Wednesday, December 28, 2011

To Those Who Saw Me In Obar

To whom it may concern:

Let me begin by saying that I was not quite myself when I was in Obar last Sunday.

First, I think it should be pointed out that I had seven bottles of beer that night. That's not a lot for most drinkers, myself included actually, but I had three different brands. I'm pretty sure that's what messed me up. Yes, I'm really sure.

At the start, I was at the back of the club. If you saw me trying to undress the twinky guy standing beside me, then I think you should know that he's just a really good friend. He was complaining that it was too hot inside, so I was trying to do him a favor. It may have looked like I was forcing him, but no, I wasn't. If you looked closely, you would have seen that he was smiling, even when I touched his man-boobs while his head and arms were stuck in his shirt. We were both smiling.

An hour after my friend and I came in, a daddy-looking guy joined us. That was another friend who is actually only twenty-seven. We dated a couple of months ago for five days but it didn't work out. It was a good breakup and no one was bitter even though it was his entire fault. He was there that night in Obar because I invited him, because that's what mature ex-dates do.

A couple of hours later, when I was already on my fifth beer, we transferred to a table near the front door, which was partly occupied by a BBM friend and his friends. After a while, right after my friend introduced me to his friends and I forgot their names, I started singing along to the music at the top of my lungs. That was a bit unsightly, I admit, but I blame it all on Adele. She was clawing at my wounds and that was me screaming in agony.

By the time the last performance of the night had ended, everyone was already drenched in good vibes, myself included. How could we not be when it’s Christmas? We had to spread the joy. I found myself talking to my friend's friends. Then I was talking to the other guys in our table, then the guys on the next table, then to every guy that passed by our group. The mood was just so infectious.

Rocky and Toby, if you're reading this, I want you guys to know that it was a pleasure meeting you, and also that I was already finishing my sixth beer when I came up and introduced myself to you. I think I may have been a bit annoying, asking you over and over if I was already embarassing myself, but it was only because I kept forgetting your answer, which was also the reason why I kept asking your friend his name. We should get together again next time, when I'm still sober, and we can talk fondly about that night. Perhaps that will remind me of the fuzzy parts that my friends won't tell me about.

There was actually one detail that I almost forgot - that I slapped daddy-looking-guy many times. It was all just good fun, of course. Luckily, I remembered it the next day because one of my fingers was swollen. That means my hand hit a hard part in his face, probably his cheekbone. Congratulations, daddy-looking-guy, looks like you've lost weight.

I remember kissing a guy that night. If you happen to be that guy, please don’t be mad if I don’t recognize you when we next bump into each other. The kiss happened when my eyes were already failing me. I couldn't even type on my phone properly anymore. When I checked the last text I sent that night, it said "Ymuwivnqko" which, I'm guessing, was supposed to read "Umuwi nako". I do remember, though, that you were a good kisser. Next time you spot me lurking in the shadows of Obar, just pull me in and kiss me, and I might just remember.

I took the same cab home as BBM guy because we were practically neighbors. I thought I was already too drunk to do anything, but I rose through the challenge. I had enough sense left to tell the cab driver where I lived. And unlike many of my friends who told me they already threw up inside a cab, I still had the sense to tell the driver to pull over so I can throw up on the sidewalk. I don't remember paying, though, so I guess I owe BBM guy some money.

Having said that, I'd like to tell anyone who saw me in Obar or on the sidewalk that I'm really not usually like that. I’m usually a very collected person, the typical shy-type. Nevertheless, I'm going to take a break from going there - no, wait, from drinking altogether. I’ve had enough for the time being and don't plan to go anywhere near liquor until Thursday. Ah yes, that's tomorrow.



Monday, December 5, 2011

Bringing Back The Sparklers

There’s a Christmas Eve from my childhood that I can still remember clearly. I was six or seven years old back then. I was standing on a small chair, looking out the window, and Mama was standing behind me, her arms forming a little fence around me to make sure I didn’t fall off. We were each holding one of those cheap sparklers, the kind that burned out thirty seconds after being lit. I was holding my sparkler up, beaming as I watched the pretty sparks fly every which way into the night.

Then I looked up at Mama and, with all the excitement and silliness of the little child that I was, greeted her, “Merry Christmas Ma!” Mama smiled and answered, “Merry Christmas, anak.” Her arms closed around me and hugged me tight and she bent down to kiss me on the head.

Almost twenty years have passed since then, but it is still one of the moments in my life that I cherish the most. That was the time when my relationship with Mama was still built firmly on unblemished trust. The small space within her arms was my sanctuary. I knew she wouldn’t let me fall off the chair no matter how much I jumped around while pretending that my sparklers were a rocket ship zooming around in space. Back then, she was all that I needed.

But I grew up and, as I’ve found out too many times, growing up complicates a lot of things. I’m not really sure how it started, but I became more and more distant from Mama as I grew up. I was determined to explore life on my own. This is my life and I will live it the way I want it to, I always said to myself.

Mama has this idea of what success is:  I have to graduate from school (it doesn’t matter which school as long as I graduate on time), I have to find a job and stay there for at least five years because it’s difficult to find a job, I have to work abroad so that I can earn more, and finally, I have to find a wife and start my own family. It’s her life mission to help me do all of those, she said it’s the only way she can leave this world with peace of mind.

So far, I have not followed any of her plans. It took me six and a half years to graduate from college because I absolutely refused to study at any other school. I quit my first job after two years and I have told Mama that my new job isn’t going to be forever either, much to her dismay. I do not feel the need to work abroad yet because I’d much rather go back to school and take up masters. As for the wife and family thing, well, I’m gay so that’s not going to happen.

The fact that I have lived my life differently from how she had planned scares Mama. She thinks I’m wasting away and that I’ll be one of those has-beens left penniless and alone when they grow old. She tries desperately to steer me back on track, which I see as a slap at my character because I see myself as neither aimless nor as a failure. My plans may not be as clear-cut as hers but they do exist, and I think I’ve been doing pretty well on my own.

I can no longer count how many times Mama and I fought about my decisions, my life in general actually. It’s no longer the same as when we were still on that window, when what she wanted for me was also what I wanted. I know that she only wants me to be safe, but the walls that she built to protect me already feel like a prison. I’m different now, I’m no longer the frail, naïve, innocent little boy I used to be. I need Mama in my life and I will always consider her advices, but I have to make my own decisions now. Even if I don’t do what she wants me to do, it doesn’t mean that I don’t need her anymore.

I guess it’s hard for Mama to trust me simply because it’s hard to trust someone you barely know. I’ve been living away from home for twelve years now and, looking back, I realize that I’ve been doing my best to stay out of Mama’s reach. It’s not her fault that she doesn’t know me anymore, I brought this on us. I have made sure that she had as little involvement in my life as possible. I guess you can call it part of my teenage rebellion years or whatever. I’ve never been able to catch with her since, even until now. Honestly, readers of this blog probably know more about me than Mama does.

This Christmas eve, I’m buying Mama and me a box of those sparklers. As we light those sparklers, I’ll tell her about how the queue for the jeepney going home gets insanely long during rush hour, which is why I prefer to go home late. I’ll brag that I have every bit of alcohol tolerance that she has. I’ll show her that I already eat patatas, munggo and upo. I’ll take her to Starbucks and tell her how I sometimes imagine what it would be like to drink pa-sosyal coffee with her. I will tell her about how I went to Baguio for a boy, fell in love and got my heart broken after a few weeks, though I’ll probably leave out that I drank for a week after the breakup. Then I’ll tell her about my new boyfriend, this amazing guy who gave me chocolates and vitamins for my birthday.

Hopefully, that will do as a first step towards catching up. In spite of all the fights that we’ve been in, and no matter how it may seem otherwise, I love her with all my heart. I want to go back to those times when we had unquestioning trust for each other. I don’t know how many years of life either of us still has, and I don’t want to waste one more moment of it. She is my mother and I am her son. I don’t want us to be strangers anymore.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Nang Mag-Senti Sina Nishi At Housemate

May kinakaadikang kanta ngayon sina Nishi at Housemate:

Senti – Moonstar 88

(I-play para maka-relate)

Bilang likas na artists ang dalawa, hindi nila mapigilang ma-internalize nang husto ang kanta - ang lyrics, ang melody, ang build-up papunta sa chorus. Damang-dama nila ang message.

At siyempre, di nila napigilang magcomment habang nakikinig sa laptop.

Niyaya mo ako mamasyal sa zoo
Ang sabi mo kasi kailangan mo ng kasama

Housemate: Ito pa din ba yung lumang vocalist? Bago na to diba?
Nishi: Oo, bago na yan. Yan yung napanood ko dating nag-concert sa elbi.

