friend whose father died when I heard a loud wail coming from the other room. I had a phone call to make and stepped outside. A new body was being laid to rest in the other room, and a trail of family members followed the coffin being placed in the room's center. I proceeded to make the call, and was about to head back when I heard whispers from the old ladies. Suicide. Boyfriend. Young. Seventeen. He left her. Pregnant.I looked up in their direction and saw a huge portrait of a very young, beautiful girl being set up near the coffin. That's all I needed to know to make out her story. I felt my knees buckle and my heart swell and before my parents saw me, I rushed to the car and locked myself in and cried.
I cannot be that girl. I am not weak. I am not weak. So he fucked me over. He broke his promise. But who am I to keep him? I'm not exactly sure if I miss the person; I think I miss the routine more. Of talking until I fall asleep, exhausted, and waking up to find him still there. Of being reminded to take water and Vitamin C's everyday. Or being sung Happy Birthday to in the middle of the airport terminal before boarding flight, and the weekly bouquet of roses. And because he saw right through me, and fulfilled all my wishes and secret dreams unknowingly, I grew rather fond of him. He took care of me. He really, really took care of me. What I didn't know was that I was in deeper than I thought I was. I was prepared for such a loss, always have been. But I never learned to grieve properly. Not until now.

Fools!

I just ran across this on a conservative group on Facebook:
Gay marriage should not be legalized. It will only undermine the meaning of the family. It will not only harm their children (they may adopt), but will also lower marriage rates, cause more instability in the marriages that are enacted, more fatherless children, increase rates of domestic violence and poverty, and a vast expansion of welfare state expenses.It makes some sense at the beginning, but then degenerates into gibberish. What the fuck? How could allowing more marriages lower marriage rates? Presumably they mean allowing gay marriage would lower straight marriage rates. How would that work, unless they mean that gay men won't marry their beards anymore? So, are they saying that sham marriages are a good thing? But this is my favorite: How could gay marriage possibly increase rates of domestic violence and poverty?! That is a bogeyman if ever I saw one. And a non-sequitur to boot. Why don't they just go ahead and say what they are thinking...if we allow gay marriage, Lucifer himself will be belched out of the cesspit of immorality that is Massachussetts and consume the good Christian people of the Red States.If half our country didn't believe shit like this, it would almost be funny.

What A Small World!

I had just gotten on the bus to Zamboanga and was still shaking my head at the fact that I was brow-beat into tipping some random guy for something I would have rather he NOT have done (run off with my bag and throw it on the train where he thought I should sit; he wasn't even an employee of the railway and I thought he was robbing me). He just stood there waiting for me to give him money, and even though we were still in Budapest he got upset that I didn't have euros to give him. And he got more upset when I only gave him the equivalent of one euro. "Too small, too small," he said. You all know I am a good tipper, so I don't mind paying what services are worth when I want them. But I felt like telling him to go fuck himself. Instead I gave him more money. Anyway, I had finally settled down and was reading about Vienna when there was this high pitched shriek right outside my little cabin, "FAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAaD." I nearly had a heart attack. The other people nearby in the train literally ducked for cover. It was the girl who lived below me in my freshman college dorm, and was one of my best friends at school. She was there with her parents, who I also knew (I went to her younger sister's Quinceanera, among other things) so after my friend stopped bouncing up and down and screaming, we had a nice three hour reunion on the train. Although I do tend to run into people I know in strange places, she is definitely the closest friend I have ever run into, and Budapest is one of the strangest places for it to happen. What are the chances, really? She could have been on the same train but in a different car, and we never would have known. Or she could have been looking right instead of left when she walked by me. Amazing. I did cringe quite a bit because she and her parents are ugly American tourists. They stay in fancy American chain hotels, they complain loudly when things are dirty, they disdainfully compare things to how they are in America, they expect people to speak English, they try to pay for things in American dollars (I had to buy the food on the train for everybody just because I was mortified that they tried to make them take dollars). And the worst, I think, is that they were laughing about how they "play the dumb American" when somebody wants them to do something they don't want to do, like buy a valid metro ticket instead of using an expired one. Yikes. The meeting was somewhat sobering, though, because while my friend and I were sitting in the dining car talking, she told me a story she had only recently felt comfortable sharing. Last year she was in Belize with another good friend of ours from college. They went to the Guatemalan border to see some ruins or something, and as they were on their way back a van pulled them over to the side of the road and 7 masked men with machetes and guns pulled them out of the van. They dragged them into the rain forest and lined them up. They stole everything, and in the meantime pulled over a couple more vans full of tourists and lined them up too. At one point my friend was dragged further into the jungle to be raped. As they were walking, she asked in Spanish whether he was going to kill her, and the guy said no. So she said "Oh, ok then, it's all good." Once he had her on the ground, he couldn't get hard. Her therapist thinks it's because it wasn't fun for him anymore after she "consented." There was no conquest. After a while one of the vans they were trying to pull over wouldn't stop, so they shot at it and hit a tourist. They knew the border guards would have heard the shot, so they had to hightail it back into Guatemala before the military arrived. That is how my friend escaped. The American Embassy in Belize took them to the hospital and put them on the next flight back to the US. Anyway, that was a pretty amazing story. I am glad it worked out so well.

