Majorca Flats -- 42

Luigi leant against the wall of the tiny hallway of his flat. He sighed. Why did he do this? He knew that having sex with straight blokes always left him feeling bitter and bereft. He knew – yet still he went back for more. His weakness disgusted him. What was the point of trying to connect to straight guys? The pattern had repeated itself again and again. He'd find it easy to get a straight guy to have sex with him. But they always walked away afterwards. Once or twice, they'd been hostile immediately after sex, and had left without speaking. Once he'd been beaten up. He'd been off work for a week. He'd told everybody at work that he'd fallen down the stairs at his block of flats. For a while after that he'd been careful. But as the fear wore off and the need to connect grew, he'd gone back to picking up strangers, the straighter the better. He was too intelligent not to see that this was destructive behaviour and that his dislike for other queeny guys was just another aspect of his own self-loathing, but when his emotions took control he couldn't stop himself. And afterwards he'd do just what he was doing now: he'd beat himself up, castigate his own folly and short-sightedness, and generally feel depressed and a skinny failure.

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