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Monday, September 29, 2003
Happy Birthday Won Bin!


 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WON BIN!


Posted at Monday, September 29, 2003 by wideyeshut


Sunday, September 28, 2003
MY Dinner


 got nothing to write about today.
I just wanted to show you what I have eaten during my dinner.



Spicy Chicken



Fried Spicy Potato



Beef with Green Pepper


Posted at Sunday, September 28, 2003 by wideyeshut


Saturday, September 27, 2003
Who's Lucky?


LUCKY MANZANO
The man I'm willing to give up my virginity!
No pleadings. No talks. No promises. No whispers. No winks.

Just a hold in my hand and I'll lead him to where the scent of a woman comes from.  



OOOOOHHHHHHHH.....
ORGASMICALLY DELICIOUS, ISN'T HE?

 



Posted at Saturday, September 27, 2003 by wideyeshut


Friday, September 26, 2003
If You're not the ONE




If Youíre Not The One
by: Daniel Bedingfield
If youíre not the one then why does my soul feel glad today? 
If youíre not the one then why does my hand fit yours this way?
If you are not mine then why does your heart return my call
If you are not mine would I have the strength to stand at all

I never know what the future brings
But I know you are here with me now
Weíll make it through
And I hope you are the one I share my life with

I donít want to run away but I canít take it, I donít understand
If Iím not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am?
Is there any way that I can stay in your arms?

If I donít need you then why am I crying on my bed?
If I donít need you then why does your name resound in my head?
If youíre not for me then why does this distance maim my life?
If youíre not for me then why do I dream of you as my wife?

I donít know why youíre so far away
But I know that this much is true
Weíll make it through
And I hope you are the one I share my life with
And I wish that you could be the one I die with
And I pray in youíre the one I build my home with
I hope I love you all my life

I donít want to run away but I canít take it, I donít understand
If Iím not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am
Is there any way that I can stay in your arms?

ícause I miss you, body and soul so strong that it takes my breath away
And I breathe you into my heart and pray for the strength to stand today
ícause I love you, whether itís wrong or right
And though I canít be with you tonight
And know my heart is by your side

I donít want to run away but I canít take it, I donít understand
If Iím not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am
Is there any way that I

Posted at Friday, September 26, 2003 by wideyeshut


Thursday, September 25, 2003
E-mails from Nowhere


After my revelations of the four types of male hormones I've encountered so far, I got 2 emails from 2 different persons pouring me with queries. I have not responded them, yet, but, I would like to answer them here in my blog. They chose to email me, instead of leaving a comment to my blog for fear that blog-city might censor their questions of sexual nature.

But, who's afraid of censorship?

Question 1:Which sexual exercise do you like? Anal or Oral?
Darling, I've never received an anal job so far. I've tried it before but it was so painful. Though, my friends told me that it's natural to feel pain for the first time, but I just can't do it. I am also afraid that the headline of tabloids the next day would be like this: ANAL PLEASURE BRINGS ONE GAY DEAD.

Gawd, this is not the news I'm dreaming of. But, I don't want to die virgin.

Oral? I do. But, that's not really my favorite part of the menu.

Question 2: Have you got flings or one-night stands before?
Yes, I did have flings. But, most of them are pimped by gay friends and even set-up by my girl friends. Nothing worked. They're fleeting and sometimes I feel guilty after having sex and pay them money. There were times, too, that I just talked to the man, paid him and sent him home.

But, one thing: I would not take a man if his fingernails are dirty. It's disgusting, really.

Question 3: Why only 4?
Hey, getting involve into a serious gay relationship is not that easy, honey! It's not like dressing up a ballroom gown and take it off after midnight.

I would rather store meaningul relationships than collect men of volatile nature.

Question 4: You got one now?
I
have this guy now. But, I'm not sure who am I to him and who is him to me. Looks confusing. We've been contacting each other for almost 1 and half year but I'm still puzzled what's really the score between us.

The worst thing is: we heared each other's voice but never see each other personally. Kaya malabo situation namin. Ewan ko ba. Kahit picture wala. Mahirap, no?!

Question 5: How do you handle gay relationships?
Let it be. Be yourself. Don't set rules but support each other's endeavor. Set him free if he REALLY wants it. Tell him what you think but don't tell him what to do. Gays (and women, too!), have the tendency to talk about feelings and men like to talk about decisions. 

A constant dialogue coupled with honesty is the secret of staying in love.

At least, in my case.

Question 6: What kind of men do you like?
Hahahahaha... whaaattta slumbook-like question!

Frankly, I don't have general qualifications. At least, one should be honest, clean and a bit intellectually masturbating. I'm not looking for superman. No smoker, please!

Are there applicants outhere?


Posted at Thursday, September 25, 2003 by wideyeshut


Wednesday, September 24, 2003
Four Kinds of Men (The Last Part)


This is the last part of the mini-series of my lovelife--gay love. Please bear the length of this entry and I hope you'll find not only gay sex but also love universal to all---both man and woman; gays and lesbians; bisexuals and transgenders.

THE LOVER

We met--of all places-- at the hotel's comfort room. He was taking a pee and I was busy at the mirror, inspecting my two bright eyes for some atoms.

