Butterfly Effect

The club night pushed through without a hitch.

And unlike the other weekends where my schedule is already fixed, last night's Friday gimmick changed the course of things.

I leave the office already set where to go. By the time my shift is over, the Encantos have already sent a text message telling the place of our weekly drinking spree. Coming late from work, I would catch some of them already tipsy when I arrive at the bar. Stories would be passed over, like the Pulutan doing its rounds on the table. New faces would show up (only to disappear a few months later) and there is this unspoken bond to continue the tradition no matter how things would change.

At past 1:30, the Encantos are already showing signs of damage. Rarely do we pass out from an inuman but by the time the waiter shows up to ask for our last order, Centurion (or sometimes Rain Darwin) would be asking the bill. As the night wore on, my drinking buddies are already deep in slumber, while I, passes on like a crepuscular animal until the first rays of sunlight hit Malate.

---

Last night was different.

Taking advantage of the Encantos' lack of invitation, I decided to meet someone from PinoyG4M instead. I chose to meet this guy believing he was different from the others seeking my audience. I thought he could carry a conversation and could last a night engaging me in different subjects. I even dropped the 911 rule assured that our encounter would not end in bed.

The meet-up was a disappointment.

He showed up across O-Bar 15 minutes after I arrived in Malate. Since I decided to drop the looks game, (where I would compare my looks against those I meet) it didn't matter if he was a little plumpy, a little effeminate, and far far shorter than I expected. Had he been a little chubbier, he could easily pass out as an excellent Bernardo Bernardo clone.

I was looking forward to a night of drinking and stories (even if the scene would be a remake of the Serendra Boy encounter last month) All along, I thought we would sit on a chair, order some ice-cold beer and break those silly awkward moments which happen when meeting a stranger. The bitch had other plans. He wanted us to walk around Malate instead. I knew his interest was waning from the way he excused himself for another meeting. Bernardo Bernardo told me fifteen minutes after he arrived that he had to rush to this despedida of a colleague who would be assigned in Visayas. I was not born yesterday to know it was a ruse for he never spoke about it while on his way to our meeting place. Looking back, I should have exercised a little meanness last night. Centurion was still up and was recieving the details of my meet up. I could have inserted a clause in one of our conversations about sending an SOS in case I find the guy I would be meeting inferior to my taste.

But no, it was the other way around.

Either Bernardo Bernardo was expecting a twink, or his taste goes way beyond what his mediocre looks could afford.

We parted ways without learning each other's name. I don't know who between me and Bernard Bernardo wasted more time just to see the other, but on my part, his presence was a mere prelude for the things to happen that night.

His exit was my entry to the party scene which was just starting the moment he left.

---

The heart of the dance club is like a trading floor where market values pummel or surge depending on the shareholders' pretensions and inhibitions. The phoney meet-up left us searching for ways to boost our confidence. Had we known that it was a mutual repulsion, we should have let known how disinterested we were. The club scene was another story. If in the past weeks we maintained some discretion in engaging our prey, last night, we played the mischievous kid on the dance floor: we flirted with a guy who already found a dance partner (shit ang sarap manulot!); a moreno dad in his early thirties made suggestions for a sleep-over in my place (but we declined out of respect for whatever dignity we left); the crush (which I pointed out to WanderingCommuter and MkSurf8 the time they were there) held our hand again only to put it inside his pants (which we liked, really, but we were also appalled by his uber-slutty approach) and lastly, we made out - in full view of other clubbers - with this lean, semikal constru-looking guy who brought his sister inside a gay club. In the end we had to give him away (literally) to another pair-less guy because the partner was dead drunk and it was time to go home and we know.

I know.

Another clubbing adventure awaits next week.