Marek’s gone, or Adventures in Passive-aggressiveness

Originally published on June 6, 2007.

I could have written that headline two days ago, but I prevented him from leaving that time by refusing to unlock the door and by begging him not to go. I actually got down on my knees.

He simply told me last night that he wasn’t coming home and that he wouldn’t be persuaded otherwise. We were drinking champagne with Albi on his construction-site bunkbed. We had just come from Rudolfa where Marek had also told me that he was leaving zitra. I asked him why.

Lepši pro ja,” he said. Better for me.

Our life together the past two weeks has been a roller coaster ride, as demonstrated above. But it has had a few constants.

One of them has been sex almost every day. He has slowly been getting better at telling when he wants to fuck. When we were in Steve’s attic pad, he would throw an arm over me or steal my blanket or just get as close to me as he could. Then I would reach over and check for the hard-on that was always there.

Christmas-Eve day, however, we were sitting on opposite sofas and he simply asked me, smiling big and beautiful, if I wanted to blow him. “Ok,” I said.

Then he wondered if maybe it would be better to wait until night. I said, why not now and also later. By the look on his face it seemed like the possibility of two blow jobs in one day had not occurred to him, that he could have one whenever he wanted.

Dobre,” he said and got up to go to the bedroom. I blew him and then asked him if he wanted another. He said yes and never got soft.

But Christmas Eve, holy fuck. We’d been partying at Pinocchio all night and he’d been getting friskier the more he drank and danced. Eventually we were making out and trading mouthfuls of beer. At some point during the evening he told me he wanted to fuck me.

We’d talked about it before, when we were sleeping at Steve’s, but I had told him that I make too much noise and get a little too crazy to do it with Eda and his boyfriend just below us and Steve less than a meter away. We were whispering about it in bed, not touching. He’d introduced the subject by informing me, “I know what you want.”

I reached over and grabbed him. He was hard. Just from talking about it.

“I know what you want, too,” I said back.

As soon as we got back to the flat after stumbling home from Pinocchio, he began taking off his clothes and pulled my shirt off as well. Then I got a very thorough fucking, in every position he and I could think of. He surprised me with a lot of passionate kissing and finally, finally, sucked me, if just a little, in 69 position. He rolled away from me with a nauseated expression. That made me laugh.

So, he was a perfect top: literally fucking the crap out of me. Somehow the soft peaty shit smell he pounded out of me made it all the more intimate; he even said he didn’t mind. He gave me several reach-arounds, but the best was when he grabbed my chin from behind and slobbered all over my face and mouth.

But really the most astounding was what he said when I climbed on top of him for the first time. The light was on and he began rubbing my tummy and chest, huskily whispering “Hesky forma, hesky forma,” or “Nice body.”

I laughed and said no, no, it’s not.

Ano, ano,” he said, keeping it up.

I felt like the luckiest punter in the world at that moment: to have found the Czech Republic’s only 20-year-old Slovak gypsy chubby chaser!

Later I figured it was a breakthrough of some sort. But I also wondered if he would shut himself off after he realized what he had done and what it meant. On Christmas Day, he was a little reserved, but not by much. We fucked again that day.

The next day he told me he was leaving.

That brings me to the other constant in our relationship: his need to test me, my loyalty and commitment. He does it almost daily, not to wind me up, as I first thought, because he’s a natural tease anyway, but to express his own insecurities and doubts.

The day before Christmas Eve we were in bed and he told me couldn’t sleep, that he missed his family and that he wanted to go visit them. He would leave in the morning and come back in time for Christmas Eve with me. I asked him why he waited until now to tell me. I was extremely apprehensive about it and he could tell. He asked me why I didn’t trust him.

“I will come back,” he asserted, “Why do you think I won’t?”

I didn’t say anything but thought maybe he should read this blog. I eventually told him we’d get up in the morning together, go to the bus station where I’d buy him a ticket and give him some money. He agreed and he went to sleep. I couldn’t and went downstairs to ponder his reasons.

The alarm rang at 8 and I woke him up. I told him it was 8 and he said, “Ja vim,” but rolled over and turned away from me. He never did get up and would not talk about why he had changed his mind. I still don’t know if he was serious or not or if he decided not to go because I had shown I didn’t trust him to come back. Such a test is typical of him.

Two days ago he teased me and tested me all day. He was going to take the money I gave him and buy pervitin. What did I think of that? What would I do if he had sex with another boy? And finally, he told me that he didn’t like me anymore. He said it and laughed. Despite the fact that I should have been used to it by then, the constant taunting had finally got to me.