When he was washing his hands, I was still there, still busy. He stood beside me and tried to fix his hair with his fingers. Our eyes met in the mirror and he politely complimented me, "You got a beautiful pair of eyes."

I smiled back and said, "Thank you. You made my day."

He winked and left me staring at my own eyes.

Later that evening, I was reading a newspaper in the hotel's lobby while waiting for friends to go down for a night out.

I immersed myself to reading that I didn't recognize a man standing in front of me. He was wearing a dark blue jeans, a white polo shirt and a gold bracelet which is very noticeable before one could recognize his rugged handsomeness matched with a perfect white teeth.

"Good evening. Can I disturb your reading?" He politely asked.

"Ok. What's up?" I curtly answered.

"Nothing. Just want to talk with you if it's alright."

"Hmmnn... about what?" 

It all started there. We talked anything, really. Nothing was personal. Just plain casual talk of new acquaintance.

After 30 minutes of waiting, my friends arrived ready for the night. They were surprised to find me with a dazzling man, too handsome for me.

When we arrived early in the morning, we found him still at the lobby, alone with his vodka. He was lying in a sofa with eyes looking straight on the wall. Having 3 units in psychology in college, I sensed that he got some problems to solve on his own.

"Don't tell me, you'll gonna tell us to go ahead of our rooms." One of my friend said.

"Do I need to tell you that?" I answered.

"Whatever. Ganda mo talaga. Grabeh!!!" Another friend annoyingly teased me.

I walked slowly to his direction. He didn't recognize me when I stood there for 30 seconds on his side.

"Must be thinking of something big for the future?" I disturbed.

"Hey... have a seat. So, how's the party? I'm sorry if I'm already drunk. Just wanna forget something for a while. It's just too painful and shit!" He said without giving me a chance to answer his questions.

"Hmmnn... how painful is it? Oh---I'm sorry to ask that. I don't mean to..." he gave me a sign to discontinue.

"It's ok. It's really good that you're here. I need someone to talk to. Would you be kind to lend me your ears?" He said in a voice of a drunkard.

"It's my pleasure to listen to your stories."  I assured him.

I couldn't anymore remember all the things he told me but I emphatize the pain that he felt at that time. He broke to tears and cursed God. That night, he vowed to hate all the women in his life, except, his mother and her sister.

What's his story? He saw his girlfriend having sex with a man at her flat. 

He really cried hard at the hotel lobby when we talked. He never cared about the people who passed and looked at us. I gave him the table napkin to wipe his tears. He refused to take it, instead, he just let all his tears flow like a crying child. It was my first time to see a man crying a river with few people passing every now and then from where we sat. 

I really didn't know what to do. I just let him cry and let him vent his anger to everyone. I was just watching him. The more I look symphatetic to him, the more he cried. I was beginning to be nervous and it could be so rude to tell him that men cry alone and not here. After some more bottles of hard liquor, his sobbings subsided until he fell asleep on the couch and began to snore a bit.

I asked the receptionsist of his room number and requested a guard to help me carry back to his room. Inside his room were torn photos of the girl and him (on happy days) scattered on the floor. I found dozens of biogesic tablet on the table and I concluded that he might commit a suicide. I kept the tablets and put it on my pouch. 

He groaned and I looked back to him lying on his double-size bed. I surveyed him from sole to crown and I was mesmerized by the male beauty that made my heart fluttered again. I took a seat beside his bed and stared at him dead to the world. Slowly, I put off his shoes, socks, watch, bracelet, professional ring, and his collared shirt. I only left him with his white undershirt and jeans. I went back to my seat and stared at him again.

He was restless. He moved from time to time and groaned like a child. Sometimes, I heard him still sobbing and tears were still flowing. It went on like that for almost an hour until he tried to get off his belt, opened his zipper and put off his pants. He was very tired and powerless that he needed help to put off his pants. That must be the reason why he was so restless. He was wearing a very fit white pierre cardin boxers. He got a nice pair of legs with some hairs. He got a medium-build body at 5'8" tall. He got a flawless skin that made me insecure. He got a large bulge and and a big feet. (do you know what I mean?) :)

"Whatta man," I thought. "This is my man," I convinced myself while running my soft fingers to his chest.

After staring and admiring him, I put a gentle kiss on his forehead before covering him with a blanket. 

"Please, don't leave me." He whispered. I was motionless. Gawd, he felt my kiss. I was so ashamed of my naughtiness and for taking advantage of a dead soul.

"Please, don't leave, _______." He whispered again, this time, mentioning my name. And my heart melt.

I rang up my friends and told them to lock the door. I'm not coming to sleep with them. I joked that I'm sleeping with my knight in the shining armor. They hated me for that. They hated me for my charisma, I guess. Later, I call the reception desk and told the lady not to tell anybody (not even my friends) the room number of the man I have spoke with in the lobby.

It was already 9 a.m. when I woke up by a kiss on my forehead. I was sleeping on the couch hugging my pouch (with the biogesic pills) and not with him in his bed.

"Good morning," he greeted me without a trace of what happened the night before.

