Dear Migs,

I have been an avid reader of your blog site for almost a year now. My friend shared me your site- maybe in his desire to facilitate answers to my redundant questions about manila masseurs faster than he really could. In fact, I would not allow a day to pass without visiting your wellness link to update my list of the latest scoops and hot masseurs that should soon be tucked into my suitcase before my departure to manila for me and fellow PLU’s annual Christmas vacation.

I am Nel, a closeted gay in my late forties, an accountant by profession who acquired a citizenship here in USA after I was petitioned by my employer/lover. I have too many complexities in my personality that had been brought about by the numerous hazy chapters of my gay life. I’d like to share some of my own experience, just to find release after I made some disclosures about my murky past as reaction to a comment posted by one of your readers (masseurs, masseurs post. comments #’s 1359, 1361 and 1366.) I’d like to see it posted as a contribution in your site, so that others may be inspired and believe there is life after the massage bed or for whatever purpose it could serve to the readers.

Thanks,
Nel

It’s nearly been three decades now that I have done everything possible to bury an old memory of a dark past- all available evidences had been burned or stashed away so that I can go ahead and forget this segment of my life.

While I was pursuing my college I work part time as a massage attendant in DATU and NY5 in the early ’80s. I belonged to the league of Larry, Veda & Romy who during the establishment’s heydays were considered the best and most requested among the crop of masseurs in town.

My love affair with rubbing other people’s back was prompted due to my dire need for great financial support in acquiring a diploma in college. With a hope to end up as a career pigeon and free my family out of poverty, I accepted an invitation of a long lost cousin, Romy, who worked as a masseur in Datu spa. I can still vividly remember my first day. It was an emotional rollercoaster ride having survived three servings of carnal lust in-house and one outcall that really drawn me into deep slumber after my last salvo of sexual arousal and satisfaction. As a greenhorn, I was thrown into this den of patrons who were totally mindless of my ignorance to the basic deliverables of my job; I was tuning my body into a robotic capsule, withstanding undesirable odor and enduring sound bytes that were then erratic to my ears. I allowed myself to be touched, I felt and I liked it… I learned to bring resources to myself, slowly building an audience whom I can make laugh then moan… and they craved for more- my company, my body, for all its worth.

Those days introduced me to a new world of human behavior, through the people I met and served. Except for a few, the characters were mostly older and were still searching like me- whose backgrounds run to the whole range of social status, nationality, upbringing and education. By doing outcalls, I encountered different lifestyles and by dating them, I learned to understand the intellectuals, the mediocre and the talentless hordes; I saw the super powerful, the uncertain, and like me, the downright petrified. We had one thing in common: they too were sensorial-visceral. They need to see and touch things for them to experience satisfaction. Even as a masseur in a quasi-legitimate venue like DATU and NY5, I had neither encountered abusive, demanding nor uncouth behavior among the many clients I had served. Massage aficionados demanded simpler whims then and they all have one objective, one dream: to be touched, be felt.

Before I can cause a minute to hold another year in the spa, I found myself employed as an accounting clerk for a legislator- a regular client who supported me in pursing the remaining years of my education. Although I was under his employed, he permitted me to continue moonlighting as a masseur to my regular well paying guests on my spare time. With patience and determination I finished my degree in college, passed the board exams and remained loyal to the last year of this legislator’s government service. Apparently, the election prevented him another term which meant, I too lost a job.

At that moment, I was like a bat out of hell; I took the opportunity of a long time invitation to work for another client who mans a large forwarding company based in Guam. My association with Glenn (not his real name) started four years back when he managed Makati office. During that time, we dated a lot, thrived on drives to Matabungkay, crazy trips to Puerto Galera, and great meals in fine restaurants. I worked as a liaison officer for Glenn in Guam and upon his retirement from that company in 1994, we moved here in NYC, where we operated a Filipino eatery in Port Authority.

In 1998, he succumbed to a severe case of heart attack. Glenn was the only son of a widowed mother, and upon his death I took the burden of caring for his mom. At the time of her demise in 2006, their small estate was transferred to me upon the will of Glenn.

Looking back, as a young person many years ago, I used to think of aging as maturing intellectually. In theory, people grow old. I knew that. But my appreciation of it was conceptual. In other words, it was something that happened only to straight people. It was almost impossible for me- an impetuous, virile, young gay-boy to imagine that the day would come when I, too would grow older and procure the same electrifying benefits I rendered when I was younger…

It was hard to imagine aging while my body was supple and strong and my shoulder length hair was swaying with the wind. As a young person then, I could survive as many orgasmic nights as I wanted and just collapsed into sleep when I needed to. My body was programmed to excite and release endorphins.

And with this dilemma, ironic as it seems, is the gift that comes with aging. Advancing years and the body pains it brings have made me more awake and craving to be touched, rubbed and kneaded. While I may feel the limitations aging has imposed on this body, it has also given me the direction to look for someone who can warm my back- after all, what seems delectable in my twenties may no longer be as appetizing in my forthcoming fifties.

