Portrait of a Loner

He walked the tarred road with his friends. The air was still but a certain pleasant coolness hung around the air. Despite the chill, he was sweating mildly. He wiped the sweat off his lips with his hand as he watched the people around him. Not his friends. Not them. The others. The ones that made him uneasy.

The road was bustling with people. People laughing, enjoying, taking pictures and talking loudly. The kind of people that he hated and dreaded at the same time. The people who were quite unlike him, different from him, and – he realized with a sting- people he desperately wanted to be like. Next to him, his friends laughed. So did he, but you could sense it was a hollow laugh. he hadn’t heard a word of what they had said. But it was convincing, as if he had been giving that sort of a laugh for a long time now. No, he wasn’t listening to them. he was lost in his world, his thoughts, the same thoughts that he found solace in, where he built his beautiful empire, and strangely the same thoughts that sometimes attempted to strangle him.

His eyes scanned the crowd, flitting from person to person, face to face, but he had become so good at it that no one around him realized. He was browsing the entire crowd with no
one noticing. And then the source of the noise came into sight. A small building stood on the side of the road, but they wouldn’t have noticed it if they hadn’t known it was there. The hall was surrounded by people. People wearing smart dresses, neatly brushed up attires. He looked down at his own faded T-shirt and jeans. He felt undressed, he felt out of place. They all stopped near the crowd. None of them wanted to go inside. They just wanted to stand there and watch. Music was playing somewhere near, and a small distance away, people were dancing. He looked around. he didn’t recognize anyone, and he didn’t expect to either. He was hardly popular, he barely knew anyone.

A group of people moved close to them. Girls and boys were holding hands, taking selfies, and girls were pouting. He looked away, as though the sight burned him. But he couldn’t avert his eyes. Everywhere he looked it was the same thing. Girls and boys were talking, laughing and enjoying, even dancing. He was uncomfortable. His friends didn’t seem to notice because visibly he was disinterested. He was merely looking bored, but inside he was burning. He moved his eyes one more time and saw a girl standing alone a few feet from him. She was quite pretty, and stunningly dressed.She was sweating slightly in the warmth, and it turned him on. He kept watching her, and occasi
onally other girls as well, but a little later they all left with boys. The girl he was watching was still there, and he kept looking without anyone knowing. And then she turned. A boy had just joined her and she began talking to him.

He tore his eyes from the sight as he felt his heart sink a little. Everyone here had a boyfriend, and even if they didn’t they wouldn’t be interested in him. Definitely not someone like him. He had learned this years ago, but it still hurt. Moments like these hurt. He looked around and saw his friends still looking around, enjoying. None of them had any girlfriends, but they did, at some point. They were not like him. They didn’t feel the pain, only he did.

He turned around and walked back. But this time, he kept his eyes down. He didn’t want to see any more. He didn’t want to see anything. Because he knew it would burn him. And he didn’t want to get burned again. Because he had been getting burned for a long time now. Quite a long time. It had begun nearly a decade ago. And it still continued to this day.

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A Sweaty Mess

DISCLAIMER : This may probably turn into a rated R or kinky post. If you do not want to read such material or are offended by them, please turn away now.

Living in a tropical country, as far as I am concerned is a blessing. We don’t have extreme temperatures. We don’t have scorching hot summers or freezing cold winters. But that probably seems to be the sort of thing you see in a travel guide, but rarely see in person. Temperatures in South India is reaching over 40 degree celsius, at some places nearing 50. You sweat a lot. You go to sleep at night, and you wake up with a layer of sweat. You take a nap at noon, you inevitably wake up in an hour sweating.

Sweat…what art thou?? Chemically, just water, and some salt…but really, this is something different.

I’ve had an odd relation to sweat. I never really sweat much in my childhood, but after puberty, I sweat like hell. But that is not what I think of when I think of sweat. Sweat really turns me on. I mean really, really turns me on. When I see a hot girl sweating, I am totally lost. I see dance shows sometimes not because I love dance, but because that’s kind of the the only place where I can see girls sweating. I am satisfied with a dampness, a few drops of sweat on the lip or forehead, but at the other end of the spectrum I love it when a girl gets all sweaty, sweat just pours down her face, her neck and her hands. I mean just writing this is turning me on.

But at the other end, sweat is kind of an inspiration as well. When I see these videos or pictures I mentioned, there is an energy in me, it’s as if a fire is burning inside me. I can either release it or channel it. I rarely channel it to achieve something, but I wonder, what if I can? What if I can harness the infinite sexual energy in me, and become something better??

I am so sorry for all this, I don’t even know if I will post this I am mortified at this kink. I was just wondering are there others with similar kinks??

Do Nerds get the Girl?

 

A look back at my stats revealed one very important fact – my most viewed, liked and commented posts were about love and lust. I use the word love for want of a better word, because I don’t think love is what a 20 year old guy feels when he sees hot girls. It’s more often his hormones playing with him than divine love erupting. It’s most of the time an endorphin rush coupled with a dose of dopamine, but who cares? People can downplay this all they want, claiming it to be a chemical reaction, and hence not worthy of intellectual attention but guys are still gonna start sweating bullets and feeling hot under their collar when their crush or just a random hot girl walks by.

 

 

 

My question of the day is : Do Nerds Get the Girl ?

 

There are certain stereotypes burned into us since day one. Like all high school hotties are cheerleaders and hunks are athletes. A nerd always wears glasses. And all high school stories are about a guy who is a flop at everything – sports, games, studies, looks – but he ends up getting a really hot girl. But a nerd rarely gets the girl. It’s always the guy who sucks at EVERYTHING who gets the girl, not the nerd.

 

Why am I saying this ? ‘Cause I am a nerd. I am the stereotypical nerd in glasses, who always thinks about studies. And I was sweating bullets and getting burns under my collar today. Honestly.

 

My biggest crush, and today was exceptionally brutal ’cause she looked hot as hell. And when her hair stars cascading down her face, and her nose gets shiny and she gets a little sweaty, it just about pushes me off the edge. Whew…recalling it was brutal, really brutal.

 

Because she is a dream. And dreams are just dreams. They never become reality. She is way out of league and way out of town. In my life, in my world, this nerd will never get the girl.

 

 

 

But let’s leave my broken heart out of the equation. My heart has been broken, stabbed, run over, trampled, and set ablaze but it is still here and still working and still doing the same things that hurt it. It will never learn. It will never die.

 

I will continue falling for her, because she is just so hot. And I can’t resist falling.