"Good morning, too." I responded trying to avoid meeting his eyes. I was afraid that I got some atoms on my two, beautiful, large eyes. I headed for the bathroom and washed my face.

"In few minutes, breakfast is coming," he announced the moment I came out of the bathroom. 

"Are you ok, now? I need to go. My friends must be looking for me now." I explained.

"Don't worry, I called the receptionist downstairs to tell your friends that you are in good hands,just in case they will ask your whereabouts." he said opening his hands as if he's going to embrace me. 

I sat on the couch and he sat on the bed opposite. From time to time, we stared at each other and he smiled thinking of what happened. Not one of us wants to start a conversation. We were both guilty; me, the kiss; him, for what happened that brought me to his room.

The doorbell rang and he opened it. Breakfast just arrived in a mobile table (hindi ko alam ang tawag dun). he ordered bacon, eggs, fried rice, milk, bread, butter and fruits.

In between our bites, a question and answer portion just like in a beauty pageant happened.

Him:
So, what are you up to this day?

Me:
My friends and I are planning to shop, but, probably, they're already gone. We agreed to go out at 8 for breakfast at McDo and start shopping at 9.

Him:  
Don't worry. I'll go with you. (Sheet! I was so touched! Grabeehh!!!) I have nothing to do today, so, I can go with you to repay all what you've done---from listening to my stories, for taking me here in this room and for not taking advantage of me while I'm sleeping.

Me: Except for a kiss. (I confessed without looking at him.)

Him:
I kissed you, too, this morning, remember? Don't worry about it. You must know the line from the movie, "Casablanca." A kiss is just a kiss.

We both smiled at the revelations of our known little secrets.

Me: _______, can I ask you a question?

Him:
What is it?

Me: Do you mean what you said last night? The one that you will hate all the women...?

Him:
I do mean it. I just can't trust women right now. I hate all of them now.

He stopped biting his food and his face changed to bitterness. I stopped thinking that I might spoil my day.

Me:
I'm sorry to ask that.

There was silence.

Him:
______, it's my turn to ask you a personal question.

Me:
Ok. Go ahead.

Him:
Have you had relationships before with a man?

Me:
Of course. But... only less than half of the number my right fingers.

Him: Hmmmnnn... sounds interesting. What about now? You got someone somewhere that you want to buy something for him later? (He was so completely detailed...)

Me:
I've got none now. You know, it's hard to find, especially for the third dimensions like me and my gay friends. 

Silence... in between bites...

Me: Forgive me, but........ (I paused)

Him:
...but what? You have another question?

Me:
Have you have some gay experience or experiences before?

Him: Hahahahahaha!!! you said it in both singular and plural....

We were both laughing.

Him:
None, so far...

Me: What do you mean by so far...

He looked at me. And I was getting fidgety.

Him: I wanna try it now. I feel it. I want to try it with you.

I was red. I stopped chewing. I regained my poise when I heard him asked me again.

Him:
Are you okay? I'm sorry but I was just honest. Look, I don't anymore trust women outhere and I want to try another one different. I just want to try and see...

Me:
Do you know what you are getting into?

Him:
I do know, Babe.

He smiled and I was in heaven. That was how we started privately calling each other as Babe. No words of confirmation, no further talks about us, we just sealed ourselves like that. No promises. I fully understood what he meant by his words, "I just want to try." Those words are fleeting but I am armed to face whatever happens next. I always believe that in love, no one is a loser, no one is a winner. It's fair.

I don't have a problem with helping a man who wants to try in gay relationships with me. In fact, I considered it as an opportunity to help him changed his view about women and let him see how people like us feel, live and love. I welcomed him to my world and let him have a glimpse of it which others call it---a fantasy.

Later, when we were shopping, he used his credit card and I was using bills and coins. (You're guess is right. He's rich!)

After sleeping with him and spending time together for three nights and 4 days (my friends were so jealous to have found a guy in the hotel), we parted ways and returned to out respective professional world.

LIFE WITH HIM

We live in two far regions in the country. We agreed to visit each other when we have time. Long distance call and texting were two most practical things for us to know ourselves better. There were many times that he visited me driving alone for 5 hours. Of course, I'm touched. Ang ganda ko, no? But, everytime we went out, I'm ashamed of myself for he's really too handsome for me. Gawd, the girls will looking at him and gays would take a second look at us when we're together. At first, my self-esteem was really affected everytime I went out with him. But, I realized that this man is just with me "for a try" and I have to give him the best of gay love and of gay world.

He's a man who loves rain. One time, while travelling, we went out from his car and bathed in the rain. We sat at the car's trunk, too close too each other that made passing trucks and vehicles honk at us. Who cares? He was so sweet... 

Romantic dinners, playing the records together, sitting on the beach sand while watching the moon and listening to the roaring waves, lying on the meadows, etc... are just one of the many things we did together. We were both hopeless romantics and we loved the things we dreamed of doing. 

I did not say that we had a very smooth-sailing relationship. It was actually an on and off one. I'm the jealous type and if he missed a text message in the morning, my whole day was already spolied. But, we asked sorry and forgave each other not longer than 5 hours, except, for a petty quarrel which lasted us 3 days of silence. One day, he just knocked on my door with a buoquet of roses with a card saying,
"I'm not ready to face another woman yet. I would still chose to have you now. Let me stay."  

