Everything becomes a mix of events from now on. I will most probably get the chronological order all wrong, but I still wish to write it all down.
Several of my first journal entries are about M. There are actually things Iâve done thinking of him posted on this very blog. It is writing this, in fact, that I remembered that Red used to be here, too; we used to chat on this platform. I had to go and block him just in case he ever thinks of coming back, like I did. Not that I would be too hard to find, though; even back then I already went by Naginix. You see, this M story remains unrevealed. Kind of.
M and I used to kiss in secret a lot, and always for a long time. Like I said, it was hard to let go. I wonder if he ever kissed in such a way with anybody else (and I hope not!). We texted a lot, too, and started to get to know each other more. He loved (and I bet he still loves) reggae music and he used it to teach me keyboard. I actively disliked this kind of music before M. In some way, he managed to make me see the beauty of it. In fact, the first tattoo I ever got was the name of a song by a Puerto Rican reggae band.
Then his birthday came up. Hereâs something quite fucked up: I remember Mâs birthday (and I have remembered it every year since all this mess) but I couldnât recall Pabloâs if I was offered money for it. It was the twenty-something of either September or October, but that is the best I can do. Mâs birthday, on the other hand, I donât need to think too hard about.
It was June 8th, and I am pretty sure it was a Thursday. Ten minutes had passed of this day and I texted him: âHappy birthday!â He replied that he was at a friendâs, near my place. Probably August. So I told him to stop by so I could celebrate him with a kiss. I didnât think he would, but, surprisingly, he did. This was something that would sometimes happen; some nights I would send a text like this one, heâd come, and weâd stay there, on the sidewalk, kissing and talking, but mostly kissing. If it was a weekend, then he could come in, since my mother wouldnât be home. We never met during daytime and we didnât go out in public. He was scared of being caught.
That night (was he turning 26? I canât recall) he didnât stay long; it was a harsh winter midnight. But he did say a few interest things. He confessed how much he yearned for the moment in which we could finally be alone (*for sex*), that he enjoyed the secrecy, and, perhaps the most remarkable, that he didnât care too much about cheating on his girlfriend. Instead, he cared about what Pablo would think of him. He said that Pablo and all his other friends were unaware of how, letâs say, playful, he was with other women; everybody had him for a âdevoted boyfriend.â I do not know what he was up to nor with whom, but I understood from our conversation that no one else was aware of anything.
I am not interested in judging Mâs behaviour, and I wholeheartedly believe it is not that important. Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Very soon after these revelations, I was at a friendâs (guess where he livedâŚ) when I received a series of messages from M. He was letting me know that he and my namesake had broken up. I already knew that their relationship was at a bad place, even before I was in the picture, but they were coming and going all the time. In addition, I was completely wasted at that moment and I didnât really believe his words. But he repeated it a few times until I got the message. What he told me after that, I was even less ready for: were something else (*sex*) to happen between us, he would like for me to be single first. I was not equipped to handle that conversation at that precise moment, so I said goodnight and went on drinking.
Having those things in mind, the next morning I woke up with a text from Pablo. He said that rumour had it that I had been flirting with âsomeoneâ and I denied it all, of course. But, how could he know? Had M said or done something about his wishes without telling me? That would certainly have been awful, but M woke up (at midday) with a very similar message.
Hours later I reached to M, and he said there was only one other person who knew about us: he had told August. He had told August!!! To me, it became apparent that was where Pablo had gotten his information from. Oh, but there was someone else involved in this story.
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