Paying The Rent

Paying The Rent

The title says it all
You think that it would be easy
Writing about life experiences
But then they got posted on the Internet
And the whole world gets to see it

It’s strange I know we have all done
Some really stupid messed up things
But why people write them down and
share with the entire world and everyone and sundry is still beyond me

Talking from a man that has recently
started his own blog on the web
I don’t know why it’s amazing
I have never been a person that gets involved
in stuff on the Internet but with sites like
Twitter
Instagram,
Facebook,
Grindr,
Soundtracking
anyone can just do a google search on you
and find out all your most inner darkest secrets and memories
If you write this stuff then it will get found out

I started following a guy on twitter
who has a blog
I read it
I liked it
so I started my own
there are some great blogs out there
and there are just some scary ones.

As bad as it is I love the fact that u can document ur life
write all the words and the craziness down
and see it in front of you
but theres a little bit of me that scared
as anyone can find it
search it down
and read it,
it could be someone on the other side of the world
who doesn’t know you
but gets to see that little bit of you
that you might not want even your most closest friends to see

It’s been 2 months since I left work
Left all the mess and craziness behind me
So I thought but
Day after day
Night after night
I lay awake
insomnia
Sleep just won’t come to me
it gets worse and worse as the nights go on
Time draws out these crazy memories and images from the mind
Which is strange because I have the memory of a sieve

Sitting round tables with friends
Talking about times from the past
I sit there and try to reminisce but nothing ever comes out
Unless I am rudely prompted by a college around the group

I recently watched a film that made me wander about my life
Like the film and my link with the main character
My life had reached an impath
and the next decision I make
will make or break the story which I am telling in this blog

For legal reasons
I don’t know whether I can disclose the title of the film
but you might be able to guess the title
if you are into gay cinema

Sitting on a bus starring out the window
watching the buildings in the metropolis
flash past as reflections like me debating whether
when he gets off the bus he does the right thing
he stares up to the conductor
who is so focused on the road ahead has
forgotten that the bell had been pushed for someone to get off i.e. me

The bus came to a screeching halt and I got of the bus
reluctantly I took that final step off
and my feet touched the ground
I popped in my earphones zipped up my jacket
and started to pound the pavement
to get to where I need to be
and get in the mind set that I need to be in
to get the job in hand done.

That six minute walk to the door
seemed to last forever I turned onto the seafront
and that icy blast chilled me as it hit my face
I pull my hood over my head for comfort and protection.
I reached the house and stared up
Here I am again 2nd time this week
my stomach starts to ache
it twists and turns every step I take up that short path
the icy wind hits my face
like every other time I have been
the front door is always left open for my arrival.
I entered into the Georgian hall way with that black and white patterned floor
the first door on the left is the one
I knock and wait for it to open,
I can feel the bile start to rise but I keep it down
the stomach tightens
the latch on the door clicks
and the door opens

I walk inside not a word is said
as normal routine I feel a warmth in my hand from another hand
I am led through the kitchen down the hallway to a bedroom
it never changes
the same books on the shelves
the his and hers slippers at the end of the bed
the radio clocks that blinks every minute
I feel each flash rip into my eyes hoping
that this will be over soon but knowing this person it won’t be.
I stand at the foot of the bed, he sits in front of me
the little bit of light that shines through the window
bounces of his shiny tanned forehead
the smell of cigars lingered in the air
and so let it begin
I will spare the gory details of what happened next
maybe if its turned into a film i will put the real details in
but the point of the story is what happens after
and every time after
we finished up and I lye there on the bed cleaning myself off
he pulls on his clothes and shoes and
passes me my underwear to put bk on
I turn off the side of the bed and reached down to pick up and put on my socks
that is when the first words are spoken between us

“thanks for that”

Yep that’s what was said 9 times out of 10
While i dress myself he walks off into the other room
I look down at the floor and
I feel that hot disturbing feeling inside my stomach again
I put that feeling to the back of my mind
and walk bk down the hallway
I walk past the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror
not every time but I get to see that look most days it’s awful I hate it.

As routine depicts
I walk into the kitchen the kettle is boiling
he is stood there looking out of the window
down the side of the greasy kebab house that backs onto the house

“click”

The kettle had boiled and the tea had been made
we sat at the kitchen table backs against the wall
looking at the kitchen which is always being renovated
A cigar already lit in the ashtray bellows smoke out
the stench of cigar and old man is a smell that I will never ever forget.

” so how have u been” he asks
“good thanks had a busy week this week with work and the boys at the flat” …….
I replied
he sipped his tea and rolled his eyes as he always did
Conversation petered off and I could tell it was time to go
she would be home by 3pm from work
same time every day once she came home early
I had to hide under the bed for 25 mins
it felt like a life time but I will save that one for another day

I hear the rustle of paper and sense the worse bit of the whole fiasco
the payment
he slides the notes across the table and smiles
without eye contact I pick up the money and put it in my pocket
that feeling when it hits my pocket
tops up the feeling that I have when I walk up to the door on arrival

…….” right I better get off then” I said
“yeah she will be back soon and I gotta finish cleaning up”
“I’ll wait to hear from you then next week???..” I said
“yeah same time next week will be great, she might be looking after her mum on Saturday if your not at work little bit extra for ya ….”
“great ill wait to hear from you then ” I replied
Thinking to myself just wanting to get outside
and breath in some fresh air and get this stench out from my nose
the mixture of arse crack, cigar and dirty sex
a classic mixture I think Dior makes it.

I exit the house without looking back
I don’t do up my coat
I just raise my hood and head back for the turning off the seafront
sometimes when I feel really bad
I walk along the seafront inhaling the sea air
hoping it cleanses my nose from the smell
and hopefully if I breath hard enough my soul crazy I know

By the time I make it home
some of the guys are up
some are in bed
I try to get in the flat and escape into my room
before I get the 3rd degree from one of them
Where have you been
Why are you out this late
What’s his name then

I hastily excuse myself with a slight grin to keep them guessing
and make my way up stairs.
I enter my room I turn on the light and I look around my room
the pull out sofa bed
the stack of DVDS and CDs on the floor
the shelves of books and the photo wall,
I pull out my box from ontop of my shelf and open it
I took the money out of my pocket and just put it in the box
I close the lid and look at the label on top of the box
RENT MONEY
How ironical
I know I rent myself out to people for money
to pay the rent for my home

……oops spoiler alert !!!!!

I think in total over a 3 year period
I must have slept with the one guy twice weekly
some times 3 times,
a couple of times I stayed for the whole weekend
it cost a little more but it didnt involve a lot of sleeping
And that’s just one person
There was 2 men that after a while I stopped charging
I just enjoyed there company and compassion that much.

After many encounters in the most strangest of places in
cars,
vans,
toilets,
A Tower
tents,
on a drum kit that was a fun one,
boat,
petrol station forecourt,
on a dead mans bench,
under a table surrounded by drunk men with no trousers and pants on,
I might write that one up at some point
Oh I had no morals at this point in my life
Single men,
straight men,
married men,
divorced men,
expectant fathers
not one of my most finest points in time.
But through it all in all my sexscapades
I never once got caught and
never once jeopardised any relationships or marriages
I always ended things if I knew as I would hate something like that to happen to me.

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