Keep Moving...

Again, it is not that I have not been writing that makes this page empty. Though not as much, I am still writing on my Facebook and my hand-written journals. So all is fine. Life, to move on, finds its own way out. And life always moves on. 

Perhaps not writing here does have its benefits. For one, I now doubt anyone is following my blog, which gives me the power of anonymity - yes, I am that way, though I have never met any of my readers in person, I know some may be of a vulnerable age - to free my thoughts. 

I don't smoke, or drink excessively. No, nothing like that. In fact, I am a running addict - for the uninitiated, it means you get hooked on the running high, the energy or self-confidence. But I do have a dark side. I am a man. A single man. Some days, when evening comes, and everyone goes back to their family, I ponder my options. I don't remember when it started, and though I wasn't physically there, my mind was: Geylang. Yes, I visited the legal brothel, the red-light district. It did not just start suddenly; it took a lot of self-convincing, or self-deception, whatever you like to call it. And almost every time, it is a guilt trip. It is a matter of satisfying a natural need, like a nature's call, I said to myself. A thousand times, before and after. And to make things worse, maybe because I have started having sex so late in my life, I just couldn't finish the job in a woman's vagina, only by a handjob, or maybe I am just not used to wearing condom, I don't know; how would I know?

Just on Saturday, I just visited one, an illegal one, that I booked via a website. And for the first time, I did it, finished the job with a condom inside her. Honestly speaking, it felt nothing special. It is just sex. I don't feel sad that I am missing something special in my life. Nothing like that. Neither does it encourage me to visit her or another one soon - she did offer that we go for a second. 

Still, life moves on after that. I went for my run and back home. Just like any other Saturday. Yes, it must be true that man has the ability to differentiate sex and love, which explained my flat emotion. It is safe to say that I have "trained" myself well as a single man. Or rather, I just do what I need to do to survive, to keep moving...