Sumama naman ako kasi crush kita, noon pa
Kung sabagay gusto ko naring magka
Alam mo na

Housemate: Ano yung “alam mo na”?
Nishi: Ewan. Baka fubu.
Housemate: Sa zoo?

Pagkatapos kumain tayo sa labas
Kinwento mo ang iyong nakaraan

Nishi: Mas gusto ko yung dating vocalist. Mas unique yung boses, so madali yung recall.
Housemate: Uy, pero magaling siya dito. Grabe lang. Abangan mo mamaya.

Iniwanan ka pala ng iyong girlfriend

Nishi: Boyfriend!
Housemate: Girlfriend daw, sus.

Kasi ayaw nya ang bago mong buhok
Mahal ka ba niya talaga

Housemate: Grabe, hindi siya kumakanta, she’s telling a story..

Mahal ka ba niya talaga

Nishi: Oo nga, as in. Para talaga siyang tumatangis.

Inaliw kita, tawa ka nga ng tawa

Nishi: Ay pakshet eto na, parating na ang pinakamasakit na part!

Sinabi mo, wag kita iwan
Ayaw mo mag isa

Housemate: Ayan naaaa!

(At sinabayan na nila ang kanta.)

Nishi, Housemate at laptop:  OK LANG SA AKIN! ABUTIN MAN NG UMAGA!

(At this point, hindi na halos marinig ang laptop.)


Housemate: (sinigawan ang laptop) Shit girl, ang pathetic mo!

Mahal ka ba niya talaga
Mahal ka ba niya talaga

Nishi: Pero aminin mo, ginawa mo yun dati. Nag-antay ka sa labas ng bahay ni ex mo, hoping na lalabas siya.
Housemate: Hoy hindi. Wala akong alam jan.

Mahal ka ba niya talaga
Mahal ka ba niya talaga

Nishi: Weh?
Housemate: Hindi ko siya inaantay na lumabas. Andun lang ako, nakatayo lang.
Nishi: Tarages, mas pathetic pa yun ah.

Ako, mahal kita
Mahal na mahal
Mahal na mahal
Mahal na mahal

Nishi: (kinakausap ang laptop) Girl, tama na! Kahit ilang beses mo pa ulit-uliting mahal mo siya, iiwan ka pa din niya! Babalik pa din siya ng Baguio!
Housemate: (taas kilay) Wow, Baguio? It’s Jeff-talk all over again!

Mahal na mahal

Nishi: *NR*

Mahal na mahal

Housemate: so ako talaga ang pathetic?

(Patapos na ang kanta)

Housemate: (lumapit sa laptop) Tama na nga ang kahibangang to. Masyado na akong nasasaktan.
Nishi: Waaag! Lumaban tayooo! Kaya ko paaa!

At buong gabi ngang naka-repeat ang kanta. Pati na rin ang pag-eemote ng dalawa.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

How I Found The Guys I Dated

“How do I find a partner?”

It’s still one question that we gays find ourselves asking more often than we admit. If one listens to our stories of impromptu hookups, one could actually think that it’s easy for us to find partners. But that’s just sex. Sex is a lot easier to find than a boyfriend. Maybe that’s why many of us try to look for love in those places where we find sex: bath houses, massage parlors, social networking sites and all the rest. There’s nothing wrong with that. I know of partners who first met in those places and worked out just fine. As for me, though, I haven’t yet tried looking there.

Here is how I met the guys I had relationships/serious dates with:

I met my first boyfriend in an MMORPG that I played back in college. His name was Mike and he was my guildmate. We met when a few members of our guild held a “guild eyeball”. He initially claimed to be straight but that was quickly debunked on our first night, when he kissed me and I blew him. He “proposed” to me the next day, through the game chat, while we were busy slaughtering monsters. We lasted two weeks.

My next boyfriend was Vince, an orgmate in college. He told me that I’ve been his crush ever since he was still applying for our org. I didn’t entertain his confession at first because he wasn’t my type and because I had my eyes on someone else, but that someone rejected me so I said “yes” to Vince. However, he kind of knew that he was just a fallback and it made him very insecure. He got jealous of everyone, even the guy who sold fruit shakes near my apartment who I said was cute. I got tired of it all after two months and broke up with him.

After a couple of months, I met my third boyfriend: Philip. He was my roommate’s visitor. I had to leave for an exam when we first met so we didn’t get to talk a lot. When I got back home, he had already left. I spent the night thinking of ways to get his number from my roommate, which I eventually did, then spent the entire morning after staring at his name in my phonebook, thinking about what to say to him. Then I got a text. From him. Apparently, he also did some number-fishing of his own while I was gone. We went on our first date that night and became official after a week. We lasted two years and ten months. (If you're interested in the details, it's HERE.)

I went on a series of dates after the breakup, the first of which was with Carlo. He was with one of my friends when I joined them for a drink. I immediately thought that he was cute, but also that he was out of my reach. Nevertheless, I asked my friend to set us up on a date. My friend just smiled. A month later, she asked me if I was still interested. Apparently, she mentioned me to Carlo, and it turned out that he also had a crush on me. We finally had our first date a couple of weeks after that, and we continued seeing each other for the next two months.

Carlo and I didn’t exactly end on good terms. I was quite bitter, actually. Partly for revenge, I went back two weeks later to the bar we used to hang out in. There was a big party, and sure enough, Carlo was there with his friends. I decided to flirt with one of his friends whom I’ve also been crushing on: a 42-year old guy named Felipe. I was surprised when he flirted back, and even more surprised when I woke up in his place the morning after. Our setup was weird, what with him being friends with Carlo, but we went out a few more times after that.

Then I met Aaron. He was the brother of an orgmate and he also happened to be Philip’s officemate. We met at one of the many Pride March after-parties in Malate. The first time we met, I already had a distinct feeling that he hated me, which was confirmed later on. He knew about how Philip and I broke up and he had a picture of me as this heartless creature that made Philip cry. Then we got to know each other and he realized that I wasn’t such a bad guy. (Lol) We went to Malate again, just the two of us, and we still had so much fun. We started dating shortly after that. We dated for two weeks, until we agreed that we fit better as friends.

It was around this time when I found a really interesting blog. The blogger’s name was Jeff. We started commenting on each other’s blogs and we eventually agreed to meet up. He was really cute and I instantly had a crush on him. We met again a few more times. Then I tried to pursue him. The problem was he was still hung up on his ex, so it didn’t go anywhere.

To get over my frustration over Jeff, I asked several of my friends to set me up on dates. Unexpectedly, the one who responded was one of my instructors in college. He set me up with John. We met in a mall, had dinner and then talked for a couple of hours. It was obvious that we liked each other; our matchmaker had done a good job. But there was one problem: he was closeted and I was mostly out. I decided to have a time-out while we sorted out our situation.

While John and I were on a time-out, I noticed one of my officemates making his move on me. His name was Dan. It wasn’t actually our first time; we’ve known each other since college days and we’ve had an overnight fling before, but this time he was serious. His biggest advantage over John was that he was out. We went out for two weeks. We had a good time, but I was still hung up on John. I decided to end it with Dan and try again with John.

My second attempt at dating John went well at first, until THIS happened. I decided to call it quits for good after that. It was around that time that Jeff and I started talking again. That was four months after we first met. Things went faster between us this time. I visited him after a month of nightly phone conversations, and then we became official after a few more weeks. We didn’t last long, only three weeks, but he was still a great love. He dumped me, by the way.

So there, that’s how I found the guys I dated. Right now, I’m sort of seeing this guy I met through a BBM group. The group had a meet-up, and we were the hecklers in the group. We ended up going to his place. It’s still too early to tell where this is headed, but if he becomes my next boyfriend, then I won’t mind. I’d like it, actually. Lol.

I wrote this entry partly to answer the first question raised by MGG for the Love Yourself Cafe. I won’t be able to participate in the discussion, because I’ll be HERE.

If you can join in the discussion, then you should go ahead and request for an invitation. We seldom get the chance to have a healthy discourse on love and relationships between MSM.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

HIV (non)scare

So I finally got tested again after more than a year. Poyee referred me to MGG who has been volunteering as an HIV counsellor. MGG and I met in a resto in Malate, chatted a little over a late breakfast, and then went to the nearby RITM satellite clinic. The med tech gave me a little “pre-test counselling” before taking my blood sample. After that, I had to wait for a couple of hours before getting the results so I hung out with MGG and his friend from The Love Yourself Project for a while. After lunch, MGG and I went back to the clinic for the results.