Very touching, isn't it? I could not even believe he would say that. It's 100,000 ganda points for me.

We did many things beyond words and descriptions. I would prefer to leave those things forever in my heart. Basta marami pa na makapagpatunay na lover siya, in every inch of his body.

THE END OF THE TRIAL

When we reached eleven months and 3 days, we finally made up our partings.  We never quarreled nor tired of our situation. We just felt its end and surprisingly, we both liked it. We never planned it, really.

After watching our last movie together, "Artificial Intelligence,"  we had sex in the hotel. That was how we celebrated our late 11-monthsary (it's a late celebration).

The next day, when we were both taking our breakfast in bed and after talking some casual topics, we moved on to a more serious matter.

Him:
I really have the best time with you after 11 months. Though, it was not the perfect one but you're such a a great babe.

Me:
So, is it time for us to say goodbye to each other?

I smiled. He stopped eating, as if having difficulty in swallowing his food.  I just said those words as if, too, I rehearsed it. There was silence.

Me:
Did I say something wrong?

Him:
I was about to tell you that. How did you know and feel?

Me: Remember? We've been together for 11 months. I guess, I can already read some, if not all, of your thoughts.
*wink*

We both laughed.

Me:
So, does that mean that you're through of hating women?

Him:
(He nodded)

Me:
Say it.

Him:
What I left is the fear. No more hate. Thanks for helping me in taking away from that hate.

Me: Come on. Don't mention it. So, you found another woman or another gay to replace me?

Him:
Hahahahahaha... are you insuinating or just jealous again? That's really one thing that I can't handle sometimes---your jealousy.

We both laughed again.

There was silence. Only the sounds of our plates, spoons and forks can be heard.

We finished eating.

We took our baths together.

We dressed up.....

And it's time to say goodbye...

No one wanted to open the door for the other. We both stared at the door and our eyes met.

We hugged each other before we decided to go out. It was an embrace so tight.

Then, he whispered.

"Don't ever think that it's only you who love me. You may not heard it always from me but I really do. I love you. Thank so much, Babe. Thank you for everything." He said with all his sincerity.  

I cried when I heard those words. Tears easily fell down. I didn't expect it. Though I can accept that this has to end but I can't pretend that I was okay. I held him more tight until he heard my sobs. He rubbed my back and let me cry. The more I cried, the more I heared his heart beating faster. He didn't know how to make me calm, except, by rubbing my back like a baby. 

It went on like that for 20 minutes.

When my sobs subsided and when he felt that I was ready to go, he released me from his long embrace. 

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Say it." He demanded.

"Yes, I'm alright." I said.

"Shall we go now?" he asked offering his hand. 

In that long hallway of the hotel's fourth floor, we made our last holding hands while walking together. 

As agreed before that, he went to his car and I called a taxi. I headed to the bus terminal for an 8-hour travel going home.

Alone in an air-conditioned bus, I still feel his embrace that he gave me a while ago. For no reason, I opened the curtain and there, I saw him standing outside his car trying to make a call. I instantly remembered that I turned off my mobile phone. I hurriedly got it from my purse and it rang the moment it caught a signal.

It's him.

"I see you. You break the rule not to folow me," I said.

"Well, I just wanted to make it sure, you'll not buying anything dangerous---not even a biogesic." He joked.

We both laughed remembering what he did when he was heartbroken and the dozens of biogesic pills which I found out in his bedroom on our first night together.

"Are you sure that you're okay? I can take you home if you want. I'll call my boss and ask a leave for two days." He generously offered.

"Hahahahahaha.... you must be in love with me.... hahahahahaha... of course, I'm fine, ________." I responded pretending to be soooo okay.

"Wow! You call me by my name now---not anymore Babe!" He clarified.

"You heard me, right? Let's call each other that way beginning today for our future lover's sake. Our future lovers might think that we still have each other. Better that way, I guess." I suggested.

"Yes, .... _______." He agreed as if having difficulty in saying my name.

"Alright then..." I said.

"Take care. Have a safe trip," he answered and waved his hands to my directions.

The last time I saw him was when we were both in a mall elevator in the same city where we first met. The moment I entered the lift in the 3rd floor, he instantly recognized me --- as if he had seen someone so especial that brought a surprise to the girl beside him.  

Fortunately (or unfortunately), there were only three of us inside. 

"Meet ________. You know him, right?" He said looking at the girl.

"Oh, so, you are _______. It's really nice to see you," she exclaimed as if she had seen a celebrity. "_______ has been talking to me all about you." She said and extended her hands for formality. She was so nice.

"You mean all about me? Wow! I feel naked in front of you now." I jested.

The three of us laughed.

"_______, she's my girlfriend." He proudly said.

"I can see that." I said showing him of my approval.

"I couldn't believe we'll meet each other today. You've done a good job to this man," she excitedly said, praising me in front of my ex and her present (and my future? who knows?).

"I'm so glad, he found a very nice woman like you." I complimented her back.

