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Still in the business of making people cry
Monday, December 17, 2012
Monday, December 3, 2012
Top 10: Ways To Compensate
The world of PLUs is pretty vicious to the unbeautiful,
particularly to those who want to get laid as often as the more gifted ones. Of
course, when it comes to sex, looks are the main basis for market value. The pretty
ones get the lion’s share. So what about those who were not blessed with the
pretty gene? Do they just lag behind, contenting themselves with scavenging from
the leftovers of the ones on top?
No. If there’s a will, there’s a way, and the willful sub-average-looking
has his own ways of upping his market value.
10. The Compliment Fountain
He gives everyone an ego boost and is the one people turn
to when they’re going through moments of weakness.
9. The Researcher
He takes time to research on his target’s interests. When
the opportunity comes, he will then impress his target with his extensive
knowledge in his target’s field, political opinions, favourite TV shows, etc.
8. The Rich Guy
He brings out his laptop, iPad, iPhone and whatever else he
managed to fit into his bag. He will also complain about how his bills last
month exceeded his usual twenty-thousand-peso limit, and that he will have to
stop going out for three days to make up for it.
7. The Sponsor
If his gadgets and stories were not enough to impress his
guy, then dinner and drinks are on him. The guy can go ahead and order anything he
wants, Mr Spender won’t even look at the bill.
6. The Smart Achiever
He keeps reminding you that he graduated from a big
university and that he’s an important person at work. His sentences usually
start with “Back in UP…” or “As a boss…” He will give you tips on how to
succeed in life like he did. He will also try to English you to death.
5. The Casanova
He tells stories of how he had a power-bottom ex who is
now an upcoming indie-film superstar, how he turned down a Filipino-Chinese
suitor who is a part-time model, and how he still gets creeped-out by this guy
with abs who keeps on stalking him..
4. The Photogenic
He has mastered his angles and posts his best-looking
pictures in PR. He also lives in a land far-far-away, which is why his visitors
are easily compelled to get off with him rather than completely waste the time
burned in travel.
3. The Beautiful By Association
He surrounds himself with beautiful people. Sometimes, he
also appoints himself as the clique’s gatekeeper so that anyone who wants
access will have to go through him.
2. The Top-Turned-Bottom
He used to be a top but decided to turn bottom because “andaming
gwapong top”.
1. The Simply Confident Guy
He is well aware that he doesn’t fit in most people’s
definition of “attractive” but he also knows that it doesn’t make him worth any
less. He will even tell the beautiful guys to leave if they will only waste his
time. He doesn’t use any tricks but, ironically, he is the one who always gets
what he wants.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
It's Alive!
 |
| Image taken here |
Nishiboy is back from the dead.
And he has some interesting stories to tell...
No, BoyShiatsu, I won't talk about that! That will be our little secret.
Or perhaps I will. Let's see..
Kidding.
That Nishiboy is now back in the sphere, back to telling stories of all shades of pink.
Because we are like the gay mafia. Once you're in, there's no going out, bitch! *snap snap*
Thursday, August 23, 2012
All About Chemistry
His name was Enzo. Or at least, that was what he told me. And for twelve hours,
he was mine.
We met in a threesome; hours on hours of sex. Then the third guy had to leave early and we were left alone in the motel room. I was wary of him at first, aware that he was far more experienced at this than I was. I knew that he could effortlessly pull my strings with his charms. But I took a chance anyway. He was a challenge, a mystery that I wanted to figure out.
Our time in the motel room ran out and we had to leave. We were supposed to go our separate ways, until I happened to mention something that got us back in our groove: breakfast.
“I’m not wearing my contacts right now, okay? So help me with the menu,” I whispered to him as we approached the fastfood counter.
“Okay, what do you want?” he asked.
“Well, obviously I want you,” I answered. I turned to look at the cashier and saw that she was smiling. I asked, “Do you have anything that tastes as good as him?”
“Ang kulit mo!” Enzo laughed as he pretended to punch me.
We spent the next hour laughing at each other’s jokes, listening to each other’s stories and blushing at each other’s compliments. I learned that he used to be the manager of a high-end restaurant, that he lost almost everything he worked for after making some bad decisions, and that he was now doing his best to get back on his feet. He told me about how he lost all his friends when he was at his lowest, and about how he met a guy who stuck with him and helped him rise back up. I was listening to his every word, clinging to them like a child listening to a fairy tale.
When he suggested that we have a second round of our sexcapade, I readily agreed. We went to a different motel. We rented a room, dropped our bags and rested a bit. Then we went back out to buy some stuff that we needed.
“How much lube do we need?” he asked, crouching down to the bottom shelf with the condoms and lubes.
“I dunno. Eight? Just so we’re sure,” I answered, kneeling beside him and counting out the small blue packets.
Then he tugged at my sleeve and motioned around us. People were looking, of course, some out of disgust and others out of interest. We just laughed and went to get the other stuff we needed. Condoms, water, energy drinks, some biscuits – it was a strange grocery list.
We were on our way back to the motel when we passed by some street food. I slowed down and looked longingly at the kwek-kwek and isaw displayed on those shabby carts.
“Aw, gutom pa ang baby,” he laughed. Then he bought a couple of everything and we ate them all by the sidewalk. He looked really cute as he wolfed down his kwek-kwek and kikiam. I remembered when I saw him for the first time and thought that he was too high-end even for Jollibee. Apparently, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
We went back to our room and shared a few more kulitan moments as we showered and prepared our stuff. He gave me tips on what to do later, and on my trysts after ours. He’s a pro indeed, I realized, and I wondered if I could keep up with him.
Then we were back up in the clouds, soaring and piercing through the sky. I lusted for him like I have never lusted for any other man. His body fit perfectly with mine. He was my fantasy and he was all mine for the taking. Hours passed and yet we were still exploring, devouring each other’s bodies. We rose higher and higher until we reached the peak together.
We lay spent on the bed, hands held. I watched him as our breathing started to slow down. I got really lucky with this one, I thought to myself. Then all too soon, he pulled his hand from mine and started texting.
“Galit na siya sa akin. I have to leave soon,” he said.
“Your mom?” I asked.
“My boyfriend.”
His words pinched at my heart. Of course I knew that he was going home to someone else. I just didn’t think it would come crashing down that soon and that fast. I realized that at the back of my mind, I was wishing that he and I would have more breakfasts together, go to the grocery store with a list that didn’t include condoms and lubes, spend another afternoon being silly at the street food carts, and then go home at the end of the day with our hands held.
Ang tanga ko lang. I’m still just a rookie after all, and I made the mistake of trying to keep up with a pro. I should have known that at the end of the day, the only things I’ll be going home with are empty tubes and bruised arms.
Love, sex and relationships, they’re all about chemistry. A chemistry that is built up and nurtured over time has the capacity of sustaining a connection for a long time. But when it’s rushed and forced into you, it fades just as fast as it comes.
“Let’s go,” he said after we finished packing up. “Are you sure you’ll be alright? Can you go home alone?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I smiled.
“Okay. Til next time,” he said. He kissed me on the lips and then went out the door.
We met in a threesome; hours on hours of sex. Then the third guy had to leave early and we were left alone in the motel room. I was wary of him at first, aware that he was far more experienced at this than I was. I knew that he could effortlessly pull my strings with his charms. But I took a chance anyway. He was a challenge, a mystery that I wanted to figure out.
Our time in the motel room ran out and we had to leave. We were supposed to go our separate ways, until I happened to mention something that got us back in our groove: breakfast.
“I’m not wearing my contacts right now, okay? So help me with the menu,” I whispered to him as we approached the fastfood counter.