I have tried to recall those times in my life where I stood on the edge of a massage bed. Without meaning to, it has turned out that I have meandered overly long through memories of my youth and my beginnings as a lowly masahista, stories surely of little interests to others. But maybe, by selfishly writing this I have finally exorcised my irretrievable past, not to cast it off but to fondly fold it away among my other treasures, at last free of restlessness, discontent, and longing. And it is highly probable that no matter how much I try to hold them down, the memories will insist on resurfacing in my mind, persistent swimming up through the layers of time.

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hi migs,

with the consecutive typhoons hitting our country people started to dread the rain. rain shouldn’t be feared nor rejected. the rain itself is not the root cause of our problems. we badly need better drainage and better waste management. i sure hope i don’t sound insensitive and selfish when i say that i love the rain. (i said rain and not typhoons.)

the rain has always been a friend of mine. it has brought me many wonderful memories. i would like to share with you one of them. migs, have you ever felt love slip right out of your hands.. like it was incredibly close that you could touch it, grab it.. but then you somehow lost the chance to do so? this is exactly how i felt with this person. he was the first guy i really liked and the first guy i just wanted to be with (as in to be with lang, kahit walang sex). i know you are busy and that my writing is subpar but when you get some free time to read, i hope you’d consider my story.

-skye

—–

“rain”

it was a day as ordinary as any day in june. i was minding my own business walking down the campus, going to my next class. it then started to rain. i unfolded my umbrella and mumbled something under my breath about how unlucky i always were during the first week of school. i continued to walk clutching my backpack hard against my stomach, guarding it against the rain as it began pouring heavier. you surprised me as you snuck right beside me. bewildered, i looked up to see the face of the person intruding my personal space. i saw you. you didn’t register, i didn’t know you. and i was quite certain that you didn’t know me either. you smiled at me asking if you could share my umbrella. i instantly thought to myself, “ang gwapo”. i literally felt my heart skip a beat. i shyly said yes.

after a few steps, you offered to hold the umbrella. it could have been because you felt like i wasn’t holding it high enough and it made you feel uncomfortable. i should have told you that i’ve never shared my umbrella with someone as tall as you before so i didn’t know any better.. but just i silently handed it to you. you made me feel nervous. we kept on walking and i waited for you to introduce yourself but you didn’t.

the rain stopped. you put your hand out to check the rain. you decided that we don’t need to use my umbrella anymore so you closed it and folded it neatly. you thanked me as you handed it back and i told you you were welcome. i was delighted at the way you folded my umbrella back ever so meticulously. i told you i never seem to be able to do it properly. you laughed, seemingly amused. then, i asked you your name. you answered by asking me to tell you mine first. i did. then you gave me your nickname which were merely composed of two letters. i asked you if it were your initials. you reluctantly said yes. curious, i inquired about your real first name. you didn’t want to tell me. i thought you were odd. odd but intriguing. i insisted on knowing. you were flustered as you told me your real name asking me not to make fun of it. but you really had one hell of a funny name.

my usual unlucky streak with the first week of classes reversed the moment it turned out that we were classmates. we were actually headed to the same class. from then on, i looked forward to our class together.. looked forward to seeing you. i found myself disappointed whenever you didn’t show up for class. i even got disappointed when we didn’t end up walking together to class. at times, i even walked slower than usual, hoping that you were just running late and that you’d eventually catch up with me. i wondered if you ever felt the same. i finally got the answer one day when i took the campus jeep to class. i saw you glancing behind you as you walked down our usual path. i knew you were looking for me. i was sure of it because it was written all over your face. you do miss me. the realization made me smile. i got off the jeep and called out your name. you smiled warmly when you spotted me. i waved back trying not to look too overjoyed.

it wasn’t long before it became our routine for you to wait for me; even when we’re walking. you were a fast walker and i was a slow one. you would often stop so that i could catch up. i remember the times when we were already late for class but you’d still wait for me to catch up. i would often tell you we should just go and take the campus jeep but you just wouldn’t budge. you would tease me about being “maarte”, dismissing the need to “waste money” on fare or the need to buy a new shirt when i get soaking wet with sweat. you were always practical and i liked that in you. i was “maarte”. and i think you found that amusing.. charming at best.

i was never really sure if you liked me that way. of course there were times when it felt like you did. but there were also times when it felt like you didn’t. now that i think about it, you were probably in conflict with yourself. i was too at the time. it was so confusing. i couldn’t read your signals. i was probably sending out confusing signals too. we were both just so young and so unsure of how to go about such an attraction, so scared to take the leap and be different.

i dreaded the last day of our class. it was the only thing that kept us together. we were of different majors, of different colleges. after our grueling final exam, we talked as usual as we walked towards the jeepney stop. i felt the urge to cease the moment. i finally wanted to tell that i liked you. but i was terrified to do so. i secretly asked the heavens for a sign. i believed in signs. i uttered what might have seemed to you as the most random question at that moment. i asked you what your favorite number was. you gave a little laugh. still amused at the question, you told me it was the number 8. intrigued, i asked you why. you said that you liked it just because. then just like that, i chickened out. it could’ve been mainly because i was scared. not only of the possibility of rejection but more so of being gay.. of confessing my attraction to another guy. i lost my chance that night. and just before we went our separate ways, it started to rain. how ironic. “pareho pala tayo,” i silently remarked. “parehong ano?”, you responded. “8 din kasi ang favorite number ko.”