We all went out at the 5th floor. We stopped for a small chit chat before we finally bade each other goodbye. They walked hand in hand and my mind remembered a part of our life together. 

"That hand could have been mine," I daydreamed. 

He looked back and gave me a wink. My heart leaped and that was enough to make me feel that he's holding her hand as if they were mine

I gave him a wink, too, and showed his bracelet in my left arm.


Posted at Wednesday, September 24, 2003 by wideyeshut


Tuesday, September 23, 2003
Four Kinds of Men (Third of the Four Parts)

THE ADVANTAGE TAKER
(a.k.a. User)

"What the f*ck are you doing?"

Those were the very first words he first heard from me. He deserved them.

We were in a crowded small local bar in the city, one Friday night. He accidentally stepped on my white shoes and my temper reached to the 100th power. Gawd, it's white! My white shoes!

He was so sorry but I never forgave him. I looked at him as if he had just committed a mortal, unforgivable sin equalled to that of what the advocates of satan do. I lost my gyrating energy of that incident + the fact that my white shoes are marred with dust, I can't anymore move my feet to the latest dance craze. For sure, nobody would care about my shoes on that very congested dance floor, but, goodness, can you go on banging your head with a guy at your back who just ruined the most important part of your fashion signature?

Oh, hell, no! I really can't!

I decided to take a graceful exit. I took a second look at him and swore him over and over again. Of all things, my shoes! Why?!

When the band changed its repertoire to mellow songs, the crowd disperesed and returned back to their tables. I saw him coming to my table and I stared at him with eyes raging with anger. He must have seen and recognized me that he stopped and asked sorry for the ---th time. I gave him a cold shoulder and he sensed it. My friends on the table just watched us as if we're lovers on the brink of breaking up.

"Tell me what I can do to appease you," he pleaded, sincerely.

My eyes brightened up and a crazy idea came up to my mind---as if I heard the magic words of a Zeus' puzzle.

"Are you sure, you gonna do something for me?" I said in a voice pretending to be so upset.

"Yup! I'm sure. What is it?" His face leaning forward to my face to make it sure he can hear when I say what he must do.

"You should dance with me." I said almost in a whisper, still, in the same voice. 

He was taken aback and the surprise was written all over his face. In a small, conservative city like ours, where a straight man is dancing with a beautiful gay (that's me. hehehehe) would get curious exchange of looks and long whispers, I was giving him a public test of his sexuality. Not that I doubted at first sight him but the thought of it made me think it's worth---stepping on my shoes and marring it with a speck of dust is just too painful for me.

"I'm sorry. I can't. My girlfriend is with me," he explained. 

No words mumbled. 

We stared to each other for a definite time; each tried to search something between our looks until he broke the silence by saying, "I'll be back."

He left and my friends gave me a noiseless applause that prompted one of them to say,
"Let's cheer together and celebrate our femininity that no girl could ever topple down."

30 minutes after...

45 minutes...

1 hour...

1 hour and 30 minutes...

1:50 a.m.

"Hi. I'm sorry if it took me too long to be back. I just brought my girlfriend to her home," he explained followed by winsome smile that melt my heart. Cupid's arrow hit me again. I felt it. It created tremors in my seat of passion and my angry self calmed down.

"I really never expect that you'll be back. Experiences have taught me that men are liars---and you're one of them," I sarcastically said.

He smiled again and said, "Why are you so mean to me?"  

"Mean? Am I? Prove to me that you are not one of those men I knew before," I challenged him.

"How? What? When? Where?" His face was serious. 

I was flabbergasted. I found my match. This guy has the guts and the undefatigable fighting spirit.
 
"Can we dance?" He offered.

"You ask permission from my friends." I said, determined to give my friends a special participation.

"Girls, can I dance with your angry friend here?" He announced it to my gay friends whom he generously called "girls" while he addressed me as an "angry friend." He was so unfair. 

My friends were speechless. They didn't expect that kind of script in the story. Everybody was looking to each other until one of them said, "Take care of our girl. She's virgin."  The laughters roared.

There were only few people on the dance floor and everybody can see who's dancing with whom. Naughty that I was, I attempted to make a conversation with him while dancing. The sounds was too loud and we have to say our words closer to our ears---as if we were kissing. Bwahahahaha...

I looked at my friends and they intelligently understood what I was doing
(or what we were doing).

Other dancing creatures on the dance floor began to look at us and some curious eyes on the tables gave that "shit look."

I didn't care. He didn't, too. Gawd, I found a brave soul willing to defy conventions (only if his GF is not around, I guessed.).  

After dancing, we agreed to go out for a walk. My friends just could not believe how fast I worked. They have known me as a "virginal type."  They usually "pimp" someone for me, especially when we go out and go home without the "bacon." But, most of the times, I managed to go home without a bacon. Flirting was not really my forte. They are masters of such but they always envy me for having a daring soul to involve in a relationship which they're afraid to try and just be contented to settle for flings.

That night, he never went home. Where else did he go? In my bed. Nope! We never had sex during our "first night." Believe me. It was only limited to hugs and kisses. I even wondered to myself that I was able to resist the temptation. Four days after, he broke up with his girlfriend and officially sealed ourselves as WE.

