Malate 102

Do you really think that was that?

Oh,but you have a lot more to learn young one.

1. The club ain't big for both you and your ex.

2. There's a fine line between being sleazy and being harrassed.

3. Stares are sacrilegious, sometimes.

4. Oh please, crotch teasing are for desperate ones.

5. And so is groping. Horny much?

6. Never ask a friend to 'accidentally' shove you to a guy next to you.

7. Pseudonyms are rampant. Get on with the program.

8. Bringing your partner? Might as well bring your whole family too.

9. You saw a guy you kissed kiss another guy? Sucks right? Never get even, get even more.

10. Pretty boys love playing hard to get. It is tedious but you know what they say, it'll be worth it.

11. Feeling slu***? Make sure you're the best slu* there is.

12. And yes, always look available even when unavailable.

Malate 101

Malate is not without its culture.


Read and learn. 


Newbie. :)


1. Dress your finest. Malate is the fashion capital of gay guys. Long-sleeved polo - best. Short-sleeved polo - good. Plain shirts- make sure you have an effin' rocking body.


2. Stare all you want inside the club premises. NEVER do it outside. Pretty boys need to behave too you know. ;)


3. Quick trading glances are flirtatious and are absolutely enticing for an hour. Move on if nothing is happening...


4. Oh please! Shouting outside is absolutely a no-no. Unless you wanna be called a market vendor.


5. Pointing to a guy you like inside and outside club premises is absolutely prohibited. Didn't your parents explain what manners are for?


6. You go alone when you feel like hooking up. You go with friends when you feel like you don't want to but essentially, go alone if you plan to have a one night stand.


7. Boys work hard, sex harder and party hardest. The last two are interchangeable.


8. Ledge is the ultimate place to get noticed BUT make sure if you don't have the body to flaunt, you have the face to do the flaunting.


9. If both are unapplicable, step down from the ledge and save yourself,  man.


10. Random kisses inside are absolutely normal. So make sure you know how to do torrid and not just saliva transfers, okay?


11. Be booked before 4am. Seriously. Leftovers.


12. Pretty boys have the right to be snobs but never have the right to be mean and rude. Get it?


13. Maybe the guy you slept last week was your friend's take home dinner two weeks ago.


14. Malate boys are notoriously flirtatious. Play the game if you can handle it.


15. And lastly, Malate boys only have a seven day affinity.


Have fun and we will see each other soon...

Knowing

A gay's instinct should never be underestimated.


Baffled but relieved.


And perplexed all at the same time.


Open secret, it is not, but you guys guessed it correctly.


Ah, I scratch my head once again.


:)

Reaches

"Sorry...for everything."


You were at my back trying to mildly move the swing. I looked back at you, perplexed.


"About what?"


"For the things I have done. I am, truly sorry."


You were looking ahead, across the children playing, laughing and screaming.


"Everything's fine. Don't worry. We're cool."


And I told you that because I mean it.


I looked ahead across the children too, such a delight to behold.


You swung me slightly, enough for me to know that you're still at my back.


We were at a children's playground. I didn't know how we ended up there but it was the best place, I guess. It felt nostalgic. And I felt, at peace.

You apologized yet I was the one who need to be apologizing because I fell too early to even predict the outcome or maybe denial was just too strong to ignore.

It was never your fault that you rejected me.

Moments have passed and I'm still asking myself the same old questions.

But enough of that.

"What happened to us?"

You swung me faster, enough to let me know that there was an emotion accompanying the inquiry.

"We happened but nothing happened."

I looked back at you again and smiled.

"But for what it's worth, I really did try reconnecting with you."

You stopped the swing and smiled back at me, then looked ahead and saw the children merrily running around.

"I know."

And then I left you at the park without looking back, without turning around, without slowing my walk.

And woke up.

A dream had consumed.

Forgiveness. Frailty. Numbness.

And some takes a lifetime to forgive.

On Dates and Fates

Spotted: G sitting near the skating rink while watching his date, or, should we say group date having the time of their lives.

Someone didn't do their research well.

Tsk, tsk, tsk. What now? And more importantly, where to now?

When every plan seems to be crumbling in front of your very eyes, what else does a boy got to do?


You turn to a walk of leisure and what do you see? Or, who do you see?


Isn't the world getting smaller?


A guy you locked lips in K's birthday party? And oh boy, he's eyeing on you like a vulture to a carcass. But you know rebound guys will always be rebound guys. He was there when you needed him and when he needed you too. And you end this little coincidence with a brisk walk out the store.

And you finally satisfy your carnal cravings to a discreet halt.

But look do we have here?

A blogger celebrating a pre-Valentine date with his beau?

And they do look happy together albeit no flower roses on their hands.

Jealous much?

Ah, G, don't be, you'll have your chance...

You'll have your chance.

But for now, au revoir date for the day.