i fell asleep as soon as i got home, probably too tired from the exam. and when i woke up, i had a message from you on my phone. your message couldn’t have been more vague. “take me or leave me?” was what it said. requesting me to send a reply if my answer is the symbolic yes and to do nothing if i chose no. i didn’t know what to do. here was yet another chance but a big part of me still didn’t want to take it. could this be a joke? or am i just assuming what this was all about. if i assumed correctly and if i replied “yes” would that mean we are going to be couple? am i ready for that? what if someone finds out? what would i tell my parents? is this a sin? will i be committing a sin if i wanted to be with him? i didn’t know what to to. i was young, dumbfounded and lost. i was too scared to say yes but i really didn’t want to say no.

i guess you assumed that my answer was “no” because a few minutes later you sent me another text stating that your previous message was meant for someone else. to be fair with you, it had been 3 hours since you sent the first message. maybe you figured that i was not going to reply which meant that i didn’t like you back. to this day, i still have no way of knowing the truth behind your messages that night. could things have turned out differently if i noticed your message before i fell asleep? what could have happened if i was able to reply promptly? i could only wish i was brave enough back then to have not wasted another minute thinking about what to do..

days, weeks, and months have passed after our last meeting. the exchange of awkward messages that fateful night made it harder for us to be open with each other and we never did get the chance to spend time with each other again. we would bump on each other occasionally but all we ever did was to exchange quick hi’s and hello’s.

now it has been years since we last communicated.. but when it’s raining, i still find myself thinking about you.. wishing that someday, the rain will once again lead you to me.

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(For older comments, go to this post.)

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Interesting responses (and their screen names):

Defense mechanism yan, brought upon by years of repressed bad feelings of inadequacy, inferiority, etc. Isama pa ang mga panlalait at pambu-bully (yes, this is me channelling from personal experience. LOL) Tapos idagdag mo pa na overachieving ang mga bading, so pag may na-accomplish sarap ipamukha sa mga tao na “Hah! I can do it.” (from Bluebaby98)

Kasi if we analyze, erm, “gay culture” (not comfortable with the term haha), we find that gay sexuality is historically shaped na di lang maging imitation ng woman pero para maging uberwoman. Ang teyorya ko dyan e ang pinakaunang gay icons e yung mga prima donna. Sina Madonna, Cher, Bette Davis, yan mga makabagong icons na yan. Yung “mataray” siguro ay cultural na yan, yan ang tawag sa tin dun sa ganung uberwoman…thing. (from Jack)

Perception lang yan sa bading. Kasi generally being witty (and yes, generally ha! Not all!) and making witty remarks can sometimes be taken as mataray. And I guess, it is just so unusual for the male population to be so vocal and upfront about what one feels or what one thinks. Ergo, akala mataray. (from Pamintang Kalbo)

I think it’s a cover to hide insecurities that they are feeling or have felt… or they’re simply chanelling their inner Maricel Soriano? (from Petrelli Dish)

Kahit sino puwede maging mataray… lalaki man or babae… so feeling ko wlang excuse kahit bading ka.. nae-emphasize lang dahil bading tayo… Reaction lang naman yun sa kung ano ang pinapakita ng iba sa iyo. (from Carrie Paraleja)

People here in Manila are generally more “mataray” than folks in the provinces, regardless of gender. I also have gay friends in Davao, but I think they’re much more subtle, so to speak, than us metro gays. Does socio-cultural background factor in? (from Lady R)

Baka it’s their way of masking their insecurity, lack of (and sometimes too much) boyfriends, hahahaha. But i think, the same with other mataray friends i know (girls and boys alike), it is some sort of filtering mechanism to keep unwanteds away. Unwanteds == {orcs, people who might take advantage of them, nonsense people}. Usually kase people in the metro have a very wide circle of friends. Improved communication and social activities has not helped reduce in making this circle smaller. So parang everybody knows everybody, and you really have to choose who to mingle with, and sometimes ung pagiging mataray lang ung only way to filter the rest out. Pero i think when you are in the circle of friends of these “mataray” people, you wont feel the “taray” factor. You might even stand up to defend them and say they are just misunderstood and they are the most interesting/sweet/adorable people on this world. As for our not-so-mataray sisters in the province… baka kulang pa sila sa exposure, thus has no need to raise the “taray” shield. (from Berting Paloma)

How about you dear MGG reader? What do you think? Kanino kayo nakaka-identify among my friends above?

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I’d like to share my own experience, though too long for the viewers� eyes. This is something unbelievable and could make for a good script for a movie that it could even rival the story of the Brokeback Mountain. Just to find release, I’d like to see it posted in no less than Migs’ site, so that others may be enlightened or inspired, or of whatever purpose it could serve to the readers. More importantly, my story opposes that of the twink-hungry and abusive PLU (gay) teachers’ usual portrayal by the media. Let me do it by way of using Southborder’s famous songs and the songs I�d love to listen to.

