Jeepney chronicles (again)

In a jeepney.

Still on my struggle in finding my identity, a scene flashed backed in my head. Inside the bathroom. Just came home from a recurring one night stand. 

I was taking a bath. All that was in my head was the thought of being dirty. I needed to clean myself thoroughly. I felt so dirty. So this is how someone raped must feel like, I thought. But I was not raped. Yet I felt so empty, so used. It felt like nothing good came out of that night. Though I had a moment of pleasure, it still wasn't what I needed. Maybe I have done it so many times that it wasn't as special as before. At some point, I grew tired of the same pattern. We meet. We eat. We go somewhere quiet. Or we drink. But as always, we end up in bed. I leave, he leaves, or we both leave separately. Maybe that's where my perception of love and relationship got messed up. At some point, I got fed up of being in this lifestyle / orientation. I got even more confused. If I am already sick of rods, does that mean I should start enjoying labias? I doubted if I was really meant to be in the rainbow team.

Alighted. Walked through the pedestrian crossing.

Is this just a phase? If this was a phase, shouldn't I be moving on now? Am I that fixated? But fixated on what? Penis envy? Daddy issue? Longing for a brotherly love?

But sometimes I enjoy it. Seeing their facial expression as they come. Cringing in ecstasy with their mouths open. Unable to contain the sensation as I continue to pump out every single drop until they beg me to stop. Quite fun to see them drop and just lay there, totally spent and sweaty. But sweet as I rest my head on their warm chest.

I can't be a metrosexual. I don't even care about my clothes and my body image. Bisexual maybe. But I should be aroused or attracted to women to be that. Maybe I am just that lustful that I could swing both ways. Maybe. I dunno.