‘So you had sex with her?’ she asked...

I was wide awake and checking the time and it’s ten minutes to 1 a.m, when lying on my bed and listening to some melancholy music didn’t help much to make me close my weary eyes cause I just can’t figure out why all these thoughts of my past keep running down my veins as feel like I was cursed to have them for my bedtime story:

~~Battle Of The Band, April ‘99~~

A reminisce of having me standing in front on a stage against a demanding crowds performing songs that we literally had few chances to rehearse was in fact an act of suicide by itself. I must admit that I took quite a few years to get over my disappointment on that very night on the April of ’99. Nevertheless, for months I could hear the word ‘embarrassment’ playing in my hollow mind over and over again;

~~on my birthday, April ‘05~~

‘So you had sex with her?’ Mag asked on my birthday.

I know it was like weeks ago when I heard question. That question without her even realizing it, have quite an effect on me for days. Couldn’t blame her though. That very question just keeps coming back to me as it wanting me to justify myself on something (but what). Why would these words ever have to come from Magdeline because by asking just that, I could sense a deep sense of regret for what had or hadn’t happened between me and Jess. I should have answered NO right away but that word just won’t come out of my mouth. I don’t think I owe her any explanation anyway. I do value my privacy that much and this I learned the hard way despite me growing up like any other mislead youth back in my early years. After that failed ‘relationship’ which never really was one after all, I began to notice an obvious tendency of mine which I never could explain before. I mean I do have this majestic lust in me but when it comes to having sex with a virgin, I just won’t allow my needs to go beyond that.

Am I being stupendously naïve? Or simply gay? Haha! Not likely. It just that whenever I’m sharing the same bed with a virgin, I keep telling myself that it’s simply not a right thing to do. Maybe it’s the matter of how I was raised in the family when I was a kid. Grateful I am.

Of all this chaotic emotion for my past, I guess I deserve myself a pat on the back…or do I?