Why They Are Ignoring Me?

Ok, they're really not. But have you ever had a time when it SEEMS like all your friends are ignoring you? If any one or two of them were delayed in replying to you, you would think nothing of it. But when, coincidentally, ALL of them aren't getting back, it starts to get a little uncomfortable. I am the type who remembers birthdays and notices when people get their hair cut. So in the last week, I sent out all sorts of little notes of that type. I asked two of them how their first week of grad school went. I asked one whether he finally found a roommate. I asked one whether he enjoyed his visit to LA. I asked another whether the group members for his semester project have finally started contributing. I asked another how he likes his new job. You know, just little stuff. None of it is important. And I wouldn't care if none of them ever replied; it's not like I actually need to know the answers. I'm just being polite. But when they ALL don't reply, I shed a little tear. (not really)

What the Hell is Wrong with Me!?

That's actually a serious question. I don't know what's wrong with me.There are plenty of reasons for me not to have gone to the gay bar tonight: I am sick and my sore throat is exacerbated by smoke and alcohol. I hardly slept at all last night, and need to if I am going to get better. I am not going to hook up with anybody in this condition anyway, and I'm not here long enough to establish any platonic friendships. Poland is very religious and homophobic and I might not be safe, particularly since I'm alone. But on the other hand, there are plenty of reasons for me to have gone: I am on vacation and have plenty of time to sleep tomorrow. My throat can't get much worse, so there's not much to lose. The Polish president's minions aren't really going to harass me, and even if they do they can suck it. I am only young once. Apparently Europeans find me more attractive than Americans do. Polish guys are hot. Alcohol would probably dull my headache and help me sleep. But having laid out all those factors, you and I both know they're all bullshit. The simple truth is that I just chickened out when I got there. BUT WHY!?! I guess one possible fear is that I would just sit awkwardly in the corner like a loner and then slink quietly out in defeat. But the truth is I have plenty of experience to indicate that I am able to shmooze my way into a conversation with a cute guy if I really want to. Heck, I've been doing it throughout this trip, and this blog is full of stories where I've done that. So, rationally, I know I can do it. It's actually a fun challenge. So that wasn't really it, and I knew that.Another possible issue stems from the self-esteem problems you know I have with respect to my looks. I guess there's always a lingering fear that THIS is the bar where they will finally prove justified. People will ignore me or turn up their noses. But, again, if I honestly evaluate the situation, I got a few approving looks when I walked in. So that wasn't really it. I mean, I really do have self-esteem issues, but this time that wasn't what made me leave. Yet I got in there, took a look around (and saw cute guys) and promptly used the cover fee (nothing...$5) as an excuse to leave. WHY!?!It's not a big deal this time. Like I said, I am really not going to hook up, or even put in the effort to make a friend for 24 hours. So I didn't lose much by leaving that bar. But when I finally settle into LA, this could be a serious problem! Why do I clam up like this sometimes!? I was dressed and ready to go. I was there, in the door. Everything looked good. And yet I left. I don't actually expect you to have any answers, so don't feel bad. You don't know nearly enough about me for it to be anything more than a guess. (Although, undoubtedly, somebody will assume they know enough to say something mean, as always happens when I write something vulnerable.) I guess I just wanted to vent my frustration with myself. I wish I knew why this happens sometimes, so that I could stop doing it.