I’m still HIV-negative, ladies and gentlemen. I also don’t have Syphilis or Hepa-B.  I’d like to dedicate those pieces of paper to John and to ex-bf-whom-I-never-got-to-give-a-code-name. You can calm down a bit, boys. There is zero chance that I could have given either of you HIV.

While we were waiting for the result, MGG asked me something that I wasn’t really able to answer. See, I’ve already been tested before. That was easily one of the scariest things I had to go through, enough to make me abstain from sex for a long time. As you might have read from a recent entry, though, I have gone back to engaging in risky sex, and that was what MGG wanted to understand.

Why did I, someone who has had first-hand experience of the scare and who has sufficient knowledge of the risks still engage in risky sex?

When I came out negative from my test last year, I was relieved, to say the least. It seemed that I shouldn’t have been scared after all. HIV was still nowhere near me and life can go back to normal. However, that feeling of comfort was cut short when I learned not long after that one of my closest friends tested out positive. That became the biggest scare for me, learning that the virus was that close. I pulled myself together and resolved to be more careful.

The problem started, I guess, when I started to feel so close to HIV that I no longer feared it. I started to have this idea that HIV was something that’s easy to live with, a fair trade-off for a booming sex life. Also, I learned about how the virus is transmitted, the probability of infection for different sexual acts and the role you play in them, and other stuff all about contracting it. I guess I felt confident in spite of the risk because I thought I was playing well by the odds. I knew all about getting the virus; that meant I can do with smaller margins.

Stupid, right? Being educated does not mean being immune. But guess what? It’s not just me who thinks that way.

I had unprotected sex with someone the night before my test. It was unprotected because, well, we both assumed the other one had a condom. It turned out later, though, that we both preferred doing it bareback and that we were actually both hoping that the other one didn’t have a condom.

When we were chatting after the deed, I told him about the test. He said that he has it every six months. I asked him if he was worried that I might come out positive. He answered that every time he lets someone fuck him, it’s like he’s putting one foot in the grave. He knows the risk which is why he usually takes precautions. If it turns out that I had the virus and that I may have infected him, then it just means he got unlucky.

We really need to be scared again. This lack of fear will definitely get us into trouble.


If you want to take the test and would like to have someone with you, I suggest you contact MGG at . Even if he’s not available, he knows plenty of other volunteer counsellors.

If you’re too shy to contact MGG yourself, send me an email and I’ll refer you to him. (


Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Show's Over

My eyes are closed, a guy is kneeling in front of me and I am trying to savor every sensation he is giving me, but my entire body is already numb from alcohol. I feel another guy’s tongue trace a line from the back of my neck to my ear. A hand tries to pull up my shirt from behind, but I push it back down. All around me, I hear people whispering.

A bright light shines on my face and I see it through closed eyes. I quickly pull my pants up and turn away as the people around me start to scatter.

“Put that away,” someone whispers.

“But I can’t see anything,” someone answers.

A few more angry whispers and the light goes out, and everyone goes back to his place. The guy goes back to kneeling in front of me; he has not lost his stride. I close my eyes once again.

Someone behind me asks, “Are you close yet?”

I shake my head, eyes still closed, and let out a fake moan. The guy in front of me moves faster.

Someone calls my name, making me open my eyes. I look around and see a couple dozen people surrounding us. I try to search for a familiar face but it's too dark.

“There’s too many of them already,” I say as I push the guy away.

“Don’t mind them,” he says. I feel a hand hold me where his mouth was. He kisses me and I kiss him back. I feel more hands on me.

I turn away. “Wait, there’s really too many watching us already,”

I pull my pants up and break free of the hands and mouths holding me down. I get up and walk away. “Show’s over, ladies,” someone says. Sighs of dismay follow me as I squeeze through the wall of bodies. But it’s not long before the air is once again thick with sex. I look back; someone has already taken my place.

I’m back to where the lights and music are. The floor is still full of men dancing with total abandon. The sculpted ones are at the front, shirtless, gyrating and teasing. Everyone else is dancing in groups. Some are at the corners, flirting, kissing and groping.

I light a cigarette and watch everyone. Three weeks and this has become my life; three weeks of music, dancing, drinking and prowling the dark. Tonight is probably the worst.

Worst – no, I shouldn’t use that word. It’s different, but it’s really not bad at all. It’s pretty good, actually. The lights, the music and the people are beautiful. Add a little beer to the brain and they become almost scenic, radiating with an exquisite energy that breaks through my numbness.

Tonight, though, I think I have gone too far. I have to stop for now, lest I lose more of myself than I’m prepared to. I take one last lungful of smoke and drop my cigarette, stepping on its last embers as I walk out the door.

Show’s over for now.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Pinoy Gay Blog List Page

The blog list is back up, and it has a new name: PINOY GAY BLOG LIST

(click to go to the page)

Monday, October 10, 2011


Hey boyfriend, it’s me.

So we’ve really come to this point. It took me a while to accept it, but I guess it’s time that I finally did.

Wasn’t it just months ago when we started commenting on each other’s blogs? Then we met and I saw how beautiful you were inside and out. I’ve probably told you this too many times already, but I really did have a huge crush on you ever since that night we first met, since the first time I saw you walking towards me, beaming with that boyish smile.

Dimples, a perfect set of teeth, eyes that sparkled – I honestly don’t know what more I could ask for from a smile.

I didn’t think it was possible, but it happened: you became my boyfriend. For the first time in a long time, I told somebody that I loved him, and wow, did it feel good? I had already forgotten what it felt like to be happy and in love, and I felt so lucky that it was you who reminded me.

I really did love you. I know there might have been times when my actions said otherwise. Heck, I even told you that I hated you once. But for all my cheap words are worth, I’ve always been in love with you. That never changed.

I’m sorry if I was too harsh on you when we last talked. I just really wanted you to make a decision and stick to it. That’s one way to get off a slump, right? You told me that once. I’m sorry, I only wanted to help. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t be of more help.

I wish we could just go back to those days when we were still getting to know each other; those nights we spent talking and laughing on the phone for hours. You’d read me those Kokology questions, I’d answer after thinking it over for half a minute, and you’d tell me that I think too much for the questions to work. Then we’d talk some more until I fall asleep, or pretend to fall asleep. Then you, thinking that I’ve already dozed off, whisper “I love you, thank you for coming into my life,” before hanging up.

We had a good story, so good I thought it would last forever.

I’d ask you to talk to me one last time, but you probably won’t give that to me. You’ve made it pretty clear that I’m already out of your life, which means this is me turning on the desperate switch. I don’t know, maybe I just thought that I was worth more than a breakup text. I can handle it, you know? I actually prefer an actual conversation. Your text probably already said everything you wanted to say, but I still want to hear your voice when you say it.

Right, so this is where I stop myself. I’m so close to begging, and it’s not hot at all. I hope I get to see you again someday, bf. You’re a beautiful person, more than you give yourself credit for. Take care of yourself.

I love you.


Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Fuck That

Once again, my activities in the past have become an issue. I really should keep those secret next time.

Actually, I didn’t have a choice. My blogs were a dead giveaway and didn’t leave me with that much more ugly things to hide. But they weren’t going to be an issue. I was going to get credits for being honest. At least, that’s what I was told.

It’s all in the past, after all. What’s important is the now. That was also what I was told.

And yet I am getting beat up for it again. All my attempts at reassurance have been overlooked, and now I am once again in the dark, fumbling, stuck, not knowing where I am or where to step next.

I made those mistakes a long time ago. I laid them all out at the starting line, hoping to be given a clean slate. I had already served my time for them and I didn’t want them blocking my way. But I guess I was too naive to think that I had done enough. It appears those mistakes I made are the kind that come back and haunt you.

A little vague? Let me clear that up a bit:

I cheated on my ex with random guys I met in random places. Since then, every guy I’ve dated has either doubted my capacity to stay faithful or suspected that I had HIV. It didn’t matter what I said, they never listened. They were sure that I was going to make the relationship fail.

Well fuck that. If I’m going to be judged anyway, then I might as well be doing the things I’m being judged for.

From now on, I will wink at guys who try to catch my eye and go with them to their place for a good fuck.

I will answer every anonymous text invites I receive for sex and orgies.

I will go to those clubs and go with every guy who grabs my arm and leads me to the dark room, and I will put on a damn good show.

I will go to those shady movie houses and let the men suck on my dick while everyone around watches, and I might even give a lucky few a good suck myself.

I’ve already done more than my share of the time. It’s time I caught up on the crime.  I'm done trying to prove myself.