After that, I (or we?) lived in a millieu complete with cherry blossoms. It felt so great having him at the beck of my call. Living with him felt so good because he always see to it that I am a woman curled up in his arms during our late-night romances by watching tv, eating pizza, listening to records, and whispering words together. It was him who told me not to give all my love to him.  It was him who showed me how actions speak louder than words. It was him who read to me Elizabeth Browning's, "How Do I love Thee." He read not because he dedicated it to me but it was an assignment in his literature class. When I secretly read his paper later, the last line made me smile, "When one falls in love, he should be ready to fall out of love."

He was the only man I had who dared to introduced me to his parents (accepted by PAMET, kumbaga!). He introduced me as a Good Friend and not as GirlFriend.  It's just the same for me. GF pa rin 'yun, diva?


HOW WE PARTED WAYS

He was sitting at the end of a 3-meter long bench. It looked he had been there for 30 minutes waiting for a soul like me. I was late and settled myself at the other end of the bench. A night before that, we agreed not to say goodbye on phone, but, personally, for reasons I could not remember.

I didn't say I'm sorry for being late. What for? Afterall, the meeting was all about asking apologies and saying goodbyes to each other. I kept mum until he pretended to cough and broke the silence.

"I know that you already know this but you never dared to confront me. You always want to hear this straight from me and not from other people. For these past few weeks, I know that these things have been bothering you, but, you've never even showed how upset you were to me. I have attempted many times to tell you but the thought of the pain that I might cause you is such unbearable for me. But, there is no way to end the pain to both of us, except to face the truth. Don't ever think that you are the only one who is hurt---I'm hurting myself more." He said in between quivering lips.  

He continued.

"There could be no more painful thing in life than to hurt two hearts at the same time.  I accept that I have taken advantage of your kindness and your connections for my personal pleasures and interests. I have used you to gain respect, popularity and even acceptance. I have used you to defend my weaknesses. I have taken advantage of the goodness of your friends and all the people around you but I never heard anything from you. You can call me a user, sire, damn, stupid, shit, moron, fart---anything that could make you feel better. But, I'm sure you could not call me that. You never even changed something in me. You let me grow and encouraged the person I wanna be." He stopped and looked at me, maybe, to make it sure that I was listening.

I was listening but I don't like what he was talking about me. I want him to put an end, say goobye and walk out. But, like a male pageant winner who is waving his hands and who is ready to bequeath his crown, I gave him the liberty to say his farewell speech... and later... his farewell walk.

"I'm sorry if I was like that to you. I'm sooooo sorry if I can't be with you when you grow old. I'm so sorry if I can't anymore fullfill some of the promises I told you. I'm so sorry.... really sorry." He bursted into a sob and lowered his head.

Silence...

5 minutes...

10 minutes...

15 minutes...

20 minutes...

"Please talk to me... say something... Don't let me look so stupid here---as if I am talking to the wall. I know that I'm stupid, but, please...." He was begging for my attention and words.

10 minutes...

"I don't expect to receive your forgiveness now. I am deeply sorry to ruin a friendship which is longer and more meaningful than ours. If I get one of your bestfriends preggy, it's not because I don't anymore like you, nor because I want to cheat you.  Please don't think like that. It's my fault, I know. It's all my fault. It's me who's to be blamed for this. It's me. I'm sooooo sorry." He was in self-pity (or pretending to be?).

"I just don't know..... I just don't..... I just don't know how to say..... goodbye."  He said the last words almost in a whisper.

"Don't ever try. Just go..." I said almost in a hurry. 


He was delighted to hear me but dissapointed that after waiting for sometime, I didn't continue. 

Silence... a long silence... in between silence, I can hear him always heaving a sigh...

10 minutes...

20 minutes...

He stood up and walked nearer to my seat. He stopped in front of me, his crotch 12 inches apart from my face. He motioned to hug me but I made a no-sign. He understood it and again, heaved a sigh. It must have been too painful for him, but, I showed no sign of a broken soul.  

He went back to his seat and buried his head with his hands. I was more annoyed that he stayed longer and at the same time speechless.

10 minutes...

15 minutes...

20 minutes...

25 minutes...

He stood again and I was relieved. That time, I felt that was our last. He looked at me for seconds waiting for me to look at him, too.

I did turn my head and look up to him. We stared at each other like the first time. He must be searching within my eyes the tears that welled up but he found none. I was good at it.

I stared at him and searched nothing. What I only want from him is to show me his smile that brought me to heavens up high the first time we met. It must be mental telepathy or some kind of cosmic connection.... he never failed me. He bursted out into a smile that made me smiled back to him.

It made me feel better but the pain is somewhere deep in my seat of passion.

He looked at my white shoes---the very same white shoes he stepped into---and he smiled again or rather, we were smiling at the thought of our first encounter.

"I just want to let know that I have a good life with you. Always think about that. I have no regrets having you but I have regrets for the pain I have caused you. Thank you and take care."  He said sincerely. 

He walked. Slowly. He paused but never stopped. He's finally making his farewell walk away from me. Before he turned right at the end of the road, he looked back and waved his hand. We stared again. He smiled and there was a tinge of sadness in that smile.

