The Great Shrug

I was at the heart of the dance floor when I received a text message from an unknown number.

"bj mo ako."

The objective was clear, tantalizing and I immediately knew where it came from. A normal horny guy would reply "gimme 30 minutes to get there. Fuck mo na rin ako," which I could have actually said. But instead, I chose to settle scores and diss his mood after what he did a few days ago.

"Hu u?" I sent back.

"Si plug_play ito. Punta ka dito." His reply was swift this time. Someone must be having a boner to show such desperation. The last time I sent a text message, it took almost forever for him to text back. My place was available that time and I wanted him to sleep over.

I secretly wanted a hug.

"Wala akong kilalang plug_play pare." Of course, I was lying. How can I forget my first sexual encounter in Planet Romeo.

"Ako yung sinuck mo two weeks ago dito sa [name of street]." It was highly flattering for him to remember. Who would have thought the hunk would actually demand an encore performance.

But no, I could get a better deal from someone else.

In my experience, guys tend to boss around and ignore you when they know you are into them. We both understand the convenience - of sending signals to one another - whenever we have this urge. What he did, however, was to deny his identity and let others harass me by posing as another person. Last Monday, someone called at 4 in the morning just to clarify the name I was referring to a text message. He said the name Markus wasn't his.

He even asked if I was gay which leads me to say "Pakiealam mo tol." then dropping his call and putting my phone on a silent mode.

That same day, I decided to cut ties after that nasty call and thought he was out of my life until tonight.

Looking across the smoke-filled room where people stand in corners to look at one another, his text message was a mere blip compared to what could be achieved when someone decides to lock eyes with me. Sometimes a person must learn to show some restraint to give others a chance to look for you. For when it's always you who express and show your admiration, you end up being unappreciated.

You look for someone only when he is gone.

Sliding my phone back in my pocket, I decided not to reply to his message. It was my vindication: a retaliation against the people who tend to drop you after their needs have been fulfilled. Getting back into the groove, a score settled has left me in a jovial mood. While a devious grin - now more prominent on my weary face - tells that he is not a loss

not a loss at all.