Putangina, promiscuous pala ako ha? Sige, pakitaan kita ng promiscuous.

Nishiboy is back on the meat market.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Aura Pauwi

Isang gabi, habang pauwi galing office, tinext ko ang housemate ko.

Nishi: wat tym ka uwi?

Housemate: bkit?

Nishi: curious lng.

Housemate: secret.

Nishi: leche, anong oras nga?

Housemate: may iuuwi ka?

Nishi: ina-aura ako nitong kasunod ko sa pila sa jip. hehe.

Housemate: til wat tym mo ba need ang kwarto?

Nishi: hm.. actually, di naman ako ganun ka-determinado sa kanya. so ako na lang ang mag-aadjust sa sked mo.

Housemate: paalis ako ng apartment ngayon. may sportsfest kami. baka past 12 pa ako makauwi.

Nishi: sige sige.

Housemate: taga san ba yan?

Nishi: ewan, di pa kami nag uusap

Housemate: hoy, kilalanin mo, siguraduhin mong hindi magnanakaw yan.

Nishi: hala eh pano ko naman malalaman yun? ano itatanong ko?

Housemate: 1. meron ka bang gustong gamit pero hindi mo kayang bilhin na andito sa kwartong ito?
2. may history ka ba ng pagiging klepto?
3. sapat ba ang kinikita mo para tustusan ang mga luho mo?

Nishi: tarages, ang judgemental. wala bang mas subtle?

Housemate: patingin ng latest copy ng nbi clearance mo.

Nishi: ay gusto ko yan. he wouldn't even suspect.

Housemate: ayusin mo ha.

Nishi: di pa naman to sure. nagpeprepare lang just in case.

Nung nakasakay na kami sa jeep, kinausap na ako ni kuya sa napakahinang boses.

Kuya: bi ka din?

Nishi: (lol. bi.) oo.

Kuya: taga saan ka?

Nishi: sa $location1. ikaw?

Kuya: ah. sa $location1 + 3 stops. may kasama ka ba sa bahay?

Nishi: meron eh. kabarkada ko. (lol. kabarkada.) ikaw ba?

Kuya: ah. meron din. asawa ko.

At dun nagtapos ang lahat.

Friday, September 16, 2011

A Rant About My Mother

I got a bit short on finances a few days ago and I needed a pretty big amount to survive the next couple of weeks. The money I needed was not something I can loan from friends without the risk of enslavement, so I had to pick what seemed to be a less destructive alternative: I borrowed money from my mom.

She agreed to loan me the money I needed and I promised to pay her back as soon as I got my final pay from my previous company. Everything was going fine and our text messages to each other were very polite. But the problem came when we were trying to agree on how to send the money.

See, I only have an account in one bank, and that bank doesn’t have a branch in my hometown. Sending the money through those pawnshops’ money-sending services was out of the question since they cost too much. My mom suggested sending it to my aunt but going to her place will be too much hassle for me.

We were running out of options, so I turned to my friends. Fortunately, I had a former office mate who had an account in one of the three banks that did have branches in our town. His name was Bryan. I sent his account details to my mom and told her to deposit the money into his account instead.

That was when her texts started to change.

First she asked me who Bryan was, where I met him and how long I have known him. I answered all her questions: Bryan was a former officemate whom I’ve known since college.

Her next question was on why I suddenly decided to use his account. Of course, it was because we were running out of options.

Then she started berating me on why I didn’t have an account in one of the banks that we had in our town. Well, that was because the bank I chose was the most convenient for me.

She had plenty of other questions and she suggested plenty of other impractical alternatives. Finally, I asked her why she won’t just send the money to Bryan like I suggested.

Her answer:

“Nag-aalangan akong magpadala ng pera dun. Hindi ko mapigilang mag-isip ng kung anu-ano.”
(I don’t feel comfortable sending it to that person. I can’t help but wonder why you want to use his account.)

Ah, so that’s why. My mom knew that I was gay. And she thought Bryan was a guy I was spending money on. Back in college, she thought I was spending my money on drugs. Now, she thinks I’m spending it on men.

I just lost it from that point on.

Ma, wag na nga lang. Sa iba na lang ako uutang. Iniisip mo na namang gumagastos ako sa lalaki dahil bading ako. Nakakainsulto na.
(Never mind, I’ll just borrow from someone else. You think that because I’m gay, I spend all my money on men. I’m offended that you think that.)

Wag ka naman magalit. Dapat nga maawa ka sa akin dahil sobrang affected ako.
(Instead of getting mad, you should feel sorry for me because I’m affected by all of this.)

Eh sa akin, hindi ka naawa? Noon mo pa ako iniinsulto sa tuwing pinagdududahan mo ako.
(What about me? You’ve been thinking that way about me for a long time. You’ve been insulting me for a long time.)

Sige anak, hindi mo na ata kailangan ang mga advice ko. Hindi na ako magpaparamdam sayo kahit kelan.
(Okay, it seems you don’t need me anymore. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you from now on.)

Ganyan ka naman palagi eh. Pag nangangatwiran ako, hinahamon mo ako na magkalimutan na lang.
(You always do that. You threaten to not speak to me ever again whenever I try to tell my side.)

Sana mamatay na lang ako para hindi ko na to pinagdadaanan. Ayoko ng ganitong buhay, yung palaging nag-iisip.
(I don’t want this kind of life, where I always have to wonder. I wish I would just die.)

Ganyan ka din palagi. Magbabanta kang magpakamatay imbes na pakinggan ako.
(You always do that too. You threaten to kill yourself instead of just listening.)

That was followed by more texts that were just as melodramatic. We both thought we were misunderstood and we both wanted to make the other one see things the way we saw them. A lot of people tell me that I should just try to understand her. I tried. I really did. I’ve been patiently trying to understand her for the past five years but it’s been useless. She still thinks my life is a waste just because I happened to be gay. It’s time that I stopped. I can’t spend the rest of my life giving way to her.

In the end, she still sent the money to Bryan’s account, but it didn’t lessen the stress I felt. I hate arguing with my mother and that was the worst one we had over text. My heart was beat up from her harsh words and my fingers hurt from angry typing.

And I couldn’t even turn to my boyfriend for comfort because he was still busy dealing with his own issues far away from me. I had to text my ex for emotional support. Yes, I was that pathetic.

It was just too much stress for one day. I just had to do something to take as least some of the stress off. When I met Bryan that night, I asked him if I could use his credit card. I ended up buying this:

I think I should have just borrowed money from him in the first place.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011


We are UPLB Babaylan and we are throwing a beer-all-you-can party.

Beernaked 3: Freedom. Unity. Change. Kembot.

This will be in Java Avenue, near UP Los Baños:

 Photo taken from Java Avenue Facebook page

Ticket Prices:

Php 160.00 each for buyers on or before September 7
Php 170.00 each for walk-in guests
Php 150.00 each for sponsors (15 tickets)

For more details, you can:
  • contact Vien (09154377151). 
  • or, if you're too shy, just leave a comment here.
  • or visit the UPLB Babaylan Blog

We are gay and this is how we throw a party. Let's drink for EQUALITY.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Fireworks or Dead Stars

It was probably the coldest night that I have ever experienced. My jacket was zipped way up to my neck and my breaths sent little wisps of fog into the air. Around me, people were going about their business like it was just any other night. Well, it probably was for them. For me, on the other hand, it was my first time to set foot on the coldest city in the country.

It was also the night that I would meet someone I haven’t seen in a while. I sweat beads in spite of the cold as the final minutes my long wait crept by.

I’ve known him for four months and we had already met five times, but that night would be our first time to meet as something like lovers. Over the first month that I’d known him, I’d gone from liking him to obsessing about him to hating him. Our friendship hovered beneath romance and he was too cautious to let it go higher.

Then he left and we didn’t see each other for three months. Curiously, it was on those three months we spent apart that everything happened. The messages we exchanged became laced with sweet nothings and the nights saw us on the phone, talking for hours on end. Our emotions grew steadily until one night, he told me that he loved me, and I promised to go to him so we can finally see each other again.

But there I was, on the night of our long-awaited meeting, suddnely doubtful at how things were going to turn out. While the place was new to me, the moment was not. I’ve been there enough times to know that there were two possible endings: there could either be fireworks bathing the sky in a tremendous light that can hide even the stars, or the sky could slowly become a dark void as the last lights of dead stars reach my eyes.

Fireworks or dead stars? Pondering only seemed to draw out the minutes.

