Where do I begin with the one that got away? Our story is so long, so bold, and so brash. A view, a hickey, and string of your tattoos. A hookup, album release, and versatility between the two. A cheater, a liar, but somehow still, “I love you”. We’ve crossed this city, back and forth, and found each other through and through. Zak, can you tell me, did you think it was too good to be true?
You were certainly what I idealized in a man, at least physically; with unkempt blonde hair, cloudy blue eyes, and a conglomeration of tattoos that didn’t necessarily fit neatly into one style. You’re tall, or, at the very least, taller than me; making you easily six foot. And, in a town of fags who skew inches shorter than the national fag average, our bodies molded perfectly together each time we met. Our lips interlocking in perfect cohesion, your face suctioned upon my neck, your arms enveloping me, and, respectfully, a throat that was built for you. Zak, you were my hot musician boyfriend that never was; from mixing a set to playing your instruments in our underwear after we fucked around. I was well aware, and I confirmed you knew too, of the otherworldly chemistry that leaked out of our bodies each time they were near.
I am curious if you remember when we met, rather the circumstances of how we met. My first year at KU was in 2019; though it’s quite peculiar, we certainly could have met before. Zak, you worked alongside – and I mean same shift co-workers – with two of my old roommates, and one of my lifelong friends. Not to mention, your high school was the ultimate rival to mine; between athletic events and our music and theatre departments, there was ample chance for us to run into each other in more platonic circumstances. Alas, we met from a grindr hookup. But this wasn’t just any grindr hookup. No, because, you see, I had been active on grindr since moving to Lawrence in the fall of 2019, and Zak, you and I wouldn’t meet until October of 2020. However, you certainly knew of me before then.
To any audience member who may not be familiar with grindr’s user interface: the app tracks and allows users to see the most recent view to their profile, updating each time a new user views your profile. Users aren’t allowed to do anything with this information, only see their display picture, which they can then remember when trying to find this user on their grid. A view can signify a few things: interest, curiosity, lust, disgust. Those latter three categories — curiosity, lust, and disgust — only really permit a singular view of any user’s profile: once you’ve seen it, that’s all you really need to know. Yet, in the case of interest, a user may view a profile repeatedly, be it hourly, daily, weekly, monthly.
Now Zak, do you remember our first conversation on grindr? It is one I can’t imagine I’ll forget. After months, and months, and months, nearly a full year of you viewing my profile repeatedly – not daily, but on multiple occasions every week – Zak, you’d view my profile and never speak. With scorpio season on the cusp, you finally built the courage to message:
“Sup?” Oh Zak, if there is one thing you are, it’s consistent. Moving forward, almost every time you were horny, our interaction began with those three letters, ‘sup’.
“not much atm, just surprised you’re finally talking to me”
“Oh?” My man of few words.
“you’ve looked at my profile for almost a year now, i was wondering when you’d finally hmu”, and the rest is truly history.
We didn’t meet the first night we started chatting. Instead, we traded nudes and exchanged our Snapchats. With fresh nudes being sent, we vowed that we would meet in person soon. A few weeks would pass before we met up at the end of October; the night that would permeate my sex life moving forward.
Zak, we met on October 30th, 2020. Our interaction mirrored our others: ‘Sup’ followed by an onslaught of various of dick pics and shower shots, only this time, you said you were showering so you could come right over after. And, with that, I sprung into action. Within the twenty minutes it took for you to finish your shower and drive to my apartment, I cleaned my room, douched my ass, showered myself, trimmed my facial and pubic hair, and brushed my teeth. I told my roommate you were on your way, to which she replied that she had already lit a candle, since she had a friend on the way as well. I had a few mere moments to prepare my own psyche for the journey we were readying to embark on.
When you arrived, I greeted you at the door, showed you my apartment, and we headed back to my room. To preset the mood for our night of escapades, Kayla and I had lit our fairy lights throughout our apartment, and I set my room’s LEDS to red — the signature color of a collegiate hookup. When we got to my room I had Ariana Grande’s Positions album playing; not only because it was apt to our situation, but because Zak, you and I shared our first listen of that album together just three nights prior.
This would become tradition in the infancy of our pseudo-relationship. With each pop girl’s newest album releasing, we would press play together, listen together, and chat about each track as it developed. Positions was our first album. And, while I fully embrace how incredibly faggy my taste in music is and was, we only ever had this experience with faggy albums; never any of the alternative releases that better suited your own taste. For the first of many instances during our time together, I provided you an escape into wholly liberated faggotry.
