Farewell, Istanbul & Mr. Blue Eyed Boy

I had no intention of seeing Mr. Blue Eyed boy yesterday, so I stayed as far away as possible from the neighborhood he would be in.  I spent some time reviewing in my mind everything that happened and I kind of feel a bit uncomfortable with how everything went down. The lip hickeys have faded for the most part (thank God!) but the beard burn still stings. A lot.

Since today is my last day in Istanbul, I went to see him so we could talk.

It was pounding rain when I left the guesthouse but I made the trek anyway, borrowing an umbrella from reception. When I got to his office, I could tell from the look on his face that he was hurting. Because his co-workers were around we didn’t say much to each other; we tried instead to communicate using our eyes. It wasn’t working.

He brought two cups of tea to his desk for both of us and we drank them in silence. While he plugged away at his keyboard, I watched the rain out the window. When the rain finally slowed to a point where we could talk outside, I asked him to come and have a cigarette with me.

Outside I explained to him that I was not intending on sleeping at his house and that everything that happened was really too much for me. And that was the truth. Even if he was the best kisser in the world, I’m not in a place to let someone seriously into my life right now. I just got here and just met him yesterday.

“Did I do something wrong to you? Was I too rough?” he asked, sounding hurt.


“Yeah.” I said. I pointed to my still somewhat bruised lips. “See this? You did this to me.”

His face became apologetic and his demeanor changed into one of concern. “I am so sorry! I got carried away! I was thinking that I did something and that was why you did not come yesterday.”

Well, I have to give him points for actually thinking about it.

I mean, despite the facial rape and lip hickeys, I still did kind of like this guy.

In our conversation, however, I did neglect to tell him that his sheets needed to be washed like two months ago and that this was by far the worst make-out experience I’ve ever had, because I didn’t want to be mean. I figure that if this were ever to turn into anything, then I’d definitely have to tell him.

I mean, a dude can wash his sheets, right?

Maybe these are just superficial things that can be changed.


I told him that I’d like to see him again if I end up back in Istanbul at the end of my trip. He didn’t want me to leave but agreed, saying that maybe us meeting was kismet and that he’d be waiting for my return.

Only time will tell what may happen, but in all honesty I’m just happy to get the hell out of Istanbul.

*photo of Istanbul by stephulu

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