The SEB

Some things never change.

Like when I spend more for the people I care, than for my own needs; Like when I desire to love more, than be loved by someone I don't feel; Like keeping this blog, without ever telling publicly its existence. Ideas and habits may be glossed over by fanciful trends, but when stripped down, the essence remains; like the need to express this carnal yearnings - even at the cost of doing it with someone, whose shadow you will never see again.

Just like last night.

The skirmish ended long before I was able to absorb what had taken place. It was a war I never really intended but did it anyway out of restlessness; At two in the morning, I found myself walking the empty road of our neighborhood, with my phone in my right hand, to check if there are new SMS coming from the stranger, and to access Google Maps in case I get lost in the maze of streets. There he was, wearing a yellow shirt standing outside a darkened apartment. His sight long familiar, for I have been doing the act long before the need to chose my debauched battles.

The method of distraction was already pre-arranged, in a Social Dating App* very similar to the Blue Planet. A head, with the possibility of getting impaled.* In return, all I asked was a tender kiss, and perhaps a cuddle. And if I'd push the envelope farther, maybe even a feeling of not being an object of someone's promiscuous needs. 

But who am I kidding? I'm horny, and that's all.

No hesitations, just a sudden veer from the straight path. And off I went to the black hole, together with the guy.

To be in touch with that repressed humanity.

To let go finally, and accept; the verve of February is over.

*The gates held firm. No battering ram tried to force it open. 

*Save for the 30 minute blowjob, I got my kiss, a hug, and my precum left a taste on his mouth.

*Like it has always been, the app has been erased. A repeat performance not forthcoming.

Cock Pic

"Bulge mo na lang kulang."

The Bag Hanger posted on my timeline after he caught me teasing another Twitter friend, whose bulge I claimed was a face towel tucked under his shorts.

"Show it. Share to us." He dared.

Victorian Age prudery requires that I should have never accepted his challenge. After all, I am dealing with social media accounts whose owners love posting pictures of their weenies and bulges for all to see. While I do condone their behavior, I recall saying on the same social media platform before that I don't talk to dicks. Hence, the blocking of several accounts whose display pictures show their family jewels instead of faces.

So what happened?

In the age of selfies, with Kim Kardashian "Breaking the Internet," to show off your private parts has become the "cool" thing especially for people with exhibitionist streak. Maybe it's human nature defying old taboos, or perhaps the joy of being unchained from the bounds of propriety.

All I know is it tempers the libertine leanings, while providing space for sensual expressions. 

In a lifetime that precedes the Gundam Age, I too, have caved in to the digital needs of the flesh.  It was the next best thing given the risks and troubles of live act performance. Having a high-resolution camera attached to the phone made it easier to snap pictures of the hard-on and send it to the playmate who is expecting some visual delights. 

There is nothing to hide. This was part of the trade-off.

And since this new dare was a sort of gentleman's agreement with lads, who still see me not as playmate but a friend, my hope is that the gesture to post the hardcore photo through private message was meant to show that I'm not as snooty as many people have impressions of me.

So one morning, despite the biting cold, and a boner that refuses to cooperate, I laid on my back after pulling down my jerseys. And after fondling the junior (while conjuring memories of past encounters) until it gets to a point that the pole stands stiff, albeit showing signs of limpness, I positioned my Sony Xperia's camera some distance away from the shaft, so the flattering shot impresses the recipients.

"Because I promised."

A private note I composed attached to the picture.

"Enjoy!"

Hours later, both lads sent a collective response.

"Sarap."

The Wheel Winds Again

You think, “This is life, this is just how it is and how it’ll always be.” But you are living through something. And while, logically, you must know that there was a time before now, when things were different, and that there will be a time after now, and things will change, it’s so hard to remember right now: 

Everything will change. 

Previously:  When Life Gives You A Reason To Fuck

It merely took a day to spin out of control.

I saw it coming.

All these formless angst and anguish must take shape, and like an imaginary ball of lust, it bounced off over portals that masquerade as "dating sites."

So I was back in Wechat and Grindr, and by design, I also took a leave of absence at the raketship to make time for that ritualistic room overhaul, which I did only once this year. One week, to be exact. Seven unspoken days when I let the rage go unchecked and indulge what the groin has been desiring all this time.

At first, it was easy to get off, if you catch my drift. A dash of libidous words there, coupled with exchanges of photos in various states of undress here, and the horny self is satiated.

But it was never satisfied.

I had so much idle time that week, that i made double the rounds I do in a day. Soon I began engaging in video calls - with boys 10 years my junior. I would make them stroke their weenie or finger their hole, and at one time, I did some money shots to the delight of the 20 year old kid on the other side of the line.

On Grindr, I inflated my ego. I let myself get drunk on the complements I recieved from posting full frontal photos. A couple of times, the teasing almost lead to an encounter in a motel. And like I always do in situations like these, I find ways to retreat for reasons of self preservation.

Until the pent-up repression exploded into a real, mindless assault.

The first act happened one early morning. The Wechat guy sent an invitation to chat, which I accepted almost immediately. There were no pleasantries. Not even a request for a face photo. Five minutes after our introductions, I was already heading towards his place - a mere walking distance from my house.

It was a random encounter: a quickie that didn't end up in fucking (unlike the previous sextings where I usually tell the boys I'd stuff my schlong into their wet holes.) His was hung and amazingly stiff. I had a hard time letting it all slide down my throat. After the deed was over, I asked if he was a top. Without thinking it over, a nod confirmed my suspicion.

It was a one-time encounter, for I had removed the Wechat app after returning home. On Grindr, I have been talking to a chap who found me hours after installing the app. What began as wholesome conversations lead to dinner and drink invitations. And when one who enjoyed the other guy's company has a place of his own, getting invited to stay overnight is not far off the itenerary.

For the first time in two years, it was me who walked away from someone's lair.

The next day.

I would like to believe I'd be forgotten. That our tryst was a romanticized one night stand that you just shake off after taking a cold shower. But it didn't. Perhaps, realizing that both of us may have too many things in common, an invitation was forthcoming, and I got screwed once again during the middle of the week.