In any case, Positions was playing when we made it back to my room. Almost urgently, you ran a search for your own Spotify profile, and put on one of your own playlists. The first track that played was Forever by Charli XCX. Like clockwork, as if it were premeditated, we made out for the entirety of the song; getting to know each other intimately before personally. And, when Forever finished, we separated, laid next to each other on my bed and introduced ourselves to each other. It was typical and pedestrian: what we were studying, where we work, and where we come from. Both grown in Topeka, neither knowing of the other.
And, after an hour or two of talking — chatting, kissing, feeling, lore — we could no longer hold back — biting, scratching, bruising, war. Our lust, it won us over — sweating, gasping, holding, sore; teasing, moaning, swallowing, whore.
That night, unbeknownst to me, I would start a tradition of my own. Zak, do you remember, the moment after you came? In awe, I muttered
“nice.”
And you laughed like I hadn’t heard before.
After a bit more cuddling and talking, I escorted you out and you went home. My neck was the main victim of your lust. I was discolored for what was certainly weeks. My lips, quite bruised too, but nothing my mask wouldn’t disappear. And of course, whether from intensity, size, or girth, I was undoubtedly sore.
We would hook up a handful of times before 2020 ended, even going as far to hookup during one of my night shifts on-campus in the main lobby of my building. Sometime in January, I would ask you if you’re interested in being more than just friends with benefits, proposing the idea of going on a date. You declined, saying that there was a time where you wanted that, but that you were currently interested in another guy and wanted to pursue that. Totally bummed, I understood. Somehow, I had missed my chance. As the next month passed, we talked less and less, and didn’t hook up at all. Then, in the middle of March 2021, Lana Del Rey released her seventh studio album, ‘Chemtrails Over The Country Club’. Moments before it was released, you messaged me, asking if I was going to be listening. Again, we listened to the album release together and discussed it at length. And where Positions had left gaps in our conversation, Chemtrails overflowed. Our shock and our adoration was conglomerate. You and I, for the first time, were back.
Shortly after the release of Chemtrails, you would come over for our first hookup in a while. I was unsure what our vibe would be moving forward, but it was as if nothing had changed. Our conversation was meaningful, our sex was passionate and intense, and we shared our vapes after we fucked. From then on, we’d continue hooking up, and even developed an incredibly consistent schedule. We fucked every thursday night, for multiple months, without fail; never formally discussed, and with the addition of an occasional sunday or monday blow, our desires for the others bodies only continued to grow. Each time that you finished, I’d say ‘nice’ and I would always make you laugh. At some point that summer, I even topped you, and paid my first visit to your place. Your apartment: massive disaster. But it made me realize: who you were, you fully embraced.
When school started that fall, our schedules became conflicting and we saw each other less and less. When we did meet, we’d no longer chat; just head, just fuck, blow and go, swallow more. With a sexual chemistry that was unmatched, I was always reluctant to say no. Yet, your pattern was well formed: when I’d message you, I’d stay on delivered, I would be ignored; when you messaged me, you were horny, now or never, and don’t I dare decline. Recognizing this, I still saw it’s worth. I had mostly moved on from my feelings for you and our experiences were almost entirely pleasure for me. That year, I think you went to Michigan — perhaps Minnesota — for Thanksgiving break. While you were there, you texted me: you were thinking of me, wanting me; full control and you didn’t want to share. We planned for me to come over when you came home, early December. And that we did: another apartment of yours, just as messy, with your mattress on the floor. Another breeding, another ‘nice’ followed by your laugh; unfathomable fusion, eruptive explosion, would we ever fail again?
Then, on December 15th, 2021, Zak, you started dating your boyfriend, Aaron.
While most would hope this is where our story ends, Zak, can you tell me, why is this where ours began?
Fully unaware that you were exclusive to someone else, I would hit you up in early January. In the genesis of your newly founded relationship, you cheated on your boyfriend for the first time. And, since our conversation had mostly died — seeing each other just to unload, unwind, and bid goodbye — I was not even slightly suspicious of your committance to someone else’s head. After a few weeks of not talking, shortly before V-Day ‘22, I would text you, just how you liked: begging to be bred. Only this time, something was different. You responded mentioning Aaron, desiring commitment; no more hooking, our time has fled. Disappointed, I accepted, and left us space and time to settle.
