07-10-2025, 03:10 PM
I'm dead, and this is how it happened:
When I woke up this morning, I knew: today is the day! The day of decision! Today I would finally dare to do it. No matter what the outcome would be. No matter what the consequences would be. By now, I didn't care about ANYTHING! It just had to happen now.
What had to happen? Oh yes, I should perhaps explain that a little to help you understand my sudden passing. So, right from the start: I've fallen in love! Not really suddenly, though, it was more of a long crush over several years.
Now, love itself is not necessarily a reason to depart this mortal coil. In my case, however, the circumstances were somewhat more complicated. The thing is: I'm a guy. And I fell in love with: a guy! HELP! I'm gay! Awful, isn't it? That was exactly my reaction when it hit me four or five years ago.
The object of my desire goes by the name of Jerome, which sounds so infinitely musical and romantic. And not only is the name French, but so is the divine creature who goes by it. Jerome was a newcomer to our high school back then in the 10th grade, and I, a foolish dog that I was, had nothing better to do than fall head over heels in love with him! That's when everything started!
It all started quite harmlessly, I felt attracted to him in a way that was completely incomprehensible to me at the time. At that point, it would never have occurred to me that this feeling of attraction was an expression of my homosexuality, which was just beginning to creep up on me. It took quite a while before I realized the full extent of my feelings. When it happened, I couldn't get out of the bathroom for hours! An upset stomach, I can only say. Well, at least it gave me the time to calmly reflect on this madness that was boiling up inside me. Three rolls of toilet paper and half a lake of rinse water later, I had thought about everything and weighed it up and had my inner coming out behind me.
But that didn't mean that everything was hunky-dory! Okay, I had admitted to myself that I was gay and had a crush on a super-cute French lad – but what did I get out of it? This French lad was out of reach, and to make matters worse, the girls in the area swarmed around him like flies around a horse's turd. Oh God, did I really just do that? Did I compare Jerome to a horse turd? Sorry, Jerome!
So I could only rave about him from afar, idolize him, and memorize his appearance for later use. Or, much worse, not only from afar but especially up close! We had become good friends over time, which was both a blessing and a curse for me. Constantly in his presence, and yet he was so out of reach. The years at school were bad enough, but now we were doing our civilian service in the same hospital at the same time, even on the same ward! What torture!
Of course, I had never dared to even hint at my feelings for him! Anyone who knows me knows that my middle name starts with “F” and ends with “eigling”. (So it should come as no surprise that the people who even know that I'm gay can be counted on one hand – and I've already counted myself in there!) On top of that, I didn't have the slightest idea how Jerome felt about gays. If I had been a little more intelligent, I might have brought up the subject in a completely unsuspicious way, but I never claimed to be a second Einstein. Besides, it was too dangerous for me anyway, Jerome can do kickboxing and has a sometimes quite short temper!
So while I was slowly dying inside from unrequited love, my friend Jerome was happily living for the moment, flirting with the girls and had no idea of my torments! In the last three or four weeks, however, it became increasingly clear to me that it just couldn't go on like this. I wouldn't survive another month of vegetating like this, so I might as well take the risk of confessing my feelings to Jerome. Better to be sent to kingdom come than to slowly wither away from a broken heart like a primrose.
So I made up my mind to finally tell him, to finally come clean. I had spent the first half of last night preparing my speech word for word – the second half was then filled with a motley mix of nightmares that played out all possible reactions of Jerome to my confession, all of which ended with my going to the happy hunting grounds.
So this morning I had put on my best clothes and paid particular attention to clean underpants. Come on, who wants to end up in the pathologist's office in baggy, dirty boxers! Especially as a gay man! You have a reputation to lose.
We had arranged to meet in the city for shopping, and I had thought that a public place with lots of people would slightly improve my chances of survival. When I saw him standing at the meeting point, as cute as always, I wanted to call the whole thing off and just make do with my usual flirting, but in an unprecedented fit of courage (or desperation?) I decided to go through with my plan.
Of course, this took much longer than planned, I stuttered and hemmed and hawed until Jerome got fed up and asked me what was wrong with me. If I wanted to tell him something, then I should finally come clean. So I gathered all my courage and did just that. Right in the middle of the market square.
Well, now I know what happens. It's a few hours later, and I'm dead.
Jerome, by the way, is lying next to me and he's dead too.
As the Frenchman says: Le petit mort - the little death!