There were times that night, I'd take breaks from work-from-home job so I can steal a kiss and wrap my blanket around his upper body. He would show a faint smile before returning to slumber. Perhaps, an appreciation to a person he may never see again. In such idyllic setting, I was made to believe that it was possible to start over: that I would not have to use my own blanket when I take a nap beside him at daybreak. And I was convinced too of the possibility that maybe, if we hold on to each other a little longer, I might give feelings another shot, disproving that long held notion that it takes a long time before I get past the mourning.

But who am I kidding, really?

I did sleep beside him that morning, under his sheets with my arms embracing his hypermasculine frame, and in my dreams, I sincerely wished to return at that lavender spot, where I longed for the assuring hands of another and not this steely gloves I wear now.

For when I wake up, and that angst and anguish fill again the void once occupied by love, never will my care and devotion transcend into a full and unconditional union with the other.

The Fourth relationship attempt has failed. And like in the past two cycles I have been through, the mind dictates what I should have embraced all along.

That I am better off alone. 

You are alive in a memory. 

You, are once upon a time. 

The Illusion Of Things Never Changing

I Wrote This For You

The Phoney War

Previously: Lip Service

"Mahal na mahal kita at miss na miss sobra." The kid shot back.

"Hugs. Mahal kita."

For almost an hour, we were exchanging sweet nothings. The words were laced with cheesiness, yet it was clear to me that there was no heart into it. God knows why I let myself become an accessory to his words. Perhaps, I was afraid he would take it against me if I ignore his feelings. But, if I were playing raunchy scenes in my head, and imagine him saying those words while maiming his man hole with my tool, I'd see to it that every inch of my cock goes in, just to let him know that words mean nothing when I intend to leave a memory.

This is how I wish to be remembered.

The exchanges had to stop, because I had to get the keys of my workplace from a colleague. The kid already knew before that I had to leave the house. What I didn't realize is that the three words he repeatedly said was meant to provoke, to make him feel owned, and in a way, expecting the recipient to reply in ways that would give him a hard on. How could I have not known, given that most of my sexual gratifications with strangers come from wanking while exchanging sexy words on an instant messaging app? That, the kid had to make it clear when he said to me that he was going to take a shower?

"Okidoki. Kung andiyan ako, paliguan kita." I replied.

"Talaga, sayang naman. Dala ko nga cp ko dito sa CR kasi tinitigasan ako kanina pa. Imagine ko na lang kasama ka."

Tinitigasan. 

Alam na.

I wasted no time, and immediately, took a ride back home. I was merely suppressing my lust given that I cannot do edging before seeing my agent. But by the time I set foot in my room, the kid no longer replies to my SMS messages. I tried sending a couple more after several hours but by then, words never returned. The sweetness he expressed that weekend hardly showed in our succeeding correspondence. There was no affection in his texts, except, maybe, when he was reminding me of the day he would be returning to the city. He was still looking forward to spending the night over at my place.

I was excited.

But like all plans set ahead, the best ones tend to get screwed up. So much for not sleeping around to make way for his coming. He wouldn't push through with his return on the day he asked me to make time.

"Baka hindi ako matuloy sa 19." I didn't bother asking his reasons. It was safe to assume he found a more generous host.

So, the chapter with the kid ends, without us ever having to see each other. We still keep in touch, from time to time, mostly him asking what I was doing, and then telling me that he misses me. I would still reply in a manner most pleasing to his eyes, but that's all our conversation is. Some people only need to hear kind words to feel okay. And given the sudden changes in the wind's direction, there is no surprise if, one of these days, I no longer reply.

March begins with a lip service and ends with a phoney war. It was a personal resolution I gladly accepted given my defiance to hollowed obsessions. But life's twists and turns seem intent to not let me off the hook yet. That maybe, all the patience and hurt from searching have now been acknowledged. With providence on my side, and a planet in sight, I have faith that one day, the best will come, like a mobile suit Gundam, soaring towards my direction.

Lip Service

Previously: The Stuff That Haunts You

The story began with an SMS.

"Kagigising lang," I sent after the introductory hello. "Napanaginipan kita."

"Talaga. Anu napanaginipan mo? Iniisip mo ata ako e. Hehe." He replied a few minutes later. At this point, I was searching for excuses. The dream was made up. It was meant to start a conversation.

"Haha jahe yung panaginip." I sent back. "Uu naman, naiisip kita. Iniyakan mo kaya ako nung niroromansa kita." 

I still scratch my head in amusement every time I remember our failed and unplanned tryst. I caved in after he gave me a boner when he brushed his elbow against my arm. So instead of me walking him to his dorm, he tiptoed with me to my room.

"Classic yun."

The kid forced me to spill the beans, and because I was getting horny at the flashback, I gave in to his order.

"Pinakandong daw kita sakin tapos tinigasan ako." In my head, I was drawing his reaction when he got to take a peek at my jun-jun last time. "Kaw naman napangiti lang." 

I could have been more graphic with the imagery, but to do so would sound too obvious. 

Nevertheless, his response had put a smile on my face.

"Baka nakiliti ako nung tinigasan ka. Hehehe. Gusto ko tuloy ikaw makasama."

Much as I would like to think that I'm less of a flirt than what I write, the truth is, I have my unguarded moments. When I do so, when I'm meaning to seduce someone, I cuddle one's soft spot with the most romantic picture of a couple being sweet to each other. 

It so happened that I knew what his interests are, so I weaved it to my narrative.

"Sana man lang kung yung panaginip ko eh nakayakap ako sayo habang nanunuod ka ng NBA. Mas di diyahe yun." I knew the carefully crafted message will get through. As to what outcome I wish to read, I was never certain. 

"Na miss tuloy kita. Nainip na tuloy ako mag-19." He told me he would return to the city two weeks from now. To attend a reunion of sort. I told him to stay for the night so he can finally sleep beside me. 

"Bsta gustong-gusto na kita yakapin ng mahigpit."

"Aww. Yaan mo, pagbalik mo dito, yayakapin kita ng buong higpit." I replied. "Lalambingin kita sa mga oras na kasama mo ako."

To a pragmatist, the exchange of sweet nothings is a show of pronounced, but hollow affirmation of mutual attraction. He likes me only because I am broad-chested, manly, and have big arms. He had this impression that I was probably mature, protective, and a presence he could seek comfort when he feels vulnerable. Meanwhile, he turns me on because he's a twink, who is masculine, and is very much a reminder of the Weatherman. The fact that I could flirt with the likes of him, when there is certainty that his good looks and manly physique get the attention of everyone, is already a rub to my ego.

To me, ours is but a plaything that is bound to diminish over time. The problem is that I no longer read how kids think of attachments; of how exactly this kid view our exchanges.

"Ikaw ang huling nakadampi sa labi ko at niyakap ko. Ikaw din ang tangi at nag-iisa kong alaala sa Hornet." There was no trickery there. I was sincere with my confession.

There are words, so sacred and ties-changing that they shouldn't be said without actions to back them up. Words that need ground to grow and time to bloom. And while I was guilty in the past of carelessly sending a fitting response when such words are said to me, It is the emotions and moments that linger, when the same, sacred words fail to take root.

The carelessness haunts to this day, but hopefully, I already know how to fake my feelings.

So when the kid, unexpectedly, and irresponsibly sent this reply to me.

"Iloveyou."

I was caught off guard, briefly, only to assuredly tell my self that whatever words the control channel send across the emptiness of hearts, I can take back as swiftly as I had disposed of them.

"I love you too."  

-tobecontinued-

A Pervert's Log

Decided to skip the daily juicing in preparation for an arranged trouble today - which was cancelled at the last minute. 

And when I decided to fap the bird - rather than let it probe a stranger's warm and moist orifice - I was surprised at how stiff it remained. Blood appeared to have blocked every cavity, swelled every capillary there is in that pole and when it was time to drain the pipe; to make way for an explosion - a leak I held back for two days - the seed spreading, and spermy genocide was pure bliss.

Habit changing is forthcoming, and maybe, this less attention to my little friend may grease the sex machine I once was.

The Stuff That Haunts You

Would a stranger's kiss enough to ease the pain? 

The sufferings of the heart that desires for the one? 

Would his caresses make up for the lost absence? 

The touching of warm skins that comes with unplanned romantic tryst?  

Will his big arms reach out, and give comfort, even when you know your thoughts miss someone? 

How do you blanket the hurt, at the middle of the heat?

Such questions no longer apply to me, as I have callously learned to coat that fist-sized muscle within the hollowness of my chest. On the third day of the last breakup, the first lines of the epilogue was written when I made out and swapped sweats with the Weatherman inside my quarters. Maybe I have grown used to the idea of moving forward, of that possibility that there is no turning back when I'm next to another. In a way, it is the same reason I am having difficulty finding the new one.

For I have learned to embrace the fleetingness of every encounter.

I may come across to some as repressive. As I always tell that I don't jump into someone's bed when choices abound. But deep down, the passion within drives me to such spontaneous acts that rival those I've seen on the Blue Planet. Only that I probe deeper; search for meaningful reasons when engaging in acts of lust, and when I find none, I treat the orgasm as a blimp that is bound to be unremembered. 

Laugh at.

Forgotten.

But this spontaneous act I did recently reminds me of a scene a long time ago. When I invited a dear friend to come over as he was nursing the fallout from a break up. At the middle of the night, when we were passionately making out, (and I making love) I saw a tear streak down his face. 

We ended the battle in a stalemate. 

The words "friends pa rin tayo ah." crushed my heart to bits. Never will I forget for it was the last time I got attached to a first-time pairing.

And so I brought home this new kid and led him into my bed. And while I was attending to every part of his twinkish body, (save for his hard pole which I intentionally left for the delectable crescendo) I felt his lust being swept away by a memory he refuse to tell.

Or was it triggered by some careless questions I said?

Whatever the reason, he slumped in a corner, dazed and confused. Unable to perform like what he wanted for us to happen (when we were walking to his dorm, his elbow brushed against mine, a reading I never fail to get given my experiences). When the air of remembrance had become suffocating, he begged to leave, without even saying a proper goodbye.

Much as the event raises questions, all I can do is respect his decision. He apologized for his behavior.

"Mas gugustuhin ko na labasan ng masaya at walang hang-ups ang kaulayaw ko." I said on WeChat with conviction.

"Well at least, the need to hold someone's hand, and felt it, has been accomplished." I told myself as an afterthought consolation.

But behind those words is the acceptance that it will be the last time I will see him again.

Twenty Eight hours and two hundred and fifty views in the Hornet's nest, I find it fitting and poignant to end the incessant stinging in this manner.

    

Something That Is Real

In a house where three families live.
One, the vassal of another.
The other, sovereign,
and yet, belongs to the realms of the regent:
To be caught in the crossfire
between the colliding states
triggers
the disharmony the House
desperately avoids.

The first volleys are fired.
When things fall apart,
we will all be consumed by our fires.

Caption:

Air pollution in the Chinese capital reached new, choking heights on Thursday. Those who still felt the urge to catch a glimpse of sunlight were able to gather around the city’s gigantic LED screens, where this glorious sunrise was broadcast as part of a patriotic video loop.

Credits:

Surface Tension

Credit

All these talks of hard-ons, these morning leanings of sending your naked selfie to strangers;
these digital encounters that fling you beyond the occasional desire
to seek shadows beyond your realm
speak of one thing, and one thing alone:

Deep down, you long to be
cocooned in the arms of another.

It doesn't matter if he's a stranger or a friend,
all you ever wanted is to belong.

Leafing Through

"Dare mo ako," I asked Nox as the two of us busted a move on the dance floor.

"Dare!!" He said, without batting an eyelash.

Earlier that night, I went to the gym only to find out that they are open until 10pm. It was past midnight when I arrived. With no place to go, I asked my DJ friend Cal Soesanto, where to party. 

She said, Bed Manila. 

So I went there, for the second time after they moved to Greenfields, Shaw. At Bed, I met some Twitter friends - by accident - and decided it would be better to hang out with them than to go solo. Para naman maka-bond ako with friends I only get to see online, and to spare myself from getting into trouble again.

Because the last time I went there, I ended up going out with my dance partner days later. It didn't prosper. The "date" was a disaster. Before that, during Bed's closing in Malate, a couple invited me for a threesome - which I declined. Said, "I don't play this game anymore," before walking away from the horny bastards.

That night, I thought I could leave the dance floor without causing any incident.

But I was wrong. I was a tease from the moment I entered the club until the minute before I leave.

Fate was kind however, for I was able to part heartfelt words to people who mattered. I was able to tell Nox how I admire his long distance relationship with Ron. They have been together for almost three years. We talked about their future, their plans of getting married, and my wish - to one day - get to read Nox's Facebook where he's sharing his trip to Oslo.

To visit his partner for the first time. 

I was also able to share some good moments with Babit, the guy who made a cameo on the Indie Film, Camera Obscura. The silent film has sentimental value to me because of the ex, and Babit, having played a role in that movie has somehow touched my past - in a very endearing way. While we didn't get to talk - like Nox and I did, his presence was a relief, especially since one of their friends was someone I had my eyes on. We were getting physical and every time I get reminded that Babit was watching, I come to my senses and hold back the rage I had for his friend.

Finally, Ron was the one who found me while smoking outside Bed. I was having second thoughts of going in, and while weighing my decision, I saw him looking at me. There was instant recognition - and association with his boyfriend. Ron called Nox who was drinking inside, he, in turn, convinced me to get in, and the rest was history. In their presence I realized that I could leave my comfort zone and still feel at home.

And as Ron and Nox danced and kissed in my presence, there's this whisper of hope, that one day, I might find myself dancing and kissing my partner on the same dance floor. Perhaps not there, but in some other place that would forever be special to me. I might have had a different story to tell for this entry, but it was their sweet moments that held me steady during the naughty incidences I had with the rest.

Kasi nga, ang harot ko, and since I was perked up, it was easy to hook up, had I wanted to.



Maybe it was in my way of doing pelvic thrusts in the air, or bending my knees and dropping my hips on the floor, or arching my neck like reaching an orgasm that caught others' imagination. All I know is that I have always been a horny dancer. This thought, I recalled, when Prodeeboy once told me about a guitarist who made sexually charged facial expressions while he performed on stage. Prodee claimed he had a boner just by looking at him. And in the way I stuck out my tongue, or kept sensual eye contact with my bet, I was subconsciously doing a mating call that others found hard to resist.

An inflated assumption.

All I know was I was able to kiss a dance partner, felt someone's six packs as his hand guided mine into his torso, and had hands sliding inside my pants to check my limp package. In times of inebriation, it was easy to let go. And that night, the urge to drop the inhibition brought me close to being reintroduced to the clubber that I was: the Malate Kid who went to gay places every Saturday to occupy a portion of the ledge and show off.

It was fun then, and thrilling, still. But at the back of my head, I made a promise that none of these, will be seen by the Next: The tease that I am; the command I show on the dance floor; and the moves that get me into trouble every time I go to dance clubs lately. These will all be, but a figment of the imagination. A fiction story I put in my blog to write my days of singlehood. The Future will just know me as a clubber who happens to be passionate in Electronic Dance Music.

For him, I'd just be the domesticated type. The artsy geek who drinks every weekend with friends.

And that's what I'd become.

So perhaps, for the last time this year, I kept my word by mounting the ledge once more: To bring back the dancer in me, and to celebrate friendships that are often overlooked. I raised my fists into the spotlight and closed my eyes to let the music take control. In my head, all I hear was the track "Eat, Sleep, Rave Repeat" bouncing off the man-sized speakers and the howls of friends watching from the dance floor.

Out Of The Hermitage (Casual)

A text message:


Good morning papi!!

Gandang umaga. Kaka-send ko lang ng DM (Direct Message) sa iyo. Hehe.

Hehe!! I want to have sex with you pre...

Not today paps. I'm off to work. Next time.

Gusto u rin ba na makipag-sex sa akin? Or ako lang nakakaramdam nito?



---

Ignore, your consciousness tells. But how will you overturn instinct when you have suppressed your need for so long? "I'm just human," you say. 

I won't contest your claim. 

You are not beholden, as far as we know. No more considerations, for you have declared yourself open. You can tell everyone the joys of having your own space, and distance; of celebrating solitude and raising walls.

They would just nod in approval, to keep tabs with your trivial life. 

But at the end of the day, you can't deny that longing to feel the presence of another. 

To make you feel good. 

Needed.

But you say it's better when that person is a stranger. "It is easy to get out," is your excuse.

"No commitments."

Pero bakit ganun?

Plans have already been set. You don't even have issues checking in a motel like he proposed. In fact, you can even ignore his invitation, and could have gone across the street this evening. There was someone in your past tempting a repeat performance. Tinulugan mo lang for reasons we couldn't spell. (FYI. Of all the Wechat and Viber messages you got this evening, only one stirred you from your nap. An indication of connection maybe?)  We could even talk about that other tryst of yours. Yung twice mo pinuntahan sa apartment niya to have your pole sucked. After the second time, you disappeared. He didn't look for you so it's quits.

There is no chemistry to begin with.

Pero bakit nga ganun?

You have already donned your battle gear, and recognized the casual arrangements. You have set aside that aspiration to settle down and embraced the principles of "play as you go." You have all the options to choose who to sleep with. 

To pretend to have affections.

But when the sexual encounters become inevitable and the prospects of returning home losing something confronts you. 

Something within would like to back out. To remind you that you have not been consumed yet despite inching closer to that condition.

Parang na-guilty naman ako dun sa sinabi u na libog lang talaga... Coffee na lang muna tau para makapag-kwentuhan... Hehe!!

2h

Kasi naman 3 hours lang eh. Okay lang sa akin. Sana. Pero alam mo bro, hindi lang sex hangad ko sa iyo. Gusto talaga kita maging kaibigan.

"Is it still possible to walk away without incident?" You mused.

"Even saved, maybe?"

The coming days will tell.

Night Of The Fallen

Credit

To demonstrate the warp capabilities of the newly installed Deimon Gravimetric Engines, the Dreamwalkers have decided to activate the warp drive of the Planetship. It would move the massive vessel out of the planet's orbit and into regions of space never before mapped by the ship's stellar cartographers. A press of a button, and a pull of a lever had given way to a loud whirring sound. Within minutes, the proto-organic shell jerked backwards putting all its inhabitants (who were already ordered beforehand to stay inside their quarters) in a mild state of panic. However expected and inevitable the jump engine test is, the result went beyond the expectations of the Magisterium. When the Planetship dropped out of hyperspace, not only did the navigators learn the vast distance they covered within days, they found themselves face to face with the Blue Planet they dreaded so long ago.

"I guess we have to stay orbit for a while." sighed Chief Magistrate Aenepada confiding to an aide. "We still have to re-calibrate that wretched Deimon Drives before we can leave."

Looking at the window to gaze at the storm-patched oceanic world, deep within, he knew the planet below is the only shelter they have - from all the heartbreaks of their interstellar journey - for now.

Resistance

A Wechat Message


"Good morning."

It was the first message I got from him.

"Insert smiley face here"

"Hug ko."

He asked.

"Hug."

"Kiss p."

"Sa lips, mwah! Laplapan."

Boners often wake me up in the morning.

"Sarap nmn."

"Gawa mu?"

I knew where it was heading, so better ask what he wants before I pay attention with someone else.

"Nkdpa lng. Tigas ni curvey ko."

He answered.

How story arcs take a life of its own, with the central character unaware of the events unfolding is still a subject of rumination. 

It baffles me, as the fog of war hinders my ability to foresee my direction. 

Who would have thought the narrative that started with a resounding "no" to a one night stand at the beginning of the month returns with foes stoking flames that are supposed to trigger bed wars. The last one was a guy I met last month. The absence of chemistry makes the meet-up a failure. But his determination - to at least spend some time with me at some private corner - went on until he realized that I was taking him for a ride.

So he quietly retreated. He stopped sending sweet nothings and hollow words of concern knowing his moves will get him nowhere.

But I didn't stop with him. Knowing that abstinence requires creative forms of orgasmic fulfillment, I downloaded apps for my smartphone to flirt-talk with my growing number of playmates. Some of them also happen to be acquaintances in a popular social media website. 

Incognito elsewhere, I have become my slutty self. A reincarnation unlike the one I've been on the Blue planet. Instead of seeing people and deciding to hop in bed with them or not, I send digital images that are supposed to stay private. I get praises for things some of my friends would only speculate. And to toy around with someone's basic instincts was my game. Once a stranger's intent becomes pronounced, there is no way a meet-up will ever happen.

Unless a person spots a chink in my armor.

I have learned not so long ago that playthings aren't supposed to cross the realms of real life. For they blur the lines of attachment, and often shakes inner peace. So I move on, biting provocations from random sexually appealing strangers. Copulating with the use of a hand-held device - with my other hand pumping my gear stick. Becoming the person I once laugh at, for being so mechanical to attain self-pleasure.

It is when strangers ask for meet ups - to do it humanely that I fall back - unable to seal the deal that will potentially unlock my passage.

For I have grown a little weary of eyeballs that end in bed. 

And it's consequences.

Jaded, perhaps. Prude, not entirely. Maybe, the resistance to all forms of real, instinctive sex has grown defiant believing that when a liberator does come, he will find me intact and unbroken. The union we would forge will be untainted with smudgy histories; and that the bonds we nurture in its infancy will be bereft with doubt and infidelity. 

But time is no longer my companion. And one of these horny days, I would really give in to that need; to that urge and suspend my penchant for artificiality. I just hope that when it happens. Sana. I end up with the right person. Someone, who instead of taking a chunk of my humanity, will at long last, put me back together and make me 

whole again.      

"Patingin"

"Bwal muna."

"Tgnan mo n lanh pg ng-meet tyo."

"Malaki siguro si curvey."

"Kaw bhala kng immeet mo aq."

End of conversation.

Unbreakable

It is not the battles you fought along the way, but the skirmishes you avoided to win the war.

Mugen

2:48 am.

Phone vibrates. It registers an unknown number.

I answered it not knowing the identity of the caller. The message might be urgent.

"Kamusta, saan ka?" Asked the manly voice. I replied casually believing he was a friend I met earlier. 

"Nasa Cubao, asa jeep... Ikaw?"

"Teka, kilala mo ba ako? Si Bioman to."

"Alam ko." I answered indifferently.

"Paano mo nalaman?" He asked.

"Kakasabi mo pa lang."

Checkmate.

It was one of those Saturday nights. The "walang inuman" weekends when friends have their own night-outs and I'm left alone to set my own getaway. Fortunately that night, Desole Boy was available. I owe him a drink, after a year of not seeing him. Together with a couple of friends, we had a mini get-together to wrap up the week.

That same evening, I was exchanging posts with a Twitter acquaintance. Nothing fancy. Just a light banter when he said that he's alone and wanted to bring someone in his apartment. I merely said, "panood," then promised to bring "popcorn and sopdrinks." The exchange didn't prosper in public, but in direct message, I gave him my number.

Alam na.

But there was no mention of meet-up, or sex, or any sleazy encounter that sometimes happen when strangers get my number. The subtext was there, but it was never my intention to begin with. So when he called at daybreak to ask for my whereabouts, I knew where it was heading and quick decisions lead either to a "night filled with wonders" or a "loser's self-pleasure in a dark empty room." 

So the exchange went on.

"So saan ka na papunta niyan?"

"Pauwi ng bahay, sa Manila"

"Dito ko na lang umuwi sa akin." 

"Ang layo kaya ng Mandaluyong sa Cubao."

"Hindi ako sa Mandaluyong. sa Manila rin ako."

"Talaga? Saan sa Manila?"

"Santa Ana."

Under the influence of beer, I am disarmed. The one night stands usually happen at the dead of the night - when I have no control over lust, and my strongest need is to belong to someone - anyone who can make me feel. 

But half a year is enough to learn the game, the trade, or whatever playmates call it, and assuming the challenger turns out to be a pure top, defending that sealed passage may not be as effective as it had been in the past.

It has been almost a year, and the call to be drilled grows louder and more pronounced with every near misses. I've seen what needs to be seen - in pictures - and once that thing is in front of me, there's no certainty I can evade what he wants to happen.

"Out of the way, dude." a sigh of relief.

"Ganun ba?"

"Oo eh, sa susunod na lang."

In a time when everyone in my circle is either taken, soon-to-be-betrothed, or happily dating, a slice of me wishes to become part of someone, even for a forgettable night. And had he been nearer, more persuasive, or had I crashed to a new low for reasons of judgement, this entry might have been written very differently.

But prudence prevailed when abstinence was an option. Then and there, perhaps, with age's graceful wisdom and with laziness setting in, the final answer was an settling but unconvincing no.

Sex can wait.

Lust can be suppressed.

I looked at the side mirror with a faint smile on my face, as the empty jeep cruises to my destination.

Missing

A text message:


"Good. Kelan ulit tayo magkikita?"

"Not sure. Balik work na ako bukas. Siguro sa inuman with Karl Martin (Papa Tagay)"

"Kelan yun?"

"Kapag nagtawag siya."

"Namiss kitang kasama hahaha... Sorry ha."

The eye-ball was set at the RCBC Plaza. Outside the Fitness First Platinum gym - where I thought of checking out the branch to pass time. I was ten minutes early - a rarity - when I agree to see someone for dinner or friendly banter. But after indulging myself listening to the agent complete his sales pitch while pretending to be interested in switching gyms, I ended up ten minutes late for my appointment. 

The guy was five foot, six inches tall and dark skinned. He wore thick, dark-rimmed glasses, and donned solid blue shirt to accentuate his black slacks. In text messages, he would always raise his drawback. That he mostly get rejections. The reasons, I will keep to myself, but there is a grain of truth to his modest self-assessment.

I tend to plan my engagements very carefully. Not because I am picky, but because I wanted to cherish the moments of seeing another person. I try to be comfortable with him, and probe questions that would lead to knowing the soul better. So that even when the outcome ends in a fruitless venture, I would leave good impressions for others to find my trail. 

With him, the eye-ball was half-cooked. There was a general impression that it was rushed. The day before, we were mere strangers. The night ended with us digitally inseminating one another, and as our ties grow the next morning, we were already hurling sweet nothings like love was forthcoming. This is what he believed in; the idea I didn't consciously sell. For me it was all part of the searching, and just like the hangouts before him,

I have learned to leave the heart behind.

We found ourselves sitting in an empty chair across Mary Grace. Words were barely spoken. My growing disinterest had already set my eyes elsewhere - perhaps to that cute acquaintance I saw at Fitness First's locker room. But I tried to be civil, and performed as if I was doing a show. I invited him for dinner. At Stoops, where their famous Bagnet draws executives away from the business district. It was a sumptuous meal, despite burdened by a memory. 

For it was the other who first brought me to that place.

After our meal, I invited him for a walk. To talk, and perhaps rekindle the short-lived bonds we had over the phone. He told me his story, his family and his regrets in relationships. He was a planet-dweller, and his past flings and boyfriends he met there. I told him of my ex, and with each hand picked words, there was the subtle hint that I preferred embracing the memory. 

He tried scaling his arm around my broad shoulders. I stood still, to show him I did not care. He caressed my back as we walked past unlit light posts, I doubled my cadence to distract him from his advances. For some reasons he didn't figure my masterful stroke. Perhaps, my decline was too subtle, or I was too nice unlike the ones before me. The fact that I went the opposite way going home instead of joining him at the train tells that I'm better off going solo.

It pains me to recount the story; to savor the feeling of relief, when I saw him climb the stairs going to the train station; of the cold spell hovering above my phone's touch screen when he sent a complement enjoying the dinner; of the treatment he continues to receive now that I have restored myself to my senses. Looking back, to tell that I have no issues being in bed next to him didn't drive him away. It was a sign of approval, a signal for him to pursue and win me over.

Such is the narrative of men who know only of fleetingness; and who find great comfort looking through stained glass, hoping to figure a shadow behind the breakable wall. I don't know what missing is. I even try not to speak the words. 

Because the last time it was truly felt; when all the dormant memories came tumbling, like tears that were never shed. I was hugging my guy tight.

No words. Only stillness.

The longings of one's absence convey in the oneness of skins. 

     

  

Scheherazade

"I find you cute." 

A faint smile creased across my face after making a remark about his rugged looks. He was standing in front of me, next to the sink as we both took turns drinking a glass of water. He wore a neon blue cycling shorts and a grey muscle shirt, while I was wearing my casual night-out attire. I just came from a drinking binge with friends. My head was still woozy.

As to how I found myself there - in a loft - somewhere in Espana was neither planned or intentional. The host, who is about the same age as me (as his profile said) caught me off guard. I have secretly installed an app on my phone allowing me access to the blue planet. 

It's just a matter of time before I give in to my needs.

"Kung na late lang ng 2 minutes ang reply mo sa text ko," I confessed while holding his hand. "Wala ako sa tabi mo." I was telling him that once I get inside the house at that ungodly hour, no one, not even my boner can force me to sneak out. He kissed me before I was able to finish my sentence.

As I was browsing his profile a few steps outside the driveway earlier, there was something catchy about him that caught my attention. His pictures don't even say a lot  (his main display and only picture shows his hand resting on his thigh. Not even his torso is exposed). Maybe it was his honest evaluation of himself ("I'm just a simple guy with a crazy elusive ambition of meeting new acquaintance") or the manliness of his voice (I called his number to make it known that he was dealing with an equally straight-acting guy.) Whatever ease of ties came out of that two-minute phone call, one thing is for sure - there is an attraction we cannot deny. When he offered his place for a sleep over, I was half-certain to give in. 

What made the deed possible was the fateful appearance of a taxi cab in front of me.

It has been ages since I hooked up with anyone, and to find myself returning to the battlefield brought memories I no longer wish to recall. God knows how I pushed the envelope and tossed the dice like I don't need tomorrow. I played the game knowing I'd go home losing. It is always the heart that takes the blow every time I sleep with strangers. Maybe because unlike the Persian queen, whose head is always at the mercy of her king, I have no king to offer my head. There would be no One Thousand and One Night of storytelling for him to know it's not the expression of lust I desire,

It is the hope of finding someone (catching me in my wobbly footing) who I might find a lasting connection.

As the cab speeds toward our destination, my body jerks uncontrollably like it knew my peace will be shaken; like a cacophony of different emotions, I felt the pangs of dread, the bite of thrill, the slice of guilt and the empty truth of knowing I'd go home somewhat changed. Half-wishing to be stood by at a bend; to go home without seeing the face of the ka-meet up, was something I'd have as a consolation. "At least I might get a reminder that this is no longer my game," I said. But at the back of my head, a snub will only embolden me to claw deeper. It happened before. I only returned to the blue planet in search of another playmate.

"Sabihin mo sa guard kay Marc." He instructed after I called his number. He didn't reply to my text messages when I arrived at our meeting place.

Five flights of stairs and a turn to a corner. I found his door number and I knew there was no turning back. Closing my eyes for that one last hope - one last prayer that I'd at least leave his lair painfully content, I took off my mask and disarmed my defenses.

"Nagpapakatao lang." With a deep breath, I waited for someone to open the door.

Minutes later, I found myself in his bed narrating my tales with his arms wrapped around me.

It will be just for a night.

Ninang

Masayang nagsasayaw si Bunso kasama si Shattershards malapit sa stage nang mapansin ko ang lalaki sa aming likuran. 

Maputi ang binata, nasa mid-twenties ang edad at ang mga mata nito'y nakatingin sa aking inaanak. Ramdam ko na siya ay naaakit. Hindi nga lang nito alam kung paano magpapakilala.

Nahuli ko ang binata na pilit inaabot ang balikat ni bunso. Magalaw ang kanyang pagsasayaw kaya't hindi nito napansin ang pagdampi ng kamay ng tigahanga. Umulit pa ang lalaki ng isang beses, ngunit ito ay muling nabigo. 

Sa pagkakataong iyon ay ako na ang kumuha sa kanyang kamay. Ipinatong ko ito sa balikat ng aking kasama sabay pihit ng buong katawan nito upang makaharap ang binata. 

"Go dance with him," utos ko na may pilyong ngiti sa mukha. Sunod-sunuran naman si Bunso na tila alam na walang patutunguhan ang kanyang pag-kontra. 

Nagsayaw ang dalawa at sa aking kinaroroonan ay mukhang bagay na bagay sila. Magkasingtangkad, guwapo, at parehong may ipagmamalaking katawan. Sa piring ng usok at laser lights ay naaninag kong magkadikit ang katawan ng mga binata. Bumulong ang lalaki sa kanyang kasayaw. Si Bunso naman ay sabay turo sa akin, na tila nagpapahiwatig na ako ang kanyang kausapin sa kanyang binabalak.

"Puwede ko ba siya i-kiss?" Paalam sa akin ng binata. Ako naman ay tumango sabay turo ng aking hintuturo sa aking pisngi.

"Sa lips..." Paglilinaw niya. Muli ko naman diniin ang daliri ko sa aking pisngi.

Walang nagawa ang binata kaya't patuloy na nagsayaw ang dalawa. Makailang ulit na hinalikan ng lalaki si Bunso sa pisngi, habang ako naman ay nagsawalang bahala. "Trip-trip lang," sa isip ko. Tutal, pati ang Ninang ay ipinaris rin naman sa inaanak ng iba. 

Ngunit sa tuwing ilalapat ng lalaki ang kanyang labi at makikita kong umiiwas si Bunso, naroon ang mumunting pag-aalala. Paano kung maka-iskor ang binata samantalang hindi naman ito ang ibig ng inaanak ko? Paano kung sa biglang paghawi ng mga tao ay dumaan ang prinsipe na aming hinahanap?

Hindi nagtagal at ako na rin ang umakbay kay Bunso, at sa muli ay pinihit ko ito paharap sa akin. Walang nagawa ang kasayaw kundi bumalik sa kanyang mga barkada. Bakas ang disappointment at pagkabitin sa kanyang mukha. Party Pooper man kung titingnan, pero sadyang may limit lang talaga ang flirting lalo pa't hindi naman gusto ng isa ang kanyang kapiling.

Collateral Damage (Finale)

Previously on Souljacker

"So ano ang gagawin mo kapag bigla akong nagtanggal ng damit at tumabi sa iyo?" 

"Yayakapin kita at hahalikan." I sms-ed back. Earlier, the boy asked what I was doing. I said I'm in bed, writing notes on my journal.

"Nice... Palaban ka talaga ha?" 

"Ako pa..." I replied with a naughty emoticon. "Kala mo sa akin, masisindak sa iyo ser?" He went on to create sexy scenes that would make this entry a fitting addition to this cheeky blog.

It was the night after we talked on the phone. Even sunrise had beaten us to sleep as there were so many stories to tell and life to discover. From the time we woke up that weekend afternoon, to the final minutes before midnight as we readied to sleep, we were constantly updating each other about the things we did the whole day. 

I had no idea what he was up to. Maybe he had found a really good company as we both share the same wave length. It was possible too, that after all the excuses, he was hoping I would change my mind and let him into my place. 

What he didn't know is that from the moment he crossed the line and told me some perverse things that made me stiff the first night, he was already being sized up and put to my standard. All the stories he said - from having to endure a two-timer boyfriend for six months - and catching him with another guy at the pad they both shared; to his habit of running away from his eyeballs once they failed his "discreetness" test, to his desire for a simple life, (umiinom ako sa kanto-kanto lang; hindi ako kumakain sa restaurant, namamahalan ako; i don't go to the mall) to the fact that he is in the academe and is still being supported by his parents gave me a rather half-baked but blanket idea of the person I'm dealing with.

It didn't help that his SMS became more frequent after the weekend; his words more thoughtful and sweet when we have yet to meet for a drink.

Cruel as it may sound but I have been there - a long time ago. I met guys who were very sweet in SMS but they turn cold the moment you give in to their desire for an eyeball. One time, I've wasted an entire month getting to know someone, only to find out that our first meeting would be the last as we thought of keeping our options open. 