The Time of The Year...

They say love is in the air when February comes.


And it's this time of the year when couples are seen as couples.


And singles are just singles.


Well, where will you be this weekend, G?


I heard you wanted to join the speed dating on Saturday.


Desperate much?


You know you have other options.


You never lose options.


There are so much more men...so little time.


But when the going gets rough, you turn to your boys. Your outdated boys.


Life is a cycle, G, so should be your boys. Deal with it.


I remember you telling K months ago that you'll finally look for new ones.


It looks like it didn't work out as planned.


But you know yourself - you scheme.


And what better way to start than on a weekend.


Starting with an ex you haven't even dated yet...

Hijo

First thing he did was to get a face towel from their China cabinet/mini closet. He wiped snot numbered one.

"Nathan...this is your first day in school. Be neat, be nice and share what you have."

"I'm a bit afraid, Dad." Nathan said while bowing his head.

"What are you afraid of? Come on! It will be fun! Trust me."

"They might bully me and get my baon and after that they might place me inside a garbage can and tell the teacher that I'm not going to school anymore." Nathan was getting nearly teary-eyed.

"You'll do fine. No one will get your baon. And for the record, if someone will ever do that to you, you know I'm here." He embraced him ever so tightly, ever so secure, ever so affectionate and ever so concern. He loves him dearly and he too, was starting to get teary-eyed. He was more afraid than his son actually.

Can you imagine? The first day of school and it's all upwards from here. Next thing Drake knows is that Nathan will be settling in with someone. Separation anxiety of a parent.

Drake gave out a long sigh.

After combing his son's still-thin hair and putting powder on his face, chest and back, he stood back and evaluated his styling er, grooming.

"You look adorable, baby!" He wasn't exaggerating. Or maybe he was.



"Dad!!! I'm not a baby anymore! And I told you to not call me that anymore, hmp." He pouted his lips.

"Sorry, sorry, dude." He apologized and brushed the excess powder from his child's nape and forehead.

Drake looked at the time and sprang with astonishment. He scooted his child towards the dining table and served him a very hearty breakfast. One fit for a king. Well, a preschooler king for now.

"I have to get myself ready for work too! Give me ten minutes, kiddo." He grabbed a bagel from the microwave and popped them in his mouth. Mmm...chewy. Another fail with that wretched appliance. Drake-0, microwave-3.

Within ten minutes he was able to dash upstairs, take a bath, groom his face,  don his clothes, spray a little perfume, get his car keys and dash downstairs.

"Come on, come on. Let's go. You'll be late." He opened the door for them and proceeded to their porch.

Click. The door was locked and they were now heading towards the car in the garage.

A few walks and...

"Oh shoot! Nathan, we forgot your baon! No wonder I felt something missing. I'll get it inside the house and you go in the car."

"Oh Dad, you're getting more forgetful." Nathan said it with a smile.

Drake winked and dashed inside.

He  panicked and opened cupboard after cupboard looking for a nutritious meal for his growing boy. He was nearly down to the last cupboard when at last, a small box of cereals. This would suffice. He thought to himself. He grabbed his son's newly bought lunch box with a sticker of a smiling cartoon character on it. Nathan loves this cartoon so much, he can't live a day without watching an episode of this. He forgot the name, after all, when you lived in the era of The Care Bears, He-man, She-ra and Dinosaucers, you're bound to forget other cartoons. Or he's just getting old. Or forgetful like what his son said.

Anyway, he grabbed the lunch box, made a mad dash towards the car, stuck the key and off they went.

The school wasn't far from their home. Ten minutes away if you start with opening the garage door and getting in the car. It's a small preschool run by nuns.

The car finally made a screech and not a minute too soon! The students were all lined up all dolled-up and groomed to their best. Not a candy or chocolate stain in sight. For now.

Nathan stepped out, cautiously and  slowly. He felt nervous but excited at the same time. And finally, he went down completely from his car seat and started walking to the crowd of tykes and tots - yearning for education. The first step into maturity.

And his son was finally casted into the sea of children.

With a slight lump in Drake's throat, he meekly said to his growing son: "Make me proud."






Final Part

Of Question and Answer

Why?

This has got to be the most asked and most frequent question used. And yet each and every time one asks 'why', it never ceases to pique one's interest.

It all started when we were growing up - being the inquisitive ignoramuses we were. Our parents, whom we mostly asked, would answer us to the best that they could.

But did you know that this question is very intrusive? 

It is because it warrants an answer of truth.


Why are you here?

Why did you do that with him?

Why didn't you fight for his love?

Why are you blogging?

Why are you following this blogger?

Why did you unfollow? 

Why do you bother going out with someone you know could not commit nor be exclusive?

Why do you have standards?

Why do you choose a trophy boyfriend?

You see the pattern? It always warrants a statement full of thought.