For reasons I still don’t know up to this moment, after graduation and passing my licensure exam, a former professor invited me to consider teaching in the University. I felt surprised and flattered just the same. Initially, I turned him down. My profession has nothing to do with serious teaching. Working abroad has always been the sole option for us graduates of this course. Then after some serious considerations, even with my parents’ utmost opposition to what I have decided on, I told myself why not give it a try. After all, I knew I have what it takes to be a teacher.

Before the opening of the class, I primed myself and readied for the job ahead. While I fret the thought of being in front of students and try to look a master on the subjects I was to teach them, it made me excited that at long last, I would have the say at how students should be best trained to become good professionals. Being an idealistic that I am/was, I have set a standard for myself: I’ll just simply teach. No more, no less.. I have promised to myself I wouldn’t get too personal with students.

RAINBOW

Off to my scheduled classes I went. My first few days teaching were mostly consumed at trying to give an air of what a terror teacher is. I bombarded the students with quizzes, journal readings, recitations and the likes. I was getting successful at it. They could not reconcile the thought that a teacher who comes to classes in Chuck Taylor’s and was always in good looking appearance was at his strict-as-he-could-get mode. Sometimes, when I remember this moment, I laugh at myself trying hard to appear strict. No student would dare approach me and establish rapport with. (for a more colorful depiction of my life as a young teacher, visit this blog that I created: www.angtitchera.blogspot.com)

Until somebody dared to. He was the block’s leader. And one of the better-looking students in my classes. I have often contacted him thru sms and gave him instructions on what his block should do every meeting with me. He was my college crush, I have to admit. I have good recall as to how I tried to make a girl friend ask him his number in the guise of some student council interest when I was a college senior then. But I never texted him. So it was a shock seeing him attending my class, and leading his blockmates.

I was thrilled by the thought of exchanging sms while appearing professional in dealing with him. During college, I have had girlfriends. I haven’t outed myself to close friends. Until my BFF outed himself to me and persuaded me to do the same. And I did. Going back to him texting me, we initially exchanged sms dealing with class issues only. We would often ask me about the block’s next meeting assignment and activities. Or I would do the same to him; instruct him to do something for the block.

IKAW NGA

Then I wasn’t able to contain myself. For reasons of convenience, I transferred to a nearby dormitory, just some steps away from the University. I was always left alone by dormmates who were college bestfriends.. During the nights, I would often feel I was by my lonesome. So, to cut the story short, I would make papansin with mr. class leader by sending him wrong-sent sms. And he would respond to it gamely. Until we became textmates.

Weeks passed, we found ourselves talking over the phone. That night was the beginning of it all. He was the first to admit to have a crush on me. I almost jumped out of the couch after hearing it. Of course, being the teacher that I was I never admitted to him that he was my crush ever since college. Questions like doubting his intention for telling me about it came to my mind. What if he was just trying to play it with me? But the night we talked was more of a night of revelation. I was able to know all about him, even his age. I was shocked at knowing he was older than me. It was the best telephone conversation I’ve ever had. And from that night, I knew I found my match, after some long years of looking for it.

We managed to be as-usual while inside the classroom, as if we never talked personally and exchanged intimate details about ourselves over the phone. It made me happy. And I never even bothered of feeling flattered by female students flirting with me, obviously or un-obviously.

Two days before my birthday, he texted me: “Sir, happy birthday! Mwah!” and I naughtily replied with: “Kiss lang?!” It was silence after. Then, a reply came: “Where is your dorm? I’d like to drop by”. Oh boy, I almost fainted at the thought of him visiting over.

HABANG ATIN ANG GABI

Then it came. I opened my dorm’s door for him. He was with some of the best foods he could bring, knowing that he cooks very well. It was as if we’ve known each other for so long already. He even brought picture albums that he’d like to share with me. We talked and laughed at our stories until 3 in the morning. Of course, we have to go to sleep. Or so I think.

While Southborder’s Habang Atin Ang Gabi was playing in my desktop PC, we shared the night. It was my first, while it wasn’t his, and he was really good at it. The background music was fitting with the moment we were sharing. Yes, it was bloody for me. But I didn’t care. After it, we exchanged I love you’s. It was my first time to have ever smiled before retiring for a sleep.

We became an item. We managed to think of ways of making our relationship discreet. Only bestfriends should know, was our first rule. We would only date kilometers away from the University, unless we want to be caught by other students who were more than willing to probe what the snub-looking teacher is doing with a student.

Inside the classroom, we were the usual teacher-student set-up. Except for two chosen classmates, nobody knew what we had. Every day, I was always in bliss. I looked better, as students noticed. It was then that more admirers came to me, mostly of course female students. Some were just admirers, while others came to a point of obsession. But I never cared. I had what I considered then the best lovelife I could give myself with..

WHEREVER YOU ARE

Then I started to loosen up inside the class, and was starting to smile more, courtesy of him. Students who were die-hard fans would invite me often for a date. I did it with some of the female students, just for the spirit of goodness. But, take note, he would drive me and bring me to these dates. While dating, he would pass by and inspect the girl. He would then text me: “Chaka naman nyan, tapusin mo na agad yan. Haha!� Then I would smile.