A month would pass without contact between us before I’d check in: how are you and would you like to be friends? You accepted and nothing changed: we didn’t talk, we might be through. Another month later, early April ‘22: you were horny, as was I, and once again something sparked.
Aaron and you? Still together, on a break, unsure of wherein lied your fate. Without hesitation, I accepted, who was I to deny? If I was your call in the interim, then I didn’t care what others had to say. Only years later, would I find you never were on a break. That night: we met up, fucked me hard, muttered ‘nice’, laughed, and laid in bed. We finally talked again, catching each other up on what we’d missed. When I asked about your relationship, only silence is what you’d give. In an attempt to reintroduce our routine, only another week later, I’d ask you to come over once again. Only this time you declined, vowing one day you’d return. Aaron was back in your life; I guessed you had made amends.
As our cycle goes, some time would pass; a few weeks or a little more than a month. When the summer began, late-May or early-June, we would reconvene once again. If I remember correctly, this time I messaged you; asking what’s up and should we hang soon?
Quite timely for once, you responded, “Yeah lmk when you’re free.”
And just a few hours later, back again, inside me. But before you could enter — my home, my head, or my hole — I had to ask you a question: are you still with Aaron? Should we do this? Does he care?
You responded: you were together, why wouldn’t we? Who fucking cares?
So, for the first time with my active knowledge, I enabled you to cheat on your boyfriend. This time was rather quick — spit as lube, slide it in, stuck your fingers down my throat. I was unsure — suck you dry, breed me quick, kiss me close — were you scared? I had no intention of telling; if I did, I’d be left completely bare. Moving forward, would you text me? Call me? Block me?
I hesitated to reach out after that, not quite confident what from you I should expect. You surprised me, a few weeks later, asking me to come to you. I was nervous, was this the end, or were you just too drunk to move? Turns out, it was neither; you wanted relief, and you entitled me to my share. Again, you had moved; down the block from your most recent place. Your roommates were home that night; I didn’t want to show my face. You said I’d be fine, they’re watching a movie in the front room, we’d just walk past, and head to yours. I said no, you can come out to my car, there was nothing I couldn’t do here. So you did, and I blew you, transferring your liquor from lips to dick. You begged me, “let’s go inside, I want your ass riding on my cock”. I said no, and made you cum; swallowed whole, there goes your pre-planned fun. Zak, I have to ask, did you want me to come inside, meet your roommates, let them hear us fuck? Did you want them to ask questions, who are you, why try your luck? Would they demand you end with Aaron, shame you, shame me – all three?
Having not gotten what you wanted, you’d hit me back just two days later: “Sup?” I asked if you wanted to come over. Suddenly, my legs were on your shoulders, your face latched on to mine. You fucked me with such vigor, and I enabled you another time. i remember this fuck, quite concretely, no skips or missed time. You see, I discovered a kink that night, and Zak, you smell divine.
Zak, we’d continue fucking a few times a month until October – each time somehow still venturing further. By my own hand or yours, I enabled your infidelity time after time. As our sex continued to progress, I became curious: if you’re so caught up on fucking me, why hurt Aaron if you could break it clean? Nonetheless, October came, and after my birthday — the beginning of our shared scorpio season — you’d hit me up once again. You bred me and you’d make me shoot my wall. After we finished, you sat up, “We can’t do this again”.
I knew this was coming, but still, I prodded, “why?”
You continued, “I think I love Aaron, and I want to commit to him. I like you, I do want you, but for now, I am with him.” I understood, telling you the decision is yours. Boldly, I proposed you tell him about us, about your infidelity, and perhaps a new foundation for your relationship could be laid.
“That would destroy him. Aaron wouldn’t talk to me again”.
With your load sitting patiently inside me, our conversation ended. I didn’t understand why you continued to see me, continued to fuck me, when you so certainly loved your boyfriend. I didn’t understand why you wouldn’t tell him, take accountability, and have an attempt at growth. and I felt sick for Aaron, would he really never know?
The pit in my stomach grew deeper and stronger as the next few days passed. Unsure of what to do, and in an attempt to not meddle any further in your relationship, I reached out to your best friend, your previous and future roommate, James. The only reason I felt comfortable doing so was rooted in the fact that James and I had at least met once before. Sometime in the fall of ‘21, Zak, you called me: you and James needed a ride home from the bar. Living just down the street, I got in my car and picked the both of you up. When we pulled into your apartment, you sent James inside and asked if we could head over to mine.
