International Date Line (IDL)

The International Date Line (IDL) is an imaginary line of demarcation on the surface of Earth that runs from the North Pole to the South Pole and demarcates the change of one calendar day to the next. It passes through the middle of the Pacific Ocean, roughly following the 180° line of longitude but deviating to pass around some territories and island groups. – Wikipedia

When you travel from American Somoa to Somoa at 12am the day changes from Thursday to Saturday and Friday is lost forever.  You found a time portal where you can travel a short distance to lose a day and when you go back the other way, from Somoa to American Somoa, the opposite happens, you gain a day.

You wake up one morning in a cloudy fog and realize you have awakened from yet another drunken stupor. You remember bits and pieces of a night out on the town at first with your girlfriends and then with a guy you met. You can vaguely remember he was handsome and ripped and there was another peculiar part of him you could barely recall through the haze. You remember your roll in the hay was preceded by a long, eloquent and love infused soliloquy. You remember a cocktail with a pungent taste, but you couldn’t remember if you swallowed it or spit it out.

You also couldn’t recall why he encouraged you to play along while he entertained you with his poetic phrases. You just remember hearing his question as you slowly lost consciousness after imbibing the proverbial one drink too many. Forward or backward? Fast forward or rewind? Pain or Pleasure? If you say forward, you can skip Friday as if it never happened. If you say backward, you can relive Friday all over again.

Not every day of sex is good. Not every day of sex is bad. Today you can trade your worst day for another. This is a tale of two stories. 1) What day would you like to skip? 2) What day would you like to repeat?

After you tell your first story you experience a shocking surprise. The unwanted day will slip slowly away never to darken your doorstep again. Out of sight out of mind. And as you write your second story an ancient time travel phenomenon will unfold right before your eyes, you’ll be gifted with another day of romantic bliss, but only if you reveal your most intimate kinks and triggers, one last time.

2 thoughts on “International Date Line (IDL)

  1. Dearest Mark,

    I have a few questions after reading your post.

    1. Another drunken stupor??? Do I need to enter rehab for this drinking problem?
    2. Did the guy look like Jason Momoa??
    3. If he did look like Jason, I would definitely remember everything he said and did to me.
    4. What was in that cocktail? I hope it wasn’t the date rape drug… Nah! Jason would never do that to me.
    5. Are you crazy? No one would want to forget a Friday. Especially one spent in the company of a rugged, broodingly handsome gentleman.

    Yes. I do realize number 3 was not a question. Any day of sex with a consenting, thoughtful partner is a good one. The closeness, that feeling of being cherished, and whole and tethered to another soul will always keep me coming back for more. Good or bad.

    Like

  2. The fog lifts, slowly like a red haze my eyes see after looking at a fire for too long. I ache, in places I forgot I had; but, it is a feeling of being satisfied and full, not injured in some unspeakable way. What day is it anyway? Saturday? The last day I fully remember is Thursday, when deplaning in Soma, I dropped my bag and the most handsome man I have ever met in my life helped me to gather up all my belongings which had scattered along the carpet of the walkway. There was something magnetic about him. His eyes maybe? That steely blue which seemed to pierce my very soul? The Raven blackness of his hair which was not the normal genetic pattern one would expect?

    What possessed me to play along with the magnetic man? His flowery elegant speech with a hint of Aussie? I don’t know, but it was something amazing and awe-inspiring. This was not making love in the classical sense. No, this was sex, pure and simple, and on some guttural animalist level that just thinking about makes me all hot and bothered again.

    I feel the tangled sheets beside me. They are still warm, but the man, or god, was gone. Alone in the room, my growing desire made me suck in my breath as if a great weight was upon me. Where had he gone? My body tells it was not a very vivid dream, but reality.

    Perhaps he went to fetch us another one of those exotic drinks from the night before; but, maybe not. Did I drink it? I can’t remember. In fact, every memory was quickly fading, leaving me only with that empty feeling of new desire that apparently would not be filled. Too fast! I wanted to remember. I wanted to relive that day again!

    Like

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