TItle//Martín K.
Some disclaimers before I start:
1. This blog will be written totally in English.
2. First names will be used and an initial. In one case, I will use initials only.
3. I will not save any details for myself. The gorier, the better.
4. All comments are welcome.
I have slept with many men in my life, kissed them and made them happy and sad in my own way. Not so much for it to be called scandal or sin, but they have been enough, for now. All of them have taught me something, be it good or bad, and I hope to have left them something in return, good or bad. I tried to be the best in bed, and I learnt my lessons well. Proof? Not once did I receive a complaint in that area. They have left one thing in me, though, all of them: scars. Wounds that I have tried to heal on my own and with professional help, but that hasn't been enough. So I decided to take these matters into my own hands, speaking about them one by one even the ones whose first names I can't remember anymore in the hopes that I will truly forget about them, and start anew. If not, at least it will be a good exercise to remember what I lost and what I tried to find.
I met Martin K through an online dating website. Poly-martin, username. We chatted a fair bit online about where we were from, languages we knew and general flirtations going back and forth between two people who have never met in real life. He complemented my eyes and my wit, I complemented him on his jokes, how he made me laugh. Finally, we were able to meet on a first date in Bogotá (He doesn't live here, but in the south of Colombia) and had dinner and some beers. We talked more in German as he is from the north, close to the Nord See, me trying hard to not fuck it up and him just being polite about it.
Rote flagge nummer eins: He wasn't too kind to the waitress. He wasn't a gentleman and bought me dinner, not even tried to but paid for my beer (fine, be broke. Just say it's for next time)
Then, we went to a bar and had some beers. We spoke in German, in Spanish, Romanian by bits and pieces. He tried to get closer and I tried to shoo away from him, because he hadn't put on deodorant. He was touchy feely going up and down my arm and trying to grab my waist more and more as the night went on. I was reluctant on kissing him, and then he explained to me about being polyamorous, a concept I've still yet to deepen my knowledge of. (This year, I've met online so many men who are into it. And Tantra. I will deal with them later) As the night passed, I was still reluctant of kissing him, because of his smell and the fact that he tried to be like a sailor, with a love on each port waiting for him. I lost my love of pirates long ago, and my love for the mountains stands stronger than the call of the water. We parted ways and we kept in touch via whatsapp (yes grandma. We are still romantics in our own deadened way We keep no letters or tokens, but rather a detailed log of our dreams and words left unspoken), where he would tell me about his work here and there, and I would tell him of my days in the city, planning for a future rdv. I saw him again last Thursday, Independence day. He was in a rush because he was catching a flight back home and said he wanted to see me, sad that we couldn't spend more time together. I accepted and went to him, chasing his text messages to where they would take me downtown. Finally we met, and he kissed me on the corner of my mouth. Good, right?
Rote flagge nummer zwei: He didn't go in for more then. We went looking for books for his niece to read in Spanish (and like all gringos here, he complained about prices and went looking for the not-so-pricey ones) and took pictures. Then he remembered he had to meet a friend and ran back to where we were for a hasty breakfast before seeing her. We held hands and I thought of it as a lovely moment. We took pictures and met his friend for coffee who was lovely as a ray of sunlight. She left and I decided to go to the airport with him as a way of spending time together.
Rote flagge nummer drei: He didn't seem so keen on that idea. We got to the airport, where he was saying that if I wanted I could just leave and when I said no, he wasn't too happy. I can't read signals, the same way I can't read minds. I accompanied him for a little while longer and then he was ready to take off. I hugged him at the entrance to Migrations and then we kissed, and then we parted. He said it was better to leave it at that and my mind went blank. I started to go through things I might have said wrong or done wrong but we both had a cheese crêpe, so my breath is as stinky as his, that can't be it and he left. Then I texted him to have a good flight, then he responded saying that he was sorry there wasn't a better kiss then I responded that maybe some other time because I liked him then he said that we were better off as good friends who share a lot of things together.
Then I just deleted his number, his texts and all his messages, because I don't have time for you to decide if you want to be my friend or be my lover after all this crap.
EDIT: I lived in Berlin from September 2019 to February 2020. I met up with Martin K. again, and he stayed at my place. We kissed and almost had sex, but his dick wouldn't respond to anything. I felt angry at myself and frustrated that I wasn't good enough for him, even after losing so much weight. He turned out to be a slob, a bit of a parasite and wouldn't sleep with me, even after I let him stay in my place, eat my food and feel my body. After that, I said nope to let him stay in my place or contact me again.