I checked the time, it’s only been two minutes since he texted that he was on his way. If only “NO SMOKING” signs were not hung on just about every wall of the bus terminal, I could have lit up a cigarette and the smoke could have soothed my nerves. If only my phone’s battery weren’t almost out, then I could have put on my earphones and turned up the music so loud that I won’t have to hear myself think. No, the universe made sure that I had nothing else to do but wait.

The seconds dragged on and I teetered between excitement and dread. I had wagered my heart once again, and in a few minutes, I was going to find out if I had made the right bet. I was scared, but it was a gamble I took willingly. I wanted to be there. However things might turn out when I leave, I would have no regrets.

A few more minutes passed and I felt someone tap my shoulder. It was him. He was wearing the same shirt he wore when we first met. He was smiling the same smile he had back then when he was walking towards me. His eyes sparkled the same way they did when he told me stories of his childhood. And when he said my name, his voice resonated of the same childlike-joy that captivated me from the first time I heard it.

It took me a while to take it in: my wait was over. It was really him standing in front of me. The man who has my heart was finally with me again. I smiled and gazed at his eyes as the rest of the world started to be flooded with light.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Those Three Words

There was a time back in high school when I became obsessed with the perfect “I love you” moment. I was a nerd, yes, but I still went through the whole teenage in-love-with-love phase. Love was such an alien concept to me back then and I was curious at what it’s like, not unlike my curiosity for liquor. But unlike liquor, love had no age restrictions, and I got to explore on it freely.

Teen flicks were mostly to blame for my obsession. We used to have movie nights every weekend in our dorm and two-thirds of the movies we rented were about school romance.  We were all giddy as Landon and Jamie developed an undeniable chemistry, we held our breaths with Zach as Laney walked down the stairs in slow motion and we choked back our tears while Kat read her poem for Patrick.

But the part that we really waited for was that moment when guy took girl’s hands, looked her in the eyes and said those three words. Then they shared that sweet kiss while a love song washed every other sound in the background. It was pure magic. No one was willing to admit it but we were all secretly excited for our own perfect moment.

I never actually fell in love in high school. The tension between me and love was never resolved and it carried over to college. It was during the end of my sophomore year when I finally believed that I was truly in love. It was with a girl (yes, you read it right) I met in a choir. Finally, I had someone I can say those three words to.

I got the courage to say it one night. The sky was filled with stars and sweet music was playing in my head. I was ready for my moment. Unfortunately for me, it turned out that my moment hasn’t come yet. She turned me down for someone else, and the supposedly-magical moment ended with me chain-smoking an entire pack of cigarettes while emo-ing in our auditorium’s steps.

But my defeated state didn’t last long. I met another girl a few days after and I decided to take my chances with her. I wooed her in the typical student-style ligaw – walks to classes, lunch and dinner dates, long walks around campus after class – though I never explicitly expressed my intentions.  She eventually fell for it after a few weeks and she started giving me hints, subtly urging me to make my move. But I realized that I was unprepared.

One night, I said those three words to her, just to find out if they will mean anything once I let them out. They didn’t. They felt like just any other random sentence that came out of my mouth. I decided to stop seeing her after that.

Fast forward to a couple of years later, I had already gone through the whole self-acceptance thing and I was already on my second boyfriend. I didn’t really like him that much but back then I was bursting at the seams with pent-up “I love you’s” and he happened to be the first taker.

He told me that he loved me every chance he got, and I replied with an “I love you” from my surplus storage. But it ran out not long after. Those “I love you’s” were never meant for him, after all. I just wanted to get to say them to someone and have that someone to say them back to me. I broke up with him at the first chance I got.

I said those words again a few more times after that to different guys, each one ending in disappointment. By the time I met Philip, I was already wary of saying them. I was so into him, more than I ever was with the ones before him, but I could no longer let go of those words as easily. I had already carelessly said them too many times and didn’t want to make the same mistake again. I held back and waited until I was absolutely sure.

It wasn’t until a month after we became a couple that I finally said it. It was just another one of our nights together. We were in my room, lying on my disheveled bed and surrounded by my grimy pillows.

But it was different.

For the first time, I was absolutely sure of what I was saying. I felt vulnerable, but I also felt safe, and there was nothing else I would rather do. It was every bit as magical as I hoped it would be.

That was it, the perfect moment I had been waiting for. I finally got it. And every “I love you” I uttered on the days after that was just as magical as the first.

But you all know what happened next. The feelings started to wane after a couple of years and our relationship started to crumble, at least on my side. Towards the end, my “I love you’s” became mostly just a reminder for me that I already had a boyfriend and that I was supposed to stick with him. I still meant them every time but they could only be as real as the love they were drawn from.

It’s been over a year since we broke up but until now, I still haven’t said those words again. There were some close calls, when the moment seemed to beg for me to say them, but I always held back because I always doubted myself. I wasn’t sure if I was going to say them for the right reason so I chose to stay silent.

I had a lot of those moments with John. Heck, one of those near-I-love-you moments was even caught in an entry. It took a lot of effort for me to hold back, but I ultimately succeeded. Now that he and I are no longer together, I feel that I made the right choice. I was indeed going to say them for the wrong reasons after all. I felt something for him, something intense, but it wasn’t love yet.

But the closest of those close-calls happened only a couple of nights ago. Someone told me that he loved me, someone I met and had been harboring feelings for even before I met John, someone I had been wishing to hear those three words from for a long time. I wanted to say those words back. I wanted to tell him that I felt the same. But I couldn’t. Not just yet.

At this point, it’s harder than it has ever been for me to say those words. I’m no longer the dreamy teenager that I was and no longer have the excuse of youth’s ignorance. The only thing that still holds true from those days is how special those three words are. I don’t want them to lose their meaning and become something I can just let out whenever I feel like it. They should be told only when one knows without a shard of doubt that he is truly in love.

I’ll get to say those words again someday. When I finally do, the person I’m going to say them to can be sure that those three words mean simply and exactly what they’re supposed to mean.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

A Night Of Sin

Nishiboy is an alumnus of UPLB Babaylan, an LGBT student organization. They celebrated their second anniversary last week (July 6). It was a Wednesday and Nishiboy had work so he missed the Pride March, but he was determined to make it to the anniversary party that night. Someone asked him why he wanted to go there so bad. Before he could answer, that person asked if they were going to hold a massive orgy.

Right, because a party of homosexuals always means sex. Nishiboy arrived just in time to join in the fun.

They started by playing with the cake. For added kink, they didn't use a knife and instead just dove in with their forks.

It wasn’t long before they started engaging in foreplay

They even did it in groups.

Soon, everyone joined in.

As the night wore on, things just got hotter and hotter.

And Nishiboy got it on with a lesbian.

It was the best sex party ever.

1st UPLB PRIDE MARCH and 2nd UPLB Babaylan Anniversary

This post orignally had pictures but I removed them because, well, I suddenly felt like it. The pictures did not show anyone having sex. Don't worry, you didn't miss anything.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Next time, don't

"I’m thinking of having myself tested," I said as I was staring at my half-finished pizza slice.

"Tested?" he asked before taking a bite from the slice he was holding.

"For HIV," I answered.

He fell silent. I looked at him. He had stopped chewing and was staring at me with a slightly shocked expression.

"Why?" he asked after a few seconds.

"Nothing, I just want to be sure," I shrugged as I looked out through the glass wall of the restaurant. "And, well, I found out that a guy I had sex with once was just recently diagnosed positive," I added.

"What?" he asked in a panicked voice.

"Don’t worry," I said as I turned back at him. "The sex happened a long time ago."


I paused. "June, last year."

"Didn’t you get tested last year? When was that?"

"August. I was negative."

"How long is the incubation period?" he asked. His voice was starting to sound more and more agitated.

"I think it’s six months. That’s why I want to take the test again. Just to be sure," I repeated.

I waited for him to say something but he didn’t. He was looking down at the table, still looking shocked and worried.

"Don’t worry-"

"Will you stop telling me not to worry?!" he shot. "I’m practically half a virgin and right now, you’re telling me that I could have HIV from this monogamous relationship!"

I was stunned. I just looked at him for a few seconds while he buried his face in his hands. Then I started to get agitated myself.

"You know, you never had yourself tested. That means I’m actually more in danger from you than you are from me," I shot back.

"I’m not promiscuous. I only ever had sex with a few people and I’m sure that they were all clean," he said, rolling his eyes.

Then he looked me in the eye and continued, "I don’t have sex with random people I meet in restrooms or cinemas."

I was taken aback, not at all expecting to hear that. Many thoughts ran through my head and it took me a while to control them.

"You can’t throw that at me," I said firmly. "I already had myself tested for that and I’ve since stopped doing it. You know that."

