Does Love Conquer All?

Love and impulse, do the two go together? Of course, they do.

I’m two weeks into my current love story and despite not feeling very optimistic about it, there is ample evidence of the ridiculously impulsive things I do in pursuit of love. My love story begins with a 20min rendesvous in an airport toilet. We waved to each other from escalators heading in opposite directions at 3 in the morning. Isn’t that how all great love stories start? I’m sure if Shakespeare was alive today, he would be writing stories about strangers fucking in airport toilets, then sending WhatsApp videos of themselves jerking-off and hoping for something better. Its Romeo and Romeo for the modern romantic.

A long term was not on the cards. I never really sought out a proper relationship. I wasn’t really out out to my parents, so I told myself it was easier that way. The honest part of me that only surfaces in my darker moments, says the reason I don’t ‘do relationships’ is because I’m not easy to love and I will never be someone’s ‘the one.’

I met Eric on a gay app in Seoul international airport, we had a quick and dirty fuck in the airport toilets during a stopover, then went our separate ways. We stayed in contact, and talked back and forth on messenger daily. Nothing too deep or serious, but regular enough for a small sliver of hope to blossom. Perhaps there was some kind of future for us, as friends or maybe something a little more. Hope is a bitch, hope lets you down, hope keeps you chasing something that just can’t be. I tried to keep my guard up, but hope crept in. Eric was 32, freelancing in a job he didn’t enjoy, and travelling the world to escape from a life that didn’t make him happy. Over hundreds of online conversations our shared dreams became apparent. One day, out of the blue, Eric announced he was moving to Australia to be with me. I thought he was joking, it sounded far-fetched. He told me he knew I was the one from the moment he met me in the Airport bathroom. We had heaps in common, and the sexual chemistry was certainly there, maybe despite our less than salubrious beginnings we were supposed to be together. After a few weeks of back and forthing about our future together, Eric booked flights to Sydney and was on his way. In less than a week I would be picking him up from the airport and he would be staying with me, in my bed, my boyfriend. As cynical as I try to be, I was like a teenage girl excitedly planning my forever and ever future with my handsome prince.

Then because I am what I am, I started to doubt myself hard. Had I made the right decision? I really didn’t know this person who was flying half way around the world to be with me. Be with me, whatever that even meant. I was opening my home, my bed and my heart to what was essentially the unknown. This was quite frankly terrifying. I built a little wall around my heart to try to protect myself without sabotaging this chance for happiness that now lay before me.

Here is the message Eric sent me before his arrival to Sydney. Hopefully it will go some ways towards explaining why I did what I did and felt what I felt, and hoped what I hoped, and hurt the way I did.

'Hey Dionysus, I am still very happy about our meeting at Seoul last year and as weird and funny as it was, nearly after 3 months and with such a big distance between us, we are still in in very good touch. It's going to be a very exciting time and I must confess that I have never done anything like this before. Going somewhere meeting a guy I met 10 minutes in my life. But somehow, I am looking so much forward to getting to know u, your family and friends and again, more u.

As u know Australia is something big for me. The time I spent there was so amazing and that's why I am really happy to be there soon. I mean as I mentioned previously, I am breaking up nearly with everything here to come to u and to fulfil my dream down under with u. And I am very happy that u r looking forward to this time and that u r optimistic about that and I so much appreciate your support whilst being very optimistic.

I mean what the hell - we only saw us once and wanked on an airport toilet - but all after that gave me a very good feeling [I bet it did babes] and I am looking very much forward to a great time with u. I just want to be clear and honest with u that I am not just coming for vacation and having a good time, furthermore I want to start a life with u together, I wanna find a job for me very soon, so we can have a great time down under whilst hanging out in Dee Why and traveling the world 🙂

As u know I have applied for a visitor's visa now but that might be changeable quickly and I appreciate your support whilst discussing options with u how we can get further with that.

To make a long story short I just already wanna say thank you!!!

I will book my flight tonight - just waiting for a friend working in airline who maybe has a good rate for me with some good conditions. I will let u know and send u my flight details as soon as I fixed them.

have a great start!!!

hugs and 😘

Eric.’

Like the early days of any relationship, things were magical and awkward at the same time. We spent the first four days and nights getting to know each other. At times it was a bit confronting having this stranger constantly in my space. Eric and I were trying to figure each other out, trying to get into some kind of symmetry.

The forecast predicted a week of shit weather in Sydney. Eric decided to go on a short trip to Melbourne on the account of such weather. At the time it made sense, but seriously, Melbourne weather has never been and will never be better than Sydney weather. Don’t get me wrong, Melbourne has a lot going for it, weather is not one of those things. Not wanting to appear needy, I agreed that it made logical sense. I would be at work during the day anyway, so Eric may as well make the most of the time I wouldn’t be there. Eric explained that there were some job prospects for Sydney that were hiring in Melbourne, and he would spend a few days there interviewing for jobs. Looking back, I feel stupid for believing such obvious bullshit. I had obviously failed to live up to his expectations, and he was heading to Melbourne to interview not for a job, but for my replacement.

It would have been a lot easier if Eric had just been honest with me. It would have saved me a whole lot of angst and humiliation if he had just admitted he was having second thoughts and wanted to see what else was available.