The Rest Of My Life!

Well, it's finally that time...school is done, summer is over, vacation has ended. It's time to start thinking about what to do with the rest of my life. Specifically, I need to think about a career. Sure, I will begin something soon that will pay the bills while I figure things out. But I want to really give some good thought to the long term. It would be sad to let momentum carry me through 40 years of the same job without ever having really thought about whether that's what I ought to be doing. And hopefully your accumulated wisdom will help me out. I think what I might do is systematically think about two things: what I think I want out of life (and how that fits with possible career choices), and possible jobs that I would consider doing (with pros and cons). For you older readers who love to give advice to young whelps, this is your chance to shine. Please give me your general thoughts on choosing a career. So here are some general thoughts about career choices:
You don't have to be passionate about your job. It's ok to compartmentalize; you can just do something from 9 to 5 to pay the bills, as long as the job leaves enough time, energy and money to do what you really want to be doing. So, for example, if you are really good at picking stocks but find it boring, and you love painting but could never get paid for it, there is nothing wrong with being a stock broker during the day even though it isn't your passion. I think it's silly and self-indulgent to be a starving artist when you could comfortably balance the two. In other words, I am not some hippie idealist who thinks you must just do whatever you are passionate about without considering the real world. The key, of course, is finding the balance. Don't let your job get in the way of your life either.Having said that, it would certainly be ideal to find a job you DO love. It would be wonderful to wake up and get paid to do something you would do for free, even if it means you aren't making top dollar. My dad loves his job in that way (inexplicably) and I would love to find something like that. Maybe I will make a list sometime of things I love to do, and I will see if I can make a career out of any of them. Even if you love your job, you aren't going to love it every day and you aren't going to love every aspect of it. It would be silly to expect that, and it would be stupid to reject a job that is only 97% good, or to quit every time you find yourself in a rut. If you continue to hate it for months or years, you might want to consider other alternatives. But you will have to show some stick-to-it-iveness, so expect it. People in my generation will probably have a lot of different careers. Nobody does the 'company man' thing anymore. So I need not stress over this decision as if I am setting my fate in stone.Having said that, though, people in my generation are absurdly self-indulgent in the way they flit between jobs as if they will be young forever, stopping off at mom and dad's basement when they can't find a job they 'love'. I don't want to be that guy any more than I already have. At some point, you do have to just pull the trigger and grow up and do something. We can't keep 'discovering ourselves' into our 40s. Basically, I just confused myself more. Nothing I just said helps me figure anything out. But I am not complaining. I realize what a luxury it is to be able to mull over this decision. For most of human history you just did whatever it is your dad did before you, or whatever the local lord told you to do. And in most of the world, even today, you do whatever you need to do to put food on the table, regardless of how you feel about it. Most people don't have this choice. So, I do appreciate what a blessing it is that I have the whole world to choose from. If I ever get frustrated by the decision, I will try to remember that it could certainly be a lot worse. Anybody have any thoughts? Anything you wish somebody had told you when you were in my place?

Life List!

One of the things I’ve been slowly working on in my absence is some self-assessment, in hopes that it will help me figure out what I want to do with my life. I have made four pretty comprehensive lists: “Things I Like”, “Things I Don’t Like”, “Things I’m Relatively Good At”, and “Things I’m Relatively Bad At”. The lists are obviously not exhaustive. These are just the things that popped into my head quickly and which I felt were important enough to list. Also, for the most part, I tried to limit myself to things that might be relevant for choosing a career. For example, I like kissing the area where the neck meets the shoulder and collarbone, but that information wouldn’t help you help me find a career. So I left it out. So, I am hoping you will help me. I figure thousands of minds are better than one; you may see a career path based on this list that I haven’t thought of. Or you might know of a job I’ve never even heard of. Feel free to be as specific or general as you’d like. I will be grateful for anything you offer, but it would be especially helpful if you gave me a “because.” And if you think of something but have further questions, please ask! I will continue to add to the list as I think of things. For example, “Matt, maybe you should open a bed and breakfast. You like giving hospitality, you’re good at it, you like giving tours, and you like having friends from all over the place (and your guests will be from other places). You could fill it with antiques with historical connection to the area, which would enable you to indulge your interest in history, and in old stuff. You’re good at carrying a conversation, and that’s important for making guests feel at home. However, it might not be good to always have strangers in your house because you like solitude. Also, you’d have to run a business and you’re not good with money management.” Anyway, that’s just an idea of what could be really helpful to hear. Once I have some good ideas, I will probably post about some pros and cons of particular jobs that I’m interested in. Thank you in advance for your help!

