Untitled

Originally published on June 6, 2007.

For the second time in 3 days, I watched Marek go off with a punter, in front of me.

The emotional impact was mitigated by the fact that he looked miserable, while sitting with the man and when he went off to the room with him. Anyone who knows Marek knows he likes to talk, likes to joke, likes to sing, tends to smile more than not. As he waited for the man to take him off, he was anything but his normal animated self. Great, huh? I’m happy because Marek’s not.

Yet I could never have sex with a rent boy who was so obviously uncomfortable about it.

I’d aborted sex with Marek a few days earlier (glossed over in a previous post) because he was so stiff and unhappy when I took his shirt off and brought him close to me. No response at all. Unlike the three other times we’ve had sex, which were spontaneous, randy and, well, hot, if definitely the kind of sex a straight boy has with a client who’s paying him.

I don’t claim to know why he was able to get it on with me one time and not the other. He didn’t know either. I don’t pretend that he’s attracted to me. I want sex with him and expect it, since we have had a financial arrangement; yet I also have no will to make a boy’s life more miserable than it already is.

If I were rich, I would take Marek in and help him based solely on my affection for him. Whatever else he decided to give me would be up to him. But I’m not in a position to offer him that. My strong attraction to him might in fact preclude that arrangement being successful. I don’t know.

But I’m not rich and I’m not a selfless altruist. I’m with Marek because I want him as a companion and sex partner. If he can’t give that, fair enough. If he could give that, I would support him as far as I’m able. The sad fact for me though is that I really don’t have that much to offer. I don’t have a home yet and even though I have given him money every day and paid for his meals and bought a few items of clothing, including some badly needed shoes, I’m the lowest of the low here in terms of resources. He made the right choice in that respect last night.

But really what I’m getting around to is saying that: Everyone in this scene makes moral compromises. The boys, the men, everyone. I also believe that unless I allow that realization to come to the surface and guide my actions, at least every once in a while, I am in danger of becoming a monster.

Having said all that, I have no way of knowing what sort of response Marek gave this man last night, or how this man behaved, and it’s really none of my business. I only know that all night, although we were sitting at different tables, he kept turning around to see what I was doing, how I was reacting to the slowly progressing biznis arrangement.

He smiled at me and turned around to sing along with The Police playing out of the Kavarna’s speaker when he heard me singing along. When he left with the man he came to our table and shook all our hands. He swallowed hard when he shook mine and told me to tell Arssi that he’d see him later. An obvious displacement. Both BB and another friend commented on how Marek’s attention was focused on me all night. Even though I was behind him, he never forgot that I was there.

My friend says that I should fight for him, that I shouldn’t give up. I know what I have to fight for; I just don’t know exactly what I have to fight with.

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