Hedonistic Altruism

I saw a man with a dog by his side. In the right hand he held on to the dog's leash, while in the other he had an umbrella. He looked sorrowful, his eyes full of an icy blue that gave him a deep expression.
Outside it was raining, the sky was gloomy with black clouds and all around were massive buildings with faceless facades painted with all the possible shades of smoky gray.
He was waiting, in his solitude he looked nervous, as if he knew something was about to change, as if his clairvoyance suggested him that he was still able to change. But what he started asking himself. Was it so important after all?
He wanted to move, to do something, so that he wouldn't be found in that altered state. The earphones were being put in his ears, while his other hand was now turning on the music. Now he felt more detached from reality, from his agitated discomfort.
Finally he looked up to stare at me. He seemed surprised to see me.
He started talking to me. I noticed that his voice was sweet, gentle and uncontaminated from the pollution of the outside world. When he spoke my mind gave me the illusion to be in front a little defenseless boy, who needed protection, who was trying desperately to trust someone, because he missed something.
I acted out the part of the tender person at first, trying to be as polite and well mannered as possible, which I guessed was the most effective way to know something more about him. I was conscious that he was willing to show himself to me, to tell me his story and I was more than pleased to listen to him.
In an instant we weren't anymore in the same spot, we had moved without noticing it at all. I was concentrated on this puzzling man. It was simple. I liked him. At fist I looked at him and I realized how handsome he was. His face with strong features fooled his inner side and this fascinated me I was fascinated. His appearance was his first protection, something nature donated him when he was born, foreseeing what difficulties he would encounter.
He was sipping another drink and looking at me. I was telling him my recent stories, my usual chitchat to entertain people, to please them so they could like me. But he didn't appear to be so interested in my cheap chat as to my glances, my fugitive glimpses at his face, at his body, at his expressions.
I lit a cigarette. In the moment I inhaled the smoke my mind went back to the first words I spoke to him. I hadn't talked to him before this first meeting, but I wrote, I mean we wrote to each other, in chat, in a gay chat. I was thinking: "How bizarre to be here with him. I actually could have been with some one else, maybe anyone."
For a moment I thought, thanks to my tacky romance, that it was "meant to be", that we were there drawn together for the will of some cosmic power. But that thought didn't last long. As I said, it could have been anyone and this is the most fascinating matter. It was just accidental, a manifestation of the fortuity. It did not matter to me anyway. I get caught in these reflections, but I don't truly believe in them or I don't have the will to think too much about them. Maybe I should simply say I'm lazy and under the effect of my cigarette.
We were the only ones in the bar, even though there were numerous old ladies and Berlin type of freaks.
I could tell that we had created an intimacy not because we were sharing the same feelings for what we were talking about. No, we were sharing what we didn't say. We were sharing our possibilities of existence, we were sharing what we didn't live, what we could live, what we were capable of living, of what we could become. I felt that reality wasn't important with him. Finally the dog's bark woke me from my trance. He laughed in an unusual way and suggested to get more drinks. More drinks came. More alcohol flowed into my veins.
"I want some one to hold my hands, I am afraid". I was guessing his thoughts. All that came up to me were cheesy lines. My imagination was dreadfully arid. "I don't care about the world around, I have to live in it! I was born in this fucking world. Did I ask for it? I don't think so. I have to do something or I will feel doomed, more close to death. I am from the black generation, but drugs for me aren't an option, it is too easy. At any rate I want to live this wicked burden with all its flaws. I am masochistic!" This seemed more authentic. Maybe he really thought this.
"I have to go now, I will see you soon" I said. He nodded. We separated roads. I went to my hotel.
After one hour I had already forgotten about that nice rendezvous. After one hour I already felt nothing.
Is nothing something? No. So what is nothing? Nothing! What senseless questions I asked myself, as usual. In that period I was convinced that everything was nonsensical, it didn't concern me if I should have lived to the next day or not.
I went out to eat, since eating was the only thing that could fill me up. Well maybe also sperm, it would fill my mouth and my mind, it would stop me from bullshitting.
