A note to my 21-year-old self

Oh no, the last day of 2011. What a year for me! But I'm not going to look back on it in this post. I'd rather go back ten years ago when I was 21.

I've always thought of writing a "note to my XX-year-old self", so I chose to write to my 21-year-old self because 2001 was a pivotal year for me. For one, I graduated from university, hence, I entered the world of being a real adult. And most importantly, I lost my virginity when I was 21. Okay, okay, I'm a fucking late bloomer. Charot!

So what will I tell my 21-year-old self?

On life in general, I'd say: "Gurrrl, life is not always fair. Most of the time, in fact, life is just damn unfair. The sooner you accept that, the more at peace you'd be with life." Harsh, but true, chai mai?

On your goals: Keep them high, but also make the most of surprising opportunities. Don't be afraid to tweak your goals along the way; it's not a sign of failure, but it only means you can adapt.

On knowledge: Be hungry to learn new things. Read. Most of the time there's no practical reason for knowing these things except to exercise your mind, a worthy goal in itself. Travel. It costs a lot but you'd have a lifetime of memories.

On your skills: You'll never be a good singer. Focus on what you do well and keep on honing it because you can always be better. Also, learn new skills that you can be good at. But, again, you cannot sing.

On success: Don't feel entitled to success. You have to earn it. Work your ass off. You may not always have the results you want, but be proud of your efforts nonetheless, and be humble about your achievements.

On other people: Respect them all the time and they'd respect you back. Three words: empathize, empathize, empathize. Be mindful that everyone has a story.

On family: Continue loving them with all your might. Your parents are as human as you are, so be generous in affirming them you love them.

On friends: They come and go, most of them at least. But nurture the few ones who you feel would accept you in spite of you. You'd be lucky with your friends. They're all amazing and generous. You'd have them for life.

On men: All men think with their dicks. There are many nice, decent, loving ones, of course, but ultimately they are all driven by their cocks. Don't take it personally; it's just how nature programmed them, including yourself.

On sex: This will be your year, gurl. Just don't expect too much. There will be NO fireworks. With the right person though it can be quite special.

On beauty: Enjoy that18-inch waistline. It will stay for only another two years, and then it all goes downhill from there.

In conclusion: Be fearless. Take risks. Keep on learning. Enjoy your youth. Love your family. Treasure your friends. Life would be very kind to you. And, bitch, 31 is not as old as you think.

And there's always Diana Krall

For some reason I always run to this song whenever I hit these little snags in life. I remember posting this as well four years back because there's always some comfort in telling your self that in love you win some and then lose some. It's often certain in relationships that when you love you also get hurt eventually. It's the natural progression of relationships.  When things fall apart, and after the initial doubts and perhaps the onslaught of nagging questions, as well as the pain, we just have to live with it and move on.



"Why Should I Care"

Was there something more I could have done?
Or was I not meant to be the one?
Where's the life I thought we would share?
And should I care?

And will someone else get more of you?
Will she go to sleep more sure of you?
Will she wake up knowing you're still there?
And why should I care?

There's always one to turn and walk away
And one who just wants to stay
But who said that love is always fair?
And why should I care?

Should I leave you alone here in the dark?
Holding my broken heart
While a promise still hangs in the air
Why should I care?

Drama Queen Speaking (Redux)

Prologue: Remember Friendster? (Pause for some cringing.) Don't you think those were rather the dark ages of social networking? But damn, most of us had an account. I haven't opened mine in like a millennium and for some reason I was brave enough to pore through my account a few minutes ago.

After discovering how stupid the site still is (it has even managed to replicate the features of Facebook), I found my old Friendster blog, which I started in 2005 (and ran until 2007). The posts were rambling affairs about my trips and the movies I saw. Also, it has a good number of sensitive explorations of my thoughts and emotions, stuff that I hardly do these days in this current blog.

A few minutes ago, I stumbled into this one particular entry (published 11 November 2005 while I was still living in Davao), which I'm reposting below... just because. (I've tweaked the post a bit for the sake of style and clarity.)

***

I hope you still remember Thea and LJ the Maton. As mentioned in an entry a few days back, both of them were trying to outdo each other on who's "love life" is more "dramatic" (read: who has more issues that warrant cry-fests in the bathroom). After a couple of hours of histrionics, and perhaps getting bored of listening to themselves, their eyes darted towards me and they asked if I have some "drama" to share . I replied that my "love life" is boring, primarily because I have a non-existent "love life" in the first place.

I realized how I’ve snugged my self in a comfort zone in the past couple of years or so. After two relationships, I seem to have given up on cultivating intimate connections with anyone the way that most straight people (and a lot of gay ones, I noticed) make sense of their emotional dependence. Okay, that last statement was not for all cases and you can consider yours as the exception (the bayot rolls his eyes).

For the past couple of years, I’ve instead adopted the path of "re-virginhood". This has been one of the longest dry spells in my life, with intermittent encounters happening just within the past month. But for about nine months before that, El Nino ravaged like a merciless plague. I almost forgot what IT felt like (now why am I suddenly prudish?). It’s not only sex (there it goes!) I’m talking about though.

I made the choice to stay single because when it comes to relationships I’m not sure if I can handle any complication in my life right now. Maybe it is indeed the comfort zone I'm currently in, one that I cannot bear leaving. As such, I’m staying away from the emotional snags present in every relationship - things not deserving any of my energy.

On the other hand, I've tried thinking of the bright side of being with someone, especially the bliss of a blossoming relationship. I asked my self why I'm allowing such opportunities to pass me by just because I couldn't be bothered with dealing with normal relationship issues.

Someone very honest told me that maybe I’m not the marrying kind. Ay pa-girl. But yes, I'm convinced I may not be a relationship person. Or to be specific, I'm not up for the "drama" in relationships. I remember what a roller coaster ride my two previous relationships were. I don’t want to go through that kind of hell again. Perhaps, I just couldn’t accept that relationships in most cases is one damn roller coaster ride. And damn, how those rides crashed.

Sometimes I wish I could just be a cold-hearted bitch who could hurt one person after another and not look back. I also wish that I could be a cold-hearted bitch who would not mind being trampled on by others. But then that bitch is not me. So I simply choose to avoid situations wherein I could potentially hurt people or let others hurt me.

Is that an appropriate defense mechanism? Maybe it works for now, but in the long-run what could its implications be?

I remember how I admired (and definitely envied) that gay couple I saw last week with Sarah. I’ve also seen so many other gay couples who seem very happy, whose relationships look like it was one ride on endless calm seas. Sometimes I wish I would reach that state with someone as well, even if for sure they have their issues as well.

The pessimist side of me would always jolt me from these stupid wanderings of the mind though. Thus it brings up another question: if the right person comes along, would I always have these walls I have conveniently surrounded my self with, thus losing the possibility of ever loving someone again?

Anyway, I guess I have answer for that. Some people love, some people don’t. Maybe I am just part of the latter.

Now Thea and LJ, if that is not drama, I don’t know how to call it.

***

Epilogue: Damn, such a cynic I was five years ago, chai mai? Does that mean my views have changed? Let's put it this way... I've considerably mellowed down from that absolute ice queen persona above. What did I know, I was only 25 years old and sorely inexperienced. Since then I've gained insights into how most relationships actually work.

For one, I don't think anymore that people in relationships are just trying to cope with their emotional dependence. Relationships are in fact one of the ways of nurturing another person, to think beyond one's vanity and actually commit to care for someone else.

Which brings me to a very insightful statement my friend said over a glass of Mai Tai last night... that loving an individual (particularly in the context of a romantic relationship) is just an initial step for you in loving humanity.

Meanwhile, in the last five years, it dawned on me that to love and to be in a relationship is an act of courage. Somehow you just cross your fingers that it fucking works or at least you're prepared to get hurt if it doesn't. After all, it is said that if it's not painful then it's not love, bitch.

Damsel in Distress Dot Com

When I was a little girl growing up in Surigao, I'd often find my self sitting on some boulders in the beach and silently wishing for a sinewy boy to emerge from the depths of the sea and who'd whisk me towards the sunset on his little boat.

What was I thinking??? I wonder who gave me the idea that Prince Charming would come from the water instead of say riding a white horse or a more gallant mode of transport other than a a shaky boat with outriggers and propelled by a small oar.

Also, one time I'd thought that Prince Charming would appear from behind an imposing column in a construction site, all sweaty, and wearing a helmet and a smile (and nothing else). Oh that was the time I discovered porn.

And why do they have to appear with such theatrics anyway?

Don't worry though, I've a long time ago abandoned such fanciful thoughts.

He doesn't have to come into my life with a spotlight shining on him, in slow motion, and with a Barbra Streisand soundtrack. Lady Gaga would do, no?

When I was in the university I fantasized that I'd meet my man in the library. Say we'd bump into each other while searching for the last copy of a William Golding or Graham Greene novel, those massive shelves crammed with yellowing books witnessing the first few seconds our eyes meet.

Or how about brushing against his arm while I closely examine a humongous landscape painting inside a cavernous museum. He wouldn't notice me at first coz he's equally mesmerized by the same painting. Seemingly annoyed by my intrusion on his concentration, he will make a quick glance at me and realize that he's looking directly at a true masterpiece. Buwahahaha!!!

Is it just me or do many other gay men think about the scenarios of how they'd meet their man? (Gosh, I'd avoid putting "ideal" and "man" together, OK?)

At one time I wished we'd bump into each other in the bookstore. Or perhaps meet him in one of my travels. Or something a bit unexpected and, say, uhm, romantic.

But not meet him on the internet, puhlease.

I have nothing against meeting men on the internet, per se. But really it's not the most romantic thing on earth, don't you agree? It's just way too deliberate and tinted with being a bit too cruise-y. Not exactly charming no?

In as much as I didn't envision my self to actually meet potential dates on the internet, I do have a fair share of experiences along that line. Which brings out some inner conflict coz it runs against the grain of my, ehem... fantasies.

Fantasies aside, however, the internet is no doubt one of the most convenient places to meet men. Honestly, I could not think of any other platform of doing so, having ditched the idea of randomly bumping into them in less-obvious places, i.e. bookstores, museums, or while traveling.

Am I putting such "venues" on a scale then? That it's more respectable to meet men in places other than the internet? Maybe so, although it does sound judgmental, no?

But really, the internet is sooo obvious. It's a marketplace where you blatantly put your self out there for the highest bidder (whatever that means) and where you likewise bid for that boy with the cutest smile but with a badly-written profile, hoping that somehow you could work something out (again, whatever that means).

Maybe I'm still stuck with the perception that the main motivation for gay men to be on these dating sites is just sex. That there's hardly any decent guy in a site where there are more torso shots and cock pictures than real faces. That there are no date-able guys in a site where 90 percent of the people are "looking for no strings attached hook-ups" or "I'm up for some high sex" (meaning there's some drugs involved) or "me lonely, looking for someone to take care me", and all those asinine profiles.

God knows I've a number of good friends whom I met in some gay dating site (you know who you are, bitches). And no, our meetings were not based on the premise of dating nor some mindless hook-up (God forbid!). It is clear enough for me that a few men on the internet are just out there to meet friends.

One time I was with a group of friends whom I met on the net and I was introduced to one of their female friends whose first question was "so how did you two meet?". I swear I just went red on the face and quickly threw a "help me out here, bitch" look to my friend who did not have any decent lie to say either other than, "why don't we sit down?" until the question was forgotten eventually.

A message to women: Never, and I mean NEVER, ask your gay friends where they meet their gay friends, OK? It's a rather sensitive question. Hmp.

This happened on more than one occasion. With such frequency of the question being asked I still do not know how to handle it other than, "that's a nice blouse you're wearing (you nosy cunt!)".

I'm truly aware that there's a prevailing stigma against meeting people on the net. In as much as I could prove that such perception has its many exceptions, I still wonder why I cannot shake off feeling disgraced.

And that's just for meeting friends. How much more if you solely concentrate on searching for a potential date, and say you find one, and realize later on that you did not meet in the most "decent" of venues.

Fuck decent! Is it me or just good-old Catholic guilt kicking in?

I guess I have to accept that there's nothing "indecent" about the internet. I can put it this way... before the internet people (and not just the gay kind) found ways of putting themselves out there for those who were also looking for potential dates.

I don't know, perhaps they go to a club or a dance hall. Or search through the pages of magazines headlined as "date finder" (remember them?). There would have been other venues, i.e. at parties, in school, at the workplace, etc.

So the internet comes in the picture and makes sifting through people essentially more convenient and even efficient (less time consumed, more comprehensive, etc.).

At the heart of these platforms, including the net (or any other more "decent" places), is that unrelenting hope that somehow, behind all those faces, behind all those ill-written profiles, behind the profusion of all the photoshopped abs, is someone who could be Prince Charming. And no, there's nothing "in-decent" about that.

Clasp

How it happened that I was holding hands with a boy in the middle of Silom a little after midnight last Saturday, half drunk and heading to buy pizza, started quite wrong, or unexpected at least.

I honestly didn't plan a hook-up last Friday or any day for that matter. I'm way too ooooold for them hook ups.

I was already home by around 9:30 p.m. from watching a movie alone last Friday. But a short MSN chat later I was headed to BKK's gayborhood and was sharing drinks and cigarettes with Yasmeen Ghauri.

I haven't had any sensible conversation with any guy these past many months (well, except from my guy friends, who technically do not count). We all know that there's a dearth of intellectually stimulating men in this city.

On MSN, Yasmeen Ghauri was intellectually sound enough to merit a meeting, at least for drinks, as my initial intention was (I swear!).

In fact Yasmeen Ghauri was way beyond sensible when I finally met him obfuscated with cigarette smoke. Behind the carbon monoxide, however, was a smart, articulate, and charming guy, thus (un)covering what's "right" about him. God knows that if you put an intelligent guy in front of me I get wobbly in the knees.

Having said that, he was also "wrong" on account of the fact that he was in BangCock for a short trip. I've for a long time now sworn off meeting these kind of guys for the most obvious reason that they are mainly here in BangCock to shag as many boys they can. I know I'm presumptuous, but am I not right?

Besides, and most importantly (ha!), he did not really come close to my required body mass index to make him remotely sexy in my book. You may kill me now.

Well obviously these "wrongs" outweighed the "rights", hence explaining why after stops in a couple of clubs and about half a dozen cocktails later, we ended up having cold pizza at his place and literally* dancing the swing at five in the morning. Queso!!! (I learned "queso" from Japheth.)

The next evening we had dinner (yes, I remember some candles on the table... charot!) while talking about global warming and third world debt (nah!). He really did most of the talking while I interrogated him on a host of topics about his life and views.

God, Yasmeen Ghauri can talk! Being a former journalist, his spiels are so vibrant yet tight. I was raptly listening the whole time, pretty much wishing that I can be as coherent as him.

When we went back to his place he shared with me three blogs that he writes. I had been reading them the past days and good gawd his writing is truly admirable. He makes the banal sound sensational, not to mention that (assuming he is writing honestly) his blogs reveal a romanticism in him that is quite endearing.

OK, let me wrap this up before I start worshiping the keypad of his notebook.

There's nothing much to say actually. He caught his flight last Sunday afternoon.

* To respond to Man of the Rose's question. Hihihihi.

Round Deux

I have accumulated a long list of topics in my notebook that I plan to blog about but I never had to chance to mull them over until they are finally buried in the rubble of other lists like names of supermodels and gay quotes from friends. [How about starting a post with a confusing run-on sentence, bitch?]

Anyway, one of the topics I've since overlooked is "second chances".

Rain caught Maggie Cheung and me while walking from Khao San Road last night so we were stuck in an awning for probably half an hour while the cold wind battered our frail bodies. Charot! We thus had the chance to get deep into the "second chances" discussion because she is doing a "second round" herself.

Oh, "second chances" and "second round" are terms I give to situations in which people decide to get back together after a temporary break-up.

In Tagalog: nagkabalikan. *Please someone give me an OPM soundtrack here.*

Incidentally, quite a number of my friends have recently gone through second rounds (again, you know who you are, girls). Obviously the reasons to give a relationship another chance are varied but it seems the overarching reason is that they still love their erstwhile exes.

I'm swooned with the idea of people giving love another chance. After all, a big part of loving is having the audacity to "just go for it", whatever "it" means. It's almost akin to blind faith.

I'm always happy to hear of friends who are doing well in their second round but it obviously breaks my heart to see some of my friends who took the opposite direction instead. I've even heard of people who took a third, fourth, fifth round but that does not still ensure that every renewal of a relationship would last long.

This clearly shows that there is no definite way to tell if second chances work.

God knows I'm NOT a relationship expert but here's my take on this topic: second chances work only if people do not make the same mistakes that destroyed the relationship to begin with. How profound, di ba? *The bayot rolls his eyes.*

People who give a second round to relationships are hoping that things would be a little different this time around, otherwise what's the point, right?

I'm sure it's very complicated coz at the same time the parties involved have to fully embrace the relationship like they're starting all over again. All the past issues should be settled and all past offenses be forgiven. I suppose the success or failure of second chances are contingent primarily (but not solely) on that.

Uh oh, I'd better shut up now. What do I know about these things anyway.

Well, I just thought that it'd be nice to invite some discussion on second chances. What are your thoughts on this?

While you think about that, let me call on the wisdom of Madonna (who else should it be anyway?)...

Gimme one more chance
Tell me that it's not too late
Let me win your love
Darlin' please don't hesitate
If you care for me
Be there for me

-- One More Chance
in Something to Remember, 1996

Dear Diary

As mentioned in this post, I managed to unearth some old journals I left in Surigao and Manila. Since I arrived back to BangCock I've been reading through them and had been continuously fascinated at how much I discover about myself when I was 14, 17, and so on.

I even ended most of my entries with a prayer to my guardian angel or something and that kept my eyes rolling as I went through the entries.

One particular journal stood out from the bunch though. Written within a span of nearly two and a half years (the first entry was in 2001 and the last was 2003), it covers my post-university days, particularly when I moved to Davao and then when I lived between Cebu and Surigao.

The first part mainly recorded my initial attempt at job-hunting. These were long, idle months, hence, I had the time to write about all the most mundane stuff on earth. And then I eventually found a job, explaining why there was a six-month gap in the entries.

I resumed writing in the journal when I had my first brush with, ehem, love. *Insert "Psycho" music here.* Well, particularly when I was heart-broken, which I touched on in this and this entries. Now this is where things became a bit more cringe-inducing when I read the entries a few days back.

I was YMing with a retired blogger (you know who you are!) about my reaction to the old entries and I told him that the main, BIG realization is: "Damn, the bayot has not changed!".

I was supposed to post here some lines from the journal to prove my point, but I digress. It's revealing way, way too much. I don't want to go into the details either.

Simply put, I could've written the exact entries down to the last word to describe how I felt a year ago, the last time I grieved over losing someone. *Insert "Jaws" music here.* I could even say the same thing for all the three times that I had my heart broken. Now that's a span of like six years, but my style is sooo last, last, last, last season it might as well be vintage. Sigh.

I also happen to have in my hands right now my old love letters with the second guy who broke my heart, and I also have my hidden blog to record the third instance. *Wince, wince, wince while rolling on the floor.* Ok, given these records, I tried to assess my relationship pattern.

And so when I was YMing with Retired Blogger (my personal process queen), I said that there seems to be a trend in my "relationships" (I could not help but put the quotation marks), or at least how they ended.

Without going into specifics, consistently it appears that they're a compendium of me being taken for granted by these men, or not being loved in return, or me not being in their priority list.

Always, and I mean ALWAYS, I just walk away without fuss, knowing very well that I cannot push my self down other people's throat. Begging is definitely out of the question. And well, the post-break-up part is a major story of its own (which I shall write about in the future. That too has a clear pattern.)

I'm curious if indeed it's very difficult to break relationship habits. I haven't talked to that many gay men about their relationship patterns, but I wonder what theirs would be if ever they have one. Or do they even bother to examine their past?

I just happen to obsessively document things, hence, I have something to look back to. But still for most people it would not require a found journal or a secret blog to plot their patterns. Why don't you tell me about yours?

Doing it Right

As promised, today I shall try to write about my approach on dating in Thailand, if any one cares to know. I have to stress the "in Thailand" coz certainly my current attitude towards dating has been shaped by the strangeness (to put it lightly) of the gay scene in this city, not least of all.

Also, I did not think so much about dating back when I was in Las Islas. So there, I am going to portray my self as a naive village lass who comes from this typhoon-plagued city facing the Pacific Ocean (wala lang, I just wanted to put that).

I come from a conservative Catholic country, and I am still frustratingly unable to completely shake off its remnants from my system.

I really wish I can, primarily to make things more convenient. But we all know that Catholic guilt is a bitch.

Or maybe it has nothing to do with it.

Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I did not pay a lot of attention to gay relationships before this. I wasn't so much into the gay scene back home. Most of my friends in Las Islas are women (you know who you are!).

Consequently, I thought that gay relationships are as simple as heterosexual ones: boy meets boy, they fall in love, and they live a happily monogamous relationship.

Gosh, how stupid of me.

So let's say I only had my awakening to the "reality" of gay life when I came to Thailand, where it seems the scene is veering towards the more hedonistic side, towards momentary pleasure-seeking and so on. Again, I'm not saying it is unique to Thailand; it could be true anywhere. (I know you're fed up with the disclaimers. Tse!)

I was bound to make mistakes from expecting people to see things the way I do. Some mistakes were minor and one or two were major ones (sweetie, you don't want to hear the sometimes funny, sometimes painful specifics of that).

Hay, I'm no freaking angel though. Absolutely far from it. I had my slutty episodes, mainly because I was allured by the availability of warm bodies to snuggle with.

Oh, I tried to embrace the inner Magdalena in me. Who would not? It was quite dazzling at first but it can also get mentally and emotionally draining, you know what I mean?

Sexual encounters are just that... encounters. Each time I imagine a sense of intimacy with anyone, I realized that these illusions are all transient and it leaves me rather hollow instead.

If I may put myself on my moral high-chair, I felt I was losing my dignity each time I submitted to my impulses.

Some friends told me that I don't need to over-think being a slut, after all, it's how the game is supposedly played in the gay scene.

Well, I simply can't do that. It bothered me that I'm starting to see people as means to my carnal needs and vice versa.

Some people can do that, and I'm sure they are fine, if not happy, with it. Oh, tell me about it, at least in the case of this city. I don't pass any judgment on people who do though. Absolutely not.

Personally, however, playing along with this kind of game definitely goes against the values (values daw!) I impose on myself.

Just earlier tonight, I was talking to my dear sister from a different mother, Bubbles, and he asked me why I've not been doing the rounds for some time now. I told him I refuse to sustain it. It's simply a matter of preference. It's akin to saying that doing the rounds do not go with my skin tone, nor the color of my eyes. It's not my aesthetic. Choz!

Bubbles said: Aba, aba, aba, nagmamaganda kang bakla ka! (Can someone please translate this to English?)

I know, Bubbles can be such a... you know the rest. (Peace, Bubbles!)

Well, I'm definitely not saying that I would not submit to temptations EVER again. I'm not a saint, am I? If for instance Ananda Everingham invites me to bed, would I say no? Of course I would say no coz that's already the husband of Fuchsiaboy. Charing!

Babbling on...

My current approach is to do dating right. And one of the ways of doing it "right" is to be the person that I'm looking for in others. Hay, don't start me on my standards or expectations. How much time do we exactly have, anyway?

Simply put, I cannot demand from others what I cannot give. Fair enough, chai mai?

One friend told me that it's expecting too much, especially from the gay scene. Considering the prevalent mindset of instant gratification, perhaps I should consider making adjustments to my criteria.

Is it too much to expect sincerity, honesty, and commitment from people? Am I reaching for the stars here? I don't think so.

If it is, then I'd rather be alone. I'm perfectly happy with that rather than go into some pseudo relationships just for the sake of having a relationship even it compromises my values. I'd rather knit. I'd rather water my plants. I'd rather finish the beading in my traje de boda. I'd rather eat carbs... este, fruits.

Oh, don't give me that you're-definitely-not-going-to-find-Mr. Perfect speech. I'm not looking for Mr Fucking Perfect, bitch.

As an extreme example, I'd rather have a two-week affair, say, once every three years with someone whom I know is sincere with the relationship (I definitely have a broad definition of a "relationship"). Compare this with having a partner for two years or two decades but I stick with him just because it's convenient but the relationship is anyway full of perfidy and lacking in commitment.

Am I making sense here? Probably not. Sigh.

Quality over quantity, that's what I mean, bitch.

However, I don't think it's unrealistic to look for people who share my values. And common values are fundamental in healthy relationships. Maybe there's only a handful, hard-to-find men out there who see things the way I do, but it does not perturb me at all.

I simply refuse to be trapped in the search. There are just way too many better things to do, di ba?

Call me an idealistic, hypocritical, and preachy bastard but if I don't stick to my ideals I know I would be living a lie. At the core of people is their ideals and values; we should resist the temptation of departing from them only to make life, hmmm, convenient.

I remember this line from Revolutionary Road: "And you know what's so good about the truth? Everyone knows what it is how ever how long they've lived without it. No one forgets the truth... they just get better at lying."

On that note... I shall close this incoherent nonsense. Please don't take me seriously. What do I know about these things, really? It's just me spewing gibberish at two in the morning.

I've said what I needed to say on this topic. I'd try not to venture into the matter in the near future. I think I'm better at writing about campiness. I shall resume to my frivolous and flippant tone in the coming posts.

Thanks for reaching this far in this entry anyhow. You have no idea how it challenged my attention span, bitch.

Asus!

A Take on Gay Dating in the Land of Smiles

While we are on the discussion of dating in Thailand, which was started in the previous post, I might as well comment on how it's like to be gay in this country (especially as a foreigner), or at least how I see it.

Disclaimer: True to the spirit of blogging, this post includes my interpretations and observations, and do not in any way represent everyone's experience (God knows that's impossible).

Also, I'm certainly going to make a few assumptions, but these do not necessarily speak for everyone I refer to, so please excuse whatever generalizations I may make.

Most of my observations are either from my own experience or that of the many foreigners (both Asians and Westerners) that I have the chance to talk with about the matter.

I also read quite a number of blogs and forums, which are mostly written by BKK-based Westerners (solely because of language limitations). My references are definitely limited.

Moreover, I do not know enough non-Westerners in Thailand, except for Pinoys, so my impressions might have a cultural bias.

Dahling, you don't expect me to be comprehensive and totally impartial, do you?

Lastly, I do not claim that my observations are unique to Thailand. I'm describing what I see IN Thailand and if something similar exists in other countries it'd be nice to get inputs from the people who stumble into this blog.

There, I put these things out in the open at the onset coz I want to minimize bitching in this blog. Dahling, I'm the only bitch in this blog, ok?

Let's move on...

For most gay men, Thailand has this allure as a "gay paradise" because of its relaxed, if not tolerant, attitude towards homosexuals. Many gay tourists and retirees are attracted to Thailand mainly for that reason.

However, the country also pulls in a sizable number of gay men in their 20s and 30s to live and work here, probably because they know that they can have a relatively free gay lifestyle in Thailand.

Given their expectations, many of those who first come to Thailand are still overwhelmed by the numerous opportunities to meet and date men. The supply of willing men is nearly boundless.

Many foreign gay men go on a virtual feeding frenzy, particularly the sexpats and the sex tourists. One can simply go to Soi Twilight for instance and you'd be greeted by a profusion of charming, lithe boys.

Sexpats and sex tourists aside, the general relaxed and fun-loving attitude of Thais make dating fairly easy. And I'm defining "dating" here in the broad sense, although most of the time it's oriented towards the sexual kind. We all know how stunning Thai men are. It helps of course that many of them do not have reservations on flirting with any one they like.

I've heard from many gay foreigners who are supposedly hit on virtually incessantly... everywhere. One could just get an account or two in gay dating sites or visit a club to see your "market value".

Many are even surprised at the surge of attention they suddenly get, which implies that they do not usually get the same from where they come.

With so much temptation before them, many fall into a long string of one-night stands and other forms of sexual adventurism, perhaps at the cost of forging nurturing relationships with any of these men they sleep with.

Why settle for one when you can have as many as you want, chai mai?

I suppose many gay men the world over adopt the approach above. And clearly Thailand is no different and both locals and foreigners are caught up in the same hunger for more, more, more.

I have the impression, however, and I hope I'm wrong, that the insatiable sexual promiscuity in Thailand (again, among both locals and foreigners) is a little too wide-spread for my taste. But clearly, gazillions of gay men in this city are into it.

I've heard of people saying that foreigners come here only to take advantage of the naive locals, while some argue that locals are the ones preying on the naive foreigners. Which brings me to assert that there are no "victims" in the gay scene in Thailand (ok, I'm not talking about the realm of prostitution here coz that is a totally different topic).

That's a simplistic way of putting things though, and for sure there are many layers to the foreigner-local relations. There are for instance nuances in morals, values, income, education, culture, and general approach to relationships that come into the picture.

But at the end of the day, most gay men just play along with the game. Dahling, we are all grown men here, are we not? Again the prevalence of the game-playing is something I'm still trying to understand.

If anyone asks me what it's like to be gay in BangCock, I always tell them that it's very convenient to be gay in this city. It's all about accessibility, ease, and availability... sounds like Seven-Eleven!

Just like Seven-Eleven, you get the same junk food day-in and day-out. Forget about quality, mi amor.

As such, I'm perturbed that I rarely (meaning, "not often" but not exactly "never") see "normal" relationships in BangCock at least. Or perhaps my definition of "normal" is way too limited, even too fundamentalist (a.k.a. heterosexual). Hahaha.

Also, I'm aware that I do not know enough people, especially locals, who are, again, in a "normal" relationship. Or perhaps I simply know the "wrong" kind of people ("wrong" meaning a relationship that do not conform to my definition of "normal", and not as a moral judgment).

(Gosh, clarifying my terms is soooo taxing ha. Jing jing!)

Ok, for now all I need is someone to prove how wrong I am with my description of dating in Thailand.

Because I'm on a roll, tomorrow I shall write about my approach to dating and relationships in Thailand. Stay tuned, bitches.

Bitch Unleashed

Whenever I have friends (especially the gay kind) visit BKK one of their FAQs is how are Thai men in the context of dating. I always tell them: "Dahling, don't get me started on that. How much time do you have exactly?"

I have to say that it is not my most favorite topic, especially when talking to visitors coz as much as possible I want to show them the more positive facets of living in BKK. By that statement alone, you can figure out what my impression is on dating Thai men.

This has been a topic that I've been tempted to write about in this blog. However, I don't think it's appropriate for me to comment on such a rather sensitive discussion mainly because of the nature of my job.

I don't want to be dethroned of my Miss World Peace of the Millennium title, do I?

Thank God we have the brazen Bitch of Bangkok (BoB) who recently posted an entry titled Why do you love Thai boys?. Many of the points that BoB raised in that article are nothing new to me. In fact, BoB is a close friend and we have discussed the "issue" many times before, as he also noted in the said article.

Let me pick up a few lines from the very sharp piece:

On sex... "There was hardly any innovation, fantasy, passion, even technique...I met no one who could kiss well... Generally, after a non-existent foreplay of about 2 minutes, my partners would ask me for condoms. Given the disappointment, I wonder why Thais are possibly the world's most famous prostitutes, sexworkers and moneyboys..."

On personality...

"Unreliability: Thais work on impulses. If something appears to be good right now, if something tickles their fancy, it must be done or bought."

"Loyalty: I have met at least 5 guys who told me they have a boyfriend, mostly after sex. As far as I have seen and heard (quite a lot), everyone cheats. Long live the gig culture!!!"

Clearly the article resonated with a number of men who have their own encounters with Thai men. This follow-up post summarizes some of the comments left by readers. Interestingly, I've also talked about the topic with many non-Thais and almost all of them nearly have the the same arguments as BoB.

While it's very tempting to add my views on the discussion, for now I'd keep my opinions on the matter to my self coz I'm obviously not as courageous as BoB. Let's put it this way, both posts made me nod my head several times until I nearly broke my frail neck.

For those interested to get an insight on dating in BKK, BoB's opinions are absolutely worth checking.

The W1 Chronicles: Suds

Nota / Sakru Na, Kah / Pahabilin / Teka, teka, teka...

This post is a second entry to a two-part series (choz!). I recommend you read this post first, which is also found immediately after this entry. Yun na! Tse!

Let's continue the story, mi amigas, shall we?

After first meeting W1 we continued to keep in touch. We sensed that we had a stronger relationship and so the communication intensified, and the feelings as well.

My longing for him was serious. I started making plans to move to Cebu to be with him, and he knew this fully well and was supportive of it.

I finished the research project I was working on and soon after I packed my stuff and left Davao for Cebu. It was the end of the summer of 2002, I was beaming with the promise of being with the person I loved.

I lived with my friend for a few weeks and started looking for a job, while at the same time trying to get in touch with W1. I could not reach him for some reason that escapes me now. I tried calling his house but supposedly he was out of town for a week for his grandmother's funeral.

Anyway, I waited. And waited. At some point I stopped trying to get in touch coz I knew that he would be the one to call me when he was available.

Also, I rationalized that if he was really into the relationship, he'd find ways to contact me coz he knew fully well that I already moved to Cebu for him.

Bastard did not call and he remained unavailable.

I even sent a number of emails to tell him that I was already in Cebu. I even emailed him my mobile number, just in case he lost it. My letters went unanswered.

Whenever I wandered around Cebu I was constantly searching the faces of the crowd, hoping that I would somehow stumble into him. I was certain that we'd find each other.

But apparently I could not find someone who's hiding from me, di ba? This is a classic tale of naglaho nang parang bula.

I spent my days in Cebu making sense of what happened to W1 and me. I filled pages and pages of my journal, pouring out my frustration and disappointment. I'd sit for hours in a coffee shop writing. (Note to self: look for that journal in a baul in Manille.)

It did not help that my friend went home to Surigao and I had no one to talk to. I busied my self with my job-hunting, but that also went unsuccessful.

Eventually I divided my time between Surigao and Cebu. I remember filling my days with moping and writing long journal entries that I realized only sucked me deeper into the vortex of loneliness.

For months, I would whisper "I love you" before I sleep coz that's what we said to each other every night.

For the first time I realized what it meant to be broken-hearted and that you actually feel it in your gut. I never thought it was that literal.

I had many questions in my head, mainly if he felt the same way for our relationship as I did. I wondered if all that was just an illusion he created, I don't know, for lack of better things to do perhaps. I questioned his honesty and loyalty and ultimately if he loved me at all, which he said he did.

I dissected the questions over and over again for many months. Often I'd just find my self staring into empty space, playing the same questions in my head that I've thought about nearly every idle moment I had.

My friend told me that I needed proper closure, a concept I could not grasp at that time. I simply wanted answers and the more I pore over them the more annoyed I got at my self for being such a wimp.

Six months after moving to Cebu, I received an SMS from W1. He apologized for disappearing just like that. He confessed that his ex and him got back together and he did not have the courage to tell me about it. Oh, classic.

By then I had gotten so tired of thinking about us his explanation did not matter anymore. I just wanted it to end. I don't know what "it" means really. But I just remember feeling angry at him and at my self for being that stupid.

One more thing... during that exchange of SMSes the bastard even had the gall to ask for my photo. Someone please help me make sense of this request coz until now that is still the biggest conundrum of the whole affair.

So I sent him this picture...

Meowwww...

I could not remember anymore exactly how I recovered. What I'm certain about is that it took me nearly nine months to get over a three-month long-distance relationship. Gosh, if that sounds pathetic, it truly was.

It helped that I eventually moved back to Davao after seven months of being jobless. I felt that I was defeated big time on all fronts. Thankfully, my former organization took me back and that's how I lived in Davao for another three years.

In 2004, W1 found me on Friendster and he sent me a crappy message that he had been "looking around" for me "all over the place" for quite some time now. The bayot rolls his eyes.

The W1 Chronicles: Textmate

A few days ago a couple of friends and I were talking about the first time we fell in love. Both of them had a lot of things to say about their first foray into that thing that drives most of us a tad nuts.

Remarkably, they confessed to have indeed went mad in their first relationships (and I shall not go into the details of that coz I assume they read this blog).

I tried my best to ask as many questions about their "cases", hoping that they'd exhaust themselves answering my queries and that I'd successfully dodge being asked about my case as well, which was how the conversation exactly turned out: an interrogation I manipulated.

Thinking about my first relationship still makes me cringe, albeit with a streak of amusement rather than of bitterness. Well OK, I'm still embarrassed about it, hence I avoid any chance of discussing its details.

I knew I went freaking crazy then and if anything it says about my high propensity to be quite stupid when in love.

Well, I have the best excuse for being rash... I was young then. Basta, the story of my first love is full of embarrassing, juvenile whimsy, which we have the right to at least once in our life.

Tse!

Thinking about it last night, I said punyeta if I'm going to go through with this tale in my head again I might as well post it on the blog para naman maaliw ang publique ko. For the sake of shared amusement ba. And we all know how much steam this blog lacks, di ba?

Hay, intricately going through such an excuse is taking up so much space ha, might as well move on to the story... keri?

I was twenty-one then, fresh from the university and so I was just hanging out and jobless in Surigao. His mobile number was given to me by a friend whom he was chatting with on MIRC (gosh, does anyone still use this at all? Shows how ooooold I really am, no?).

Itago natin sya sa pangalang W1. He was based in Cebu and was an architecture student then.

Anyway, this is the classic tale of a textmate (the bayot cringes here). We were just texting galore for a few months until I moved to Davao to work. We occasionally met in MIRC as well. So basically, that's how we maintained the friendship for months.

I could not exactly remember how and why we became "intimate" with our SMSes and chatting. Perhaps we were both bored, but sometime in December 2001 we agreed that we become lovers (again, I cringe here).

Lord, that was my first time to fall in love, I swear.

Basta, just thinking of him took my breath away and it was kilig all over the place for me. It does not help that he was really, really sweet (whatever that means) so tuluyan nang nahulog na ang loob ng bakla, di ba?

Beyond any logic, I fell in love with someone whom I have not met yet; but despite that I felt that the relationship was real.

I jumped into my idea of how I should act as someone who is committed to a person he loves. I did not date anyone and I showed him that I really cared.

Two months into the relationship I had the chance to travel to Cebu with my family.

We met in... what's that mall? Uhmmm... Glorietta Cebu at Bo's Coffee Shop, to be precise. Having seen his picture before, I still could not help being swooned by his gorgeous Chinese looks. He had this exquisitely androgynous face and a naughty smile. He was a lot shorter than I am but he had the smoothest skin and delicate eyes.

I remember him sitting under some sort of accent lighting in the dim coffeshop. In my eyes he practically glowed. My most memorable image was of him gently licking his full lips after taking a sip from his coffee cup.

It was extremely surreal to be in his company. For months I was loving someone who just existed in my head and our proximity that evening made everything that I felt for him absolute.

After a couple of hours of awkward chikahan, we took a cab to a motel. Sogo: somewhere near the University of San Carlos. Classic, di ba?

Gosh, I know I'm a slut. Oh, a virgin slut at that. While in that cab I remember thinking to my self: "Dios mio, ma-devirginize ka na nga sa motel pa." How romantic, no?

Anyway, I'd skip the details of that night in a motel room with red lighting. Basta, it went surprisingly well, thanks to the dozens and dozens of gay porn I watched, proving the education value of Belami, Randy Blue, Sean Cody, and their ilk. But that will be another post. ;-)

The next day, my family and I went back to Surigao. While on the overnight boat, his scent still lingered in my memory.

That was the first and last time I'd see W1.

To be continued...

Itutuloy...

Taking Chances

First there was this post from G's blog.

And then minutes ago I watched this 12-minute short film (for the love of God, please watch this touching clip).

Are these signs?!

To tell or not to tell?

To make a move or not?

Where do I get the courage?

Singular Delusion

I have to give credit to Jericho's post on being single for inspiring me to write this entry.

So here's my take on being single.

For some reason, I recently had similar discussions with many of my gay friends. I wonder why it come up almost constantly as a topic of conversation and I've presented my argument over and over again these past months that I might as well post it here.

Also, it has happened not more than once that when I go MSNing or YMing with my friends in Las Islas Filipinas (you know who you are, bitches), they would pretty much automatically ask me how my "love life" is.

Is it expected that we always have to have a "love life" that they even skip the question if I'm even dating, let alone if I want to be in a relationship at all?

When people know that I've been single for the past five years, I'm often asked if it is by choice or circumstance. I wish I have a more simple answer to that question but it has never been about just one reason.

Sometimes it's exclusively a choice or exclusively because of circumstance, or a combination of both, with one reason stronger than the other. And even that changes over time and I often find my self constantly swinging from one direction to another.

Does that sound a bit complicated? Well, because it truly is.

It would take me days to explain my thoughts on relationships (asus, emote di ba?), but by and large I would classify into the following categories the reasons why I'm not in a relationship right now:

1) Mobility. Most of the time I honestly don't have an idea where I'd find my self within the next two years. And you know what they say, always travel light. With all my shoes, coats, hats, couture gowns, AND toiletries, do you think I still have enough space for a man in my luggage?

2) Priority. Simply, I have better and more immediate things to do. Like, I don't know, knitting, gardening, photo shoots, charity balls, etc. Come to think of it, if I really want a relationship, I would have worked on it with single-mindedness a long time ago. But obviously, I don't want it that bad enough.

3) Lack of suitable men. Am I alone on this impression that the men we have around are just appallingly not trust-worthy? As decent human beings, how difficult is it to be sincere, committed, honest, and genuine? Am I reaching for the stars here? I don't think so. And no, dahling, don't get me started on the men in BangCock.

4) Fear of rejection and pain. Now we all have this, no? But mine is stronger than most people, it seems. I wish I were more daring to jump into a relationship fairly easily but knowing really well what an emotional queen I am, I choose to protect my self from, well... my self! Somebody give me courage. I can handle dry skin very well but definitely not a broken heart. You have no idea.

5) Not so positive view on relationships. I always, always ask my self if these relationships are ever worth it. It is clear that these are not forever, so what is the point exactly of starting one at all? To have at least good memories with someone? Rolls eyes. Because you learn your lessons and you emerge a better person after a relationship? Yeah right.

(At this point, the bayot realizes that this post is long-ish already, which is a real challenge to my lazy, lazy ass.)

So there, that's basically the top five reasons. And looking at it now, I appear selfish, no? But aren't we all?

Anyway, where do I stand right now given these factors? It's basically a confluence of the five but in most of my conversations with my friends, it appears that my fear of rejection and pain is more prominent for now.

Negative self-talk is also taking its toll. Call it pessimism but I think it is just being realistic and pragmatic.

But no, I've not closed my doors to possibilities. Absolutely not. I know I have so much love to give (asus!!!) and with all objectivity, I'm fairly easy to tolerate (ask my mom), but really, just show me a person worth werqing for and let's talk business.

For the mean time, I'm very much happy baking sugar-free cookies.

Green Stuff and Thingies

A few months ago a close friend left for Farangland for a few weeks. Since someone had to take care of his adorable potted plants, he brought them over to my house and were thus under my custody. I placed the the seven pots (the plants were small) under my window and I realized they did bring so much life into my tiny, and virtually lusterless bedroom.

I tried my best to water them everyday but still some of them were wilting. I reckoned I should've customized the level of care (or at least how much water) I gave them, but I thought it was too much work. Oh, these details bore me! So I watered them ONLY when they started wilting or drying. Otherwise, why should I bother, right? Eventually two of the seven plants shrank into a dry mess - with brown leaves scattered on my floor - while the rest of them alternated between nearly dead to barely surviving.

My friend returned to Bangkok a couple of months ago and it was only two nights back that he picked them up coz I already panicked that the plants would all die if they stay any longer with me. I was never more relieved that I'm not responsible anymore for them green stuff.

I did miss the plants though, to be quite honest. For about three months they were part of my room; poor, helpless beings (if I can call them such) that depend on me... or at least my mood on either to water them or not. And definitely, the space they left in the room looked like a bleak, barren surface.

Yesterday was a holiday. I went to the flower market very close to my place and picked two large potted plants. I was planning to buy a tall bamboo plant - after all I am Kawadjan - but the ones sold at the market are all deeply unattractive and tired-looking. Is it impossible to find a graceful, healthy bamboo these days? Am I reaching for the stars here? Not really. (Miranda Priestly isdatchyu?)

Searching through the shops at the market, I settled for a small bamboo plant and a tall thingie (I don't have an idea what it's called) that supposedly bears flowers all-year round. Duh, I could never care less if it bears rambutan or durian. (I do smell some flowery scent in my room every time I enter it.) What attracted me to the the tall thingie is it's frame: statuesque, slender and sinuous, reminds me of a supermodel. Fierce!

I'm calling the bamboo Du Juan, after the famous ballerina turned supermodel, and the other thingie shall be called Natasha Poly, who we all know is the current queen of the runway. Both plants are the foot of my bed, watching over me, their mommy, as I pout while sleeping.

This is only the second time that I've seriously taken any living thing under my care. (The episode with my friend's plants does not count coz they were just entrusted to me.)

When I was in the university, I took care of a hamster (and I'm actually FREAKING scared of rodents). Six months later it died of starvation. I know, it sounds harsh. But I actually forgot to feed my pet. I found it shrunken into a heap of fur one day. Is it my fault if it did not know how to strictly follow a diet of paper dipped in fish sauce? I don't think so.

This time, aside from the aesthetic value of the plant, I want to see how many days these plants would survive. To begin with, they hardly need maintenance besides watering. Now given that simple, mindless task, I wonder if I can in fact be responsible for something at all, aside from my trivial, selfish pursuits. It's actually a challenge that I set for my self.

And if this proves successful after a year, let's see if I can take care of a tiny pet (perhaps a turtle or a spider?)... uhmm, something non-high maintenance. And again, if the undemanding pet survives after a year, why don't I try having a boyfriend? Well at least I had two years practice, no?

Makes sense?

Shelf Life: The Reader

I hardly read books twice. In fact I immediately forget the plot of a book, or at least what remains in me are memories of what I felt when reading the book, but always I don't have the gift of remembering specific scenes or lines from books, novels in particular.

Once in a while however, a book comes that tugs my heart, those that haunt me for days after I finish it. It might be the language, the writing style, or the plot, but somehow it lingers a bit. And when I run out of things to read, I often have the compulsion to read them again and they still have the same entrancing effect. Or maybe I discover a new layer to it on the second reading.

I think it was in Elegy that one character said that a book always changes when you read it again coz the reader changes too.

I read The Reader (Bernard Schlink), ages ago when I was still living in Davao. And I read it again when I moved to Manila, finding it in the rubble of books at the Evangelista flea market (fuck, I miss that place!).

It's a pretty thin book, and such an easy read all the time. But for its brevity, the book expresses a whole gamut of emotions, from passion to longing, from guilt to defiance, and from misery to exoneration.

Set in post-WW 2 Germany, it's a coming of age story of a boy who reads to an older woman, his lover. She disappears suddenly and their paths cross many years later in the courtroom. The woman is tried for her involvement in the concentration camps and that's when, as a young lawyer in training, the protagonist realizes that the woman is illiterate, a fact that she hides at the cost of her freedom.

A few months ago, a boy gave me a copy of The Reader. (We shall call the boy Kon Kaen.) He was quite disappointed to know that I've read the novel twice, but it was obvious that I was excited when he gave it to me. I told him how much I love the book.

I brought the book with me on a recent trip and only then did it dawn on me how oddly unique Kon Kaen is, or at least our relationship was. I thought he was another internet hook-up until it became apparent that it meant more to him.

On some nights he would just appear outside my building, unannounced. I do like his company, but the thing is, he and I had a major communication gap. Like, he can only speak a handful of English and my Thai is far worse (practically nothing).

On most nights that we were together, we would just sit on my rooftop and stare at the bridge and the clouds. Sometimes our eyes would meet and he would giggle, for lack of better things to say.

More than a month ago, Kon Kaen left for work in Canada. We managed to keep in touch through MSN (like I was just chatting with him earlier today, which prompted me to write this post). I honestly miss him. But it seems odd that I'm feeling this now coz I never really gave him a chance.

He was one of the few guys who exerted effort to sustain our friendship, a rarity in this city. He is probably the only local I met who had a shred of passion in him.

But still I pushed him away. I knew it was not going to work anyway. The communication gap was too big a factor. I disappointed him over and over again, but what can I do?

Keeping in touch with him now is probably my way of making amends with him. I just want to know that he is happy, which he said he is. Today, he saw snow for the first time.

On a related note, The Reader has been made into a movie, directed by Stephen Daldry (The Hours, Blly Elliot) and top-billed by the divine Kate Winslet and Ralph Feinnes. See the IMDB entry here.