“Okay, what do you want?” he asked.
“Well, obviously I want you,” I answered. I turned to look at the cashier and saw that she was smiling. I asked, “Do you have anything that tastes as good as him?”
“Ang kulit mo!” Enzo laughed as he pretended to punch me.
We spent the next hour laughing at each other’s jokes, listening to each other’s stories and blushing at each other’s compliments. I learned that he used to be the manager of a high-end restaurant, that he lost almost everything he worked for after making some bad decisions, and that he was now doing his best to get back on his feet. He told me about how he lost all his friends when he was at his lowest, and about how he met a guy who stuck with him and helped him rise back up. I was listening to his every word, clinging to them like a child listening to a fairy tale.
When he suggested that we have a second round of our sexcapade, I readily agreed. We went to a different motel. We rented a room, dropped our bags and rested a bit. Then we went back out to buy some stuff that we needed.
“How much lube do we need?” he asked, crouching down to the bottom shelf with the condoms and lubes.
“I dunno. Eight? Just so we’re sure,” I answered, kneeling beside him and counting out the small blue packets.
Then he tugged at my sleeve and motioned around us. People were looking, of course, some out of disgust and others out of interest. We just laughed and went to get the other stuff we needed. Condoms, water, energy drinks, some biscuits – it was a strange grocery list.
We were on our way back to the motel when we passed by some street food. I slowed down and looked longingly at the kwek-kwek and isaw displayed on those shabby carts.
“Aw, gutom pa ang baby,” he laughed. Then he bought a couple of everything and we ate them all by the sidewalk. He looked really cute as he wolfed down his kwek-kwek and kikiam. I remembered when I saw him for the first time and thought that he was too high-end even for Jollibee. Apparently, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
We went back to our room and shared a few more kulitan moments as we showered and prepared our stuff. He gave me tips on what to do later, and on my trysts after ours. He’s a pro indeed, I realized, and I wondered if I could keep up with him.
Then we were back up in the clouds, soaring and piercing through the sky. I lusted for him like I have never lusted for any other man. His body fit perfectly with mine. He was my fantasy and he was all mine for the taking. Hours passed and yet we were still exploring, devouring each other’s bodies. We rose higher and higher until we reached the peak together.
We lay spent on the bed, hands held. I watched him as our breathing started to slow down. I got really lucky with this one, I thought to myself. Then all too soon, he pulled his hand from mine and started texting.
“Galit na siya sa akin. I have to leave soon,” he said.
“Your mom?” I asked.
“My boyfriend.”
His words pinched at my heart. Of course I knew that he was going home to someone else. I just didn’t think it would come crashing down that soon and that fast. I realized that at the back of my mind, I was wishing that he and I would have more breakfasts together, go to the grocery store with a list that didn’t include condoms and lubes, spend another afternoon being silly at the street food carts, and then go home at the end of the day with our hands held.
Ang tanga ko lang. I’m still just a rookie after all, and I made the mistake of trying to keep up with a pro. I should have known that at the end of the day, the only things I’ll be going home with are empty tubes and bruised arms.
Love, sex and relationships, they’re all about chemistry. A chemistry that is built up and nurtured over time has the capacity of sustaining a connection for a long time. But when it’s rushed and forced into you, it fades just as fast as it comes.
“Let’s go,” he said after we finished packing up. “Are you sure you’ll be alright? Can you go home alone?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I smiled.
“Okay. Til next time,” he said. He kissed me on the lips and then went out the door.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Orgy Thoughts
For me, the most interesting part of an orgy is the meet-up, when I get to see the guys while they still have their clothes on.
There are five of us and we are waiting for one more. The meeting place is the sidewalk of a street bustling with life from the evening rush hour. Everyone is either texting or fiddling with their phones or otherwise trying to look occupied, but they are all stealing glances at the others.
I couldn't help grinning. This is the part where we size each other up, guess which ones are tops, which ones are bottoms, and which tops will end up being bottoms. The guys start selecting their targets, the ones they'd really like to fuck or get fucked by.
I look around and survey the others.
First guy is John. He is well-built and has a bad boy aura about him. He is leaning on his motorcycle, busily texting someone. He tells us after a while that it's his girlfriend that he's texting, that they had a big fight and that he's joining in to let out his steam. Obviously, he's looking to play top tonight. He'll probably just lie down and expect everyone else to pleasure him, banking on his supposed masculinity. I don't think he and I will be having much interaction.
Standing a few feet away are two small guys, Jeff and Marky. They've been talking to each other the whole time, so they probably know each other already. Every now and then they whisper and laugh, then look around like they've been caught. Then Jeff would glance at John and Marky would try to catch my eye. Power bottoms, I'd say, and they've already chosen their targets. They'll most likely pounce on us the first chance they get.
Then there's EJ, tall and lanky, with a smile built for toothpaste commercials. He's wearing a long-sleeved shirt, but it's easy to see that he has just the right muscle definition to my liking. He shifts from one leg to the other, and in that simple movement displays a tamed grace that draws me. Too bad, he looks like a top. I would love to fuck him.
After a while, the last one arrives. His name is Dexter. He looks straight but you can just tell right away that he isn't. Everything about him screams bottom. He's cute but he has an air of arrogance about him, and I'm not really in the mood to deal with misplaced arrogance tonight. I make a mental note to stay away from him.
Dexter goes into a motel, books a room and texts us all the room number. One by one, we follow, everyone emphasizing that we should leave at least five-minute intervals between us. I arrive last. Then everyone starts stripping. It's about to start.
Marky is on me even before I finish taking off my pants. He sucks well. I look around and see that Jeff has already started working on John. John was lying down, hands under his head, while his body was being caressed and licked all over by Jeff.
So I got John, Jeff and Marky right.
I hear a deep moan and turn to look. It was EJ, on all fours, his face ecstatic as he was being fucked by Dexter. Dexter picks up his pace and EJ moans harder. I did not expect this at all. The apparent bottom is fucking the apparent top. I am still trying to get over my slight shock when Dexter flips EJ over and drills hard, and the room is filled with EJ's delirious moans.
This has instant an effect on all of us. Within seconds, what little clothing we still have on are thrown to the floor. I see Marky's dick for the first time. It's huge. I couldn't resist. I make him stand up and take my turn at sucking him.
I feel someone's mouth on me. It was Jeff's. I turn to find John and see him trying to jack off. Apparently, he can't get his dick hard. He mumbles something about fucking his girlfriend before coming to the orgy, which is why he can't get it up. I tell Jeff and Marky to work on John together while I watch. Then John pulls me in and makes me face-fuck him.
I pull away and move towards Dexter and EJ, who are now on what seems to be their tenth position already. I stand up and hold my dick to Dexter's mouth but he just smiles and shakes his head. I move in front of EJ instead, and he readily takes me in his mouth. His tongue flicks and twirls like wildfire as Dexter thrusts deep into him. He is in a frenzy.
Dexter pulls out and motions me to take over. EJ looks at me with hungry, almost pleading eyes. I go behind him and ram him hard and deep. He cries out and begs for more and I give it to him. I hear someone else moaning and see that Dexter has already started fucking Marky. I watch him and wow, that guy really knows what he's doing.
On the edge of the bed, I see Jeff on his back while John sucks him off. Apparently, John has already given up trying to get himself hard. That's probably wisest, since he has already spent too long on his failed attempts.
