see part 1 for warnings, disclaimers
+ Part 2
-The First Encounter-
As easy as it is to say I want to be special, the whole activity of going
about being special is damned hard. For example, I had no idea where to
begin my search and I was rather reluctant to ask my friends for advice.
If Quatre, or for that matter, any of my friends, found out about my newly
formed quest, they would pounce on me like a pack of rabid wolves on raw
meat with indispensable words of wisdom. It is not that I mind advice
from my friends, not at all. However, certain things in life must be achieved
by oneself and I believe that my search is personal enough to merit privacy.
Still, it would be easier if I knew how to begin. I know what kind of
girls I like, but I'm not sure if I'm going to find a means to be special
with any of them. So far, dating the girls I liked had not given me any
results and there is no guarantee that continuing in my habits and usual
tastes will show me something I had not noticed before I got insane about
being special. Then the logical conclusion, of course, would be to stray
from my well-trodden path, but as I am now, I don't even know if there
are other viable paths ahead of me.
Losing hope before starting a quest is not a very good way of going about
My first week of searching yielded no concrete results, but I did learn
something. I don't think any of the girls I talked to would be able to
give me what I'm seeking, no more than I can give them what they want.
It seems that at my age, women think about two things when it comes to
relationships one night stand or marriage forever. There is no middle
ground for me to work with and I'm no longer interested in a strictly
one night stand type of relations. That does not mean I want to do the
marriage thing. Despite my strange quest driving me onward to god knows
what, I have not completely lost my sanity.
Second week came and went with no visible results as well, just a whole
string of women I considered then discarded. Oh, they were all beautiful,
sparkling, smart and a whole dictionary full of positive adjectives, but
I did not want to wake up next to them in the morning. I certainly did
not want to spend idle time with them. I didn't want anything from them
except the sex.
It is very discouraging that I am turning down sex in my search to be
special. I suppose this must be important to me if I'm actually turning
myself away from easy sex in favor of finding someone special.
Third week, my friends noticed the change in me and began staring at me
oddly. I think Quatre nearly spat out his drink at the bar when I turned
down an overt invitation of sex from a really gorgeous girl. He stared
at me with his eyes as wide as they would go and Trowa immediately checked
my forehead to see if I was sick. They didn't ask me anything that night,
but I could tell that the questions were burning a large hole in their
When fourth week rolled around, my friends must have had enough because
they sat me down and began their friendly interrogation. Quatre had invited
me over for 'drinks' at his and Trowa's apartment late Friday night, insisting
that we stay in for the night. I agreed despite my misgivings since Quatre
seemed oddly spaced out lately. Then when I get there for a quiet night,
I find Quatre and Trowa there with interrogator eyes trained on me even
before I crossed the threshold into their apartment.
I felt like a bug under a microscope. I sat on their couch with a nice
two fingers of premium scotch, watching them watching me. It was enough
to set me on edge and my brain went into overtime trying to find answers
before they asked the questions.
"Duo," Quatre began in what I termed his diplomat's voice, "what
is going on with you?"
Such a simple question, but it was loaded with deeper meaning. In that
one question, I could hear 'are you having problems with your sex life'
to 'god, I hope you don't have an incurable STD under that skin of yours.'
Instead of answering the question in any meaningful way, I decide to play
"What do you mean? I'm fine."
That was the complete truth. I am fine. I'm just in the middle of a large
project, that's all.
I could tell the answer troubled the two of them because they exchange
one of those looks loaded with meaning. They were probably wondering how
to phrase the next question without offending me or hurting my feelings.
After all, how do you ask your friend why he's not sleeping with everything
under the sun as he usually does? How do you ask your best friend why
he is not the player that he was? How do you ask your friend about the
changes in his habits when you actually approve of them?
Eventually, the silence wore thin and I was tempted to just blurt out
my whole mission so that they would stop worrying. But alas, Quatre beat
me to breaking the silence.
"Duo, don't take this the wrong way," he said, "but you
aren't.. acting yourself lately."
That much is true, I must concede. I nod in acquiescence, but offer no
further information. Quatre was getting annoyed, I could tell, because
I'm quite verbal most of the times to the point of banal babbling. Yet
here I was, not saying much at all, practically making Quatre pull the
answers out of me with force.
Trowa raised an eyebrow at my continued silence and he considered me carefully.
He knew I was hiding something, how could he not? But he wasn't about
to go charging in with questions. It is too bad that Quatre had no such
"Stop playing around, Duo. I'm just really worried. What's gotten
Damn. Quatre used the guilt card, the cheat. Now I have to answer or end
up feeling like I had kicked his puppy or something.
