*Based on my own experience. Enjoy a short story from me.*

My watch shows it's 11pm. The cafe's almost closed, but he's not replying. I waited patiently as down another cup of black coffee. No sugar.

Should have asked for sugar. But no, the waistline! Such a dilemma. Coffee's not helping. I'm getting even more nervous.

Ding!

My fingers swiped to see his answer.

"There's nothing wrong with your results, Tom."

"You're sure, Izzu?"

"It's just your hepatitis antibodies getting low. I could give you a jab and a hardcopy of the report on Monday."

My heart lets off a sigh of relief, but my brain is bringing me back to a memory from a year ago.

***

"Dear, you should get yourself checked. We're in this relationship for four years. Could you at least do this for me? You requested to see my health report when we're together, so now it's your turn to do it."

I sat in his car, fiddling with the seat belt. I've always liked the seat belt. He puts this little padding on it that helps to keep your shirts getting all wrinkly when you're using it. Hmm. Little monkey on a seatbelt.

"Okay, anything for you." I replied half-heartedly. I mean, why should I go get tested? I have been faithful. I'm not like the other guys. I don't have Jackd. I don't have Grindr.  I don't meet other guys! I don't have a gay social life! Why want me go get tested?

***

"You're tested positive for gonorrhea, Mr Tom."

"Err... You're sure, doctor? I really have been faithful. No other guys."

"You do drugs?"

"No. Of course not."

"You drink?"

"Socially yes, but I don't get myself drunk."

"Maybe you'd like to discuss this with your partner."

The Whatsapp messages flew. Dear is to go the clinic to get tested right away after work. Report came back. He's negative. How could this be? Where have I gotten it?

"You don't have to worry, Mr. Tom. I'll prescribe you a course of antibiotics and a jab. It is most important you get this treated, as having an STI may increase the chances of getting other infections as well as HIV."

***

We broke up a few months after that. There's nothing now but cordial messages between us, and the occasional Facebook status updates. We didn't unfollow or unfriend each other. We just ignore the streams of photos that our friends tagged us.

Friends. I have a few friends. For benefits, that is.

You have no idea how these men worshipped me. I still get messages from them whenever they're in town. But sometimes it's just so sudden, that I couldn't accommodate them all. There's work and there's family. I couldn't fuck every night, even if I wanted to.

How much has changed. I, the wallflower that refuses to participate in the orgies and fantasies of the gay community, finally succumbed to it, for I, wanting to drown myself in the hedonistic waves, relieving me of this sorrow, this sorrow of breaking up with the first man I've ever loved.

But of course it comes with a price. Condoms are not cheap. Lube is not cheap. Getting tested in a private clinic, in the comfort of an understanding doctor, is not cheap. And that's what happened in the first paragraph. My doctor Whatsapped me my results. Or more like my old flame Whatsapping me my results.

Then, it dawned on me.

For four years, I've been stupid enough to believe a man who says that he is as faithful as I am to him. I got gonorrhea when I am with him.

I got nothing when I practically fucked each and every guy who is sexually compatible with me.  

His pride. And his lies.

Goodbye motherfucker.

Crazy Night #1
Okay, so I've been on Grindr for a while now and I had fun. But, that said, I encountered something truly bizarre. A wacko who slut-shamed and humiliated me. How did it happen you ask?

Okay, so there was this night I was grinding away on Grindr, and a message in the familiar blue shade popped up. So this guy is saying he's horny as hell and finding someone to have some fun with at a local hotel. I agreed, and drove there to see him in the middle of the night.

Once I arrived at his hotel room, I knocked on his door. Knocked once. Knocked twice. Didn't answer. Messaged him once. Messaged him twice. Didn't answer. Okay, the situation is getting weird.

Then came this security guard. He was saying I'm trespassing the property and was disturbing the guest inside the said room. He's very stern and serious (almost wanted to call the police) but I talked myself out of it (thank God for giving me the gift of the gab and acting skills at this hour). All this while I was messaging him, being furious about why he did not want to open the door and save me from all the trouble.

Turns out he's this psycho guy who says all sluts are supposed to die (something at that line, I don't remember much), saying Chinese sluts are all these sex-crazed guys, and it was all a set-up to humiliate me. I blocked his profile there and then.

I got home shaken (but very much thankful and not stirred) and got into action. I found out that wuss and reported him on Grindr. And I'm so happy that I actually got a response from the Grindr team and his profile was blocked.

This ain't gonna stop this slut from having sex tho. I love sex and I love my sex life right now.

Crazy Night #2
Okay, so we all love muscles and muscular guys just turn our heads like sunflowers to the sun. But as we know in this stereotypical world we live in, muscular guys would much prefer to have fun with muscular guys.

So on a Sunday, I decided to hookup with someone in the afternoon. But after that I feel it's not enough. It's like being served the same dish everyday and though you love it, you do get bored after some time. The type of guys that hookup with me are smart and intelligent enough to hold a decent conversation, but their looks are just average. Not that I'm not fond of vanilla, I'd just like to get my hands on some chocolate or strawberry.

So after dinner that night, I decided to grind another guy and see how far my luck takes me. Then, something caught my eye. A mature muscular guy is now online. I stopped for a while. Should I message him or take a risk of being rejected? A face pic and the usual greetings later, I got so damn lucky. He asked me to go over his place. My heart just went racing to the top and my stomach just churned (I think I got addicted to this adrenaline rush whenever someone attractive to me asks me to have fun).

Although he's a mature guy, but oh my, that chest, that ass, those arms! His abs are not that well defined but still he's large. And it feels amazing. It's not rock hard, but those contours! Especially his ass! His chest! And he looks extremely masculine, so masculine that it looks like his jaw is chiseled from marble.

Dick size is really adequate. I guess it must be a 7", and feels so amazing in my hands. He's an okay lover, but with that bod, I think he expects people worshipping it. Which I really don't mind doing. And I worshipped every inch of that body. Licked every inch, caressed every part that I could. Rode that tool too.

Once you have such prime meat you never want to go back eating regulars. And on the other hand, it's a goal, an inspiration! I want to look that great in the future, better than what I look like right now. I'm not fat, it's a bit more okay than average, but still not muscular. It really is a nice long-term goal to achieve.

And there you have it. A tale of two absolutely crazy nights, ending on two different notes.