Special
Part 1
by 0083
I am an appreciator of fine women and fine wines. I
love them mellow and dark, beautiful and sultry,
golden and sparkling. In laymen’s terms, I am a
player. The word itself comes with a whole slew of
connotations, mostly negative, but I cannot deny what
I am. I am quite famous for sleeping around among my
friends, flitting from one lady to another without
nary a thought to calling them afterwards. Of course,
I’m that way with my wines as well, tasting and
enjoying but never finishing the bottle.
My best friend Quatre commented to me on one
particular day that perhaps I’m looking for something
in my endeavors. He hinted quite unsubtly that I must
be looking for that someone who would fulfill my life
in every way. I told him that he was being delusional
and that I had no plans whatsoever to settle down with
one person for the rest of my natural life.
I realize Quatre means well, he always has, but he
seems rather fixated on me getting myself into a
‘real’ relationship with someone. I think it has
something to do with his unholy bliss with his current
boyfriend Trowa. Granted, Trowa is a great guy who
treats my best friend like the most special guy on
earth, which he is by the way, and I’ve never seen
Quatre happier. Things like that work for some
people. I’m just not one of them.
I know my friends fret and worry because they love me.
They worry that I drink a little too much when we go
out and start flirting with girls. They fret when I
disappear from the bar because they know I’ve gone
home with someone I had just met. But they need not
worry for I am an adult, way beyond the age where I
have to explain to my friends that I’m going home with
someone. They worry, they fret, but in the end, there
is no censure and for that, I’m eternally grateful to
them.
I’m not unhappy nor am I in the throes of ecstasy.
Yet, I like the way I live, the way I interact with
people. There are those who call me unpleasant names,
mostly girls who I forget to call after a night of
naked hormonal release, but overall, I’m well liked
and I’m friendly. I work hard at my job, excel quite
well within my department, have a lively social life
and friends who would lay down their bare bodies in
front of a moving truck if I asked it of them. There
isn’t much more in life that I really want.
That was the truth for a long time and it still should
be, but I surprise myself sometimes. Incredibly, as I
was driving down a highway on my way to shop for some
much wanted computer parts with Quatre, I blurted out
something that I still can’t figure out.
I told Quatre in a mild tone that I wanted to be
special.
He puzzled over that for a moment, his aqua eyes
looking over at my profile with a speculative gleam.
He asked me if that meant I wanted to find someone
with whom I wanted a relationship. There was a silly
amount of hope in his voice so I merely shrugged and
let it drop. Thankfully, he did not question me
further and we went on our shopping spree without any
more words on that weird topic.
Later though, when I was by myself and could think on
it without being discovered, I realized that what I
said had not been wrong or odd at all. Without
realizing, I had wanted something more than what I had
now. I can get any girl at any time and that is the
truth without conceit. My body is what girls term as
‘incredibly hot’ and my violet eyes seem to draw them
in like flies. They love my long hair, cooing over it
and stroking it, amazed by the fact that it’s longer
than theirs by far. I have received compliments about
my hair from girls that ranged from flattering to
downright embarrassing, but the universal truth of the
matter was that they loved it.
My looks never fail to attract the girls on the first
glance, but it is my wonderfully flirty personality
that keeps them hooked long after I’ve forgotten their
names. I’m easy to talk to, my personality is just
outrageous enough to intrigue rather than scare, I can
talk about most anything since my brain runs at a
phenomenal pace and I’m generally nice. It’s no
wonder than women are so damned easy for me and I can
have my pick of them even if I leave them as soon as
I’m done screwing them through the mattress.
So isn’t it a surprise that a boy like me wants to be
special?
Now, what do I mean by that? Well, I guess I want to
be someone’s number one. Not just an attractive guy
you can fuck, not just a guy you can talk to, but a
special someone who makes your heart do the Irish jig
on double time. I don’t mean the way your heart
flutters when you see someone really hot or when a
girl you had a crush on for years starts talking to
you. No, what I mean is the kind that happens each
and every time you see that person, without fail, for
a long time. Maybe even forever.
More than that, I want someone to be special to me. I
want someone I can look at in the morning and smile
gently. I want to appreciate their strengths and help
them through their weaknesses.
I want the whole package that Quatre keeps talking
about. I want the thing that he has with Trowa,
perhaps without all the sweetness, but still, I want
something like that.
I want to be special.
What that is exactly, I still don’t know, but I do
have a general idea of it.
To whom, I just don’t know yet.
So it is with this in mind that I, Duo Maxwell the
self proclaimed player, will go forth in search to be
special.
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