What a wonderful name for the orgasm of my life!
When I woke up this morning, I knew: today is the day! The day of decision! Today I would finally dare to do it. No matter what the outcome would be. No matter what the consequences would be. By now, I didn't care about ANYTHING! It just had to happen now.
What had to happen? Oh yes, I should perhaps explain that a little to help you understand my sudden passing. So, right from the start: I've fallen in love! Not really suddenly, though, it was more of a long crush over several years.
Now, love itself is not necessarily a reason to depart this mortal coil. In my case, however, the circumstances were somewhat more complicated. The thing is: I'm a guy. And I fell in love with: a guy! HELP! I'm gay! Awful, isn't it? That was exactly my reaction when it hit me four or five years ago.
The object of my desire goes by the name of Jerome, which sounds so infinitely musical and romantic. And not only is the name French, but so is the divine creature who goes by it. Jerome was a newcomer to our high school back then in the 10th grade, and I, a foolish dog that I was, had nothing better to do than fall head over heels in love with him! That's when everything started!
It all started quite harmlessly, I felt attracted to him in a way that was completely incomprehensible to me at the time. At that point, it would never have occurred to me that this feeling of attraction was an expression of my homosexuality, which was just beginning to creep up on me. It took quite a while before I realized the full extent of my feelings. When it happened, I couldn't get out of the bathroom for hours! An upset stomach, I can only say. Well, at least it gave me the time to calmly reflect on this madness that was boiling up inside me. Three rolls of toilet paper and half a lake of rinse water later, I had thought about everything and weighed it up and had my inner coming out behind me.
But that didn't mean that everything was hunky-dory! Okay, I had admitted to myself that I was gay and had a crush on a super-cute French lad – but what did I get out of it? This French lad was out of reach, and to make matters worse, the girls in the area swarmed around him like flies around a horse's turd. Oh God, did I really just do that? Did I compare Jerome to a horse turd? Sorry, Jerome!
So I could only rave about him from afar, idolize him, and memorize his appearance for later use. Or, much worse, not only from afar but especially up close! We had become good friends over time, which was both a blessing and a curse for me. Constantly in his presence, and yet he was so out of reach. The years at school were bad enough, but now we were doing our civilian service in the same hospital at the same time, even on the same ward! What torture!
Of course, I had never dared to even hint at my feelings for him! Anyone who knows me knows that my middle name starts with “F” and ends with “eigling”. (So it should come as no surprise that the people who even know that I'm gay can be counted on one hand – and I've already counted myself in there!) On top of that, I didn't have the slightest idea how Jerome felt about gays. If I had been a little more intelligent, I might have brought up the subject in a completely unsuspicious way, but I never claimed to be a second Einstein. Besides, it was too dangerous for me anyway, Jerome can do kickboxing and has a sometimes quite short temper!
So while I was slowly dying inside from unrequited love, my friend Jerome was happily living for the moment, flirting with the girls and had no idea of my torments! In the last three or four weeks, however, it became increasingly clear to me that it just couldn't go on like this. I wouldn't survive another month of vegetating like this, so I might as well take the risk of confessing my feelings to Jerome. Better to be sent to kingdom come than to slowly wither away from a broken heart like a primrose.
So I made up my mind to finally tell him, to finally come clean. I had spent the first half of last night preparing my speech word for word – the second half was then filled with a motley mix of nightmares that played out all possible reactions of Jerome to my confession, all of which ended with my going to the happy hunting grounds.
So this morning I had put on my best clothes and paid particular attention to clean underpants. Come on, who wants to end up in the pathologist's office in baggy, dirty boxers! Especially as a gay man! You have a reputation to lose.
We had arranged to meet in the city for shopping, and I had thought that a public place with lots of people would slightly improve my chances of survival. When I saw him standing at the meeting point, as cute as always, I wanted to call the whole thing off and just make do with my usual flirting, but in an unprecedented fit of courage (or desperation?) I decided to go through with my plan.
Of course, this took much longer than planned, I stuttered and hemmed and hawed until Jerome got fed up and asked me what was wrong with me. If I wanted to tell him something, then I should finally come clean. So I gathered all my courage and did just that. Right in the middle of the market square.
Well, now I know what happens. It's a few hours later, and I'm dead.
Jerome, by the way, is lying next to me and he's dead too.
As the Frenchman says: Le petit mort - the little death!
What a wonderful name for the orgasm of my life!