Being a first-timer, I was always emotional. I was always intimidated by the stories he told me about his exes. It wasn’t blissful always I was trying to believe. I became vulnerable to temptation too. A day after a very heated argument over one big deal of an issue, I gave in to a tempting invitation by a college friend.. He was a college crush also. He knew it too that I have just outed myself.. I gave in. Then guilt found its way on me. I admitted it to him. He was furious. He even threatened to embarrass me inside the classroom. I panicked. For days, we would often exchange fingers pointing the blame at each one.

Still, we managed to reconcile. He still accepted me. His love for me did it. I was thankful. Where on earth could I find someone like him? I was really, really guilty. How could I do it to him? Yet, because of what I have done, every time we would have some arguments, I was always reminded of the day I diverted from our paths. I had it from him for almost more than a year. It pained me. But then I have to take the consequences of my action. And I knew it then karma will find its way on me.

ONE AGAIN

And it did. The days came when I found him treating me coldly. I wasn’t suspicious at first. Until a friend who was just more than concern told me all about why to my surprise he wanted to leave me. It was because of a schoolmate, younger than both of us. And of course, looked better than us. I confronted him about it. He was in denial. He just told me he wanted some relief from me. Until finally after some crying and begging from me, he admitted it. I slapped him in the face. Real hard. I knew he was hurt, but I was more than hurt.

It was so painful that I almost saw death coming my way.. My BFF came to the rescue. He would accompany me wherever I wanted to go, and listened to my musings about my life with him. My boyfriend was my student, and I was replaced by a student. I begged him to comeback, almost looking desperate at my attempts to do it. But my pleadings went to deaf ears.

I almost cried in the campus seeing them being together. I felt it unfair. While we were together, we just couldn’t be seen stroll the University by our lonesome. I told myself I have to move on. But it was hard to do so.

KAHIT KAILAN

As I was trying to feel ok, to move on from the experience with a student, he then realized he loves me more than his new one. He was trying to beg for me to reconsider. For the love of him, I did consider a second chance for us.

My parents, who are devout Christians, had an inkling of what/where I was putting myself into. I was more than once confronted about it. Each time they did it, I denied it ’til no end. They wouldn’t believe me. I left our house, with great conviction that I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I was just being myself. My love for him did it.

At the University, students started to notice my unusual closeness with him. I have never attended birthdays of students, except of him and his close friends. So to speak, it ignited suspicions among students. In fairness with me, I have never played favorite, of him and his bestfriends in the class. Grades were grades, so as scores. But his intellect often surpassed my expectations of him.

For two years we were together, secretly dating, hiding from the suspicions from not only by the students but college officials as well. It was a roller coaster ride, but it was well worth it. His close family members knew about us and wouldn’t care a bit. It made me happy, and he never complained about me hiding him from my family. I thought it would last a lifetime.

DI KA PALA DAPAT

His vulnerability once again attacked him. While he was at a student convention, he met another student that would make him feel special, one thing I just ignored at doing because I was busy being a professor and attending to my Master’s class. I knew what was happening. And it need not come from him. When I sensed something was terribly going wrong, I broke up with him.

I knew I made a good choice. I was enjoying my professorial job, on my way to finishing one of the hardest Master’s degrees in the University, and enjoying financial stability from part-time works on the side. I told myself it’s about time to move on from this experience: student love.

I was successful at it. I felt left alone again. But then I was able to rise up, thanks in part to my select BFFs who rescued me when I was feeling thrashed. I knew something bigger was on the offing. I knew I could make it: him leaving me on a highway journey and left me looking for somebody to pick me up in that highway. I thought it wouldn’t happen.

And it did. I was glad it did.

ALL MY LIFE

To my surprise, the first person to rescue me was another student. She made me feel ok again. Yes, she�s a she. She�s someone every guy in the university would dream of having. She�s one of the finest ladies in the university, a girl you�d be proud at bringing home and introduce to your parents. And your parents will be happy for you. She�s of that type.

But I never looked at her that way. She was a student for two years, second and third year. From the start, she has always made it apparent of her feelings for me. She didn�t care at admitting to close friends that I was her ultimate crush. One thing I couldn�t believe. Guys are drooling for her. Varsity players would always ask her for a date and even guys from outside the university as well.

She turned them down. For her, I was the end-all-be-all of a guy she would love to love. While I was deeply even love with my former boyfriend, she would always bring me gifts from her travel abroad and even invited me more than once for a friendly date. But, outside of her knowledge, I was in a relationship with her classmate, her block leader. Yes, they were classmates. And good friends at that.

She would often tell to my former boyfriend her feelings for me and how much she looks forward that I�d get to be single and ready for a relationship with her. My former boyfriend would just smile at her. In his mind, he would say �He�s mine. Go dream girl.�

One time, I went on a date with her. Of course my former boyfriend knew about it. While we were conversing, me asking her some corny stuff about studies, I noticed she was busy texting. Then, I found out, she was texting my boyfriend. She told him how happy she was for having to date me. Then I told her we couldn�t be what she expected us to be, that I already loved someone. She was hurt, she told my bf. I was just honest. I couldn�t be in a hetero relationship, I told myself. And I am deeply in-love with my former boyfriend.