A few more positions and swaps and we're all done. We say goodbye and leave the room one by one. It was an interesting group. A lot of my guesses were incorrect. It just reinforces my claim that I'm still inexperienced at this. Or maybe it just means that I'm really bad at reading people. Oh well, I'll just see next time.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Sharing My Guy
I don't like sharing my guy. That's the
reason why I've never been a fan of open relationships or even casual
dating. I make sure that I have my guy locked down. Or so I used to.
These past few months, I've been having a bit of a paradigm shift.
It started when I dated Kent, a guy who
part-timed as a masseur. When we got to the point where we were
already discussing the details of a possible relationship, I asked it
to be open, more for the heck of it really than anything else. I've
never tried an open relationship before and, given Kent's line of
work, I was pretty sure he'd agree, and he did.
The relationship felt a bit strange to
me. We were a couple and yet there he was, sleeping with other guys
for money, and there I was, sleeping with other guys for fun. At the
start, I felt a tiny bite of jealousy every time he told me that he was
off to service a client, but I started to get used to it as
the weeks passed.
So this is what it feels like to
share your guy with others, I
thought.
It
wasn't that bad after all. That thing that I used to hear from other
people about being confident that your guy will go home to you at the
end of the day, I began to understand it. I was sure that Kent was
still mine no matter how many “extra service” sessions he gave,
and that was enough assurance for me. That was probably how Kent felt
too, at least until I started showing signs of disinterest.
The
sharing thing turned out to be more difficult when I experienced
being the other guy. This happened when I started seeing Adam, who
has a boyfriend of seven or eight years. I knew that there was no
hope of me ever gaining enough worth to beat those years, but I
jumped into the pseudo-relationship anyway.
My
relationship with Adam was the opposite of what I had with Kent.
This time, I knew that after every movie and dinner date, every night
we spent cradled in each other's arms, every goodbye kiss after a
great conversation over drinks, he would still go home to his
partner.
In
spite of my full understanding of our setup, however, there were
still moments when I started to demand more. I remember walking out
on him once, drunk and pissed off, when he said that he wouldn't
leave his partner for me. As I scrambled into a taxi, he texted me
that I was being unfair, that I knew perfectly well the limits of our
relationship even before we decided to have it. Of course, I didn't
have enough mental coherence to read it right then, but I realized
that he was right the next morning. He was my guy, yes, but only for as long as he was at my side. Asking more that what he could offer was
indeed unfair. Since then, I demanded only for my share, enjoyed it,
and then stood by for my next turn.
It was
during one of those standby-for-Adam periods that I met Brad. We met
and went out for drinks, spent the next few hours downing bottle
after bottle of beer, laughing and teasing, and stole a minute-long
kiss before leaving. He was cute and he definitely knew how to work
his charm. Apparently, my charm worked on him too because we
continued going out after that.
There's
one reason Brad and I aren't an official couple: we're both not ready
yet. That's to say we're both still messing with other guys. There's
one other guy he's dating concurrently with me. And I still can't let
go of Adam completely. That's on top of each other's random hookups.
We like each other a lot, but I know that jumping into a relationship
right now would only screw us both. I know he does too.
I
still find it strange. Just months ago, I probably couldn't even
imagine myself sharing my guy, yet here I am now, even looking for someone
to join us in a three-way. But I enjoy what Brad and I have right
now: dates whenever our schedules allow, sweet messages in text or
BBM, phone calls when one misses the other, and the occasional but
nevertheless amazing sex. He could be having those with other guys
too, but I don't mind. I should, but I don't. Maybe it's best to stop
over-analyzing this and just go be happy with it.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Free HIV Testing On April 29
Register here: http://tinyurl.com/apr29test/
If you have any questions, either about the test or about HIV, just send me an email: exjasonblog@gmail.com
Friday, March 30, 2012
Believing Like A Boy
I remember when it was still so easy for me to trust my heart. I miss those days.
Last Sunday, I listened to an eighteen-year-old boy tell me how he was falling for a guy he just met. In the past year, he’s had seven relationships, all of which ended when the other guys have had their way with him. He was broken-hearted after each one, particularly after realizing that those men he entrusted his heart to were really only after sex. And yet there he was once again, all giddy while he was telling me about how sweet and smart and kind this new guy was. He did not care that they met only a few days before. All that mattered was that his heart was once again skipping beats whenever he heard that guy say his name. And I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes glimmered with hope that this guy might finally be the one he’s been waiting for.
I would normally just dismiss that boy’s feelings as just another impending heartache. He’s just a kid after all, naive and easily fooled by the empty promise of a happy ending. I, on the other hand, have several years’ worth of stories that can pop those stupid floating hearts. Life had repeatedly hammered into my head that love is not about butterflies and fireworks, but rather a contract that needs to be pinned onto the wall and reviewed every day that I wake up.
But there was something about the way that boy told his story that captivated me. The way his eyes sparkled, the way he couldn’t help smiling whenever he said his guy’s name, and the way his voice was laced with hope were just too beautiful for me to turn my eyes from.
“He makes me happy. That’s the only thing that should matter, right?” the boy asked me at one point.
“Do you think that’s enough?” I asked, throwing the question back.
“I think so. Yeah, for me it is. I know that I don’t really know much about him but it just feels right. I should be scared. I should be cautious. But the more I think about it, the more I feel that it’s okay. Falling for him is not such a scary thing after all.”
“I see. So you’re sure that there’s nothing to be worried about,” I said.
“Yeah. It’s never been in my nature to hold back when it comes to these things. I give it everything I have. That’s the only way I can do it,” he said in that determined voice.
That was when it became clear to me: that boy is exactly how I used to be. What he said basically summed up how I’ve been handling my relationships up until last year. I jumped at every opportunity to fall in love and start the walk down the road to ever after.
But I eventually stopped being that boy. I kept stumbling onto dead ends until finally I just gave up. Quota na ako, as I once put it. I gave up on the idea of a magical love story and accepted that everything is fleeting. No one else was up for a lifetime of love, it seemed. People who looked for relationships were in fact only after a constant backup fuck-buddy or a safety net from a life of solitude when they grow old. Or you’ll find one of those few people who’re also looking for a happily-ever-after, but then you find out that everything else about you two is a mismatch. The only way to be happy, it seemed, was to settle.
That’s why the boy’s story was so enchanting. The way he believed that he had finally found the one, it was like finding a part of me that I’ve lost. It was the part that had scarred my heart beyond recognition, that changed me to who I am now, but it was also the part that once made me believe in pure, innocent love. I know I’ve already dismissed that part as nothing more than a phase, a gateway to reality, but somehow, I still keep hoping that this unbelieving and calloused version of me is the phase, and that the Nishiboy who once believed in true love will turn out to be the reality.
But I’m afraid the boy will have to wait a little longer for his true love, because the guy he has fallen for this time is just like the ones before him. He will have to deal with heartbreak yet again, another scar that will never heal. I can only hope that he doesn’t give up on love just yet and that he doesn’t turn out to be someone like me, who treats love and relationship as a contract to be renewed, already too scared to entrust his heart to promises of forever.
Last Sunday, I listened to an eighteen-year-old boy tell me how he was falling for a guy he just met. In the past year, he’s had seven relationships, all of which ended when the other guys have had their way with him. He was broken-hearted after each one, particularly after realizing that those men he entrusted his heart to were really only after sex. And yet there he was once again, all giddy while he was telling me about how sweet and smart and kind this new guy was. He did not care that they met only a few days before. All that mattered was that his heart was once again skipping beats whenever he heard that guy say his name. And I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes glimmered with hope that this guy might finally be the one he’s been waiting for.