He didn’t say anything. After a while, he muttered, "I’m sorry. Just, next time you feel the need to get tested, keep it to yourself. Just tell me the result afterwards."

I didn’t say anything. We were both quiet for a few minutes. I finished my pizza without looking at him.

"This is already too awkward," I said finally. "I don’t think you should still come to my place tonight. I think you should just go home."

"Come on, let’s just go home together. We don’t have to fight."

"No, I mean it," I said, looking him in the eye. "I don’t feel comfortable spending the rest of the night with you anymore. Go. I’ll stay here for a while."

He didn’t move.

"Do you want me to leave instead?"

He didn’t say anything. After a few seconds, he stood up, picked up his bag and left.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

PLU Blog List Update

New additions to the list:

Baduy Pride
always proud to be baduy!
by: Rocky and Tobie

Deliberating Adam
Rekindling the untold stories of an illicit love affair.
by: james

Green Breaking
Albeit Greatness speaks of an effort-filled voyage, the shortest trail en route is the way down.
by: the green breaker

how to live with a heart of stone
by: marco

Mr. HusH
keep still
by: Mr. Hush Hush

What if they're angels from above?
by: Rovi

Vanilla Pleasures
outbursts that delight the palate
by: LanchiE

If you want your blog to be added, leave a comment in the Pinoy Gay Blog List.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

His Worthless Ex

Tomorrow, it will be a year since I posted my first entry in His Worthless Ex. I was about to talk to my ex and tell him that I no longer wanted us to get back together. But I was not ready yet. I have decided to end things, but I wasn’t ready to do it.

Over the following months, my blog became a testament to how fickle I was.

I wrote about how I broke my ex’s heart for what I thought was the last time, when I finally gathered up the courage to tell him that I wanted us to break up for good.

Then I wrote that we were on good terms, that he found my blog and read my entries, and I just laughed about it.

I wrote about the guys I dated after my ex and I broke up. Everybody saw how excited I was about my newfound singlehood.

Barely a month after my first post, I wrote my ex a letter. I apologized and begged him to forgive me. I wanted him to take me back.

I wrote that I was dealing with too many things all at once and that I was starting to give out, but also that I was determined to win my ex back because he was worth it.

Then I revealed whose ex I was. It was after I made another mistake that cost me him yet again.

Soon after, I said that I had started to accept that all our good days have ended. I apologized to my ex one last time and promised to stop talking about the breakup.

I wrote that I was moving on.

But not a month had passed when I cursed him and blamed him for the breakup. I bade farewell to my blog and declared that my story had ended.

After a month, I was back. I said that I had come to realize that I can’t run from my problems. I was going to face them head-on.

I wrote about how I tried (and failed) to relive our days by doing the things we used to do but with other people.

Then I changed blogs and claimed that I will no longer write as someone’s ex, that I had already said everything I had to say about the breakup and will no longer write about it.

But I ended up still writing a couple more posts about my ex here in my new blog. I tried to pass them off as fiction, but it was a lame attempt. The truth was I wanted everyone to figure out that I was still hurting.


I started writing this entry a few weeks ago. I wanted to make sure that I wrote all the right words in this anniversary post so I prepared for it even though it was so unlike me to prepare for anything. This was the first ending I wrote:

Someone told me that when moving on, we should allow ourselves to look back whenever we feel the need, to acknowledge the loss and accept the sadness before moving forward again. I have found that this need has steadily diminished for me over the past year.

I am almost there. But let this be one of those few moments when I look back.

A very emo ending, soaked in regret, served so raw. That was exactly what I would have been expected to write in my old blog; very Ex Jason.

This morning, however, I read some stuff that my ex wrote about his boyfriend, and I was surprised to find myself smiling when I finished it. He wrote with such joy, so much that it was contagious. I can’t help but feel happy for him.

That made me realize something. What kept me from moving on was not regret after all. If it were, I would have been devastated to have it shoved in my face that he was really out of reach. It was actually guilt that trapped me. That was why I wanted so much to fix what I broke. But from what I read, he’s no longer broken and it I think his boyfriend is better for him than I ever was. Everything worked itself out in the end, and I now know for sure that we are better off today than we would have been if we had tried to stay together.

I guess this is finally the closure I’ve been trying to get for so long. It’s funny that this hallelujah moment had to happen the day before I was supposed to publish my emo anniversary post. Maybe I’m really not meant to write anything as Ex Jason anymore. I have to stop wallowing in guilt. Philip had already forgiven me a long time ago, all that’s left is for me to forgive myself. That was all I ever had to do to move on.

With this, I am finally letting go of that last thread that has kept me from truly taking that jump off the edge. I’ve held back long enough. It’s time that I finally stop being Philip’s ex. Now I can truly start being John’s man.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

I Didn't See This Coming

There’s really no way to foresee if you will like someone or not. You can make a checklist and the guy can fail in one out of every five items, but you still end up liking him. Conversely, he can fit the bill perfectly, then you find out that there’s no spark.

Of course, that might not apply to you. I’m really just talking about me and the guys I date. Take the last two guys I dated for example. First, there was John, the closeted guy. I liked him and he told me he liked me back. We had a few, well actually, a lot of issues because he was closeted and I was mostly out, but we gave it a shot anyway. We dated for a month. We had a great time. Never mind that he practically runs every time he sees people looking at us, or that I have to stay three feet away from him when we’re out in public, or that he always wants us to be in secluded areas (well, sometimes those are fun), we enjoyed every moment we spent with each other anyway.

Then came Danny, the guy who fearlessly professed his…um…like for me in front of a couple of my friends. We went out once and I was reminded of how liberating it was to not care about what people might think. I had a really great time with him, but I turned him down because I was still dating John.

But John and I stopped dating a few days later. We found that the difference in our lifestyle and choices was too big for us to handle and we decided to end it. So I tried dating Danny. I must say, he definitely knew how to woo a guy. He did everything right. And it didn’t hurt that we had a lot in common either. We work in the same company, we are members of the same organization, we both sing in videoke with a passion and we’re both programmers, among other things. And most of all, we’re both out. All of the things that I thought John lacked, I found in Danny.

But there was something Danny didn’t have that John did: that goddamned spark.

So there I was, dating the guy who had a lot of the things that I wanted, but I was still wondering how things would have worked out between me and John if we had both tried harder. Danny was going to introduce me to his friends. He had everything planned out for days. But there I was on the night before the planned meet-the-friends, texting John and telling him that I missed him.

Then my phone rang. It was John. I answered it and two minutes into the call, my eyes started welling up. I was a friggin high-schooler in tears from hearing her crush’s voice. I haven’t been that ashamed of myself since I watched that Sarah Geronimo and Gerald Anderson movie. But, cheesy as it sounds, those tears made me realize that John really does matter to me.

So John and I are going to meet next week and talk things over. We’re going to give it another shot. No more holding back this time. I will once again jump off the edge with my hands in the air. If it doesn’t work out and I fall smack to the ground again…well, why would I even think about that? There’s no point in doing this if I’ll only expect it to fail. I’m going to take the plunge and savor the rush of the wind, tumbling through the air with my arms spread wide open and my heart beating at its fastest.

And yes, I’m going to admit it now.

I think it’s possible that I may somehow already be kind of in love with him. Sort of.

Monday, June 13, 2011


In no particular order:

  • Guadalupe Commercial Complex
  • Market Market 5th floor
  • MRT last coach
  • MRT Shaw and Boni stations
  • SM North Edsa cinema


Thursday, June 9, 2011

Mahirap pala talaga pag closeted ang dine-date mo

Mahirap pala talaga pag closeted ang dine-date mo.

Andyan yung naiilang siya pag sinasabihan mo siyang ang cute niya pag magkasama kayo sa kainan.

Bigla siyang tatalikod o lalayo sayo habang nagyoyosi kayo kasi may dumaang kakilala niya.

Kailangan mong magpaalam kung pwede mo ba siyang ipakilala sa kaibigan mo bilang date.

At pag-dial mo ng number mo sa phone niya, pangalan ng babae ang lumabas.

Ayokong umabot sa puntong magboyfriend na kami tapos ipapakilala niya ako bilang kaibigan.

Hindi ako yung tipong tinatago. Ako yung tipong ipinagmamalaki.

Nung Sabado, may umamin sa akin na gusto niya daw ako. Nasa inuman kami nun. Hindi niya kakilala mga kainuman namin pero naglakas-loob siyang aminin sa harap nila na gusto niya ako.

