Day Twenty-One: The one that got away.
I don’t think have ever written anything about Jemai. So here is one for Throwback Thursday.
We met in someone’s birthday party in the early 2000s. A friend in Livejournal decided he will celebrate his twenty-first birthday by kissing twenty-one guys.
(Was it his twenty-first? There must still be some record of it in Livejournal somewhere, but I’m not going to look for it; I will eventually discover loads of other stuff. Anyways, humor me on this recollection.)
I was, I think, Guy #11. Jemai was Guy #12. After we had our separate turns making out with the birthday guy, a common girl friend introduced us to each other and asked that we make out. She was into guys kissing. Jemai and I made out on the spot.
It became a frequent sight after that, Jemai getting drunk and making out with me in parties, sometimes in front of our friends. We even had photos of it. Fun times.
But we also started seeing each other. Not really dates, more like hanging out: In UP, talking after classes.
Looking back, Jemai codified most of the things I look for in guys: He was a geek with eccentric tastes. One time, we talked about amateur sci-fi literary porn in McDonald’s on a Sunday morning; neither of us bothered to keep an indoor voice. He was eloquent. His blog posts were frequently descriptive. He spoke with the impassioned authority true geeks have. And he enjoyed kissing. A lot.
There was a point when the guy who celebrated his birthday the night I met Jemai even told me much later how Jemai and I were “so married”. But between Jemai and I, we never talked about what was between us. I never found out what he thought of it.
Then I met another guy who suddenly became my first boyfriend. I stopped seeing Jemai just as abruptly.
For all I know, Jemai saw us as two guys who are okay with hanging out with each other and occasionally making out when in lust. (The only time we tried to have sex with each other was a threesome with another friend and it didn’t end up too well. We laughed about it afterward.)
That’s fine with me, though. And I hope it was fine with him. We remained friends. Neither of us attempted to see each other again after I ended things with my first boyfriend. He had boyfriends of his own, I had a few others afterwards. He invited me when he threw a party before leaving the country and that was the last time I saw him in person. We still occasionally talk in Facebook.
Sometimes, a part of me wonders what could have happened if I took him more seriously; if I didn’t choose my first boyfriend over him. The more rational part of my mind tells me no, it probably wouldn’t have lasted either. So maybe what we did was enough. I would rather that I remember him fondly.