Danny boy

My, but he's made contact!

I'm talking about this guy, Dan, that I have a man-crush on. Since I started reading his blog a few weeks back, I'm hooked to his stories. He's Filipino but he attends an international university in Singapore (I think). Yes, he's a student. No, I'm not corrupting a minor you pervs, it's not like he's 12. But he looks really cute with his wavy hair and all. And he's smart. Just my kin of guy. I dropped a comment on one of his blog entries and he replied to my comment. He said, "Thanks for dropping by my page... Happy new year."

I feel like a teenager all over again!

Isn't he cutie cutie?

Deadline

I'm 24. I know I'm not getting any younger. Do you think it's still possible that I meet someone I really like and who likes me back before the year actually ends? I was kind of hoping that I'd change my Friendster status from "Single" to "In a Relationship" by Christmas. My profile at G4M – a gay/bi-oriented website – goes...

I dont consider that there's got to be a special place to meet people, to meet the one. it could be in a plane, in a jeepney, walking the pedestrian lane on your way to work, or right here at g4m. im not complicated and dont want to get involved in someone with too much drama (some would be okay, haha). i like the beach a lot, but hey, that doesnt mean im ripped like a model so for those who date only buffed guys, skip to the next profile, ayt? that's not to say im fat, though. My profile used to say that im hoping to meet my first boyfriend by Christmas '06, but i dont know, with me trying to keep this 'other' life secret, im gonna need your patience so maybe December is unreasonable.

The thing is, I've been spending all my past 23 Christmases as a single guy. You know how it works. You spend it with your family. You exchange text messages with friends and greet them some Santa Claus crap. You go out with your friends for reunion and corny stuff like that. And then your friends who are not single ask you uncomfortable questions like, "When are you gonna get a girlfriend?" or "How's your love life?" You just smile and try to change the topic, while at the back of your head you want to kick their faces and roast them alive. I mean, do their entire lives revolve around me and they feel incomplete if I don't get myself a partner?

To single gay/bi guys out there,

How do you spend your Christmas? Comments are welcome.

Looking, checking

In response to my post about my first date that, well, just plain sucked, Chris, a good friend who I still haven't met personally, gave me what I think is the best tip in the world...

THE BEST PLACES TO MEET DISCREET GUYS

Places to meet discreet guys and NOT catch them in the "i want sex" mode or be thought of as in that mode.

(1) badminton court. basketball court. tennis court. (the guy with the other guys but who somewhat keeps physically distant from the rest.)

(2) bookstores. (the one browsing -- not the one looking at everyone who passes by.)

(3) groceries (esp sunday evenings, the guy who is shopping alone and doesn't carry a list. check out what he buys, that is very telling.)

(4) gym (the more "suplado" ones -- pero di yung nagmamaganda lang. i think i mean the one who doesn't get too close to the other gym bunnies or the instructors but who is seriously working out. NOT in the shower, locker, sauna or steam room please!)

(5) places where straights go gimmick. (they're the ones without the date -- e.g. couple +1. or the ones who are with more than one female date -- one guy, 3 girls, for example. or one of the guys who are with one girl who doesn't exactly look like a date -- e.g. 3 or 2 guys, 1 girl.)

(6) in your building (at home or at work BUT not from your floor or your office, please.)

(7) school. MBA is a good source. =)


The guy you want:

(1) he's the guy the looks at you more than 3 seconds, more than twice. if he smiles, be brave and smile back. look, don't stare.

(2) he'll be harder to figure out -- coz he's discreet. you might actually end up meeting a straight guy so you just have to be patient and collect friends.

(3) dressed and groomed ordinarily -- neat but not too distinguishable from the crowd. not the one who looks like he is trying to get into a fashion magazine.

---

Another thing that Chris tells me is this: Quality takes time. Which makes absolute sense, I know. Quality equals going through rounds of barf and disasters before hitting the prized bone. Sorry, poor choice of metaphor.

My message to The One, show yourself, man.

First Date

I had been exchanging messages with a guy that I met- virtually- in the internet. He seemed nice and cool so when he asked for my mobile number, I obliged. I don’t usually give my phone number out to people who I chat with, I mean, I am just freaking paranoid about people finding out about me. But I was curious about how far the texting and chatting would go with this guy so I indulged.

I found out that he was working as a technical support agent in a call center. Thankfully, though, he didn’t have that fake American accent that always makes me want to pull my nose hairs one by one. I also discovered that he’s in a straight long distance relationship and that his girlfriend is in the US. I didn’t know if he was kidding me. I asked him what he was doing being cutey with me when he already had a girlfriend and he said he’s not sure the long distance thing he was having was going to work. In other words, I’m his fallback.

Right then I decided that I wanted to just be friends with the guy. I actually have no gay or bisexual friends so having him would make the grand total of one, a stellar improvement.

