I stayed seated in the car for a few minutes, zoning out and thinking of the 'stay away' I got struck with.
Going out and putting my hands in my jeans pockets, I made my way to the classroom. My usual seat was again occupied, with the only empty one being beside the brunette. Something told me that was her doing, but I don't care where I sit, so she can play her games.
This strange agitation had set in again, and I thought that a hook-up would surely help. So, my seat beside an overly willing participant wasn't that unpractical. Especially since I was now legally an adult, which limited the candidates here at school because I wasn't willing to go to prison for molesting a minor.
Although the memories I had of the brunette were hazy, I wouldn't lay my hands on her without knowing her age; she had to be someone who repeated a class or, for any other reason, was already of age.
When I was younger, I could choose freely, and because my father was only interested in my academics and nothing else, I could just take one of the girls from my class that threw themselves at me and bring them home after school.
And that, I did often. It was because I barely perceived the feeling of pleasure. When others are happy because they got a good grade, for me, it is an everyday occurrence. Cheerful for archiving something – too easy. Elated because a new game was released – so? Proud because they were praised—never had that. Only punishments for failure.
Thus, while others felt pleasure in being alive, I was like a spectator miles away, watching through binoculars at everything that happened, and this detachment made me reckless.
When I was fourteen, my friends and I went to some high-end clubs and took drugs. I originally didn't want to because we had that topic in school, including some horror pictures of junkies as well as a lengthy lecture on what it did with the brain.
Additionally, drug use could tone down the perception of pleasure even more. As someone already at the bottom of the scale, getting his will to live sucked out slowly and steadily, I had never thought of risking a further aggravation regarding that matter.
But when I saw my friends getting high, I wavered. Seeing their faces, which showed an intoxication beyond one induced through alcohol, I chose to risk it.
I took a good number of drugs that night, and it ended with myself sitting in alone in a destroyed room that had slowly brightened up, laughing away. It appeared that even the path to self-destruction wasn't allowing me to feel positive stimulation.
Drugs whatsoever had absolutely no effect on me.
And while I am now glad that this was the case -nobody would like a destroyed body and mind because of an addiction - at that time, I was devastated.
And regarding other dangerous actions, for getting a natural adrenalin rush, I was left disappointed as well.
The only thing left was sexual pleasure, and while it felt lusterless, it was better than nothing, and the candidates stood ready.
In the beginning, having only done the deed with my hand, it really got me feeling some new things, especially because my first time was with a professional one, that had taught me a bunch of things. Under them were also detailed safety measurements and tricks women used on men, letting me easily recognize what these girls and women thought when looking at me. Yet, I still needed to experience a girl poking holes in a condom to internalize the teachings.
So yes, I could be called a playboy. But while it looks fun and games in the TV shows, it was no fun and left me desperate for the bits of pleasure I could receive from it. I never deceived anyone, making it clear that it was just a fling. Still, it didn't come without further drawbacks, nearly nullifying the whole purpose of doing it in the first place. One an example was a stalker-chick, and a recent one was getting a crappy first impression on my stepmother, disgusting her so much that she wouldn't even want to sit on my bed. And that while climbing in my father's without batting an eyelid.
I initially didn't want to use my precious lunch break searching for a few pleasure crumbs, but now that I was told to stay away, I didn't feel like going through with the things I had planned.
Letting the teachers lull me into a trance, I soon felt a hand on my thigh. With my arms crossed, I leaned a bit toward the brunette, not taking my eyes off the teacher, as she whispered in my ear,
"How about today?"
Nodding at her, the appointment was set, and I hoped to get the antsy feeling out of my system with the physical activity.
Feeling for the golden, shimmering marbles in my pocket, I found it a real pity. I really wanted to watch her take one and store it among her treasures.
A chuckle escaped my lips when I thought about how she would pick something golden, when the chance presented it.
Just like a little crow, fetching shiny things for her nest.