"Yes, maybe after the food I'll go fuck somewhere". I went to Mc Donald's, my favorite restaurant, I ordered a Big Mac. I looked down on the street while my hands were searching for some greasy fries, I saw some ladies covered by veils and babies wrapped around their bodies. "Someone is still killing souls by giving birth" one side of me said, but another countered " Shut up, you should be happy that you are alive, something is better than nothing!" and again my nihilist side fired back " You sound just like my fucking grandma or a fundamentalist priest". I toke bigger bites to finish quickly; I wanted to get to my Mac to start chatting, with the only intent to find a shag for the night. How shallow I was, I loved it!
I logged on. No messages, what a surprise! I had to look for someone and fast, I was still horny, but I didn't know how much longer it would last. "He is cute, he too, he is tremendously lousy, he is ok, he is not, he is filthy/gorgeous, he should pay to put his pics online". I wrote my message: "Hey, what's up! You look cute, what are you doing tonight? I am kind of bored, do you wanna go out, do something, maybe watch a movie at your place?" an anonymous standard message for something anonymous and standard. It wasn't a love letter but it suited what it was meant to do...I copied it, pasted it and sent it to at least 20 guys. They deserved the same and I wanted to give them the same possibilities, as a strong believer in DEMOCRACY.
Five of them answered back. I composed another unique message that would be identical for everyone " Let's meet directly at your place, it will be easier for you and it will give me time to have a walk in the park. Then we can do what ever you want!" I was actually ashamed of my lame message.
I left the DDR building with relief. It was all finished. I fucked. It didn't give me anything. I felt more dead than before. I was speechless during the whole session. The scene came back to my mind. I thought that if it were recorded it could result funny to many, but to me it was just vulgar. I touched the bottom, I didn't speak a word, and it was all mechanical. My machinery worked together with his, I can't even recall his name (maybe Dario?!), to give an automatic, power-driven result. I came. Unemotional, unthinking, robotic. Like the city I chose for my vacation: Berlin. Like the music I like to listen to: electronic.
Was this the life I wanted to live?! I devoured my state of consciousness trying to reduce it to something resembling insanity.
I searched around the hotel room to find a bottle of alcohol, nothing. Regardless everything I was numb.
Mac on. Typing on the screen gay sites, gay communities, and gay chats.
He was online.
“Hey".
"Hey, how is it going?".
"Everything fine" my usual lie...how stupid question by the way, no body expects a different answer.
"What are you doing?".
"Nothing much. I just woke up from a terrible nightmere, you?”
" I am working on my music".
" Wow cool. Lemme listen to something of yours".
"Here is the link..."
"Awesome music" another lie, but I couldn't help myself.
" Thank you. Why don't we go out?"
"Maybe it's not a great idea".
"Why not?"
"I should study".
"What do you study?"
"Quite nothing. Fine lets go out, where to".
" Do you want to go to the pony?"
"No I have a better idea.."....Berlin is a city condemned forever to becoming and never being. I went to bed with these words in my head, not thinking about the appointment I him.
The next day we were together in the St. Hedwig's Cathedral to attend the mass. I needed something sacred, something magic, and he seemed to be enjoying it.
Around us there were believers that continuously sat up then down, then again up and down, nonstop. We both knew that in all that meaningless speech of the priest's there was something absolute, something that couldn't be reached by anything except the mind.
"Do you believe in God?".
"No I don't." I answered back. " I actually don't believe in anything". I could see he didn't understand what I meant. It didn't matter.
We were holding hands till a lady saw us. I felt somewhat guilty about it.
He was concentrated on the words that were said by the priest, he was repeating them in his head, trying to extract every symbol they represented, everything that he could relate to his own life. He was living in the world of symbols. He was lucky. Someone that could read a book and still reproduce in his fantasy the images the writer tries to create, someone who could feel the non-existing experiences.
After the ceremony we went for a walk on the riverbanks. The water was green and boats full of tourists flashing their camera were floating along, parallel from where we were. It was a nice day, but not for me. Something was boiling inside. I wasn't capable of discovering what it was.
Again he started talking about himself and again I started asking him questions of little significance. I cared about him.
He told me he loved me. I wasn't taken aback. I knew it already. It seemed all too easy. But I wanted to give him what he needed. Illusion is the first of pleasures. He kissed me; I didn't stop him. That was the last time I saw him.