Fucks and Figures

Is there something sick with the fact that at this very moment I have a black notebook right before me that has a list of the men I've slept with?

Does anybody else do this? Can someone please tell me I'm like, I don't know, normal?

Wait, I actually know one who does the same. My friend even has his list in Excel, color coded, and annotated (you know who you are!!!).

On the other hand, my list, with the heading Kalalakihan (men), is just in this humble notebook, hand-written.

You might ask why I bother listing the men I slept with. Well, I'm a manic "documenter". I keep movie tickets, park tickets, boarding passes, bus tickets, receipts, and I list pretty much everything that comes to mind (books, movies, things to buy, things to NOT buy, galleries visited, plays watched, clothes worn this week, etc.).

So it is definitely natural for me to have a list of my sex partners, di ba? Why should I exempt it, aber? It's purely documentation.

I actually transferred the list from a smaller notebook last weekend, and I was reminded then that, hmmmm, it's a good material for a blog entry.

And it also happened that this afternoon, for some reason I could not remember now, Fuchsiaboy suggested that I might as well list these men. I told him that such list exists and a post shall be written about it.

So Donita Rosemary "Baby" Arenas, here it is.

(Gosh, someone tell me to stop this entry right now.)

Without further talak, let's go to the numbers...

Total number of men I've slept with: 36

It wasn't difficult at all to remember these men when I started this list about a couple of years ago. There wasn't that many. I must've have missed three people or so, but this is as far as I can recollect

But I certainly could not remember all of their names. That is simply not possible (as a friend once declared: Who bothers with names these days?).

But the majority of them have names. For those I can't recall I simply call them with nicknames, such as: Sugar (coz he has some sugarcane plantation in Bukidnon), Dishwasher (obvious!), Waiter (again, obvious!), and so on.

I also listed them in chronological order as much as possible and it appeared that of the 36, I slept with only 11 men in the Philippines (but not necessarily all were Filipinos).

Talking of nationalities, I've slept with 10 Filipinos, which had been surpassed by Thais at 13.

More interesting for me, however, is that out of the 36, only 7 of those guys had a repeat performance (that means I slept with them at least twice). Which makes all the other 29 as one-night stands.

Such a record to be totally proud of. NOT!

Gosh, that confirms what I slut I am! But we all know that.

Now let's talk about frequency. From the first time I was sexually active, I've had sex with only 11 men within a six-year period (that's before I moved to Thailand).

Contrast that with 27 men within the past two years. I clearly found the whore in me when I arrived in BangCock.

In fact, within May and December 2008 (eight months) I slept with 17 men (compared with just 11 men within six years in the Philippines).

However, as for my record in 2009, the Czarina of Penang only has this to say: Dios mio, mas maraming bagyo pa ang sumalanta sa Pilipinas sa taong 'to!

(Roughly translating to: My God, more typhoons have ravaged the Philippines this year!)

How many typhoons have we had ba? Ask PAG-ASA.

Libog Blues

I never thought the day would come when I'd refuse an outright invitation to have sex with this uber sexy Thai guy I met at a Silom bar. Let's call him Jack. I've seen him in the club on several occasions before and damn, he's gawgeous. Fucking gawgeous. But then he's always at some distance from me, I would just satisfy my self with stealing glances at him and his other equally hot friends.

A couple of nights ago, courtesy of the endless shoving of people in the bar, I found Jack inches from where I stood. Our eyes met, he smiled, I had an orgasm (charing!). We held hands and danced. Several times his hands would grab parts of my body I would not dare mention here. The introductions came later, which is often the case in these kinds of encounters anyway. More minutes of dancing and touching passed, and then he whispered that he's going home.

"I want you to come with me," he said.

"I can't."

He gave me that cute pleading look.

"I just can't, I'm sorry," I replied.

He smiled and left, with me muttering to my self, "Shet sayang! Shet, shet, sheeeeet!!!"

When the Pranses left for the holidays, I was at a quandary over what we really are. I reckoned we have something going on but still nothing serious enough to stop me from seeing other men. Saw other men I did! In the course of the past three weeks, I met two former "dates", and definitely these are innocuous meetings. Coffee, dinner, movie. There were instances when things tread dangerous territory but I've successfully managed to pull away from all the kalibugan, thank God. Also, with the frequency of my visits to gay clubs lately, I constantly find my self avoiding having eye contact with men for fear that things would go out of control. OK, a transgression was made a couple of nights back. But in all other cases, I simply danced my night to exhaustion.

PJ says I'm sort of stupid to let hedonistic opportunities go unexploited. If I do otherwise, I am not in any way violating my so-called "relationship" with the Pranses coz he and I do not have any relationship to speak of. Maybe PJ is right. Maybe this is my inner drama queen kicking in yet again.

All I really want is to look the Pranses straight in the eye when he comes back. Fuck, that Pranses better be worth all these bloody sacrifices.

The Curse of the Fuck Buddy

The quintessential fuck buddy or FWB (as in friends with benefits). Everybody has one these days, don't you think? I had two in the VERY distant past and I seem to have no problem with the arrangement. In fact I immensely enjoyed them.

But guess what the New York Times says about it?

Yet relationships in which close friends begin having sex come with their own brand of awkwardness, according to the first study to explore the dynamics of such pairs, often called friends with benefits, or F.W.B..

The relationships tend to have little romantic passion, but stir the same fears that stalk lovers: namely, that one person will fall harder than the other.

Paradoxically, and perhaps predictably, the study suggests, these physical friendships often occlude one of the emotional arteries of real friendship, openness. Friends who could once talk about anything now have an unstated taboo topic — the relationship itself. In every conversation, there is innuendo; in every room, an elephant.

You can read the full article here.

I think I have a blossoming FWB. And it appears that the above article is getting very true to me, especially the walking-on-eggshells feeling. Whew, stressful.

Live Show

My bedroom, located on the sixth floor, has a considerable good view of the neighborhood. In particular, it looks over a number of tourist inns or guesthouses. The exciting opportunities from my vantage point was proved yesterday when I saw an actual couple having sex on the rooftop of the guesthouse beside my building. It was 8 a.m., I was preparing for work, when from my peripheral vision I saw bodies intertwined in pleasure. The man was a foreigner (white) and the girl was a local. They provided themselves a mat to lie on and a rather flimsy and small blanket as cover. But the blanket keeps on slipping coz they were pretty much going through the entire Kama Sutra under the morning sun.

I couldn't help but watch of course. Like how many times does one see a live sex show for free? I had to close my curtains though, save for a small gap. But the fun of being voyeur wore off in no time. Besides, I want to leave them whatever privacy was left from their very public exhibition (they're lucky because our building is the only tall structure in the vicinity).

Sex shows aside, I got a bit lonely yesterday. I realized I miss the company of really close friends, especially my sister and girl friends. Since coming, I mostly go out with officemates who have been the nicest persons around. It does not help however that it's an effort for them to speak English. More importantly, there's obviously a huge difference between them and close friends. I just miss the intimacy that takes place when having long talks with the latter. And I'm quite surprised of this loneliness coz I'm fundamentally a loner.

Anyhoot, these feelings go with the gamble. I want to give my self more time na lang.

Going off to Pattaya tomorrow morning for a meeting. First time out of Bangkok. Will post pictures of course.