On November 1st of ‘22, James came over to my apartment. We reintroduced ourselves, and had a friendly conversation before I brought up the situation at hand. I told James our history from prior to present day. James knew we hooked up a number of times before, but hadn’t heard of me since Aaron came into the picture. I told him our activities, the timeline that followed after you claimed your man. He was shocked; a master liar, you kept it fully unknown. After work the next day, I met James over at his. While going through the conversations you and I had saved, James mentioned that he told your friend group. Only Aaron was left without a clue. I told James that I thought we (you and I, Zak) would hook up again. At some point — probably soon — you would make a triumphant return. James and I agreed, keep Aaron in the dark for now, hoping that perhaps one of your roommates would be the one to speak up.
Over a month passed with complete radio silence from you. I texted you, only to find that I had been blocked. Were we really, finally done?
On December 13th, 2022 — only two days before your one year anniversary — you read my text. You told me to come over now, your roommates were asleep. Hesitant, I said I’d be there soon. Adrenaline coursed my veins; did someone finally tell? Was I headed to your apartment only to get beat up? When I arrived, you came out to my car even though it was pouring rain. You opened my door, grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the car. A fag on fag crime, right here in the street? As the sky rumbled overhead you pushed me against my car and fit your lips onto mine. The storm continued growing furious so you led me to your back porch. With the door to dry warmth only a few feet away, you laid your hands on either side of my face and pulled me in to makeout in the rain again. Wrapping my arms around you, lit only by the lighting strikes, we stood and we kissed; your most theatrical love affair yet. After our clothes were full drench, we headed to your room where our wet clothes quickly met the floor. We ventured through our favorite positions, kinks, while our lips never left. You finished inside, kissed me goodbye, and hopped in the shower. Before I left I took two evidential selfies: one with your bedding, and the other with the anime posters plastered to your wall.
I would wait until after your anniversary and for any potential plans to have passed. On Christmas Eve, I could no longer wait for one of your roommates to spill. I texted Aaron. I told him our history, our experience, and how it had never fully ceased. When he asked me for proof, I provided it: screenshots, photos, texts. and that was the last I heard from either of you.
Well, almost.
In March of 2023, I would text both you and Aaron. You were both heavily involved in the music scene in Lawrence and I needed your individual perspectives for my senior capstone at KU. After my message delivered to you, Zak, you blocked me again. Aaron, on the other hand, obliged and made a wonderful contribution. To this day, I cannot thank Aaron enough for his participation and support to furthering queer academia. And, I wish I could thank you, too.
I graduated on May 14th, 2023. The following day, I matched with the man who would become my fifth boyfriend. Tyler and I would start dating at the end of May. For the first time since you and I met, Zak, I didn’t think about you for five consecutive months. Enveloped in a loving and beautiful relationship, your presence was nonexistent. Not to mention I couldn’t imagine cheating on the man that I loved.
But scorpio season would come around once again.
On November 4th, 2023 you unblocked me on Instagram and asked why I had texted you a few nights prior. While still with my boyfriend and still blocked, I didn’t know what you meant. You confirmed that the number had a different area code than mine and that you still had my phone number blocked. Still, you believed I was the one texting you. To prove that I wasn’t, you’d unblock my number and have me call you. When you picked up the phone your concern disappeared. You wanted to talk, catch up, where’ve we been? I told you I was working and I could talk more when I was off. When I called back from home, 11:15pm that night, you told me to come over, see each other, and have a chat. I told you I didn’t want to hook up, kiss, or even touch. if you really wanted to talk, I’d be there in just a few. Determined, you said you did, and to your place I went.