2. First names will be used and an initial. In one case, I will use initials only.
3. I will not save any details for myself. The gorier, the better.
4. All comments are welcome.
I have slept with many men in my life, kissed them and made them happy and sad in my own way. Not so much for it to be called scandal or sin, but they have been enough, for now. All of them have taught me something, be it good or bad, and I hope to have left them something in return, good or bad. I tried to be the best in bed, and I learnt my lessons well. Proof? Not once did I receive a complaint in that area. They have left one thing in me, though, all of them: scars. Wounds that I have tried to heal on my own and with professional help, but that hasn't been enough. So I decided to take these matters into my own hands, speaking about them one by one even the ones whose first names I can't remember anymore in the hopes that I will truly forget about them, and start anew. If not, at least it will be a good exercise to remember what I lost and what I tried to find.
I met Martin K through an online dating website. Poly-martin, username. We chatted a fair bit online about where we were from, languages we knew and general flirtations going back and forth between two people who have never met in real life. He complemented my eyes and my wit, I complemented him on his jokes, how he made me laugh. Finally, we were able to meet on a first date in Bogotá (He doesn't live here, but in the south of Colombia) and had dinner and some beers. We talked more in German as he is from the north, close to the Nord See, me trying hard to not fuck it up and him just being polite about it.
Rote flagge nummer eins: He wasn't too kind to the waitress. He wasn't a gentleman and bought me dinner, not even tried to but paid for my beer (fine, be broke. Just say it's for next time)
Then, we went to a bar and had some beers. We spoke in German, in Spanish, Romanian by bits and pieces. He tried to get closer and I tried to shoo away from him, because he hadn't put on deodorant. He was touchy feely going up and down my arm and trying to grab my waist more and more as the night went on. I was reluctant on kissing him, and then he explained to me about being polyamorous, a concept I've still yet to deepen my knowledge of. (This year, I've met online so many men who are into it. And Tantra. I will deal with them later) As the night passed, I was still reluctant of kissing him, because of his smell and the fact that he tried to be like a sailor, with a love on each port waiting for him. I lost my love of pirates long ago, and my love for the mountains stands stronger than the call of the water. We parted ways and we kept in touch via whatsapp (yes grandma. We are still romantics in our own deadened way We keep no letters or tokens, but rather a detailed log of our dreams and words left unspoken), where he would tell me about his work here and there, and I would tell him of my days in the city, planning for a future rdv. I saw him again last Thursday, Independence day. He was in a rush because he was catching a flight back home and said he wanted to see me, sad that we couldn't spend more time together. I accepted and went to him, chasing his text messages to where they would take me downtown. Finally we met, and he kissed me on the corner of my mouth. Good, right?
Rote flagge nummer zwei: He didn't go in for more then. We went looking for books for his niece to read in Spanish (and like all gringos here, he complained about prices and went looking for the not-so-pricey ones) and took pictures. Then he remembered he had to meet a friend and ran back to where we were for a hasty breakfast before seeing her. We held hands and I thought of it as a lovely moment. We took pictures and met his friend for coffee who was lovely as a ray of sunlight. She left and I decided to go to the airport with him as a way of spending time together.
Rote flagge nummer drei: He didn't seem so keen on that idea. We got to the airport, where he was saying that if I wanted I could just leave and when I said no, he wasn't too happy. I can't read signals, the same way I can't read minds. I accompanied him for a little while longer and then he was ready to take off. I hugged him at the entrance to Migrations and then we kissed, and then we parted. He said it was better to leave it at that and my mind went blank. I started to go through things I might have said wrong or done wrong but we both had a cheese crêpe, so my breath is as stinky as his, that can't be it and he left. Then I texted him to have a good flight, then he responded saying that he was sorry there wasn't a better kiss then I responded that maybe some other time because I liked him then he said that we were better off as good friends who share a lot of things together.
Then I just deleted his number, his texts and all his messages, because I don't have time for you to decide if you want to be my friend or be my lover after all this crap.
EDIT: I lived in Berlin from September 2019 to February 2020. I met up with Martin K. again, and he stayed at my place. We kissed and almost had sex, but his dick wouldn't respond to anything. I felt angry at myself and frustrated that I wasn't good enough for him, even after losing so much weight. He turned out to be a slob, a bit of a parasite and wouldn't sleep with me, even after I let him stay in my place, eat my food and feel my body. After that, I said nope to let him stay in my place or contact me again.
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