I would normally just dismiss that boy’s feelings as just another impending heartache. He’s just a kid after all, naive and easily fooled by the empty promise of a happy ending. I, on the other hand, have several years’ worth of stories that can pop those stupid floating hearts. Life had repeatedly hammered into my head that love is not about butterflies and fireworks, but rather a contract that needs to be pinned onto the wall and reviewed every day that I wake up.
But there was something about the way that boy told his story that captivated me. The way his eyes sparkled, the way he couldn’t help smiling whenever he said his guy’s name, and the way his voice was laced with hope were just too beautiful for me to turn my eyes from.
“He makes me happy. That’s the only thing that should matter, right?” the boy asked me at one point.
“Do you think that’s enough?” I asked, throwing the question back.
“I think so. Yeah, for me it is. I know that I don’t really know much about him but it just feels right. I should be scared. I should be cautious. But the more I think about it, the more I feel that it’s okay. Falling for him is not such a scary thing after all.”
“I see. So you’re sure that there’s nothing to be worried about,” I said.
“Yeah. It’s never been in my nature to hold back when it comes to these things. I give it everything I have. That’s the only way I can do it,” he said in that determined voice.
That was when it became clear to me: that boy is exactly how I used to be. What he said basically summed up how I’ve been handling my relationships up until last year. I jumped at every opportunity to fall in love and start the walk down the road to ever after.
But I eventually stopped being that boy. I kept stumbling onto dead ends until finally I just gave up. Quota na ako, as I once put it. I gave up on the idea of a magical love story and accepted that everything is fleeting. No one else was up for a lifetime of love, it seemed. People who looked for relationships were in fact only after a constant backup fuck-buddy or a safety net from a life of solitude when they grow old. Or you’ll find one of those few people who’re also looking for a happily-ever-after, but then you find out that everything else about you two is a mismatch. The only way to be happy, it seemed, was to settle.
That’s why the boy’s story was so enchanting. The way he believed that he had finally found the one, it was like finding a part of me that I’ve lost. It was the part that had scarred my heart beyond recognition, that changed me to who I am now, but it was also the part that once made me believe in pure, innocent love. I know I’ve already dismissed that part as nothing more than a phase, a gateway to reality, but somehow, I still keep hoping that this unbelieving and calloused version of me is the phase, and that the Nishiboy who once believed in true love will turn out to be the reality.
But I’m afraid the boy will have to wait a little longer for his true love, because the guy he has fallen for this time is just like the ones before him. He will have to deal with heartbreak yet again, another scar that will never heal. I can only hope that he doesn’t give up on love just yet and that he doesn’t turn out to be someone like me, who treats love and relationship as a contract to be renewed, already too scared to entrust his heart to promises of forever.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Nishiboy Singing Breakeven
Here's a video of me singing Breakeven. This was taken a couple of years ago when I was still in my first job. We had a recreation room with a videoke machine, along with chess boards, foosball, xbox and other toys. Of course, it was the videoke machine that first broke down from overuse. Here, you can see that the song got cut after the first chorus. I tried it three times, but it was always the same. I think it was one of the first symptoms that the machine was already failing.
The girl you can hear in the background is Honey, my best friend after college.
* video removed.
The girl you can hear in the background is Honey, my best friend after college.
* video removed.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
What's Your Number
1. How many sexual partners have you had in the last three months?
Wow, I thought. It really drops it on you right from the first question.
My friend H and I were answering a survey on sexual activity. We’re both pretty open on the topic of sex but the questions in the survey still made us cringe. Although we were both aware that our own conquests have been steadily on the rise lately, putting a number on them makes the picture uncomfortably clear.
“Do you think blowjobs count or is it just the fucks?” I asked H. He pointed to question number two in reply.
2. How many of those did you have penetrative sex with?
Oh crap, so there’s no way of trimming the figures.
“This is impossible, how am I supposed to remember all of them?” I sighed, throwing my pen aside.
“Just give an estimate. That’s what I did,” H offered.
I stared as the ceiling and began attempting to recall the guys I cruised or hooked up with. I must have stayed that way for a while because H suddenly snapped his fingers at my eyes.
“Fine, let’s do it by month,” he said. “How many were there last December?”
Ah, that just might work.
“Well,” I started, “that was the month when I was at my most active at cruising. I went there three times in a week at most, I think.”
“That makes twelve in a month.”
“No wait, let’s say I averaged twice in a week. So eight.”
“And how many guys did you get every time?”
Memories of group action suddenly popped up in my head.
“Let’s say that I only had one,” I said while trying to keep a straight face. “Then let’s add, say, two more for hook-ups that weren’t from cruising.”
H looked like he wanted to prod but decided against it.
“Then for January...” I started as my eyes went back up to the ceiling. “I cruised less that month, probably just went there six times. Then add two more for the random hook-ups.”
“That’s just about the same as December,” H said. “And what about last month?”
“Hm, February... Ah yes, I’ve already stopped cruising in the hotspot by then,” I said, nodding slowly.
“Why do I get the feeling that the number is still roughly the same for that month?” he said.
“Well, let me see... I got one from Grindr, one from PR –“
“Wait, I thought you didn’t have PR?”
“I made one last month. My first time.”
“Ah,” he shrugged. “And then?”
“Two from a mall, two from another mall and one from...somewhere.”
“Somewhere,” he laughed. “Oh, the fun of random hook-ups.”
“I hate this survey. So how many are there in all?” I asked. I’ve been avoiding adding the numbers up in my head since the beginning of the survey.
“Twenty-five.”
“Woah, really? Wait, let's count that again.”
“No, I think you’ve rounded it down enough times already.” H said. “That’s quite a lot, Nishi.”
“Oh come on,” I protested. “You know that’s just a fraction of what other guys get. You know, the ones who really put themselves out there.”
“I meant it’s quite a lot for you.”
I opened my mouth to say something but couldn’t, and ended up just letting out a sigh. Yes, it was indeed a lot for me, considering how I once concluded that I wasn’t built for casual sex. That was after the first time I explored the world of hook-ups and nameless encounters. I thought I had left that world for good, yet there I was again. It’s not like I haven’t been warned. Someone told me that the wind could shift back. And so it has.
Oh well, I might as well enjoy my stay, for however long it would last this time.
“No other choice but to own up to it,” I told H. “It was my choice to do those things, after all. It’s just right that I claim them.”
H started clapping his hands and standing up slowly. I threw my pen at him and we both laughed.
“So how many did you write in number one?” I asked H as we folded our survey forms.
“Three.”
“That’s a fucking lie.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Wow, I thought. It really drops it on you right from the first question.
My friend H and I were answering a survey on sexual activity. We’re both pretty open on the topic of sex but the questions in the survey still made us cringe. Although we were both aware that our own conquests have been steadily on the rise lately, putting a number on them makes the picture uncomfortably clear.
“Do you think blowjobs count or is it just the fucks?” I asked H. He pointed to question number two in reply.
2. How many of those did you have penetrative sex with?
Oh crap, so there’s no way of trimming the figures.
“This is impossible, how am I supposed to remember all of them?” I sighed, throwing my pen aside.
“Just give an estimate. That’s what I did,” H offered.
I stared as the ceiling and began attempting to recall the guys I cruised or hooked up with. I must have stayed that way for a while because H suddenly snapped his fingers at my eyes.
“Fine, let’s do it by month,” he said. “How many were there last December?”
Ah, that just might work.
“Well,” I started, “that was the month when I was at my most active at cruising. I went there three times in a week at most, I think.”
“That makes twelve in a month.”
“No wait, let’s say I averaged twice in a week. So eight.”
“And how many guys did you get every time?”
Memories of group action suddenly popped up in my head.