When I didn't finally see a speck of him, I looked at my shoes and wiped the dust with a hanky.

I stood up and headed for home---to weep. 

It was the best conversation I ever had with a man.

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Posted at Tuesday, September 23, 2003 by wideyeshut


Thursday, September 18, 2003
Kinds of Men (2nd of Four Parts)

THE MATERIALISTIC MAN
(a.k.a. Gold Digger)

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Nobody told him. I never did. We never even talked about it and agreed on it---but five days after we were introduced, he knocked on my door and called me,
"Honey, I'm on your door."

Honey? Shet! It's still 9:00 in the morning and I was still so sleepy and tired from a night's out. I headed to the doorknob in a white blanket wrapped around my naked (yes, i was, indeed!) figure. To my utter amazement, he abruptly closed the door, and gave me a very quick but soooo tender kiss on the lips. Shet! how did he know my weakness? I was instantly awaken from my half-slumber and stood there for two minutes watching him unwrapping the pizza box which he brought.

"Too early to be romantic," I said.

"I just wanted to eat breakfast with you. Is that alright?" he asked.

"You should have asked me that question before coming here!" I murmured and went back to bed. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, if I spoiled your morning. I'm really sorry." He was apologetic. 

I curled myself in bed and let him do his thing. But, I was wrong. After ten minutes of silence, he crawled beside my bed, hugged me---and suddenly, I was fully aware of his muscled body (medyo lang, actually) touching my back. We were like that for half an hour until I wanted to release myself from his tight hug. He never moved and I realized that he's gone to hibernation. He was naked, with only his sox on.

"Shet! How did this guy know that I like to sleep naked and I want to sleep with someone naked? How did he know that I like tender kisses and tight hugs?"

He amazed me. He must have asked my friends or gone around asking people what I like---and there he was in his romantic mood trying to please me---and I don't even bothered to appreciate it.

Guilty! I was guilty! Very guilty! And I was more guilty when I feasted my eyes on a naked body and wander to a male organ, also, innocently sleeping in front of me.

"Shet! What a naked morning to ask forgiveness for this wonderful sinful body!" 

I let him sleep. I wrapped him with my blanket and watched him sleeping. I was glued to my part of the bed and was thinking of another relationship in the making. My heart started racing and the great feeling of being the envy of my friends of having one of the local fashion models in the city under my whim is such an ego-booster to my denied public femininity. 

I stood up and planted a kiss on his cheeks. I felt no magic. I felt no love. I felt no fears. But, I felt some kind of strange feeling that told me to be aware of. (My first relationship has given me reason to be careful with the deceiving charms of men.)

When he woke up, I had the best sex in my entire life. He's not only a good kisser but also a perfect porno star in my private bed.

After our first, amazing, one-on-one private acrobatic show, he slowly showed his true color. I never noticed it. What mattered most was the passionate evenings that we spent together as if God has just made another gender to please his first creation before tempestuous Eve. What mattered most were the mushy whispers that made me think of building castles in the air. What mattered most was the soft touch that welcomes a dreary hopeless soul. What mattered most was the hard shaft that reminded me of how lucky I was to hold and receive it. What mattered most was the man who's ready to give me morning kisses and evening kisses even if my love was unrequited.

To hell with my a friend (she's the only one who knew---and now, you.) who told me to stop paying his tuition fee? To hell with her who confronted my man to stop seeing me! To hell with her to tell the limitations of love! Letse siya!

I was crazy in love for this guy back then. Crazy that I was almost willing to start a cult to worship him.

I woke up one morning seeing him naked again in bed. I was sitting in a chair beside my bed when I saw everything I gave him: the Levi's pants, the Tommy Helfeiger boxers, the Timex watch, the Nike shoes and sox, the Drakkar Noir perfume and the Penshoppe undershirt and polo shirt.

My mind was racing back down the memory lane... to the things I gave him... the hundreds of money I lent him which he never bothered to pay... the tuition fees I paid... the expensive dinners... the travels... the food... etc...

I surveyed every inch of his body. It already looked very familiar to me. Behind the facade of a clean-shaven face is a materialistic man; behind his bulging crotch is a lust with a price tag; behind that  boyish smile is a pretentious hunk waiting for someone to lure; behind that sturdy muscles is a hug so sweet yet so tempting; behind that manly walk on the ramp is a man so easy to get yet so expensive for bargain; behind that tender kiss is a venom that could possibly immortalize me as a woman in vain. (Of course, he spent, too. But not that much.)

When he woke up, he called me to lay beside him. He began to cuddle me, kiss me and drove me crazy again.

Usually, after sex, it was our practice to talk seriously about things that mattered to us. I would lay in his arms while we both look at the off-white colored ceiling. It was also the time he would ask me for something that most of the times made me powerless to argue and deny his request for this and for that.

"This is our last sex," I said in between heavenly feeling.

"Honey, why?" he asked in a boy-made surprise.

"Shet! You stop telling me honey. That sounds like money, right?" I protested.