Inikot niya ako sa UP Diliman nung Linggo. Nabanggit ko kasi sa kanyang di pa ako nakakapag-ikot dun. Naglakad-lakad kami, nag kwentuhan, nag food trip, nanood ng mga nagja-jogging. Nagtawanan kami at nagkulitan mula alas kwatro ng hapon hanggang alas nwebe ng gabi. Pagkatapos, hinatid niya ako sa Philcoa at pinasakay ng bus.

Nun ko lang ulit yun naramdaman matapos ang mahabang panahon. Yung walang pakialam sa iisipin ng iba. Yung hindi kailangang bantayan ang bawat galaw. Masarap nga pala ang pakiramdam ng ganun.

Nung inaaya niya akong maging kami, alam kong kaya niyang panindigan. Inaamin ko, muntik na akong pumayag.

Kaso naalala ko yung isa.

Naalala ko kung paano niya ako inalagaan nung may sakit ako.

Kung paano siya pumayag na ipakilala ko siya sa mga kaibigan ko nung pumunta kami sa Pahiyas.

Kung paano niya kinaibigan ang housemate ko na tinuturing ko nang parang kapatid.

Kung paano niya sinisikap na lumabas nang paunti-unti para sa akin kahit na natatakot siya.

Hindi man siya handang ipagsigawan sa buong mundo na gusto niya ako, hindi naman siya nagkukulang na sabihin ito sa akin, kahit pabulong lang.

Gusto niya talaga ako at gusto ko din talaga siya, pero hanggang saan kami dadalhin nun kung ganitong kailangan naming magtago?

Hay ewan. Itutulog ko na nga lang muna to.

Tanginang ulan kasi to. Nakaka-emo.

Friday, June 3, 2011

Ask Me Anything

As long as the questions are about me. I'll answer them as truthfully as I can. =P

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Writing Challenge: Spirit of the Glass

It was a summer night and the year was 1968. The half moon was grinning in the night sky and the coconut trees were swaying slightly in the evening breeze as they towered over a small Nipa house whose windows flickered with faint candlelight. It was already past bedtime for the family that lived in the house; the father had taken his spot in the papag near the door and the mother had already fallen asleep in the room with the baby.

But for the three girls, the night was far from over.

“Put it here,” Nellie whispered to her sisters as she put down the candle she was holding on to a big Narra table. “And be quiet. If Tatay wakes up, we’re in big trouble.”

Delia walked to the table, making her sister cringe with her heavy footsteps, and laid down a piece of worn-out carton on it.

“You brought the wrong piece,” Nellie scolded Delia, raising her voice as high as a whisper could go.

Tatay threw away the board you made last time so we’re making a new one,” Delia answered, hardly trying to keep her voice down. “And will you stop whispering? There’s no need to; Tatay is like a log when he sleeps.”

Elsie, the youngest of the three, followed her sisters to the table and handed them a pencil that was barely long enough to be held properly. Delia took it and started tracing circles on the carton using the brim of a glass. Meanwhile, Nellie kept glancing nervously at their father who was sleeping on a banig on the floor just a few feet away from them. She had to squint as it was hard to tell if the man was already asleep under the mosquito net, the light barely piercing through it.

“Ate, stop worrying,” Elsie assured her although she, too, was whispering. “Ate Delia is right, Tatay won’t be woken up easily.”

Nellie ignored her and instead propped up a knee on the wooden bench beside the table and raised herself to look over to her father’s corner.

“I’m finished,” Delia finally announced after a few minutes. She set the pencil aside and placed the glass brim-down over the circle she drew at the center of the carton.

“Okay. Let’s begin,” Nellie said as she climbed on the table, her sisters doing the same. She gestured the sign of the cross, took out a piece of paper from her pocket and read the words written on it.

“Wait, we’re not supposed to pray, right? We’ll end up calling the bad spirits,” Elsie whispered to Delia as Nellie chanted unfamiliar words, but Delia only shushed her in reply.

Nellie finished the prayer soon after. She folded the paper and placed it back in her pocket. Then she extended her hand and placed her forefinger on the glass. Delia did the same immediately after. Elsie hesitated for a while before putting her finger on the glass as well. They stayed that way, as if they were waiting for something. Seconds passed, then minutes, but they did not let go. They hardly moved at all.

Suddenly, the glass started to rotate under their fingers.

“Is there a spirit in the glass now?” Nellie asked.

The glass moved to a circle marked YES, then went back to the circle in the center.

“Where are you from?” It was Elsie who asked this time. The glass moved to a circle with PURGATORY written in it.

“What is your name?”

The glass moved around in the circles lined along the sides of the board, each one marked with a letter.


“Can you answer our questions about our future?” Nellie asked eagerly.


Nellie’s eyes lit up at the answer. She was about to ask another question when Delia interrupted, “I’m more interested with the present. For instance, does Ate Nellie have a boyfriend right now?”

The glass moved to YES.

The candlelight was enough to reveal that Nellie had blushed. Delia smirked at her while Elsie laughed, “Ate, why didn’t you tell us?”

“I’m already fourteen. I’m old enough to have a boyfriend without telling anyone,” Nellie reasoned out, raising her eyebrows at the younger girls.

“Even Tatay?” Delia retorted, still smirking.

“Especially him. And will you two keep your voices down?” Nellie said anxiously, glancing once again to where their father was.

“So, is he good-looking?” Elsie asked, grinning at Nellie.

The glass suddenly moved to NO.

Nellie’s mouth fell open while Delia and Elsie started laughing so hard they were shaking.

“This is not fair,” Nellie complained. She had a determined look on her face; she was going to get even with the other girls.

“Did Delia and Elsie really have a group study last night like they told Tatay?”

The two girls’ laughter was promptly silenced and their smiles were replaced with horrified looks as Nellie brandished a triumphant smile.

More secrets were revealed by the spirit of the glass as the night went on. The girls asked about each other’s secret lovers, about which suitor had truly pure intentions, and about which girls at school were telling stories about them behind their backs. After over an hour of asking, they started to run out of questions and the pauses in between started to get longer. They eventually decided to end the game.

“Renato, thank you for answering our questions. We hereby release you,” Delia declared as she tipped the glass to its side.

“Elsie, come with me to the bathroom,” Nellie said to Elsie. They climbed down the table and left Delia to tidy up.

Delia stared at the glass curiously when the other two had left. She held it, tossed it back and forth between her hands a few times, then placed it back on the center circle. Then she slowly extended a finger on top of it.

The glass started to rotate again.

“Elsie! Ate!” she called out in panic as she withdrew her hand.

“The glass moved!” she told them when they came back. They climbed on the table again.

“Renato, you can go now," Elsie said as she pushed the glass down on its side.

The glass sprung back up.

Elsie clasped her hand to her mouth.

“What do you want us to do?” Delia shouted at the glass. She slowly reached out to it. It spun wildly the moment her finger hovered over it.


“No, please just leave,” Nellie sobbed. She pushed the glass down but it sprung right back up again.

The table shook violently. The girls screamed and bent down, trying to hold on to the edges of the table as it seemingly tried to throw them off. The house echoed with the sound of breaking glass as the water jugs and condiment bottles on the edge of the table fell and crashed to the floor.

Then it stopped. The girls slowly rose back up. They looked at one another and started sobbing hysterically.

But they were silenced as they felt the table slowly getting raised. The glass started spinning on its own. It started to move around the board wildly.

Then the light of the candle was put out.

The girls screamed and jumped off the table. Nellie’s foot got caught in the bench and she plunged to the floor face-first. Delia hit her shoulder on the nearby post and Elsie arm ran over a nail on a broken wooden plank on the floor, leaving her with a long gash. They hurriedly got up, sore and bleeding, and ran out of the house, stumbling on the mosquito net and trampling on their father who cursed at them as they scrambled for the door. They huddled in a corner of their small terrace, hugging and sobbing.

Inside the house, their father’s curses muffled the sound of a glass breaking.

This is based on my mother's story. She was one of those three girls. Every time we have a reunion, she and my aunts would always tell this story at one point.


Other entries for this challenge:

The Case of the Abandoned Hotel by Will
Casaroro by Claudiopoi
Joshua by Louie
The Horror Story Challenge by Glentot
Si Adora by Fox

Friday, May 27, 2011

PLU Blog List Update

New blogs in the list this month:

Cigarette Butts and Senseless Tangenialities
by: ron.angitawagmosaakin

Confessions of a Pretend Artista
I am not an actor, nor am i connected to any show/network. But my work/life resembles that of showbiz, and hence, will use that. So read between the lines.
by: magnum


I'm still trying to think of ways to improve the list. Right now, I'm thinking of adding labels to the items, like "English", "Humor" or "Literary", to give readers a better idea of what they are about.

