By Justin Hatcher
You search for love endlessly in all of the wrong places. With no luck to the endless faces as you swipe your way into a blur of sensory numbness. If we are all looking so hard for connection, why are we passing ourselves like lost souls in the dark? We hold the torch in our hands but don’t think to turn it on and shine our light upon opportunities that are worth pursuing. We are clouded by the cover of the book we have forever been told not to judge. With every dismissal of slight imperfection, we are drowned in the swamp of unrealistic reality and expectation. Only to give chances to those beautiful faces with personalities that resemble heartless peacock’s. Vanity is the shiny lure that is wielded by a fisherman call ego.
When did we lose our unbridled confidence in capturing his gaze across a crowded bar? Heart racing from the electricity in the air that connects you in a moment. A moment that makes the world around you seem to stop or fall into slow motion. The noise in the room reduced to a distant hum as you exchange flutters of energy that float across the room like invisible bubbles of lust and lingering hints of forbidden premature love. Your whole happy life flashes before you in your subconscious reality before you lose this moment to the pull of his enchantment from the tap of an app that offers an ocean of faces advertising greener pastures. Forever greener, forever better, forever searching for what is physically right in front of you. A spellbound pilgrimage for a lover in an exhausting space.
The search for love is like a classic “pick a path” novel, as you hopelessly navigate a maze of dead ends. Joining a war you could not beat, you find yourself in the endless cycle of tap, chat, date, fuck, broken heart and repeat. You throw your heart and body onto the auction
block, preying for the bid of a lover that is looking for the same ending to this hopeless labyrinth of abuse and neglect. But what do you expect? You are now a contributor to this “thank you, next!” world of harmful disposal of perfectly ripened fruit tossed aside due to its abundance and availability. A beautiful apple sitting amongst a shelf of beautiful apples hoping to get picked. Slightly bruised each time someone picks you up for inspection and places you back amongst the pack because your stem is not long enough, or your skin has less colour or you’re just too juicy and fat. That’s a fact. You are fat and ugly and do not stand out amongst the pack. You tell yourself that. For years… You tell yourself that.
I found you in a hopeless place fueled by a fortunate fate of colliding circumstances. A hopeless place with its dark walls and lustful calls echoing down its seedy hall’s where fantasy and fetish summon those away from their dancefloors. Those dance drenched desires in search of an intense release without exchanged words or daybreak consequences. A destination where sex does not need a name or introduction, the lust language expressed through fingertips trailing the hairs of a torso passing in the dark. Your foggy gaze slightly altered by liquor looks back into the eyes that possess the fingertips that have tugged at your lustful curiosity. He is beautiful! My serendipity lover, found in the dank depths of a hopeless place that smells of latex and lube. Who knew I would find you in a dungeon of desperate desires looking for everything but love. A fortunate fate in a hopeless place where I found your fingertips… now my forever face. My infinity lover.
Alternate ending: * My Bodyline lover