I knocked on your door — looks like you moved once again — when you opened you hugged me and tried to plant your kiss. I pushed you off and told you no, “I’ll go home if you want that shit”. You apologized and we headed to your room. James wasn’t home, music playing, your bedroom consistent to your mess. You laid down and I sat next to you. You grabbed my face, pulled me in, tried to kiss or more… again. I told you to stop, I am not interested, that’s seriously enough. Awkwardly, we sat there, catching up on what the other missed: your boyfriend, your sets, and Nissan truck distress. Your phone rang, you ignored it, said it was James and likely unimportant. As I caught you up on my school, work, music, and my friends, I omitted my current boyfriend, and your hand found its way to my thigh. With some moaning and some groaning, your phone would ring again. You ignored me and then asked me, “please give me head.” Again, I said no, if we’re done talking I could leave. Having been so long, you begged me to stay. I agreed and obliged, but your hand needed to go away. From my thigh to your dick, you were horny and couldn’t resist. We kept talking, conversations of substance and others quite flat. When silence finally fell, you turned towards me, stared at me, directly to my soul. You turned my face and locked our eyes, before coming clean of your disguise:
“Jojo, it’s you. it’s always been you and I know it’s always going to be you. I love you. I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t know what to do. I love you and I also love Aaron. I don’t want to hurt either of you, but no matter what I do, I will always think of you. You cross my mind. You make me weak. I love you Jojo. I wish there was a way all three of us could be happy. I want you. I love you. I just don’t know what to do.”
Absolutely floored, I wasn’t sure how to speak. When I could, I told you that wasn’t possible; how can you love me, we use each other as sacks of meat? If you loved me and if you loved Aaron, if you loved yourself, you would be single: attempting to figure out what it is you want. But you rebutted, “I know, it’s you and it always is. I want you, I love you. Everyday I know it’s you.” During this conversation your hand made its way back to my leg. Endearing, enticing, entitled, all the same. Your feelings became our topic, where else could we go from here?
“i think James just knocked at your front door”
“Nah James has a key, he’d just come in”
Drowned out by our voices, someone made their way up the stairs. Your door facing the front room, nearly adjacent to those stairs. So, when the tall figure entered into your front room, and took a few steps coming near, I recognized it was Aaron, and that this was his worst fear. Laid in your bed, your grasp tight on my leg, the mist in your eyes was enough for him to clear. Aaron yelled, “Fuck this” and ran back down the stairs. you jumped up, followed him out, and let the neighborhood hear. Aloft, alone in your room, the argument made me quiver; will I die right now and here?
When six minutes passed, the mutual yelling finally ceased. You came back inside, upset, solo, “I’m sorry, should I leave?” Again, you asked me to stay, “He’s gonna need some space.”
So we talked about what happened, how that went, and what comes next. You weren’t sure, had no answers, but you loved me nonetheless. I asked you what your plan was, did you want him to catch us hot? Only moments before he entered, you had pleaded with me to suck your cock. I still wonder if he noticed your half-hard or leaking pre-cum from your simple touch to my thigh.
Shortly later, you said it’s time. you needed to talk to him, offered me to stay or take myself home. I told you I’d go home; this all felt like one fantastical bit. You wanted a kiss goodbye, and I grabbed your face like you do mine. Leaning in, our breath intermingling, I met your lips and whispered onto them:
“I loved you too, but don’t do this to me again”
We walked out together, and turned our separate ways. I headed to my car, where I sat in overwhelm. I can’t drive, I can’t go home, I needed a moment all on my own. Yet even that was interrupted: Aaron texted asking I tell him what happened. I asked where he lived — clearly this was too much to type — and walked the block over. Outside in November, we perched upon his front stoop. Stating before we began, that “Zak, we need the truth.” I started telling what happened: from the text accusation to ‘it’s always been you’. Zak, you couldn’t bear it, walking away, afraid of the truth. I told Aaron everything, leaving nothing more in the dark. He thanked me, uncertain of what would come next. Aaron knew he didn’t deserve this but he didn’t want to give up. He wanted to help you, to guide you, to finally turn your luck.
I haven’t talked to Aaron since that night. But, Zak, I did reach out to you. After Tyler and I broke up, I followed you with my alt — my Twitter just to horn. I told you the account was mine. I was once again enabling an avenue for you to cheat, and quickly, you followed back. My attempts to reach out there were ignored, and a few weeks later you’d block my account.
Still I wonder, does Aaron know? Of that account? Or how you occasionally crack?
Would he be surprised to see your accounts still notifying me of your request to follow? Or curious that I missed a message that you’d apparently unsent?
Zak your deviance is in your reliance on lies, your deviance is your infidelity. You made my deviance visible: I am an enabler, and I disproportionately care for my own feelings before others.
Zak, my dear, we missed each other — never found that time or place. Zak, my love, we kissed each other — you were my one that got away.