“Let’s say that I only had one,” I said while trying to keep a straight face. “Then let’s add, say, two more for hook-ups that weren’t from cruising.”
H looked like he wanted to prod but decided against it.
“Then for January...” I started as my eyes went back up to the ceiling. “I cruised less that month, probably just went there six times. Then add two more for the random hook-ups.”
“That’s just about the same as December,” H said. “And what about last month?”
“Hm, February... Ah yes, I’ve already stopped cruising in the hotspot by then,” I said, nodding slowly.
“Why do I get the feeling that the number is still roughly the same for that month?” he said.
“Well, let me see... I got one from Grindr, one from PR –“
“Wait, I thought you didn’t have PR?”
“I made one last month. My first time.”
“Ah,” he shrugged. “And then?”
“Two from a mall, two from another mall and one from...somewhere.”
“Somewhere,” he laughed. “Oh, the fun of random hook-ups.”
“I hate this survey. So how many are there in all?” I asked. I’ve been avoiding adding the numbers up in my head since the beginning of the survey.
“Twenty-five.”
“Woah, really? Wait, let's count that again.”
“No, I think you’ve rounded it down enough times already.” H said. “That’s quite a lot, Nishi.”
“Oh come on,” I protested. “You know that’s just a fraction of what other guys get. You know, the ones who really put themselves out there.”
“I meant it’s quite a lot for you.”
I opened my mouth to say something but couldn’t, and ended up just letting out a sigh. Yes, it was indeed a lot for me, considering how I once concluded that I wasn’t built for casual sex. That was after the first time I explored the world of hook-ups and nameless encounters. I thought I had left that world for good, yet there I was again. It’s not like I haven’t been warned. Someone told me that the wind could shift back. And so it has.
Oh well, I might as well enjoy my stay, for however long it would last this time.
“No other choice but to own up to it,” I told H. “It was my choice to do those things, after all. It’s just right that I claim them.”
H started clapping his hands and standing up slowly. I threw my pen at him and we both laughed.
“So how many did you write in number one?” I asked H as we folded our survey forms.
“Three.”
“That’s a fucking lie.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Nishiboy According To A College Friend
The long-overdue third installment to The "Nishiboy According To His Friends" Series aka How To Blog Without Really Writing Anything.
This was written by a girl friend (take note of the space in between) back in college. We were choirmates and were both taking up Computer Science. I call her “bride” and she calls me “groom” after we got “married” in a wedding booth during one of our university fairs. It was a double-wedding. Her friend married my boyfriend.
She is also probably the first person I knew who owned a blog. She used to write under the name Saminella.
Bilang blogger siya, madami siyang ka-eklatan sa entries. Tulad nito, screenie ang pinadala niya para daw maiba.
Nishiboy According To A College Friend
By Saminella
O diba? Blogger na blogger. Lol.
Other entries in this series:
Nishiboy According To A New Friend
Nishiboy According To A High School Friend
This was written by a girl friend (take note of the space in between) back in college. We were choirmates and were both taking up Computer Science. I call her “bride” and she calls me “groom” after we got “married” in a wedding booth during one of our university fairs. It was a double-wedding. Her friend married my boyfriend.
She is also probably the first person I knew who owned a blog. She used to write under the name Saminella.
Bilang blogger siya, madami siyang ka-eklatan sa entries. Tulad nito, screenie ang pinadala niya para daw maiba.
Nishiboy According To A College Friend
By Saminella
O diba? Blogger na blogger. Lol.
Other entries in this series:
Nishiboy According To A New Friend
Nishiboy According To A High School Friend
Monday, February 20, 2012
Calling All Men Who Like Men
Calling all men who like men.
I am inviting you guys to join
Sexy Time: A Saferotic Sex Summit.
This is a joint event of The Love Yourself project and DOH-RITM.
The bullet points of the event:
- We will get to talk with men like ourselves about sex.
- We can exchange insights on how sex can be safe and erotic at the same time.
- There will be a short lecture on how to keep ourselves free of HIV.
- Free HIV testing will be given to registered participants.
- Free snacks. =D
And the best part, really, is that this event will be facilitated by fellow men-who-like-men, which means that we will all be free from judgement.
This is on February 26, which is this coming Sunday. The event is totally free and will be done in a discreet location. The schedule is as follows:
| 1:00pm - 2:00pm | Registration |
| 2:00pm - 2:30pm | Program Orientation |
| 2:30pm - 3:00pm | HIV 101 (Lecture and Q & A) |
| 3:00pm - 3:15pm | Snack Break |
| 3:15pm - 4:15pm | Group discussion on sex |
| 4:15pm - 5:00pm | Orientation on HIV Testing |
| 5:00pm - 8:00pm | HIV Testing, Dinner, Fellowship and Post-test counseling |
If you want to join, please REGISTER HERE: http://tinyurl.com/hct123
The details of the location will be sent to your email.
I’ll be a facilitator in the event, and if you’d like me to personally attend to you, you can email me at exjasonblog@gmail.com. Of course, you can also email me if you have any questions or if you want to go but don't want to register through the link above.
Here is a slightly NSFW (Not Safe For Work) poster of the event.
(+/-)Click here to show/hide the poster
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Last Full Show
“Malapit ka na ba?” Tanong niya sa akin habang nagpupunas ng pawis sa noo. Ang cute niya tingnan, naka t-shirt na puti at naka-cap na nakabaliktad.
Fetish ko pa naman talaga yung naka-cap.
“Di pa. Pagod ka na ba?”
“Di naman. Mejo mahirap lang kasi tong posisyon ko.” Sagot niya. Sabagay, medyo mahirap nga yung ginagawa niyang pagyuko nang patagilid.
Nasa taas kami ng sinehan. Yung balcony. Bakbakan ang palabas. Sakto, kung ano-anong bakbakan din ang nangyayari sa buong paligid.
Yumuko siya ulit para isubo ako. Magaling siya ha. Kahit na nahihirapan na siya, bigay todo pa din.
Tumagilid ako ng konti para mas ilapit ang titi ko sa kanya. Maya-maya, napaungol na ako sa pag deep throat niya. Aba, effective ang pagtagilid! Pagkatapos ng ilan pang sandali, di na nakapagpigil si kuya, lumuhod na talaga sa harap ko.
Ayos!
Umahon ulit si kuya para magpunas ng pawis. Habang hindi siya nakatingin, ngumiti ako sa nasa harap na row na halos mapilipit na ang leeg sa paglingon. Hinawakan niya si junior kong basang basa pa ng laway at jinakol.
Shit, ang sarap.
Kaso nakita ni kuya, at tinulak ang kamay nung isa. Natawa na lang ako. Kung makapag-agawan talaga ang mga tao dito, akala mo may krisis at magkaka ubusan.
Huminga ulit ng malalim si kuya at yumuko para isubo ulit si junior. Nararamdaman ko na, lalabasan na ako sa round na to.
Oras na para sa audience participation.
Sinandal ko na ang buong likod at ulo ko sa upuan, at itinaas ang mga kamay sa sandalan. Di ko pa naipapatong ang braso ko nang tuluyan ay itinaas na ng mga katabi ko ang t-shirt ko, sabay yuko at dila sa nipples.
Maya maya pa, may humahalik na sa leeg ko. Yung nasa likod ko. Gumapang ang halik niya papunta sa labi ko. Umilag ako at tiningnan siya. Tsinito. Pwede. Sinandal ko ulit ang ulo ko. Di na ako umilag nung sinubukan niya akong halikan ulit.
