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Becoming a Philosopher 2
I never did rent an apartment, but I did go to university, and I am loving it. I've enjoyed the freedom, the escape from the petty rules and regulations hidden under the veneer of `tradition' in a private school. I couldn't believe just how much my parents paid for an education that was so oppressive!
I enjoyed my philosophy classes where the first semester focused on classical philosophy. We focused on Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, it was Plato's allegory of the cave that got me thinking about my schooling and how it at failed to get me to think, despite obtaining eight distinctions! Imagine a cave. Prisoners are chained facing its far wall. They've been imprisoned their entire life, and their heads are held fixed so that they can't see anything except the cave wall. Behind them there is a fire and between the fire and their backs a road. Various people walk along the road casting their shadows on the cave wall; some of them carry models of animals which also cast shadows. The prisoners inside the cave only ever see shadows, and they believe the shadows are the real world because they don't know better. But they never see real people. One prisoner breaks free discovers the reality and returns to tell the others who don't believe him. He sees beyond the appearances, much like a philosopher.
I visited Matt's mom every week. She, like me, was struggling to deal with his untimely death. I told her about my philosophy course and how it was Matt who got me thinking like a philosopher, questioning reality. I told her how I realised that teachers at my school used what they called the `Socratic method' merely a question-answer technique. They never used the method as a form of cooperative dialogue allowing us to make assertions about a topic, investigate those assertions with questions to uncover presuppositions and stimulate critical thinking, and finally come to an understanding about the topic.
Mrs Harper laughed and said that Matt had been like that since he was little, always questioning and going beneath the surface. She had been called into school more than once when a teacher said that Matt was cheeky or insubordinate. She told me how he drove the Irish nun who taught the confirmation class up the wall with all his questions. In one class she was so exasperated that she shouted: "I might wear a vale Matt, but I'm not the bloody walking encyclopaedia of the Catholic Church."
We enjoyed our time together and it helped both of us to talk about Matt. She wanted to know what got up to on scout camps and what had happened on the trip to Gansbaai. We spoke easily and were both grateful for Matt's life.
There were a lot of students in the Philosophy 1 class, and we didn't get to interact much with the professors. It was in our tutorial group that I got to know Sven Karlsson; a doctoral student from Sweden researching African philosophy and our tutor. Sven was blonde, about 6' 2" I would guess, and had blue eyes. He was quite slim and moved around the class with confidence, he was well-schooled in continental philosophy and joked that he chose to come to Cape Town for the sun and the sea. Matt had excellent gaydar, but mine was defective, and I wished he was around to make a judgment about Sven.
Sven was very friendly, especially towards me, and I asked him to join me for a coffee after a tutorial. He was an enthusiastic person and spoke a fair amount about his doctoral work. But he stopped at one point, putting his hand on my arm asked me to tell him about myself.
Sven hadn't done much hiking since he had arrived in South Africa and invited him on a Table Mountain hike. He was very excited and wanted to go as soon as possible, and I realised that he was lonely and that he really didn't know a lot of people.
I told Sven that the weather can change very quickly on Table Mountain, the cloud often rises out of nowhere, and that when the wind picks up it can reach gale-force speeds. I told him to bring warm clothing for the top, and that if the wind speeds were too high the cable car would not operate.
We set out the next Saturday morning following the Platteklip Gorge route, the oldest and most direct hiking route up Table Mountain. It is well-marked and great for amateurs and first-time Table Mountain hikers, and it is hard to get lost. Our plan was to walk to the top and use the cable car to come down.
Along our way up I told Sven that the Cape Floral Kingdom of Table Mountain National Park was one of the richest floral regions in the world and that over 70% of the flowers were endemic to the mountain. I also told him that the mountain was one of the new seven world wonders, and that is thought to be one of the oldest mountains in the world. At times I let him lead up the path and that gave me a chance to size up his arse and legs. His legs were muscular and covered in fine light blonde hairs, his arse was firm and trim.