After about a month of text jokes and how are you’s we decided to meet. I initially wanted to meet him at the Shangri-La mall in Shaw Boulevard since I was afraid that if we met in Makati someone I knew would see us hanging around, but the guy raised a good point that it was too far from where he’s from- which is also Makati- so being the good person that I am (and because I thought I was being difficult) I agreed to meet him in our area. Let’s meet at Powerplant, I told him.

He was late. Not minutes late but two hours late. He apologized profusely and I pretended it was okay by saying, well, “It’s okay.”

We discussed his life over dinner in a Chinese resto. He revealed that besides the girl in the US, he was in yet another relationship with a guy this time. I realized then that I was face to face with a gold digger who is fond of sugar mommies and sugar daddies. Which was kind of incredible because he wasn’t exactly callboy material.

I asked him point blank what his intention was with me.

Funny thing, instead of answering my question he took his cellphone out from his pocket and sent me a text message. It read:

“If you want to have experience, just text me.”

Fucking call boy.

I laughed it off and pretended he didn’t just text me that. After dinner I asked him if he wanted to grab some coffee. He turned to me and said, “Do you want to go to my place?”

Now I must tell you that I’m a little naïve when things come down to this. Does going to the another person’s place automatically mean you’re going to have sex? But I already told this guy I only wanted to be friends with him.

So I said yes. But I made it clear nothing was going ta happen. "We can watch some DVD's then," he offered.

We got into a cab. Inside, I got uncomfortable with what I put myself into. And it must have showed because out came his cellphone again.

“Are you afraid of me?” read the text message.

I looked at him and said no.

We got off a few blocks near his place. I asked him what movies we were going to watch. Naïve, I know. We were walking some few steps when he suddenly pulled me to a dark corner in the street and asked me a question.

“Are we really not going to have sex?”

I thought for a moment about what he said. “You see it’s like this,” I began. “I just want us to be friends. Nothing more.” I actually meant it, I wanted to be friends with him.

“You mean that?”

“Yes,” I said.

"But that's... boring," he complained. Then he went silent. He was probably disturbed that he wasn’t going to do anyone that night.

“I could just go home, you know. I don’t have to go to your place if you think this is a waste of time,” I offered. He insisted it wasn’t a waste of time but I knew better. I decided to get the hell out of the unpretty situation and hailed myself a cab to grab that Starbucks I wanted to down when we were still at the mall.

First date sucks.

Awakened

When I was little, about 5 or 6, I was playing tag with my friends. I wasn't "it," so my role was to be out of reach and run around the neighborhood like some dog gone nuts.

I ran into another playmate's house to hide. This was perfectly okay because the people in my neighborhood were very close with each other and tightly knit, you wouldn't even be surprised to wake up and see some neighbor's kid peeing in your own bathroom. I've had lunches in my neighbors' homes as well, and I'd just announce to them, "Tita, I'm eating here today, what's for lunch?"

So anyway I run into this house to hide under the stairs. My playmate's older brother, let's call him Ramon, suddenly shows up in the living and sees me hiding.

"You'd be seen there." He calls out. "Come, hide here."

I rise up and go to him. "Where?"

This is the blurry part of my recollection. I cannot recall or understand for the life of me why the next thing I knew I was sitting on his lap and I felt... aroused.

Yeah, at 6 years old.

I just remember siting there, and he was lifting me with his lap up and down... up and down... and my little twat had stirred into life. Ramon clearly saw from the expression on my face that I was experiencing "something" and he just lifted me higher and higher. He was amused that I got a little hard-on. Wait, I don't know if I actually had a hard-on, really, I was six for chrissakes. But the arousal was sure there. I think this was the turning point of my life when I got some faint idea about my sexuality. The years of confusion would start that day.

Weeks or probably months after that, I was watching televison in that same neighbor's house when from the corner of the door I saw Ramon making signs to get my attention. He was telling me to go to him.

I stood and followed. He led me to a corner in the kitchen, unzipped his pants and let out his cobra.

Ramon was I think around 18 years old so you would understand my horror.

"Touch it," he tells me. "Come on."

I said no and he took my hand and forced it to lock on his cobra.

So there we were in the kitchen, my hand on the cobra and Ramon making some weird sounds and faces. He tells me to move my hand up and down the shaft but I don't move a muscle. He doesn't insist so we just stand there at that awkward position.

This would happen for about two more times until I didn't look his way anymore when he'd make his signals.

I was too embarrassed and afraid to tell anyone this and this is the first time that I get it out of my system.

To Ramon, I have a message for you.

I give you the finger.



Post script

Ramon is straight- I think, has a wife and kids now- I think, and lives abroad as an OFW. He is ugly fugly.