The exchanged of words in a hushed tone (enough to be heard by my next-door neighbor) followed. Still, we were looking at the ceiling. We ocassionally look at our eyes and see the intensity of our words.

"Your love is for sale. I can't anymore afford now---even if you have it auctioned." I blurted out at the end of our arguments.

Then there was silence. A long silence. A very long silence......

He stood up and began picking up his trousers, his boxers, his...

When he was ready to leave, he motioned to where I sat. He planted again that tender kiss---just like the first time he did it to me.

"Thanks, honey" he whispered, breaking the long silence. 

My heart melt for that epithet again devoted only to bogus women like me. He looked at my eyes and when he saw that there were no tears welling up, he pinched my chin and said his last words.

"Take care," almost choking.

He headed for the door without looking back. He closed the door very carefully. He stood there for a minute, I knew.

When I was sure he's gone, I crawled to bed and hug the pillows he used. Minutes later, I was hugging a wet pillow.

"He deserves a tear, I guess." That's me in my usual kindness to men.

The last time I saw him, he was with a pretty girl in an air-conditioned bus, the same bus with me. He acknowledged me through his wink and I gave him a whimsical smile and a quick look to his pretty girlfriend who was so letse sleeping on his chest.

Shet! That girl could have been me. 

The last time I heard of him, he stopped schooling and lived with another gay.

In his first and last e-mail (which I never bothered to respond) to me last March, he said, "I'm alone and I miss you." 

Do you believe him?

I do.

He must have realized by now what he missed. Visit Smiley Central!

He missed a girl, a woman and a friend rolled into one. (...sound familiar?)

No one in this world like that---it's only me.
Visit Smiley Central!


Right? 

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Posted at Thursday, September 18, 2003 by wideyeshut


Wednesday, September 17, 2003
Kinds of Men (First of the Four Parts)


So far, I have known and met four types of male hormones. Futaneska has known two types: the real & the ideal man. I believe in the existence of this two types in the Kingdom Animalia but they are too closely identified as the protagonists of metrical romance, knighthood and fairytale stories that captured the hearts of the pleasing women who believe in destiny---the reason, why some of these women are still single (but not singled out!) up to this very hour in reading. 

Having gone twenty + summers, I would like to rationalize that there are four kinds of men: heartbreaker, moneylender, advantage taker and great lover. At least, these are the men who have said hello quickly, filled my life with sweet nothings, left my soul in redemption, and alleviated the digits on my hard-earned wampum. 

None of them fucked my ass, ok? Ouch! That heavenly hurts!

The roll begins with: 

Heartbreaker Visit Smiley Central!
It may seem so cliche to say but the words "first love never dies" is annoyingly true to me. It seemed that everybody is destined to experience first love that turned out to be our first heartache, too. How funny to think of our first goosebumps, pimples, sleepless nights and all the amazing things we did for our first taste of a sweet bud.

My heartbreaker pulled me to desperation. He was my first gay love, my first kiss, my first touch, my first date, my first relationship and my first gay sex. I was his first love too, but not his first sex. Confusing but that's what he told me. I believed what he said without doubt. Owe it to my feelings and the guts to sing, "On the Wings of Love." I used to look at all men as honest individuals and not horny creatures.

After 16 months, 11 days and 10 hours of requited love, we finally said our loooong goodbyes. That was the saddest part of my young heart. The sight of his tears pricked my heart; the feel of his last touch consumed my energy; the tightness of his last hug while feeling the heavy throbbings of our hearts made me long for non-existent forever; and the intensity of his last passionate kiss, broke me down to a typhoon of tears and a thunder of sobs.

The sight of his preggy, unofficial (I am the official, ok? so i believed) girlfriend brought me to hate all beautiful women around me, including my mother, my sister, my relatives, my classmates, etc...

In fairness, "that girl" was really beautiful. I would have gone bitching around about her had she not more beautiful than me.

Back then, my mind was ready but my heart was greedy to let him go...

"Love's labour lost" must that be.

That was the last time I saw him but not the last time I heared of him. I heard straight from the mouth of his bestfriend that he's asking about me and wanted to know how I was doing.

I never said a word to his his bestbuddy. I even never asked about him. I never thought that after four years of losing him, he still thinks of me.   

I just smiled and rationally thought, 
"That man must still be in love with me." 

While writing this, I searched in my heart to know how I feel after 7 years of that sad parting, I found out that I still have a little amount of love left for him.  And I don't intend to lose it. He was a heartbreaker but he was also a heart healer. It was him who healed my broken heart. 

Acceptance. It's acceptance of our kismet and reality that motivated me to move on.

The love that made my world go round is the same love that lifted me from underground. Visit Smiley Central!Visit Smiley Central!Visit Smiley Central!Visit Smiley Central!Visit Smiley Central!

How grand to be gay! How grand!  Visit Smiley Central!Visit Smiley Central!Visit Smiley Central!Visit Smiley Central!Visit Smiley Central!


 

 


(...to be continued...)


Posted at Wednesday, September 17, 2003 by wideyeshut


Tuesday, September 16, 2003
New Header


I would be forever grateful to Ricky for the pix above which I used here.

 

Posted at Tuesday, September 16, 2003 by wideyeshut


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