NO FUCK! CHAPTER 3
31-Dec-09 by Lex Perez

Chapter 3 of Lex’s experience with his year-long self-imposed attempt at celibacy.
If you missed Chapter 2, read it here.
Portraits of Lex photographed for EVB by J. Yatrofsky

(718): Wassup?
(212): Hi, sorry, I got a new phone a while ago. Who is this?
(718): I’ll let you guess. The first letters of my name are A and P, and we’ve been in and around each other.
(212): Oh, haha, hey. What’s up?
(718): Nothing much. Wanna hook up?
(212): Still not down with subtlety, I see.
(718): Subtlety doesn’t get me laid ;-)
Subtlety is a good thing, in my opinion. It ups the excitement of flirting, and gives us a chance to work our other brain. The right glance can be enough to win someone over if only for a couple of hours. Flirting is how I keep my hand in the game. It keeps me sane. It’s a confidence booster. “I could get laid if I wanted to, but I choose not to.” The thing about flirting with a guy, though, is that he usually flirts back, and every so often he’s good enough to make me forget for a few moments that I will be going home alone tonight.
How do I explain to someone that I’ve been talking to for the last hour that I’m actually just being a cock tease for my own inane or selfish reasons? “Sorry, we can’t bone tonight because I was a slut-bag this summer, and right now I’m just entertaining myself at your expense.” I feel like that might be awkward.
What do I do when “why don’t we get out of here,” has been uttered and is floating by my ears waiting to be processed into a response? So many things are going through my mind: “He just made a joke using Unbearable Lightness of Being as context,” “I’m days away from four months of celibacy! one-third of a year,” “He’s so hot,” “Do I want to be the East Village bicycle,” “Uh, he’s so hot!”
Being coy and flirting gets me into trouble, then. Would it be prudent of me to cut myself off completely from any sort of romantic interaction with men, even chaste interaction? It’s looking more and more like that might be the case.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“I’m sorry, I’m here with my friends, and I really shouldn’t leave them.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun. I think we could have fun.”
“Sorry.”
“Suit yourself. Have a good night.”
Maybe it’s easier than I thought to get rid of people. Or maybe I’m just not as good as I think I am. Damn. “No Fuck” is crowding my style.



