Fast track after a year, my former boyfriend and I had a huge fight, and a dirty one at that. It was in one of the classrooms in the University that we exchanged dirty tirades. We thought we closed the door. Then, when it was getting messy, somebody knocked. It was her waiting for me. She heard it all. I walked out.

WAY BACK INTO LOVE

Months passed, I was already convinced I had to let go of my relationship with him. All throughout my agony over a love lost, she comforted me. She never left my side during my crying moments. In one of those moments, I blurted out: �Sa babae na lang kaya. Try ko lang.� Then we laughed.

It was the start of being together for almost every day. She would wait for my classes to finish every time I was teaching in the University. We exchanged text messages and called each other on the phone every night. In one of those conversations, I asked her why she had rejected the guys crooning her. She narrated how bad her last relationship was. I told her if we�d always spend the days together, the guys courting her would think we�re an item.

I thought she just loved my company, her knowing my sexual preference. But, one day, she told me, she was falling in love with me. As in serious love. I told her I don�t deserve her. She�s clean. And neither does she deserves me, she belongs to the guys falling seriously for her.

GOT TO BELIEVE

Then one night, we became intimate. At the end of it, we exchanged I love yous. She wasn�t hard to love and like. She�s beautiful. She�s one of the best students in the University.

Of course, what we had had to be discreet too. The University maintains its stand against teacher to student intimate relationship. Only her bestfriends and mine knew what was going on between the two of us. My BFF was skeptic, and even humorous. He never expected I�d enter into such a relationship. My only justification was: she knows it all. And she doesn�t care a bit.

Without my knowledge, she was secretly contacting my sisters and my mom. Initially, I wanted to make it secret even to my family. I didn�t want them to think that I was just using her to cover up from their suspicion about my sexuality. But, to my surprise, she had more than once visited our house without my knowledge.. She�s too loving that even my family loved her like she�d be a wife to me.

We went on with what we believed a love that knows no condition, and doesn�t judge. I was myself with her, I never have to pretend.. She was ok with it, and never complained.

SAY THAT YOU LOVE ME

It was a challenge for us to make it a secret to the University. But we faced more challenges than we expected. First, it has to be a secret to my former boyfriend, them being good friends and for fear of retaliation against us. Second, her friends were furious and skeptic about what we had. And third, it was myself that became a problem. I have more than once opted to walk out of her. I just felt like she deserves more, and that more is not me.

It was really a struggle for me to remain faithful to her. I was longing for the kind of intimacy I had with my ex. I was longing sex with another of my being. It was hard. And really tempting. That the more I reject the idea of it, the more it gets to my system. In some moments, I gave in and guilt would always find its way on me.

We were together for two years. I always hated the feeling that while she was loving me with all hearts, I was secretly texting my ex, and flirting with other guys. It was hard. My former boyfriend found out about us. He ridiculed me. Saying I was out of mind for having an affair with her.

LOVE WILL LEAD YOU BACK

Until I decided to end it all. She was hurtful. She was waiting for the time we�ll get married. I was hoping for it too. But I couldn�t stand disrespecting her secretly. I just knew I�m not cut for it. It had to be somebody. I told her she�s young, urban, rich, and beautiful she can find someone of the same type. I cried saying it too. I love her. Sincerely, believe me. It�s just that I�m not for it.

Now, I�m single again. But I�m anticipating karma would find its way on me. I have hurt her beyond her knowledge. I still nurture the guilt until this moment.

But I am optimistic. That in spite of what I have experienced in my four years of teaching, of having a boyfriend for two years and deviating to having a girlfriend for two years, I knew I had the most colorful life a teacher could have. I don�t regret any of the things that happened to me.

I am still waiting for the right time to come for me to settle and be happy. I know it will.

- Red

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Yes, I have been partnered with “Dee” for 10 years now. He’s an American, a lawyer, divorced twice (he thought he was bisexual, but finally came out gay and wouldn’t have anything more to do with women), and have been told that he has Richard Gere looks. I agree. We met when I was still living in Manila and he was visiting for a conference. It was love at first sight, a la Miss Saigon. But like Chris leaving Kim, he left too – only, he came back a year later.

Over the course of 2 years, when he went back to the US and I continued my life in Manila (I was doing my grad school at UP Diliman while teaching at UP Manila), we had a long distance relationship. We emailed each other everyday, phoned each other weekly, and yes, even had phone sex once in a while. This was 10 years ago. We now live together here in California and have a happy, fulfilled life. I can’t ask for more: Dee is very supportive and understanding; loving and caring. The sex life is great!

Only, we have a 21-year age gap. That really did not bother me at all – it did bother some of my friends. Over the years, because of his background in racial conflict as a lawyer, he knew he had to bridge the age gap if we were to become equal as partners in our relationship. I would say what really helped is that we work together professionally and therefore, we get to see each other not only in the light of our personal relationship but also as two capable individuals in our work sphere. When we met, I was a virgin – yes, believe it or not, I was still a virgin at the age of 27. I fell in love with mostly straight boys and of course, they were all unrequited love. But that’s all in the past – I’m happily partnered with Dee.

