The lightness in the cruelty of honesty

Honesty is cruel.

If I must be honest enough to write the four conversations I had this weekend, with three girls, the cruelty that will be posed here, and the insincerity, makes me decide not to write them. – Maybe, if I did not know they read this page, I would have put the words down….. Maybe…

I still cannot throw away this text; believe that once the title is written, the rest should come. Otherwise it's bad karma.

Honesty…

A question I put to a girl, curious for the answer, no anger, no pain, just curiosity… Did not get an answer I wanted (I wanted a negative one), got an honest one word answer. The one honest word explaining more than bookfulls, was painful..., even though it would have been an ego treat for most guys. I saw the pain, the irresoluteness, the unknown, the want and the holding back in the answer… It was honest... It was painful... Not what I wanted… But it relieved... At least me…. The walls you build around yourself, the walls that are existing around you, imprisoning your feelings, the natural protection you have surrounding you, the need for keeping your soul intact… The naturality in this occurrence. And the honesty in letting the words flow.

A friend I saw... Chat... Sitting on my lap… She’s warm… In good shape… A long time flirt… Fun girl... Never slept... Will not sleep… But the ten minute conversation we had, during a flirt without the prospect of sleeping together… Talking about sex and us, honesty… Not exactly words every guy would like…, which some would take as flattering… … It was honest, and the way things were said, the truth, the knowledge in them, and the honesty of realizations, even though the realizations were pushed with the back of the hand… Their mere existence, just knowing they exist, and she has no problem in saying them, was the thing I was looking for… More than a flirt... More than a fuck... Though it would’ve been a good one.

Later that night I see this girl who slept in my place once, with my t-shirt on… Kind of a romantic girl… Because of her I misjudged my last minute targeting, and let my shots go astray... A good-looking girl, and young. Actually too young for the bar I was in… I was surprised to hear that she wants me to walk her to her father’s place. And I declined. No need for blue balls… (Shout asshole if you want…) Later in the night I got a message, an unexpected explanation. Reading it, it was not hard to realize that writing that message was not easy. And what I read in that message made me felt better than the one night stand I had lying beside me. It was honest. It was a little girl, in a big world she did not know yet. She knew it was a big world, and accepted it. A let me know it. In words which are unusual….

Earlier, the honesty in hearing I was played, the openness in the game, instead of turning around, made me play along. Join it. With the only outcome being the momentary fun, I enjoyed the game which played itself out in an ultimate power chess, strategies laid out, unknown, only to be revealed and counterattacked. Strategies, in which the honesty lay by accepting their existence… In which the honesty existed by accepting the presence of bad intentions. That made me stay and have a good time.



I thank you for being honest.