If you have any suggestions, please do tell me.


To those who linked or promoted the page, thank you so much. I really really appreciate it.

To those who haven't, I still hope you can link back to the page. I had Kraehe make a badge of sorts. You can use that. Or you can link it however you want. The page is doing great, but I still hope it can reach more people.

View the page HERE.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Nishiboy Is Dating A Closeted Guy

I met John through one of my instructors from college. My instructor gave him my facebook, he viewed my profile and sent me a message. We met in a mall a few days after that. I guess you can call that a date since we had dinner and we talked about random stuff. He wasn’t really my type. He was five inches shorter than me, a bit too masculine for my taste and two thirds of our conversation was just me talking. But we clicked. The chemistry was definitely there. The night ended with us agreeing to meet again, which we did a couple of days later. It was obvious that we liked each other and the circumstances were promising.

There was just one small glitch: he’s not out.

This is my first time to date a closeted guy. Whenever we go out, I have to be careful to stay far enough from him to not arouse suspicion from other people. I don’t really think anyone would notice if I put my arm around his shoulder or if I bump my arm against his while walking around the mall, but he seems to think so. He gets a little awkward whenever I get too close, which is a little difficult since I like getting close.

When we went out on our second date, I suggested that we watch a movie and hang out in a mall near my place, but he said that since it was my rest day, he’d rather we spend the day in my apartment so I could rest. I agreed. He told me later that he actually just felt awkward walking in a crowded place with a guy. He said he didn’t want to be judged.

But the awkwardness in public is not the biggest issue, it’s that we graduated from the same course in the same university and we’re only a couple of batches apart, which means that our worlds have large overlapping portions. I was already out when I was in college. I’m a member of an LGBT organization. I had a boyfriend and we never denied our relationship. I wasn’t a popular kid back then but there were enough people who knew about me for word to spread if ever any of them got wind of me and John.

Just take my team at work, for instance. Most of my teammates are also from the same university. I showed his picture to my boss accidentally and she recognized him. He freaked out when I told him about it. I had to calm him down. I apologized and promised to tell my boss not to tell anyone about him.

We thought of visiting our university together. We wanted to spend a weekend there or something because that’s our common ground. It’s a place where we can both really loosen up and be comfortable in, but we can’t go there without risking exposing him because his friends might see us and they might recognize me. There are also only two major gimik areas near our campus. One is frequented by a sorority in which I have many friends, and the other is owned by an ex-date’s friend and is the favorite hang-out of his crowd. If any of them sees me with a guy, they’ll know that the guy is my date.

It shouldn’t be an issue, I know. We could still be together even if I’m out of the closet and he’s still in. It’s just that I’ve been out for a few years already, but right now, I feel like I’m being dragged back in. That’s my problem, I suppose, and not his. I’m going to deal with it. I know things will get better. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks, after all. We’re both just still adjusting, and this is harder for him than it is for me.

And I think what really matters is that I like him. I really, really like him, enough to give this thing we have a shot. These past few weeks have been really great because of him. He’s doing his best, too. On one of our recent dates, I told him that I wanted to introduce him to a couple of my friends. He said okay. I asked him if he was nervous.

His reply:

“A bit. But I know I have to come out little by little if I want to be with you.”

That’s good enough for me.

Thursday, May 12, 2011

Comfort Sex

We were in the terrace of my apartment that evening. The only strands of light that touched us came from the streetlights in the distance. I was leaning against the wall, further hidden from what little light there was. He was sitting on a chair in front of me, his face buried in his hands. I took a puff from my cigarette and spoke to him.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with sadness. Then he stood up and hugged me.  I put my arms around him and hugged him back. We stayed that way for a while until he pulled halfway back and looked at me. Then he started to lean in.

I pushed him back.

He looked at me, looking slightly surprised at what I did. “Why? I thought you told me that you wanted this.”

I took a deep breath, summoned every ounce of self-control I had and looked away. “Yes, I want to kiss you, but not tonight and not like this.”

“It’s just a kiss,” he whispered, moving back in until his face was inches mine. “Please, I need it. Besides, I never got to first base with you.”

I looked back at him. The sadness in his eyes had left. He had an unfamiliar grin in his face and his eyes now burned with something I’ve never seen in them before. My own eyes were held captive by his gaze.

“These are pent up feelings you have for your ex and right now you’re just channelling them to me,” I answered. “I’ve done that before and it doesn’t help at all.”

“You’re making me beg. Don’t.” he said. He leaned towards me again.

This time, I didn’t stop him. We kissed. It was tentative and I pulled back after a few seconds.

“I told you it wouldn’t help,” I said, controlling my voice to hide how I was already intoxicated by the taste of his lips.

“Yes, it did,” he answered. Then he pulled me back in. “Let’s try that again.”

I surrendered and leaned forward. The kiss was deep and passionate this time. I held his face and I felt his hands moving up my back.

I pulled back. “Let’s stop this. I’m starting to get turned on,” I laughed awkwardly while trying to use my hands to hide what my boxers couldn’t.

He grinned again. Then he reached down and pushed my hand aside

I gasped.

“Oh shit.”

He chuckled and pushed me down on the chair. Then he pulled another chair and sat in front of me. He looked around, surveying the place. “Do you think they can see us?” he asked, nodding towards our neighbor’s window. I shrugged and pushed my shorts down.

And he went down on me.

“Let’s just keep this between the two of us, okay?” he said when we were done. “I’m still not sure if I want him and me to break up, so I want to save it if I can.”

I felt a stab in my heart. “Of course.”

“Thanks,” he smiled.

“But you have to stop coming to me about him,” I said. “Because right now, I feel like shit.”

“Okay. I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry. I know you need someone right now and I promised you that you can always count on me, but I can’t be that guy anymore. Not with you. I like you too much already.”

“I understand.”

I closed my eyes and sighed.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011



That’s the term most people use to refer to PLU who act like the traditional straight guy instead of the stereotypical homosexual. It’s a term that has a couple of things wrong with it: first, it assumes that those PLU are only trying to imitate straight guys. Second, it claims that certain behaviors “belong” to straight-dom and thus they should be acknowledged. Therefore, it is a term that supports discrimination and stereotyping. Despite this, it is also a label that many PLU strive to be under.

Being labeled as “straight-acting” has its benefits. The biggest of these, of course, is the so-called market value. We are men who like men, after all, so it just follows that our desirability is directly proportional to our masculinity.  Another big benefit is lesser discrimination. The closer we are to the norm, the less hostile society appears to be. Heterosexuality is still the norm and, in our case, straight-acting is as close as we’ll get.

People always suspected me to be gay when I was still in the closet. There were telltale signs, like I was never into sports, I didn’t dig the fratman brand of humor and I used words rather than fists when in a fight. In the midst of all the suspicion and the pressure from my friends to come out, I tried harder to act like my straight friends. It was really to convince myself more than anyone else that I was really straight.

I eventually learned to accept who I was. Ironically, while people strongly suspected me to be gay when I was still in denial, a lot of people I met after I came out could not believe that I was gay. But I was already out; I no longer needed to act in any way for anyone. I loosened up and, since then, I allowed myself to act and speak in whatever way I chose. “Tol” and “pare” became replaced with “friend”, “astig” was replaced with “sosyal” and “panalo”, and my movements were no longer awkwardly stiff. However, even after dropping all the pretensions, I was still not “gay enough”. It seemed that many of the straight-ish aspects that I labored to acquire were already drilled too tightly onto my system that they had already become who I was. I must admit, it felt good to be told that I looked straight and that I was manly. It somehow felt as if all the hard work I spent trying to be acceptable have paid off.

It’s been several years since I came out. I’ve since come to fully accept that I’m gay. I no longer pretend to be someone I’m not. I have been in three relationships. I have come out to my mom. I even joined an LGBT organization. But I’m ashamed to admit that I still like it whenever someone tells me that I’m “hindi halata”. In all my claims of being proud of my sexuality, even going as far as joining in the fight against discrimination, I’m still not brave enough to hold that flag with my head held high. In the end, a part of me still just wants to fit in and be like everybody else. That is why I still can’t bring myself to correct those PLU who pretend to be someone their not just so they can have their own little share of acceptance.

But this has to stop. I am not straight. People may mistake me for one, but I’m not.  I should stop feeling pleased for being desired or accepted for who I am perceived to be instead of who I really am. If I keep doing that, then I will live a sad life where every day is a quest for validation and false acceptance. I am gay, and that’s what I should be proud of.