"Don't worry, Quat. I'm a big boy. I know what I'm doing."
Well, actually, I haven't the faintest idea as to what I'm doing. I only
know the goal, not the means to get there.
"What is it that you're doing? For the life of me, I can't figure
If Quatre wants to, he can make a guy feel really, really guilty. When
he uttered that sentence with worry imbedded so deeply within, I could
not help but answer before I had time to process what I wanted to say.
"I'm looking for someone special, that's all."
That silly saying about the cat being out of the bag, I never did understand
what it meant. But I suppose that's what I had just done with that reply.
The answer I gave was received with mental fanfare by Quatre and Trowa.
How could I tell? Because their eyes lit up like lanterns and they both
got this huge grin on their faces. Even Trowa. Yeah, it's a big deal when
Trowa makes a facial expression beyond bland.
"Oh, that's wonderful Duo! We can set you up with the nicest.."
That's as far as Quatre got before I clapped a hand over his mouth, my
eyes blazing 'don't go there' in neon lights. As I said before, this is
a private matter to be dealt with by me only.
"Mmphrmph.." Quatre finished over my hand anyway.
Translation: I have this cousin who'd love to meet you, my neighbor is
the sweetest little thing, my sister's roommate's brother's friend's cousin
is so very nice.
Yeah, things get complicated when your friends who are already itching
to make you settle down gets a whiff of your future plans to settle down.
It is safe to say that I tucked tail and ran out of their apartment quickly
after that. I was not in the mood to sit there while they congratulated
me on my decision to find someone special, to find someone who thought
I was special. Not that I didn't appreciate their support, but I really
didn't need Quatre going matchmaker on me and pulling out every female
he has ever known, convinced that each and every one of them was perfect
for my needs. God, no.
So yes, I ran. They didn't follow, thankfully, but then again, they understand
my needs. For tonight, Quatre would leave me alone, knowing that I had
said something to them that I had meant to keep to myself. Tomorrow, though..
Maybe I should just sleep through tomorrow.
And how does one sleep through an entire day? Easily. One, it's Friday
night so tomorrow is a blissfully calm Saturday. No need to wake at all.
Two, I spy a bar.
Alcohol plus a Saturday bonus equals sleeping an entire day.
That was my brilliant plan for avoiding Quatre the next day. So I went
to my regular bar, the Tornado Fodder, named after the fate of the owner's
house in Florida, with every intention of getting hammered to the point
where I would skip Saturday and head straight into Sunday.
Believe me, I didn't even have an ulterior motive of wanting to meet girls
in my quest either. I just wanted to drink and go home to pass out. I
did see a couple of cute ones batting their eyes at me and I bought them
drinks out of habit, flirting for all I was worth, but nothing serious
was flitting through my mind. I was drinking for the sake of drinking
then something odd happened.
I was standing at the bar, trying to flag down the busy bartender for
a refill on my drink since I wasn't nearly drunk enough, when a solid
mass crashed into me and pitched me forward. It was a resounding kind
of crash where I ended up with my face nearly planted on the bar among
the lime rinds and the empty glasses. Also, the crashed caused the not
very sober chick next to me to spill her drink all over me. It just had
to be a strawberry margarita, all sweet, sticky and impossible to ignore.
"I'm so sorry!"
The girl squealed at me, trying with her hands to wipe away the damage
but it was too late. I was soaking wet, definitely unhappy and she was
putting her hands where I did not want them. I waved her off, thoroughly
pissed, to whoever behind me that had crashed into me. From the crash
to the girl's apology to my whirling around in a frenzy took all of five
seconds but my reaction as soon as I turned to the guy who had crashed
into me lasted significantly longer.
Imagine this scene for a second. One: Duo Maxwell, slightly tipsy, wearing
his nice polo shirt and black pants which in turn are wearing a strawberry
margarita. Two: a solidly built guy about my age and height with Prussian
blue eyes and a mop of dark brown hair staring back rather impassively
at me. Three: Instant, carnal attraction on my part.
Step three involved me staring at the guy with mouth gaping open and it
lasted, oh I'd say, about twenty seconds before I realized what I was
doing and where I was.
That's when my brain finally caught up and said 'you're attracted to a
guy!' really loudly in a shocked tone.
Let's just say it's not every day that Duo Maxwell runs away with his
tail tucked behind his ass twice in one night.
When I got home, three things occurred to me. First, I may not be as straight
as I originally thought. Two, the guy was really hot. Three, I had no
earthly clue who the hell he was.
Oh shit. On all three counts.
[part 3] [back to 0083's