Isa sa harap, isa sa kanan, isa sa kaliwa, isa sa likod. Tangina, sarap. At may nanonood pa sa harap na row.
“Malapit na ako,” sabi ko pagkatapos ang ilang minuto. Lalo pang binilisan ni kuya ang pagtsupa.
“Putangina, ayan na!” ungol ko. Mas nagbigay todo pa lalo ang tsumutsupa at dumidila, at pigil na pigil naman ako sa pag-ungol habang nilalabasan sa bibig ni kuya.
Umupo na ulit lahat. Nagpunas ng pawis, uminom ng tubig, nag-ayos ng pantalon. May nag-abot sa akin ng panyo para pamunas. Maya-maya, nag-alisan na lahat, malamang lilipat na sa ibang pwedeng panoorin. Ako naman, lumabas para magyosi.
“Ayos yung show mo ah,” rinig kong sabi ng isang lalaking tumabi sa akin. Tiningnan ko, si tsinito na humalik sa akin. Di pala siya ganun ka-cute pag nasa liwanag, pero pwede na din.
Ngumiti lang ako at nagpatuloy sa pagyoyosi.
Nung patayo na ako, bigla siyang tumayo din at bumulong sa akin. “Kaya mo pa ba ng isa pa?”
Lumingon ako at ngumiti, pagkatapos ay pumasok na ulit sa sinehan habang nakasunod si kuyang tsinito.
------------------------------------
Pang-balanse sa mga cheesy balentayms posts. Lol.
Fetish ko pa naman talaga yung naka-cap.
“Di pa. Pagod ka na ba?”
“Di naman. Mejo mahirap lang kasi tong posisyon ko.” Sagot niya. Sabagay, medyo mahirap nga yung ginagawa niyang pagyuko nang patagilid.
Nasa taas kami ng sinehan. Yung balcony. Bakbakan ang palabas. Sakto, kung ano-anong bakbakan din ang nangyayari sa buong paligid.
Yumuko siya ulit para isubo ako. Magaling siya ha. Kahit na nahihirapan na siya, bigay todo pa din.
Tumagilid ako ng konti para mas ilapit ang titi ko sa kanya. Maya-maya, napaungol na ako sa pag deep throat niya. Aba, effective ang pagtagilid! Pagkatapos ng ilan pang sandali, di na nakapagpigil si kuya, lumuhod na talaga sa harap ko.
Ayos!
Umahon ulit si kuya para magpunas ng pawis. Habang hindi siya nakatingin, ngumiti ako sa nasa harap na row na halos mapilipit na ang leeg sa paglingon. Hinawakan niya si junior kong basang basa pa ng laway at jinakol.
Shit, ang sarap.
Kaso nakita ni kuya, at tinulak ang kamay nung isa. Natawa na lang ako. Kung makapag-agawan talaga ang mga tao dito, akala mo may krisis at magkaka ubusan.
Huminga ulit ng malalim si kuya at yumuko para isubo ulit si junior. Nararamdaman ko na, lalabasan na ako sa round na to.
Oras na para sa audience participation.
Sinandal ko na ang buong likod at ulo ko sa upuan, at itinaas ang mga kamay sa sandalan. Di ko pa naipapatong ang braso ko nang tuluyan ay itinaas na ng mga katabi ko ang t-shirt ko, sabay yuko at dila sa nipples.
Maya maya pa, may humahalik na sa leeg ko. Yung nasa likod ko. Gumapang ang halik niya papunta sa labi ko. Umilag ako at tiningnan siya. Tsinito. Pwede. Sinandal ko ulit ang ulo ko. Di na ako umilag nung sinubukan niya akong halikan ulit.
Isa sa harap, isa sa kanan, isa sa kaliwa, isa sa likod. Tangina, sarap. At may nanonood pa sa harap na row.
“Malapit na ako,” sabi ko pagkatapos ang ilang minuto. Lalo pang binilisan ni kuya ang pagtsupa.
“Putangina, ayan na!” ungol ko. Mas nagbigay todo pa lalo ang tsumutsupa at dumidila, at pigil na pigil naman ako sa pag-ungol habang nilalabasan sa bibig ni kuya.
Umupo na ulit lahat. Nagpunas ng pawis, uminom ng tubig, nag-ayos ng pantalon. May nag-abot sa akin ng panyo para pamunas. Maya-maya, nag-alisan na lahat, malamang lilipat na sa ibang pwedeng panoorin. Ako naman, lumabas para magyosi.
“Ayos yung show mo ah,” rinig kong sabi ng isang lalaking tumabi sa akin. Tiningnan ko, si tsinito na humalik sa akin. Di pala siya ganun ka-cute pag nasa liwanag, pero pwede na din.
Ngumiti lang ako at nagpatuloy sa pagyoyosi.
Nung patayo na ako, bigla siyang tumayo din at bumulong sa akin. “Kaya mo pa ba ng isa pa?”
Lumingon ako at ngumiti, pagkatapos ay pumasok na ulit sa sinehan habang nakasunod si kuyang tsinito.
------------------------------------
Pang-balanse sa mga cheesy balentayms posts. Lol.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Nishiboy According To A High School Friend
Here's the second entry for The "Nishiboy According To His Friends" Series aka How To Blog Without Really Writing Anything
Nishiboy According To A High school Friend
By Cyril
I hated Nishiboy, known to us, his high school mates, as Jap, when I first came to notice his existence. He was taller than I was, he was way meaner, and most of all he could belt to Celine Dion's "I'm Your Lady [and you are my man]" without much of an effort. It’s quite true what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But if I may, to that saying a phrase I'd like to add: so they'd eventually become your friends. That's exactly what happened to Jap and I.
Fond memories I have of Jap would reveal our shared addiction to Harry Potter, animes (Bleach and Naruto), and singing. Forgive the lack of modesty, but Jap was my apprentice when it came to Harry Potter trivia. Hahahaha. But Jap sure made up for that with anime stuff and his prowess at karaoke. Jap, Sondra and I spent countless hours way back in our laid-back UPLB days just talking about anything that came fleeting into our idle minds. In retrospect, Jap, just like us, would fit uncannily into the dictionary definition of the term nerd.
Jap used to have an oppositional defiant type of personality. Jap was super stubborn and disliked being told what to do, a trait which currently lingers a wee bit. Hehe. He once made our Biology teacher cry. He also fought with and got into our Filipino teacher's nerves and irked our English mentor over a hidden shoe. He's got quite a knack at defying any authority figure. Now, I'd say Jap has progressed for the better. The Jap I knew then wouldn't have graduated from UP, would never have kept a decent job, would be penniless hours after pay day, and would basically be a pain in any of his friend's butt. Honestly. Hahahaha. Peace Jap.
Something must have come and changed that old Jap. I was flabbergasted last year when Jap and I met for the first time after college. For one, he had a neat-looking bag. Although contents of said bag may be tousled unceremoniously inside, but hey, now he's put things in an actual bag and not stuff them in his pockets. Second, he now has no stinky, sweaty, snot-covered towel draping over his pronounced shoulders. Third, he smelled of perfume and not of his usual cigarette smoke-drenched self. Moreover, he had with him a towel, bath soap, even shampoo. The old Jap would have comfortably scavenged through your drawer.
Most amazing of all, he was in love. Like for real. I've never seen Jap like that ever. That may have been that something I was looking for. Jap has come a long way from highschool but just like the rest of us he still has leaps and strides to go. He may fall short sometimes, be hurt and commit very appalling mistakes, I'd expect this new Jap to come out wiser, a grin plastered on his face, bravely putting on display his scathed heart and bruised ego.