It's Halloween Time!

Oh my gosh, Halloween was sooo much fun. It’s been a really long time since I’ve had such a blast. Once I finally got into West Hollywood and found parking, the streets were already filling up. My dad told me the party was on the cover of the LA Times today, and they estimated at least 300,000 people. I meandered around a little, taking in the sights, and then went to a restaurant where a friend of mine was tending bar. The owner of that place loves me, so I got free food and drinks, which was awesome. I chatted up the patrons of the bar in an effort to scare up bigger tips for my buddy, and met a really interesting middle-age couple from Santa Monica. They were very granola and fun to talk to. When I left there I walked almost the full length of the party zone on Santa Monica Blvd. For most of the way I was totally hemmed in by people. And everybody was there! Freaks, hotties, voyeurs, cross-dressers, gym-bunnies, flamers, twinks, bears, normal people and sugar-daddies...the whole crew was out in force! It was some of the best people watching I’d ever done.I had my eye on an adorable guy dressed as Bacchus or Pan or something mythological. He wasn’t wearing much, so it was hard to tell who he was supposed to be. I’m not sure why I didn’t have the courage to talk to him…probably because he was way too cute and I was intimidated. But once I was past him I really regretted not stopping to flirt. Bah!I continued up the street and then remembered I was near a house party I’d been invited to. I found the place and went upstairs and it was filled with a bunch of 20-something guys who obviously care about the way they look. So many muscles in such a small space! The theme of the party was “skank”, and most people came in an appropriate costume. Unfortunately I never got a costume together; I was so sure I’d end up missing the evening that I didn’t want to get all excited about my costume and then not wear it. That would have made me doubly depressed. So, as it turns out, I just wore jeans and a party shirt. I drank a bit at the party to loosen up the social skills, and then met all the guests. They were tons of fun. It’s funny how quickly you can jump to conclusions. I just assumed that hot gay men with amazing bodies who would be willing to wear skanky outfits would be models, flight attendants, bar tenders, assistants...you know, people who have the time and a reason to work out that much. But most of these guys were bankers, graduate students, businessmen....crazy! Halloween definitely brings out a different side of people!Eventually I left the party and went back onto the street to see the people. I’m pretty sure I saw a fellow blogger dressed as a Mormon missionary, but he was too far away to say anything. I was texting back and forth with an old friend, trying to meet up. But then, about two hours after seeing him the first time, out of 300,000 people, I ran into that guy I’d regretted not talking to. He was slipping between two people and headed past me when I grabbed him and said “You know, I saw you earlier and thought to myself that you look the hottest in your costume of anybody here, and I just wanted to tell you that.” He was genuinely pleased, smiled, and said, “Really? Thank you!” and paused, studying my face for a few seconds. Then he grabbed the sides of my head, pulled me in and started making out with me. We were going at it for a while, and I was enjoying it immensely, but then I realized what a spectacle we were making. I saw a circle of voyeurs forming around us and bunch of cameras flashing. I couldn’t bring myself to pull away for a while, but then I decided I didn’t want to end up on the cover of a local newspaper, so I reluctantly broke it off. He took my hand and trailed me along for a while, making sure my hand grazed his mostly exposed butt plenty of times. He kept asking where I lived...a question with obvious implications. But I wasn’t going to do that. Eventually I got bored walking around, took his number, and went off on my own. After running into some friends and talking for a while, I decided it was time to head back to my car. I was walking slowly down the sidewalk and noticed a boy with a beautiful face that could only be described as angelic. But he had a little bit of a faux-hawk. Naughty and nice, good and evil...hot. I locked eyes with him and didn’t look away. I was just about to pass him, eyes still locked, when he reached out with his right hand and stopped me. We talked for a while, I fell in love, and we exchanged information. And then it was time for bed.