All Romances are Fleeting and That’s Okay

I spent the weekend at Holiday Inn & Suites in Makati, hoping to “get away from it all.” It was a relaxing two-night stay, one where I spent most of my time shopping in the neighboring malls, watching TV, reading, and eating the delicacies they sent up to welcome me. Even if I was there as a guest and not a writer, everyone was friendly and accommodating. I loved it.

During my stay, I casually opened Grindr to check the carnal delicacies on offer. I’m a passive Grindr user who never replies to any of the messages, but I had the room to myself and I was horny.

On my second night, a familiar face sent me a message. We matched on Tinder last year, but the conversation drifted off. He added me on Facebook and I didn’t accept him because I’m a private person and our interaction didn’t make that much of a mark. We didn’t talk about our history. Instead, we talked about what we would do together. I assume you’re of legal age or you have an open mind, so I’m going straight to the point: we were going to fuck.

Full disclosure: I have one night stands. But I treat it as a transaction. I invite them over, do it, then ask them to leave. I have no interest in their professions or their opinions on things. I don’t even bother to find out their names.

I thought that was the plan with this guy. Let’s call him J.

I asked him to meet me at Holiday Inn’s lobby. He didn’t look too happy when I saw him, and I instantly assumed he was disappointed. As I mentioned in my previous post, I gained a lot of weight so I may look different from my photos, which I admit were taken during thinner days.

He was slightly shorter and significantly slimmer. He was handsome, with a small face and a neat hairstyle. He wore a white dress shirt, a black jacket, and dark orange shorts. He was listening to his headset when I saw him.

Like the beginning of every fling, it was awkward. It was also a long way up (I was staying on the 12th floor and my room was a hundred or so steps from the elevator, according to my Fitbit). We sat next to each other in bed, watching an animated film on HBO about people on the moon. Because I was nervous, I told him about the moon landing conspiracy. Yes, I’m a dork.

I don’t remember how it happened, but we started kissing. My doubts dissipated when he kissed me with such passion and intensity. He consumed me. I felt like manna.

During the heat of the moment, he pulled me on top of him and continued kissing me. He wrapped his legs around me as I rubbed myself against him, responding to his kisses while I unbuttoned his dress shirt. He also lifted my shirt. I grinned sheepishly as he was going to see my paunch, but he kissed me with the same energy as he did when I was fully clothed. We tousled on the bed, alternating positions. Sometimes I would be on top of him, sometimes he would be on top of me.

Soon, the kisses became gentler, more tender. We would look each other in the eye, smile, and kiss. Often, he would run his fingers across my cheeks as our lips locked. I hesitantly put out my tongue, and he met it with his. At one point, we stopped and he wrapped his arm and leg around me, and put his head on my neck. We held hands and he fell asleep.

Our only source of light (apart from the TV) was a frosted glass window to the bathroom, which was next to the bed. His body was the color of gold because of the warm light from the bathroom. I traced my finger around his shoulder and clavicle, and they looked like bare hills or a desert ridge during sunrise. Later, I would caress his hairy legs and imagine them as blades of grass.

I fell asleep, too, and when we woke up, we didn’t change positions. He was still snuggling up to me, his face buried in my neck. I would gently glide my hand around the small of his back and he would arch his body in obvious pleasure. I nibbled on his shoulder and his forehead as he held my hand and kissed my cheek. I traced the curves of his little ear.

He was staying in Ascott with his family. His brother was in school and he booked a Grab for him so they could meet at the hotel. While he was coordinating with the Grab driver and his brother, I would kiss the back of his neck and go lower. He grabbed my hand, kissed it, and put my arm around him.

We would switch between tender nibbles and passionate foreplay. He loved it when I gently bit his lower lip and his nipples, or when I ran my fingernails down his spine. His guttural moans drove me wild. Triggered, he would grab my hair, slide his tongue into my mouth, and never let go. Then we would make eye contact and smile, and he would cover my face with kisses.

We never went past kissing and nibbling. We didn’t even take off our shorts. I felt his erection against my thighs, and he would often grind his dick against mine, but we never went to second base. I would grab his butt or caress his inner thigh, but I didn’t dare insert my hand in his briefs. Once I placed my palm on his dick through his shorts and I felt disrespectful.

We watched Journey to the Center of the Earth while he lay on my chest. We were still topless and I had my arms around him. I think we were still holding hands and we would occasionally kiss. I explained the Jules Verne novel. Again, I’m a dork.

After two hours, he had to go because his brother was arriving. I teased him by getting on top of him, biting his lip and slowly inserting my tongue in his mouth. I kissed his lips then traveled to his cheek, his chin, his neck, and his nipples. I gently bit them as he writhed in pleasure. I trailed my lips downward, kissing and licking his stomach. I inserted my hand in his shorts and skimmed his crotch, just above his dick.

In the end, he had to go for a family dinner. While he was buttoning up, I sat behind him, kissing the back of his neck and his ears. I opened the curtains to see the Makati skyline. He stood to admire the view, and I hugged him from behind and we kissed. We said nothing.

He held my hand on the way to the elevator. When it arrived on my floor, I let go, nervous that there would be a lot of people. I was right, the elevator was packed. There was an old Caucasian guy and a group of kids dripping wet from the rooftop pool. I put my arm around his waist and pulled him closer. I smelled his neck.

Downstairs, he bid me goodbye with a hug and a kiss, and he disappeared.

It wasn’t the fling we agreed on.

What happened was so much more. There was a connection, something more intimate than any of the one night stands I had before. I could smell his perfume on my hand. I messaged him, “I miss you already.”

We loosely planned to meet again that night, but he couldn’t get out of his family gathering. We planned to meet again the next day before I checked out, but it didn’t push through.

I felt sad that we weren’t able to see each other again, but I am reminded of Richard Linklater’s beautiful Before Trilogy, a series of films that followed the adventures of Jesse and Celine, played by Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy. In Before Sunrise, they meet on a train and spend the night together in Vienna, with the agreement that they would not contact each other after the night.

I believe I had my Before Sunrise moment last night. Perhaps it’s better to leave the encounter on a high, bathed in the rose-colored glow of intimacy and romance. The night was perfect. What if we meet again and find out that we were not meant for each other? That the other wasn’t our type? It would ruin the beautiful night, the one where he looked searchingly in my face, told me I was cute, and gently kissed me. Or the time when I was spooning him and he comfortably settled in, saying “This feels nice.”

All romances are fleeting and that’s okay. Maybe our story is only set in Holiday Inn. I’m not sad that it’s over. I’m happy that it happened.

Around midnight last night, we were chatting again. I mentioned how unexpected the night was. He agreed. I asked him, “So, what happens now?” He responded, “I don’t know with you.”

I didn’t know either because I wanted to preserve the good night we had, but I also wanted to get to know him more. Our connection was too deep for a simple fling.

I responded, “Let’s leave it to fate.”

We met on Tinder. He found me on Facebook. And despite living in opposite ends of Metro Manila, we found ourselves meters from each other on the same weekend. I believe in destiny. Maybe it’s at work here. Maybe it’s not. Either way, we both got more than what we asked for. It was fleeting, but it was magical.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *