Doron H.

For some incredibly strange and unknown reason, I am seduced by men speaking Dutch. Don't ask why: if I knew the reasons behind this, I would never go to the Netherlands.
I met Doron through the same website I've met so many men before and we hit it off quickly: when he knew that I was moving to Berlin he became even more keen on meeting up. He was initiating all the conversation, calling and sending messages...he invited himself to my bed, basically.
And I said yes. Yes because I needed someone in my bed, someone who would be there with me. I am a loner sometimes by choice and sometimes because there isn't anyone with me and I crave human company as much as it destroys me.
He came to me late on a Friday. I was full of doubt and uncertainties but slowly I began to put them in the back of my mind: there was no time anyway for them. There was only time for being together, for words unspoken and whispers and moans.
I had a wonderful time, but romantic time is not enough for building a flame: add to the fact that he STILL lives with his ex-wife due to money reasons adds too many ghosts and pressure. He wants sex, not romance. I crave both.
Therefore, it is impossible. He stopped responding, he left when I cried for being homesick. There can be no real communication and no real connection when the complex systems we bring to a common ground are dismissed. 

I asked him to come again to me in the weekend of my birthday. He said no, because he had no money and he was seeing someone else, so he would not feel good if he was in my bed, inside me, and cheating on his new lover. They broke up earlier this year, because one night while having sex she told him she loved him: he was not ready for this, and a part of me thinks he never will be. 

So I was cursing him until I ran out of words, in all the languages I can think in.
I will continue to be complete in myself, and alone and fragile and vulnerable and strong and brave. He will continue to think with his dick, in a language I don't understand yet still seduces me like the waves of the sea.

EDIT: I tried to restart contact with Doron earlier this year, because I missed him and wanted to feel wanted by someone, even if it was by a man in another continent. At first it went fineish. It hit me when he actually started to have regrets for not coming to me in Berlin when he noticed I was thin and healthy: was I just a pretty face then? Was I nothing more than a warm body for him during long nights? Apparently, yes. He was thinking too much with his dick.

Again we started talking, but I knew it was a broken interaction. I was initiating contact, not him. I was being more and more invested in the act of talking, not him. I couldn't force this anymore, so I wrote to him (more than once, I know) that we were done and this was over. He became a cute ghost, and sometimes reappeared to say that he wasn't one, that he loved me and wanted to stay in touch. 

Until one day he didn't, and I was just tired of it. He said he wasn't investing time in me, and he felt bad for it - and then silence. So what did I do? Yes children, I deleted him from my social network, from my phone and resist the urge to keep talking. 

I have better things to do with my time, than worry for a ghost dick present in my life.