I asked him if he was serious; he said yes, he decided that he didn’t like me. He knew I liked him but he couldn’t lie to me. I asked him again if it was true, giving him a chance to recant. He wouldn’t. No, it’s true, he said.

Then I made a mistake. I was both hurt and angry. I told him that if he felt that way maybe he should leave. He laughed and asked, “Yeah, yeah?”

“Yes,” I said, “Maybe you should go. Why are you here if you don’t like me?”

He folded his hands on his chest and wouldn’t look at me. I repeated my suggestion; I watched his face. He was still smiling at that point, but I saw his humor quickly drain as he realized I was serious. That’s when I knew I had fucked up. Badly. He went from crestfallen to stoic thug-boy in about 10 seconds. He put on his ballcap and pulled it down over his face. He got up.

Ja prč? Ja prč, jo? Ok, no problem. Ty mluviš ja prč a ja prč.

[I go? I go, yes? You want me to go and I go.]

He got up and made for the door, telling me to open it. I said I wouldn’t. He said, OK, if not tonight then tomorrow. He asked me if he could still have the small amount of mad money I’d given him earlier in the day. That killed me, as did his lack of emotion. I knew it was there, but I was afraid at that point that I had shocked it down deep inside and he’d never open up to me again.

He didn’t leave but stopped talking to me. Fortunately, Steve came over and played the role of diplomat with Marek, using an online Czech/English dictionary. The end result of that tete a tete was that Marek affirmed that he wanted to stay. He also told Steve he wanted a relationship — a sexual relationship — with a man and that man was me.

But it wasn’t until the next day that he completely forgave me and things got back to normal. (He fucked me again that day, and after he came, he asked me when we could do it again. I told him whenever, whatever he wanted.)

Last night’s drama came from pure jealousy. He saw me interact with guys at Rudolfa, several of whom I’d had sex with and he didn’t like it.

(On the other hand, every time that asshole who tried to steal him from me a couple weeks ago would get up, Marek would get up and go as well. It was dead obvious.)

Ten minutes after I kissed Albi hello, on the lips, Marek told me he was going to leave me. Just like that. I ignored it. Later after we were all much more drunk, Albi asked us both to go back to his bunk and party for a while. I figured it was going to be a 3-way and Marek agreed but suggested I stay at Rudolfa. That pissed me off but it was an obvious taunt. I ignored that comment too and we three went off together.

Marek, however, couldn’t ignore the time Albi and I spent together, alone, off in the building where he was working on construction. I don’t know why Albi took me on a tour or why he didn’t invite Marek, but honestly I didn’t think much of it. And unfortunately, I didn’t anticipate the effect it would have on Marek. Maybe I just didn’t care at that point.

Nothing happened between me and Albi anyway but when we wound up the tour, Marek was on his way to try and find us, looking anxious and angry. We got back to the bunk and Marek put on the thug-boy mask and told me he was staying here with Albi and that he wasn’t coming home. I didn’t beg him this time and only asked him why once. I was pissed off this time, more than I was hurt, and after basically being kicked out by Albi, I stormed off to drink some more at Rudolfa.

I tried to call him today but he sent a busy signal and then turned off his phone. I’m feeling maybe it’s over. He may be physically and intellectually ready but not emotionally prepared for a relationship with a man, and he doesn’t trust me.

Judging by the level of mistrust and also the skill with which he fucked me, I can’t help wondering if he’s been through this before. If so, like many injured lovers, he can’t help but sabotage a situation that might ultimately hurt him. I’ve been there, sure, but I had real hope in this one, this boy.

I had far less hope in me.


I ran into Albi today in the station and he told me that Marek had made a phone call immediately after I left and then took off five minutes later.

Steve actually called Marek last night and although he wouldn’t answer Steve, it sounded like he was in a bar. So it’s obvious. The suspicions I had about Pavel/Ibrahim and that I put in parentheses up above turned out not to be parenthetical at all. Marek had planned to leave me all along. As soon as he talked to the other man. It wasn’t about jealousy or testing me this time; it was about finding a better situation, a more attractive man. Just looking for a way away from me.

So much for love. So much for trying to be gay again.

I should stick to straight rent boys. At least whatever I lack that they need is only money. When they leave I understand. The reasons are not so devastating.

Subscribe
Notify of
guest
0 Comments
Inline Feedback
View all comments
0
Hate my guts? Say it to my face.x
()
x
en_USEnglish
Scroll to Top