And so in questioning this, you get to know the person more albeit, in a personal/deeper manner but also yourself. If you would really want to discover yourself more and other people. Because sometimes we immediately act on impulse and we can't understand why. You see.


This question is  also very accusing. It accuses you of acts done. Or not done but people still think otherwise.

Why did you break his heart?

Why are you asking me if I'm in love with your best friend?

Why did you sleep with another guy?

And admit it, one does not need an accusation of such. Benefit of the doubt as they say. 

But who benefits from it, really?

For sometimes, reservations are of utmost discretion in order to protect either the interrogated or the interrogator.



But then again, why even bother trying to understand people who won't understand you?

Unequal

"I love you." He whispered in my ear - softly.


His words drifted across the space between his lips and my ear. It was striking.


I smiled most affectionately while visioning his face. My lips parted and my mouth giving out air.



"I'm sorry." I told him the truth. I am not in love with him yet. 


"That's okay, G. I will wait for your answer any time." He smiled faintly while trying to reach for my body lying on the bed.


He hugged me. I hugged him back. 


It felt good but not great.



It was a moment but not the moment.


I kissed his lips, it was still warm and moist. He fought back with aggression and passion.


"I love you." He said it again with more emphasis than the last.


I smiled.


My answer unchanged.


Better be called insensitive than saying something I do not feel.

A Life Scare

Status: Unconfirmed



Final Part

A Life Scare

"Good morning, Doc." I put on a brave face but inside I had butterflies, no, deadly, giant, fugly monster moths in my stomach.


"Hello." His tone, professional. His voice, professional. His greeting, professional.


And it still creeped me out. Don't get me wrong, the man looks very dignified even without an MD attached to his name but there's something about him I just couldn't quite figure out...


I was intimidated to him.


"Doc, my infection doesn't seem to be getting okay. I mean as soon as some wounds get dry, a whole swarm comes replacing the nearly healed ones." I told him with much doubt. I felt queasy.


"Let me see." He took out his pen light again and scanned my arms on the new and old patches of the wretched scars.


I straightened my left arm for him to inspect better.


He started to think.


And also started to make faces uncomfortable for me to see.


"Doc, can you check on this one, please?" He requested again the presence of his colleague. The one who checked me too from last time.


"His infection seem to be getting worse." He told the other dermatologist when she came into the cubicle of the small room.


"It's even worse on my feet." I told them both while removing my sock on my right foot and showcased what we simply call - atrocious.


She looked at it and boy, she took a good look at it.


I gulped and swallowed on my saliva. It seems stuck for an apparent reason that is anxiety.


"And have you taken your Clindamycin for seven days as instructed?" She asked while still inspecting on my right foot.


"Yes, doc. I even extended it for three more days because at first I bought the generic which looked like it didn't really do much at all so come the fourth day, I bought Dalacin-C."


She looked at the dermatologist and told both of us to extend my Clindamycin for three more days plus change the Mupirocin to Diprogenta plus prescribed a Hypo-Dexa lotion which only their institution - RITM - formulates.


I was looking at them both when the lady dermatologist finally went back to her side of the room to check on another patient.


"This is weird." The male dermatologist was talking to me while I placed back my sock to my foot.


"What's weird?"


"Your infection."


"What seems weird about it?"


"Usually the Clindamycin works effectively for seven days, it should be healed by now." He continued.


And suddenly, like I hit the jackpot on a grand lottery, he asked me the proverbial question.


"Do you have a girlfriend?"


Those monster moths just wanted to get out of my stomach right then and there.


"None."


"But do you..." He hesitated for a moment. I know what he wanted to convey. "But do you engage in any sexual activity?"


"Yes." I told him the fact, it was, after all, concerning my health.


"Homo or hetero?" His look became worried.


"Homo."


Shit. And I nearly did I tell you.


"Protected or unprotected?" And by this time he looked concerned.


"Well..." I hesitated my answer, that was a tough question, I was fazed by it.


"Always, always protected." He told me.


I breathed  a sigh of relief.


"Yes, always." I breathed a sigh of relief again.


"Your condition, this is not normal, persisting for more than two weeks, it means only one thing: your immune system dropped to a dangerous low level."


I knew that. I researched about the condition way ahead of him but I had to stay mum; anxious, worried, maybe in a bit of denial.


He wrote down the new medications on a new sheet of his Rx pad.


"Scary." I couldn't help but blurt it out to him, of course, in a mild and hushed tone.


"It is." He looked at me then looked back to what he was writing.


He gave me the new prescription. I thanked him again. I also thanked the lady dermatologist and I smiled to them both.


I looked at the new prescription while walking outside the hospital premises. My heart beating faster, sweat forming quicker, breath doing shorter.


I rode a jeepney, bought the new set of medications except for the Diprogenta and went home.


The questions in my head just frazzled me for the whole week.






Part 2