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.

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.

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.

Me:
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.)

Her:
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.)

Me:
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.)

Her:
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.)

Me:
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.)

Her:
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.)

Me:
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.