And happily involved with Andrew. Just half a year ago, Dee thought that he doesn’t want me to grow old (I’m now 37) and regret that I never had any relationship with other men. He was willing to explore an open relationship – only for me, he himself is satisfied with me as his partner. So, after thinking about it hard (I am no longer a practicing Catholic and therefore, the Catholic guilt is not an issue), I posted an online personals ad. That’s how I met Andrew: a handsome, blue-eyed, blonde 46-year old American psychotherapist; of dancer’s built (he dances, bikes and hikes to keep fit); sweet; charming; and basically, a dream. We started going out together – he knows I am partnered and will always have Dee as my primary partner, but needed to experience having a boyfriend to enrich my personal life. We go out to movies; he takes me to parties; and yes, we have become intimate sexually. All of these Dee knows. In fact, they’ve met already – when Andrew had an art show (he also paints). Andrew thanked Dee for being flexible – and Dee said that he had to be because of the big age gap. They both said it was a warm meeting.

It feels good to be 17 again – and not have the baggage of youth. Also, it feels good to have a boyfriend – and not think of “what if”. I don’t have to worry about the future – I already have the future (Dee) mixed with the present (Andrew). I am enjoying both worlds.

I am not saying this is for everybody, Migs. It is not. And you know what, I think the only reason this works is because Andrew himself is in a committed, open relationship with another man. They have been together for 26 years. How post-modern, don’t you agree? Andrew goes out with me because right now, he and Ty are on a trial separation: they haven’t had sex with each other for the last 10 years. Andrew, in short, is with me in order to satisfy his need for intimacy.

We’ve been going out for a couple of months now – and its still a bliss. I know, like all dreams, I will eventually wake up. And when I do, I know it would be next to Dee – reminiscing my time with Andrew in quiet dreamlike.

Thank you for reading my letter and I hope you can share it with your many subscribers.

Yours,
Ronald

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[Here's another contribution from Lex Bonife.]

�asl, pare?�

Halos trenta na ako. Pero mukha pa ring bente kwatro.
Sa gym, araw araw nagbubuhat.
Bago matulog, nakatapal na ang moisturizer sa mukha ko.

Alam mo naman ang sex ko pare!
Noong kinse ako, straight ako. Hilig ko na ang magpachupa sa bading kong kaklase.

Noong ako�y disi-otso, straight curious ako, sarap makipag-jack off kasama ang mga barkada ko sa basketball
Noong bente uno ako, bi na ako. Isa-isa ko nang sinususo ang burat ng mga frat mates ko.
Pagdating ko ng bente sinko, tang ina, discreet na ako.
Ang sarap naman pala kasi magpa-bottom lalo na pagdire-diretso ang pag-ulos sa puwet mo.

Location ? Dito lang ako malapit sa Malate.
Pagbaba ng apartment, marami nang makikipagtitigan sa iyo.
Malapit lang ang sinehan, sa loob marami nang tatabi sa iyo.
At kapag gabi naman, the best ang night life � sayawan, inuman, chupaan, kantutan.

�Ano ba trip mo, pare�

Kahit anong trip, kaya kong sakyan.
Gusto mo bang isubo ang burat ko sa ilalim ng puno sa may Roxas boulevard? Game ako diyan!
May jowa ka ba? Gusto niyo ba ng threesome, tirahin ako habang sinusubo ang titi ng jowa mo? Go ako diyan!
Orgy ba ang gusto mo, lahat tayo nakahubad sa loob ng isang kuwarto ng hotel, kanya kanyang dakma kung sino ang type mo, kanya-kany kanyang luhod sa lalakeng gusto mo, okay tayo diyan!
O baka naman gusto mo ng romansa, dahan dahang halikan, mahihigpit na yakap dagdagan mo pa ng mga pabulong na pangako ng pag-ibig, kayang-kaya ko rin yan!

�Wanna Cum?�

I can always cum. Sa loob, sa labas. Sa mukha, sa dibdib.
Tahimik, Umuungol, Sa loob ng condom o sa sahig.
Sa bawat labas ko, ako�y nanginginig.
Mas maganda kung sasabihin mo ang pangalan ko
Mas masarap kapag patuloy mo akong sinususo.
Mas enjoy basta sabay tayo, saang sulok ka man ng mundo.

�gtg, tol!�

Tol, salamat din sa oras mo.
Sana nasarapan kang tingnan ang malibog kong katawan.
Sana naman at hindi mo ni-record ang aking paghuhubad.
At nang hindi mo ito maikalat sa ibang uhaw sa kabastusan

Sana hindi mawala ang pagnanasa mo sa akin.
At palagi mong maalala kung gaano ako kasarap magpalibog sa harap ng webcam.

Dahil alam ko namang hindi laging ganito ang buhay natin.
Isang araw magigising tayo, hindi na natin kayang maghubad sa harap ng sinuman.
Mag-iiba na ang hubog ng ating balat at katawan
Ang tawag ng ating mga laman, papatahimikin na ng panahon.
Mauubos ang ating sarap, siningil na ng bawat minuto at taon.

