A flag

​“(…) you sometimes push me to the border of my comfort zone, but I think it’s healthy! I like your openness and honesty.”
I don’t know about you, fellas; but after a lifetime of hearing that I’m not “good enough” (whatever the fuck that means,) it’s quite refreshing to read this. What’s the opposite, then, to a red flag? White? Blue? Green? Yellow? Never mind, I don’t care. And, at this juncture, I also don’t want to get overly excited after just one date -as I have had in the past. Though please, motherfuckers, allow me to enjoy this brief moment of glory. Let me apace my anxiety for just a minute. Just to catch my breath and keep digging myself deeper into the existential whirlwind that my trip to Chile started in my head.
All my friends are at the verge of turning 40, and a couple have already landed there. The scenery is a fucking wasteland, philosophically speaking. “So, guys, have you considered having kids?” I casually asked my friends, a couple of weeks before their wedding. There was a somber silence, followed by an anticlimactic “Meh. It’s too late for that.” And that was the consensus with anyone else I asked the same question. Which for the very first time in my life gave me a privileged view of the proximity to death: the concept of an expiry date to life’s biggest milestones. Time’s up, baby! Some chances just passed us by and this outcome is irreversible.
“Why do you have a thing for younger women,” Li asked me, shaking me awake from my thoughts. I looked at her, gorgeous and tall, towering besides me as we walked in the park across the street from the zoo. “I don’t. I like women my age too, but they are too complex. They want things their way, or no way. Fuck that,” I said, the bitter taste of Trine still going down my throat. “I don’t like the idea of this fucking power dynamic between older men and younger women. That’s bullshit. Men too scared of women who seek control over one they think they can mold to their desires. That’s just disgusting. On the other hand, I like that you clearly have some daddy issues,” I continued, with a sarcastic smile. She laughed along. “I don’t.”
The older I become, the younger they come. And I’m so fucking broken and cynical by now that it’s hard to shake this premature feeling of an impending defeat. And yet the only certainty I have is that every light will fade, every door is slowly closing and the choices never made will remain so, for eternity. Why not having a little joy on the way to the inevitable facing of death? Why not kissing for the first time, starting up the countdown to the last kiss? What’s there left to lose? I’ve lost everything already, after each time I’ve decided to get back on my feet again. Fate’s unbeatable. The gods know how it will end, and gladly mock us from above, watching us live and die thinking we have a purpose other than being cannon fodder.
Depressed yet, you little shit? I bet. Me? Nah. I’m soon kissing Li. Not much else matters beyond that.

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