Mind boggler

Why do, uh, confused guys have this unquestionable fondness for singers who belt it out like there's no tomorrow?

I mean singers like Mariah Carey, Regine Velasquez, Celine Dion (she's debatable, though) or anyone who practically screams when hitting the really high notes. In the elevator, when no one's around, I sometimes find myself humming to songs like "I don't wanna close my eyes... I don't wanna fall asleep coz I miss you babe and I don't wanna miss-a-the-eng!" In the shower, I go "Spread your wings fly, my... butterfy!" Of course, I do this a little silently that only I can hear my singing, but because of the stress that I put on my vocal chords, seriously man, I could expect to be growing goiter anytime soon.

I don't know, it's like an unwritten law decreed as an addendum to the 10 Commandments that if you're not straight, then thou shall treat Mariah or Regine as thy ultimate queen.

Of course, when I'm with straight friends I never admit that I actually like these kind of songs. Nevermind that I know all of Regine's songs, I'd never admit that I sing to her. I know some guys who adore her and these are people who are rumored to be hiding in the closet.

Sometimes I go the gym and guess who's in my Mp3 player?

I need not say.

Losing it

This happened just four weeks ago. It was Friday night and I decided to have myself a night out alone in some seedy tadah! gay bar.

It was going to be my fourth (I think) time in a gay bar. I always go alone; like I said, I don't have any gay friends. The first gay bar that I've been to was somewhere in Sta. Mesa, Manila. I was scared as hell and when the hunk of a guy who moments ago was dancing buck naked on the stage grabbed a chair beside me and made some talk, I panicked. "So, you here frequently?" he asked. "I'm a writer, I'm just doing research!" I blurted out like a guilty schoolboy.

This time, I wanted to go someplace that wasn't very far from Makati. I asked the driver if he knew of such place and he suggested this "secret bar that looks just like an ordinary bar from the outside but if you get in, the place is packed with macho dancers." He spoke as if he'd been to the place before, but I didn't investigate further. "Is the place safe?" A stupid question, I know, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. "Yes, it's perfectly safe," he tells me."It's by the road and there's a lot of cabs that pass by, you wouldn't have trouble getting home." Awww, spoken like a true pimp.

To the "secret place" then.

When we arrived, I was greeted by a security guard who frisked me all over. Since the building didn't have any signage that suggested it was a place where carnal pleasures abound, like Big Papa or MAN-hattan, I asked the guard if the place was indeed a gay bar.

"No, sir, this isn't a gay bar," the guard spilled.

"What do you mean?"

"This is a bath house, sir," he said.

"Huh?"

As if on cue, another man appeared from behind the door and greeted me.

"Sir, this is Club F, a bath house catering to discreet gays and bisexuals. Come, let me show you around."

So apparently, the driver hasn't been to the place before. I mean, whoa, a bath house! Inside, there were amenities like a video room where you could watch x-rated DVD's, a videoke room- probably for the divas, quarters for when you decide to go all the way, a steam room and a bar.

After the quick tour I decided what the heck, I was there already so might as well indulge.

In the end, I lost my virginity in a bath house. Gay-wise, as I've been with women before. I was a "top" and had one of those anonymous sex with a gay guy whose name I forgot. I felt dirty afterwards and it wasn't anything that I've expected at all.

I should have waited until I had a boyfriend, I know, but it was a sperm of the moment thing.

They say once you pop you can't stop but I don't know, I haven't felt the urge to have sex with another guy again anytime soon. Does this mean I'm straight, or bisexual?

I'm one confused pup, really.

Who's venturing out?

I want to tell you something. Lean a bit closer.

I'm gay. At least I think I am. Sometimes I think it's just a phase... but most of the time I'm just one confused pup.

I've already had sex with both sexes. With the girls, it's cool and I like it. With the guy (yes, singular), I was a "top" and it felt... weird. And dirty. Maybe I'm just bisexual, but when I think about the long term, I kind of imagine myself with a guy in some kind of domestic partnership. That's why I think I'm gay. Discreetly gay— my friends don't know. But I think some of them suspect, though.

I'm 24, running on twenty-five in just a few months. I'm not getting younger! You know what I'd like? A boyfriend. I get all warm inside just thinking about it. But the problem about being discreet is you get too paranoid you almost never give yourself a chance. But now I'd like to give myself that chance. I think I'd want to start dating guys. *blush* Haha, jeezuz.

I live in Makati, Philippines in an apartment that I share with some friends. I like to travel around the country and go to nice beaches. I'm friendly, but not too much. I don't have any gay friends so you can only imagine how close I am to losing my mind having no one who, you know, understands. But I'm no drama queen, I take on life with a strong head (and heart).

I keep another blog, a regular one, but Venturing Out is special. It's the real me talking.

Will you be listening?

Everything has a beginning

... and it starts right here, right now.