-------------------------------------------
Other entries in this series:
Nishiboy According To A New Friend
Nishiboy According To A College Friend
This one was written by a good friend from high school. We were also schoolmates for a couple of years in college until he transferred to another university. He was one of those who witnessed my transformation from high-school wimp to college wimp. And he knows enough of my secrets to blackmail me for the rest of my life.
Nishiboy According To A High school Friend
By Cyril
I hated Nishiboy, known to us, his high school mates, as Jap, when I first came to notice his existence. He was taller than I was, he was way meaner, and most of all he could belt to Celine Dion's "I'm Your Lady [and you are my man]" without much of an effort. It’s quite true what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But if I may, to that saying a phrase I'd like to add: so they'd eventually become your friends. That's exactly what happened to Jap and I.
Fond memories I have of Jap would reveal our shared addiction to Harry Potter, animes (Bleach and Naruto), and singing. Forgive the lack of modesty, but Jap was my apprentice when it came to Harry Potter trivia. Hahahaha. But Jap sure made up for that with anime stuff and his prowess at karaoke. Jap, Sondra and I spent countless hours way back in our laid-back UPLB days just talking about anything that came fleeting into our idle minds. In retrospect, Jap, just like us, would fit uncannily into the dictionary definition of the term nerd.
Jap used to have an oppositional defiant type of personality. Jap was super stubborn and disliked being told what to do, a trait which currently lingers a wee bit. Hehe. He once made our Biology teacher cry. He also fought with and got into our Filipino teacher's nerves and irked our English mentor over a hidden shoe. He's got quite a knack at defying any authority figure. Now, I'd say Jap has progressed for the better. The Jap I knew then wouldn't have graduated from UP, would never have kept a decent job, would be penniless hours after pay day, and would basically be a pain in any of his friend's butt. Honestly. Hahahaha. Peace Jap.
Something must have come and changed that old Jap. I was flabbergasted last year when Jap and I met for the first time after college. For one, he had a neat-looking bag. Although contents of said bag may be tousled unceremoniously inside, but hey, now he's put things in an actual bag and not stuff them in his pockets. Second, he now has no stinky, sweaty, snot-covered towel draping over his pronounced shoulders. Third, he smelled of perfume and not of his usual cigarette smoke-drenched self. Moreover, he had with him a towel, bath soap, even shampoo. The old Jap would have comfortably scavenged through your drawer.
Most amazing of all, he was in love. Like for real. I've never seen Jap like that ever. That may have been that something I was looking for. Jap has come a long way from highschool but just like the rest of us he still has leaps and strides to go. He may fall short sometimes, be hurt and commit very appalling mistakes, I'd expect this new Jap to come out wiser, a grin plastered on his face, bravely putting on display his scathed heart and bruised ego.
-------------------------------------------
Other entries in this series:
Nishiboy According To A New Friend
Nishiboy According To A College Friend
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Nishiboy According To A New Friend
I always find it interesting to know what a person’s friends have to say about him. It’s like that Johari window thing says, what a person sees about himself is not exactly the same as what others see. That’s why I decided to ask some of my friends to write something about me. I thought it might be interesting both for me and for you, my dear readers, to know what my friends have to say about me.
Gentlemen (and a couple of ladies, at the most), I bring you: The "Nishiboy According To His Friends" Series aka How To Blog Without Really Writing Anything
I wanted to be fair and ask people who hated me to write something about me too, but good luck getting them to do anything for me.
The first entry is from Kerwin, a person who was mostly a stranger to me until recently. Since this series will be about friends saying stuff about me, this is me according to a "new friend".
Nishiboy According To A New Friend
By Kerwin
In high school, stereotypes rule. Cliques are formed organically all the time. People gravitate towards people with the same interests, and the simplicity of high school life dictates that you stay within the boundaries of your associated group. As High School Musical puts it succinctly, "Stick to the status quo."
But there's another lesson to be learned in high school: it always ends. Boundaries will shatter, the world will be filled with shades of gray. The next time you see each other, people have changed, and you can no longer define them by any one trait.
What's this got to do with Nishiboy? Nothing, and perhaps everything. Yes, I met Nishiboy back in high school. But I hardly knew him. We weren't classmates. We weren't even batchmates-- I was two years ahead, which meant that back when I was a "ruling" senior, he was just a sophomore. What little I remember of Nishiboy consisted of his looks: he was short and pudgy--adorable, yes-- but not what I'd consider "commanding." And as high school stereotypes go, he wasn't exactly jock material.
Eleven years later and I meet him again. A stroke of destiny, a manifestation of fate, whatever. Both of us have transformed into people far removed from our high school selves, but where he was merely surprised with what he saw, I was shocked with what I saw. The boy I once distinguished from the rest by virtue of his unique surname has become a MAN. Not only has Nishiboy grown taller (ah, such is puberty) than I had, but he had also attained a certain kind of swagger. Improved stance? Check. Steel in his eyes? Check.
In time, through several bottles of beer and cups of coffee, I learned more about Nishiboy and the tribulations he had to undergo to be where he was now. Growing up had its price. What strength he showed today he attained through heartbreaks, through rejections, through failures, through pain. What's amazing about all these though is that despite the maturity in his face, a little bit of that sophomore eleven years ago peeks through-- when he laughs, when his voice gets excited recalling the experiences of the yesteryears, when he has a bit of scientific knowledge to impart. The world may have beaten him black and blue (and continues to do so, based on his latest entry), but just seeing that youthfulness still reside within him makes me think that he can weather this bout.
I may have known Nishiboy for years, but this friendship has only begun. And I'm excited as hell to see what he's going to do. With Nishiboy, I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of an adventure.
Gentlemen (and a couple of ladies, at the most), I bring you: The "Nishiboy According To His Friends" Series aka How To Blog Without Really Writing Anything
I wanted to be fair and ask people who hated me to write something about me too, but good luck getting them to do anything for me.
The first entry is from Kerwin, a person who was mostly a stranger to me until recently. Since this series will be about friends saying stuff about me, this is me according to a "new friend".
Nishiboy According To A New Friend
By Kerwin
In high school, stereotypes rule. Cliques are formed organically all the time. People gravitate towards people with the same interests, and the simplicity of high school life dictates that you stay within the boundaries of your associated group. As High School Musical puts it succinctly, "Stick to the status quo."
But there's another lesson to be learned in high school: it always ends. Boundaries will shatter, the world will be filled with shades of gray. The next time you see each other, people have changed, and you can no longer define them by any one trait.
What's this got to do with Nishiboy? Nothing, and perhaps everything. Yes, I met Nishiboy back in high school. But I hardly knew him. We weren't classmates. We weren't even batchmates-- I was two years ahead, which meant that back when I was a "ruling" senior, he was just a sophomore. What little I remember of Nishiboy consisted of his looks: he was short and pudgy--adorable, yes-- but not what I'd consider "commanding." And as high school stereotypes go, he wasn't exactly jock material.
Eleven years later and I meet him again. A stroke of destiny, a manifestation of fate, whatever. Both of us have transformed into people far removed from our high school selves, but where he was merely surprised with what he saw, I was shocked with what I saw. The boy I once distinguished from the rest by virtue of his unique surname has become a MAN. Not only has Nishiboy grown taller (ah, such is puberty) than I had, but he had also attained a certain kind of swagger. Improved stance? Check. Steel in his eyes? Check.