CREDITS:
Lex Bonife is the screenwriter of Filipino gay films “Ang Lihim ni Antonio” (Antonio’s Secret) and “Ang Lalake sa Parola” (The Man in the Lighthouse). He blogs at www.lexuality.com

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Aaminin ko, hindi ko alam ang ibig sabihin ng ped xing. Madalas ko na siyang nakikita sa mga lansangan sa Maynila pero kahit kailan e di ko hinanap ang meaning nito. Si Abel ang nagturo sa akin kung ano ang ibig sabihin nito. Nakakatawa nga, pedestrian crossing lang pala yun.

Eto yung mga makikita natin sa mga mataong lansangan sa Maynila na kadalasan ay may makikita kang mga de ilaw na signs sa tawiran na me hugis ng taong tumatawid. Kapag umilaw na ang kulay green na hugis tao, ang ibig sabihin nun ay Go. Tulad rin ng mga stop lights sa lansangan na paiba iba ng kulay depende sa kung anong dapat gawin ng mga sasakyan.

Sa mga ped xing ay mapapansin mo na me mga pinturang pahalang sa kalye kung saan ka dapat tumawid patungo sa kabilang bahagi
Mas mainam na gamitin mo ito dahil makakasiguro ka sa iyong kaligtasan dahil tiyak na hihinto ang mga sasakyan

Marami rami narin akong natawirang mga ped xing kasama si Abel
Hindi lang sa mga pedestrian crossings kundi sa iba pang klase ng tawiran
Ganun din ang dahilan kung bakit marami tayong mga overpass at underpass sa mga mataong lugar
Upang makapunta ka sa kabilang bahagi
Ngunit mas mabilis pa rin at maigsi ang mga ped xing di gaya ng mga over at underpass na kung hindi napakataas e ang haba

Naalala ko ng minsang namasyal kami sa SM North Edsa e tumawid kami sa mahaba at liko likong kulay pink na overpass patungo sa sakayan pa MRT. Nagpakuha pa nga kami ng larawan dun sa gitna na ang background e mga ilaw ng mga sasakyan. Gabi na kasi noon. Pawisang pawisan kami sa layo.

Hindi ko rin malilimutan ang pagtawid namin sa tulay na nagdudugtong sa Greenbelt patungo sa Landmark, tuwing kami ay magsisimba sa Greenbelt tuwing Linggo. Sosyal naman ito kasi diretso ka sa mall tapos me mga malalaki pang tv monitors

Madalas din kaming tumatawid sa maraming underpass sa Makati dahil kung minsan e kailangan naming maglakad patungo sa Makati Avenue papunta sa aming tinutuluyan. Mahirap kasing humanap ng taxi lalo pag rush hour. Pero ok lang kasi habang tumatawid e nagkukulitan kami. Ibinili ko nga siya minsan ng balot, ayun isang itlog lang ang kaya kainin.

Meron akong nadaanang madilim at maduming overpass sa Manila minsang nagtungo kami sa Intramuros. Doon kami ibinaba ng bus na sinakyan namin. Matubig pa nga noon at may mamang natutulog. Kaya humawak na lang ako kay Abel.

Hindi na lang masyado ang mga ped xing dito sa me bahagi ng edsa kasi madami dito e kadugtong na ng mga pasyalang mall lalo na kung ikaw ay sasakay ng LRT o MRT. Nalibot ko na ang LRT at MRT. Ipinasyal na ako dati doon ni Abel kasi malapit doon ang office niya tapos dun kami sa purple lrt sumakay papuntang gateway.

Ang dami dami ko ng masasayang alaala sa mga tawiran sa Manila. Lahat yon kasi me kasabay ako, si Abel.
Pero di ko malilimutan ang minsan tumawid kami sa ped xing sa Roxas Boulevard ng minsang magdate kami sa Baywalk kasi dumiretso kami sa Malate Church para magdasal at magpasalamat. Ang saya saya ko noon.

Ngunit iba na ngayon, iniwan na kasi ako ni Abel. Di ko alam kung bakit. Wala na akong kasama pagtawid sa ped xing.

Nang minsang tumawid ako e di ko namalayan na wala pala akong kasama.
Tinatawagan at sinisigawan ko si Abel subalit di ko siya makita.
Natabunan na ata ng mga sasakyan at mga taong nagsisitawid. Ang tagal ko naghintay subalit wala akong makitang Abel.

Umiyak ako noon. Mahina ngunit tagos sa dibdib at puso ko. Naawa ako sa sarili ko. Ano ang gagawin ko? Di ko na gusto pang tumawid dahil wala naman na akong kasama at isa pa, di ko naman alam kung saan na ako pupunta. Wala na si Abel.
Nasanay na akong kasama si Abel.

Bumalik ako sa pinanggalingan ko. Hihintayin ko si Abel dun.
Para pagbalik niya makikita niya ako dun sa kabilang bahagi ng ped xing.
Maghihintay ako. Sana bumalik siya doon sa ped xing.

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