A few days in Melbourne turned into a week, then a week into two before Eric announced he was returning to Sydney. I still had more than half his belongings sitting in my house. 4 large suitcases worth of his stuff, sitting there marking his territory so to speak, while he was off tom catting in another state.

I wonder if Eric regularly made impulsive decisions to move half way across the world on a whim for a stranger, only to move on again in less time than it takes to grow out a back, crack and sack wax. To Eric what was happening made perfect sense, to me it seemed as foreign as an Albino Pygmy transvestite at a One Nation rally. After two weeks in Melbourne dancing around my questions about his return date, and listening to him talk about how fancy Melbourne was, and superior to Sydney in every way, he finally told me he would be flying back the following Tuesday morning.

I was looking forward to his return so we could at least have a discussion about us, what was happening and if there was a future for the two of us together. Eric was finding it hard to find a suitable job in Sydney. He needed an employer to sponsor him so that he could remain in the country. But each offer he received was somehow not good enough for reasons I could never understand. Eric would be returning on a Tuesday morning while I was at work, so I suggested a dinner time catch up so we could talk. I received a text message halfway through the day saying Eric’s mother had suddenly come down with a mystery illness and he had to immediately return to Germany to be by her side. He had somehow secured a flight for that very afternoon, so unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to see me before he left. At first, I thought, fair enough, his mother is sick, of course he needs to be with her, how unlucky that it coincided with his return to Sydney. Yes, I am that stupid sometimes. Please don’t judge me. I’m not saying I wouldn’t judge you if you were this fucking stupid, I totally would, I would mock you relentlessly, but right now this is still raw enough for me to hurt quite badly.

The story seemed to change throughout the day. Like all ridiculous lies it became vaguer and more detailed with every re-telling. I felt like I had every last drop of oxygen sucked from my lungs, I felt like I was suffocating and would never breathe again. I was hurting badly, and when I hurt, I become angry and sarcastic and lash out. That son of a bitch had used me. He had treated my home like a free storage facility for his belongings. A place to leave his stuff while he sussed out his options. He didn’t even have the decency to lie to my face, even 2-year old’s will lie to your face. He had less decency and courage than someone who can’t reliably and consistently make it to the toilet. Not that having an occasional bathroom related accident is anything to be ashamed of, I have had one or two in my time, but my comparison still stands. He could have told me to my face if it just wasn’t working for him, if she was genuinely sick, he still could have waited one more day before flying out, so we could at least have had closure. Eric was simply determined to leave without having to face me. To add insult to injury, he expected me to store most of his luggage until he sent for it at a later, not yet decided on a date. The whole love story was over before it even began. My boyfriend was leaving the country, sneaking out under the cover of darkness like a man on the run, and I was stuck with the baggage both metaphorical and literal that he had left me.

What he was thinking I will never know. To this day I still believe he was in a bad headspace, running from himself, making impulsive decisions and then running from the consequences.

After a week or so Eric contacted me about the luggage. Eric had organised for a courier company to come pick up the bags from my house and ship them back to Germany. However, planning ahead and thinking of others was really not a strength of his, and he forgot to inform me about it until the night before the courier was coming to pick up his luggage. He had arranged for a Monday morning pick-up at 10am. I was expected to be there to hand over his stuff. I was also expected to pack it for him, and print out the courier labels and firmly attach them to the bags. He was informing me of this at 11pm knowing I started work at 7am the following morning. Apparently, I was supposed to leap out of bed and locate a printer, pack his belongings, and then take the following day off work so that I could fit the schedule he had imposed upon me from the other side of the fucking world. I told him to change the pick-up time and day but he did not respond. He didn’t cancel the courier, and the next day at work at 10am I received 8 phone calls from a courier who had arrived at my house. The courier refused to arrange an alternate pick-up with me, because I was not the person who had placed the order. So, for a week the luggage sat in my house. Eric contacted me to find out when his luggage would arrive, and I told him the delivery had been cancelled. He was shocked, he truly believed I would drive around looking for a 24hr printing place and take a day off work because it was convenient for him, the man who snuck out of the country while I was at work.

I agreed to help him one last time and gave him a date and time that I would be at home so that he could organise the transfer. Eric agreed, I took the time off work, and no-one fucking turned up. I contacted him, and he didn’t reply for a week. He claimed he had forgotten to arrange it. I told him to get fucked, I wasn’t going to help him again. The bags sat in the corner of my room for two months before on a drunken whim I decided to go through them. I decided I would keep what I liked and sell the rest. I scored some pretty good stuff, Eric’s shirts were a bit small for me but I fit into a few of his jumpers, and his shorts. There were some books I had been meaning to read, some pretty sweet sunglasses, some trendy shoes and random medications. All in all, it was a pretty good haul, even the two luggage bags were a hard case design with wheels and would come in handy for future travel. I had scored a whole new wardrobe. I was pretty pleased to discover I had got something positive out of our brief relationship. I was wearing one of his jumpers one day and I was looking hot, so I posted a pic on Instagram. Within seconds, literal seconds I had received a message for Eric “Is that my jumper?” He seemed genuinely surprised. It had been 6 months since he left, yet he seemed to assume I would continue to store his stuff indefinitely and for free.

I didn't bother to reply, it was obvious it was his jumper. Why was this man keeping such a close watch on my Instagram? Was he Insta-stalking me? After 6 months of radio silence, and messing me around as badly as he had, why was he contacting me now? I blocked him.