Expectation, when laced with attachment hurt. It destroys a rather good friendship when two people aren't mature enough to accept that real-life arrangement won't work. For this reason, I have learned: You never show strong interest to people you haven't met; chill lang, or you end up biting the dust long before you're able to scratch the surface and know, if your misplaced emotions should be there.

I would never deny my fault. That I sold my narrative very well that it got another person hooked. I revealed my delicate side in a place created for the purpose of getting laid. And when I let myself step over the periphery - when I have no intention of laying claim to the new territories - I was quick to run away when I sensed ties growing complicated.

Somehow it hurts when others have to pay the price for me to know where I stand.

"Kain tayo bro." No reply.

"Kamusta na pare?" No reply, still.

"Tol?" A frowning emoticon and still no reply. It will be his last sms to me.

All it took was three days for me to figure it won't work. And what's sad is that I haven't given him a chance even to explore the corners of friendship that I promised.

But when the heart and mind are torn apart, and a revolution rages within your badly divided self, sometimes the best course of action is to shun people out.

For when the baggage becomes too heavy, even when there is someone - willing - to carry them for you, most likely, you will never see the person's value.

Until you look at them at a hindsight.

I may never know how sincere the boy was or how betrayed he must have felt after I stopped texting. But when I sought within for a resolution, the untroubled voices resoundingly agreed to keep him out of trouble.

"Better for him to become a collateral," the self said. "Rather than receive a direct hit in a personal strife he has, and will never have a part.

Collateral Damage (Second Part)

Previously on Souljacker

The intense glow of city lights faded as the night passed into daylight. But the early morning lull didn't stop me and the boy from learning the lives we lead behind the skin full and teasing profiles on Romeo's world.

He was five years my junior. An only child, who pursued another shot at the academe to chase his dream of becoming a doctor. Wounded, he too was a returning pupil on Romeo's world.

The boy asked the reason for my existence. I truthfully answered that I don't know what I'm doing on the planet. Sure, I was horny. To a point maybe, I was inflating my ego. But I guess I'm as lost as the last time HavokSSR made planet fall.

"It's either I had the drill." I wrote. "That the pain and the memory will linger for another three months." He knew I just came from a break-up.

"Or puwede rin naman siguro na mawala ako dahil nakaya ko pa rin mag-intay at magtino." It was the first time I showed a hint of humanity after provoking so many men to bite my bait.

Between sharing our personal legends, were the naughty interludes, which kept our boners stiff. Twice, I asked if he would like to get off by juvenile means. Said he doesn't do phone sex, and preferred having the real thing.



It would have been amazing to see who blinks first, as no one likes to offer his place.

"May mga tao dito... sa inyo na lang." I said.

"Kung puwede nga lang. Kaso sa dorm ako nakatira." His lack of cooperation leaves us back to telling each other more stories.

Looking back, had he offered his place, I do not know if I will accept his invitation or not. It was far easier to sneak out than let another person into my home. But in doing so, I would have lost my wager and would have walked out with a broken heart. For somewhere among the stars, maybe, someone else might be waiting for a change of heart.

It just so happened that I let the inner strife consume me.

And there's no way of going back had I chose to get burned.



As his frustrations grew, I was short of giving in to temptation. The scorpions had stung me for the second night and our lives won't wait for a chance to arrange another match. Knowing that work will keep me busy for the rest of the week, and the winds of change is as erratic as my state of mind, a plan has been hatched to get what we both want.

"You can always say that a friend got locked outside his dorm." I heard my bedroom voice speaking. It was just me and my mom and a couple of helpers left in the house.

"But you know, he will have to leave when the fun is over." God, why do I have to over-think when libog and emotions come in-between.

Listening to the voice of restraint, I gave my digits not for us to meet. But to talk some more and assure him that I'm real. Because even when we don't find ourselves in the same bed, and we manage to keep our ties intact even when the trash talk had already blurred the lines of friendship. At the end of the night, I wish to know another person.

Someone, whose point of view that might help me get along as my life stumbles into its new spot.

Receiving a text message to confirm that he got my number. I pressed the headset against my ears. Hearing his voice for the first time, we end up talking until sunrise.


-tobecontinued-

Collateral Damage (First Part)

He could have been someone worth knowing. A friend, a confidant, a regular drinking buddy that I could one day introduce to the Encantos. Ours is a story like no other, even when our narrative ran like everyone's gay tale.

A week ago, Mugen decides to once again taunt the self who still holds control of the body. One click of the mouse button, while floating above the blue skies of Planet Romeo, and there goes his profile, stripping in front of me.

Two things immediately caught my attention. His self-assured charm and his big... ego. I'm always a sucker for someone who dominates. For deep down, the cocky in me is searching for a counterpart.

It was never my intention to fish for I was very confident to receive an inquiry from others. So I checked his profile once again, only to learn that he had also checked mine. It went on for a couple more times, but neither made the attempt to break the ice. When I knew that he wouldn't make a move, and that he was waiting for me to take action, I hit him with a vague question hoping to get a response. 

"What alternative songs do you play?" I asked.

"One Republic, Dishwalla." I forgot the third band he mentioned. 

In response, I sent him the first two lines of the song Every Little Thing.

"Let me in, to see you in the morning light." He replied with a grinning emoticon.

From there we found anchorage. A hook that would sink even when I was busy setting meet-ups I would never take seriously. Music became our common ground as I sent him dozens of YouTube videos of the songs that break my heart. I was so at ease with our platonic arrangement that even when the scorpions stung, and I was edging on my seat for some action, I never bothered dropping reference to his huge... smile. 

I cannot afford to take our friendship into realms I never wish to be our destination.

Unless it was he who picked up the fight.

"Nice! ako naman walang time mag gym! Hahaha i pump my muscles when i jack off yun lang. Sure sure pare. Anyway kailangang nakatalikod sa litrato? Hehe" 

Of course, I knew where he was getting at. We were talking about one's fitness activity when he segued into something that I could use to ignite the fire. And with one provocative reply, I crossed the line and put our ties into zones we can no longer escape.

"Tagal ng pic yan. Trip mo?" It was calculated answer.

"Yeah i think it's hot. actually tinigasan ako senxa pare" 

From there, it was already easy to play the mischievous game.

-tobecontinued-