For Alex, whose laugh will always stay with me.
I remember that day well, back in june 2012. You came over, all the way from Maastricht, taking a bus to some town in Belgium, not knowing a single word of Dutch. You made that trip just because I asked if you wanted to have a casual date together. Later you told me I hadn’t made that much of an impression on you in my message. You wouldn’t have come over if you weren’t extremely bored. That was so typical of you, always looking for potential adventure and thrills. We had a thrilling day alright. If our eyes had shot actual sparks, we’d have set that library ablaze. That time in the bathroom was the first of many.
It was such a simple time for me. Coming over to you at 8 pm, having a drink, and just fucking the night away. We didn’t really have any feelings for each other, we just had amazing sex. And A LOT of it. You remain the only person I ever had sex with until it physically hurt. I can still remember the blisters on my dick. How is that even possible, I wondered? During our breaks you would sit in your chair, have a smoke, and we would small talk. You told me about Portugal, how beautiful the country is and how hot the summers are. How you and your friends would drive to spain, or go to small towns and play your music all night long. We discussed politics, youth unemployment, immigration. You showed me the true meaning behind the Rite of Spring, and you played your flute for me. I have had friends with benefits before and after I met you, but you always knew best how to keep things casual, interesting and fun.
You were also the one to accompany me to my first kinky party, back in november 2012. It seems like a decade ago. I was so psyched and nervous, but you couldn’t stop laughing. You put on your outfit, and told me how excited you were. The photo I took of you still makes me grin. Cute and innocent, so unlike you. You dominated the dance floor at that party. I have zero talent when it comes to dancing, but you worked with what you had, grinding your hips against me like only Southern girls can. I could see all the men in the vicinity looking at you with hungry eyes, jealous at me. Later I spanked you while dozens of people were watching, the first scene I ever did in public. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, made me high, euphoric. It was like standing on top of the world. I became confidence, in the flesh. That’s when I knew I wanted to do this again, whenever possible.
You also knew like no other how to get on my nerves. Although you liked to be ravished and dominated, it was always at your own leisure. Never have I met anyone as stubborn as you. Mocking me was something you took great pleasure in. When I got jealous when you were seeing someone I considered more handsome than myself, more succesful, you reminded me I had no right to complain about who you saw. No comfort, just a slap in the face. “Get over yourself”. You said some hard words, we had our fair share of fights, but after we parted ways and I discovered that I was polyamorous, I understood that you taught me some valuable lessons on entitlement. And I’m very grateful for that.
Somehow we lost sight of each other. You went back to Portugal for a while. We didn’t see each other much afterwards. We both had a lot on our mind. I saw you one last time, last summer. We had coffee and talked about our plans for the future. That was the last time we had a conversation. After you left Maastricht, I slowly forgot about you. I met new people. You never got back to me whenever I send you a message. I was ok with that. I just wish I could remember the last words I spoke to you. I just know we hugged and exchanged a quick kiss when we parted ways. I hope I said something of meaning.
In the end it doesn’t matter. You are gone, and I would probably never have heard of you again regardless. My loss is insignificant compared to that of your parents, and the many friends I can see you made throughout your life. My time with you was short, and mostly meaningless. But we had a great time, and I am glad we had it. Rest in peace, sweet Alex. I will always remember you as you were, back in that room in Maastricht.