Once we were at the top, we followed the different pathways and enjoyed the views from different vantage points. Sven made sure that he took a lot of pictures to send back home. We ate a toasted sandwich and had coffee at the mountain restaurant, which was filling up fast, and Sven shared more about his life:
"I was in a relationship with a guy in Sweden, before coming here. That's one of the reasons why I chose to come here. Anders and I had shared an apartment for nearly four years. I accidentally discovered that he also had a girlfriend and that he hadn't told me about her. I ended the relationship and got out of the apartment."
I told him about Matt, and how we had planned to share an apartment this year. I told him about the stabbing and how much I missed him. Sven held my hand as I spoke, and I didn't mind as I appreciated the consolation. I told Sven that Matt and I had done many of these hikes, both with scout groups and on our own, and that Table Mountain would always trigger memories of him.
That evening Sven sent me a thank you message on WhatsApp and asked if we could meet soon. I replied with a smiley emoji. I was hesitant about getting into any relationship with this twenty-four-year-old after Matt's death and would tell him that.
Early on Sunday morning, I got a message from Sven asking if we could meet that afternoon. He had access to a car, and we could go somewhere. We met and went for a long walk on the beach at Sea Point. A light sea breeze blew salty air across the coast, and you knew you were on the Atlantic. I told Sven that I appreciated his friendship and that I was worried about getting into any long-term relationship. The wind picked up and we both had goosebumps, and we made our way back to the car. Once we were in the car he leaned over and kissed me, I responded, and I explored his mouth with my tongue. I was hard again.
As we drove off to see his apartment, I raised the issue of him being a tutor, and whether a relationship would be permitted under the university regulations. He hadn't thought about that and said he would have to investigate. He had a very nice furnished bachelor apartment on campus for senior students. There was one couch which I sat on while he made coffee, he later joined me, and after drinking our coffee we kissed. Sven moved his hand and squeezed my erection. I could have easily gone further, but I pushed his hand away and whispered:
"Not now."
Sven dropped me off at my place and I introduced him to my parents. The night I got another WhatsApp from Sven wanting to meet up the next day. This was a bit too intense for me and I told him.
I lay on my bed wondering what Matt would do in my situation. He was always cautious and thoughtful. It was only a couple of months ago when we were together in the Southern Cape when we were more daring. We had each had a couple of shots of vodka that night when I stuck some meat on the barbeque. We were mellow and very randy, and Matt suggested that we shower before making supper. There was no hot water, but it was summer, and we soon got used to the water. We soaped each other up and ran our hands over up other's bodies. Our dicks were at full attention as we wanked each other off. We stretched it out and explored each other's arses and stuck our fingers in. We teased each other by playing with our dicks in front of our holes. We had all the time in the world, and we eventually came on each other's stomachs.
The fire was perfect, and we grilled our steaks quickly. The supper went down well with some craft beer. It was very hot. Later that evening we lay naked in the dark of night on our picnic blanket admiring the southern skies. Matt went down on me and started sucking my dick, and I was hard in no time. I grabbed the lube and feeling mellow asked Matt to fuck me. I pulled my shorts off and lifted my legs as Matt approached me on his knees. He started to lube my hole getting two fingers in. I applied lube to his raging boner, and he slowly pushed his dick into my hole. I could barely make out his facial features in the dark, but the stars in the night sky behind him were magnificent. Matt's dick caught my prostate now and again and I hummed with satisfaction. I came before him without touching my dick. His breathing got louder, and I could feel his warm spunk inside me. He came closer to me and kissed me, my cum squished between us. He moved down to lick my stomach and I licked his.
That night we brought our mattresses and sleeping bags outside and slept in the open. We were woken at sunrise by some seagulls scavenging around our fire. The sea looked inviting, and we ran, naked, into the water. The water was so cold that it knocked my breath away. We ran out faster than we ran in, and we showered in the cold water to get the salt off us, our balls were shrivelled and we got out quickly.