… a rolling stone gathers no moss.

 It sat there mocking me somehow, the brilliance of the full moon, with a sliver of cloud that hung like a shawl around her shoulders. Looking up through the driver’s window of my car I was reminded f all the things that had passed since she had smiled on me again, with her bounty of good fortune or pleasing charm. But being drunk the moment was lost on me fully and I fumbled out of the car; gathered my carry-all bag and headed into the cottage trying to get out of the predawn chill.

I was returning from an afternoon lunch at a friend’s house some 14-hours after it started, swilled with the copious amounts of white rum, champagne, and crisp white wine between glasses of home made ice-tea. In the process, I had inadvertently mixed my own long-island iced teas without realising it. And as the fatigue started to claim me to the blackness of inebriation the only thing I wanted more than an espresso was a warm body to cuddle up to and sleep off the indescribable drug in my blood.

In the space of three days I had started to shed my cocoon to emerge into the autumn sunlight a different person no longer held by finely weaved bonds of silk old school ties. Wishing I were some secret agent in a foreign land – the alien landscape around me was the cold, grey city of Jo’burg – but I was back on the gay meat market and this wasn’t a game. When it comes to finding someone to share your heart, the stakes are much higher than finding someone to share your bed.

With my ears still deafened from dancing on the parquet flooring of my hosts lounge area to a strangely mix of wannabe Portuguese pop and gay disco funk, my body had already forgotten the chemical infatuation with the lithe, beautiful stranger and instead fell into the goose down comforter that was my bed. Shadows became dreams as my body struggled with natural habits and my recent nocturnal habits. Safe to say that the natural habits won and I lay awake. Too tired to sleep.

Skulking through the cottage towards the kitchen, looking for something to calm a troubled stomach, the only thing I could find was a luke warm Bodum of coffee. My nose still tingled slightly as if I were about to sneeze but really was only residue power from the night before. And in a moment when you’re led to believe in your moment of need that he wants what you want but doesn’t you do dirty deeds for dirt cheap in the cramped guest toilet with a lithe, beautiful stranger.

The hours towards dusk passed equally slowly as I lay awake in my bed rereading a brilliant novel and quickly as I dozed through the feeling of dehydration. I wasn’t sure if the restlessness was because of the eventful Easter weekend or from a month filled with new challenges that had started with meeting an unlikely stranger and being played like a cheap hand of poker. But I was over the speed hump and gathering speed towards a new year filled with new opportunities. And new men.

 

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