In time, through several bottles of beer and cups of coffee, I learned more about Nishiboy and the tribulations he had to undergo to be where he was now. Growing up had its price. What strength he showed today he attained through heartbreaks, through rejections, through failures, through pain. What's amazing about all these though is that despite the maturity in his face, a little bit of that sophomore eleven years ago peeks through-- when he laughs, when his voice gets excited recalling the experiences of the yesteryears, when he has a bit of scientific knowledge to impart. The world may have beaten him black and blue (and continues to do so, based on his latest entry), but just seeing that youthfulness still reside within him makes me think that he can weather this bout.
I may have known Nishiboy for years, but this friendship has only begun. And I'm excited as hell to see what he's going to do. With Nishiboy, I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of an adventure.
For the curious, Kerwin has a blog, but it's been ages since he last updated: http://www.thesunbakedking.com/ . Do me a favor, though, and don't just say "Kerwin is cute" when you comment.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Your Place or Mine?
So I’ve always been curious about this.
When hooking up with a stranger, which one do you prefer: you go to his place or he goes to yours?
Each one has its own cons.
If you go to his place, you’ll be placing yourself in his turf. He could be a serial killer for all you know and have knives hidden in every corner, and you’ll just disappear without a trace. Or he could have hidden cameras all over the place and you’d see yourself in the next xtube video you watch. Or simply, you’re the one who still has to go home after an exhausting five-rounder.
On the other hand, if he goes to your place, you’ll be letting a stranger into your home, which is always risky. He could kill you and take all your stuff. Or he can get obsessed with you after you gave the performance of your life and he can stalk you. Or simply, you’re the one who has to clean up after.
Those are just some of the things that dissuade me. I'm sure you have your own issues with each case.
What I usually do is I tell him to get a room in some motel or just get on with it in some public place so that we’d have equal vulnerability.
But assuming that the only choices are his place or yours, which one would you pick?
When hooking up with a stranger, which one do you prefer: you go to his place or he goes to yours?
Each one has its own cons.
If you go to his place, you’ll be placing yourself in his turf. He could be a serial killer for all you know and have knives hidden in every corner, and you’ll just disappear without a trace. Or he could have hidden cameras all over the place and you’d see yourself in the next xtube video you watch. Or simply, you’re the one who still has to go home after an exhausting five-rounder.
On the other hand, if he goes to your place, you’ll be letting a stranger into your home, which is always risky. He could kill you and take all your stuff. Or he can get obsessed with you after you gave the performance of your life and he can stalk you. Or simply, you’re the one who has to clean up after.
Those are just some of the things that dissuade me. I'm sure you have your own issues with each case.
What I usually do is I tell him to get a room in some motel or just get on with it in some public place so that we’d have equal vulnerability.
But assuming that the only choices are his place or yours, which one would you pick?
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Motivated
I am twenty-five years old and I’ve recently been going through a “phase”. It’s the one where you feel like your life has been going on circles. I don’t know which way to go. I heard that this is called the “quarter-life crisis” or something. Assuming that I’ll live to be a hundred, I’m right on schedule.
The past several weeks have not been very pretty for me. I spent almost every night out drinking or cruising. Then I woke up the next afternoon with a nasty hangover. Sometimes, I still went to work for the rest of the day but most of the time I just went back to sleep.
I’m not really sure if I still like my job. I took it because I was already bored with my previous job but today, five months later, it’s already starting to bore me too. It’s stupid because I used to complain in my previous job that I did too little coding for a programmer. Now I’m bored because I do nothing but code.
Motivation is the key, I know. I have to find a reason to love my job so that I’ll put my best into it. That’s why I sometimes envy those guys who have families to feed or parents to impress. They have their motivation thrust so close to their faces that they never lose sight of it. For me, on the other hand, motivation has always depended on the fun I derive from what I do. Unfortunately, “fun” and “work” are more flings than lifelong partners.
Someone told me that she thinks this phase doesn’t just happen once, but rather comes in waves. Looking back on my past year, I think I have to agree with her. It did happen in waves, I just didn’t realize it. I was not prepared for them and my life got washed away every time.
I have to be ready. I’ve been pushing my luck too far already. Heck, it’s a wonder my boss didn’t fire me. I should take this opportunity to really clean up my act. Not going to work so that I could play Kingdom Hearts in the morning and go partying in the evening is not the way to get out of this circle.
I’m going old-school on it this time. I’m going to work for the money and the experience points. I still have no idea where I want to go from here, my life is still going on circles, but it’s okay. I’ll keep an eye out for all the possible exits so until I find the one I’m looking for. At least, when that happens, I’ll have enough resources to go for it.
Good enough for a motivation.
The past several weeks have not been very pretty for me. I spent almost every night out drinking or cruising. Then I woke up the next afternoon with a nasty hangover. Sometimes, I still went to work for the rest of the day but most of the time I just went back to sleep.
I’m not really sure if I still like my job. I took it because I was already bored with my previous job but today, five months later, it’s already starting to bore me too. It’s stupid because I used to complain in my previous job that I did too little coding for a programmer. Now I’m bored because I do nothing but code.
Motivation is the key, I know. I have to find a reason to love my job so that I’ll put my best into it. That’s why I sometimes envy those guys who have families to feed or parents to impress. They have their motivation thrust so close to their faces that they never lose sight of it. For me, on the other hand, motivation has always depended on the fun I derive from what I do. Unfortunately, “fun” and “work” are more flings than lifelong partners.
Someone told me that she thinks this phase doesn’t just happen once, but rather comes in waves. Looking back on my past year, I think I have to agree with her. It did happen in waves, I just didn’t realize it. I was not prepared for them and my life got washed away every time.
I have to be ready. I’ve been pushing my luck too far already. Heck, it’s a wonder my boss didn’t fire me. I should take this opportunity to really clean up my act. Not going to work so that I could play Kingdom Hearts in the morning and go partying in the evening is not the way to get out of this circle.
I’m going old-school on it this time. I’m going to work for the money and the experience points. I still have no idea where I want to go from here, my life is still going on circles, but it’s okay. I’ll keep an eye out for all the possible exits so until I find the one I’m looking for. At least, when that happens, I’ll have enough resources to go for it.
Good enough for a motivation.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
When Can You Say That You've Messed Up Your Life
It's when movie and popcorn has become a luxury.
It's when the only reason you got in a club is because your friend guest-listed you.
It's when a student offers to buy you a beer.
It's when you have to budget your cigarettes.
It's when you join a training for the free food.
It's when you agreed to have sex with a guy because he mentioned free dinner.
It's when you only hear "I love you" if you're naked in some motel.
It's when you have coyote ugly moments three times a week.
It's when you're not sure if you still have a job because you went AWOL for a week.
It's when you don't know how to explain to your boss that you were playing Pokemon and Kingdom Hearts while you were gone.
It's when you've finished every game and watched every movie in your laptop and realize that your life has reached a blank wall.
It's when someone three years younger than you tells you to get your act together
It's when you're sitting in a mall, typing a blog entry on your phone because you have nothing better to do.
It's when the only reason you got in a club is because your friend guest-listed you.
It's when a student offers to buy you a beer.
It's when you have to budget your cigarettes.
It's when you join a training for the free food.
It's when you agreed to have sex with a guy because he mentioned free dinner.
It's when you only hear "I love you" if you're naked in some motel.
It's when you have coyote ugly moments three times a week.
It's when you're not sure if you still have a job because you went AWOL for a week.
It's when you don't know how to explain to your boss that you were playing Pokemon and Kingdom Hearts while you were gone.
It's when you've finished every game and watched every movie in your laptop and realize that your life has reached a blank wall.
It's when someone three years younger than you tells you to get your act together
It's when you're sitting in a mall, typing a blog entry on your phone because you have nothing better to do.
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