Sunday, 7 October 2012

A fight between ME and TESTOSTERONE

Life is a form of sport, a fierce game betwixt you and fate.
                                                        --- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

My recent fierce game is betwixt me and my dear testosterone, although I did not sign up for this game, it is a game pre-set by God which does not seem to have 'The End'.

One of the side effects of being a 20ish yo is that I tend to have this urge to put my stick into anywhere as long as it is a hole and I would like to shag anything, sometimes the power building up high enough that I thought I could shag the wooden chair just in front of me. 

I wish someone could tell me earlier that when testosterone is on fire, normally IQ would dash away, as I seemed to be very good at making irrational decisions lately. For example, recently a few times after work I took myself and my testosterone to head to Soho, found a straight pub, sit down, pulled out my iPhone and logged on Grindr and innocently thought I would find a gorgeous guy who would like to spend a chilling date night with me and we could cuddle into sleep.

As a result, I spent all nights with 3 or 4 empty pint glasses, left with a full bag of messages which normally fall into below categories,
1. A long list of pictures of him posing all kinds of gestures, showing his happy life living before the Adam and Eve era, back to which time at least Adam had a leaf for his thing;
2. Loads pictures of 360 degree panorama of his thing that even my iPhone was sometimes too shocked to respond, probably same reactions from strangers sitting next to me in the pub;
3. After 3/4 messages I found myself absolutely flattered to receive such warm invitation to join a 'group party' of sweet daddies;
I can go on and on to add more to the list.

To be honest, the effect of these messages may have 2 main consequences, it either destroy people's belief in humanity or enhance people's love of humanity. To me I guess my brain suffered the former one and my heart suffered from the the latter one, i.e. I think it's absolutely rotten and I feel absolutely turned on.

But up to now none of them during which of my happy hours in Soho that I found sane, decent and would like to hold a 3 minutes proper chat on Grindr. So I always, in the end, multiple times, left Soho pubs with an empty heart, disappointment, on noisy Friday nights and passed by the loudest crowds in West End, alone.

If a 10 years old would venture, or care enough, to find an answer for my friday 'cruising' failures, I think he/she would suggested that when a man repeatedly failed in such occasions, he may need to stay think about whether it would be realistic to found people who are looking for chats and decent dates over an mobile applications which, primarily, for people looking for NSA funs; he/she may also advise me to consider re-locate myself, as clearly people out in Soho who still keeps an eye on Grindr are clearly task-oriented, hence it makes perfectly sense people jump straight into business, it is all about efficiency nowadays. I used to think 'quick' isn't one of the favourite things a man would like to be associated with, how ironic.

So these had been my days throughout last month or two, my body was just like a strong testosterone horse and whatever I wanted to do were irrelevant as since day one I rode on it, it did not seem to have a 'stop' or even 'break' switch, so I could only sit on its back, watching myself making all kinds of irrational decisions and being dragged all over the city one night after another ended with nothing and repeated all these again the next day.

So I have been the living example of one of Freud's two unconscious forces, 6.

and finally finally I have got my halter back, while my brain is still working and not damaged heavily, and while the testosterone horse is taking a breath , I think it is time to back to normality and put a brake to these endless jokes, so I decided to go back into gym for next couple of weeks to get the energy out and gain sanity back into life, also it is time to think about making some new friends.

For people who may wonder how comes I do not just go hang out with mates on Fridays? Well, have I happened to mention that am a foreigner here in London? So yeah, mates are rare resources for anyone who comes to a new City with everything starting from scratch, no matter how sociable I am and no matter how many friends I have elsewhere, if they are not here, then better get used to hang out with myself, otherwise who knows what hell the below equitation will lead to,

 Boredom + 'Honey' = ?????????

The end of whining.

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