testosterone boy

sad, beautiful, tragic.

And the sinking feeling starts.

You should have been here.

You should have shown up that weekend. I waited for you to message me and to pick up the phone when I called you up that Saturday afternoon, but hours passed and there was no response from you. I stayed in the entire evening, still waiting, as I comb back through my memory how you said you’d be here.

If you had showed up, it would have felt like all the stars in the sky had just aligned and I’m the luckiest guy in this world. But you never did.

On the next day, I spent most of the time in the shower in hopes that the cold water could at least numb me from the pain. There in the bathroom I let the water ran from the nozzle from my head down my body as tears streamed down my face, and I tried not to fall apart as I hopelessly cried, “He said he’d be here.”

Dad, you said you’d be here.
We were going to meet for the first time in forever. I was going to show you my favorite spots in Quezon City to hangout so you would get to know me more, and you were going to introduce me to my half siblings from your first family so I could feel to have a family again. And we would have spent the weekend as if it wasn’t going to end.

I honestly don’t know what happened. Everything seemed so perfect. What happened, dad?! Did I say something that put you off? Was I out of line? Was it because of the way I speak or the way I use punctuation marks in my text messages? Did I say something way too honest or too gay that made you run and hide? Because you said you’d be here. What changed your mind?!

Did you forget everything we had talked about? Did you forget how much I missed you? Did you miss the part when I said how immensely happy I am that we found each other? Didn’t you mean when you said you wanted to see me too? Didn’t you mean when you said you wanted to make up for the 24 years that you been gone? I thought you meant all those words. Now I’m not so sure.

I know people disappear and these things happen, but I remember how excited I was when you said we’re finally going to meet on the last weekend of April. Ten weeks now and I’m still reaching even though I know you’re not going to respond because I believed you when you said you’d be here.

You should have been here and I would have been so happy.

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This looks like my next mistake.

If I was tired as we leant against each other in the backseat of the cab, it was mixed with the headiness I felt I shared with him. Going to Valero Street was all right by me. It would be a good finale to a good night out.

Neither of us spoke much during the ride. He mostly talked. About go-go boys, drag performers, the bug bites he got from the beach, adopting to help control the population. But for most of the time, there was silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence we shared, but rather one of safety and comfort. I was looking forward to his place.

The cab drew up a block of buildings. He pulled himself up from the backseat, rifled in his wallet for the fare and paid it. I followed him up to his room on the 17th floor of Tower 2.

He let us both into the unit and once we’re settled, he went to the small kitchen area to get me a glass of cold water then he excused himself to use the bathroom.

Looking around the place, my first impression was that it was untidy. A refuge from his hectic schedule at work. It appeared to me that in spite of his busy hours in the office and recent travels since he came back from the States, he was at least aware that he needs to recharge his batteries because the bed was made.

He came back all fresh and clean from the shower wearing a black underwear, and cuddled up beside me on his bed. His dog joined in and one of our hands rubbed its back, our spare hands entwined in each other. I couldn’t hide the sleepiness in my eyes, I was dog-tired. And just sitting there, comfy on the bed, it was really nice to end an evening.

We fvcked, we showered, we went back to bed and chatted. Hours passed and we just stayed at each other’s glow until we both fell asleep, locked in each other’s arms.

We are never ever getting back together.

In the beginning I was only curious to know you. There was that sense of urgency to try to give in to your hype and popularity. I knew I had to get my hands, my head, and my body on you. I was intrigued and fascinated and overwhelmed by how many people are so into you. You’re everyone’s cup of tea.

At first I thought it would be so cool to try something totally out of my comfort zone. Something different and wild and free.

I remember our first time like it was just yesterday. I was at a friend’s party, I had downed multiple shots of tequila, my head started to feel heavy and my vision blurry—that’s when we had gotten to start chatting. True enough, one thing led to another. It was fun! It was more than what I had expected it to be like.

We had several encounters since.

You have helped me in so many ways. I have learned to come into terms with my sexual desires because you introduced me to a lot of guys who wanted completely different things, whether it was in bed or in hanging out. You have allowed me to show the side of me that isn’t reserved or alienated to the kind of sex I only know how to do. I got to meet cool people through you, and those not-so cool ones too! You have helped me battle my fear of rejection because each time we had done it, it was effortlessly easy to get someone to like me without having to share my stories and without having to be vulnerable and open and careful. I was fearless. I was brave. I had everyone at the palm of my hands.

We have shared numerous exciting times! Like when you had me meet a gorgeous guy at Glorietta 3, only to have found out that he was neither gorgeous nor a guy lol. That was real shitty but funny at the same time!

I have known you for 4 years now and although you have greatly influenced my life on so many levels, parting time is here. We have to bid farewell to everything that we had shared in those years. Know that I will forever and always grateful to have found you, because life would have been more scary and dramatic had I not met you.

During those times when I didn’t have anyone to help me get through some shitty stuff, you were there to comfort me. When my room was getting too warm due to my excess body heat, you were always there to make it less stifling. You made me happy so effortlessly. I have always been alone; but with you by my side, I didn’t have to be lonely. You were the orange light at the end of my dark tunnel.

You have introduced me to different types of people I would have never met on this level in real life—

effeminate
discreet
twink
jock
top
bottom
versatile

IMG_1823,thank you.

As much as it is entertaining to keep you on my phone, the experiences we have shared veered me away from the reality I should have faced a long time ago—online dating is almost always never going to work or suffice to genuine happiness. At least not for me.

Today I am going to delete you from my device. I’m sure you will continue to service other gay guys throughout the globe, but it has gotten exhausting to me now. We are never ever getting back together.

Like ever.

Long handwritten note deep in my pocket.

People would almost always going to ask how my day went at work, or how am doing in general to start a conversation. My answer is always I am good/fine. Or at least I think I am because it’s what normal and sane people would say.

Work was fine. I had a client sat in my class to watch me play an irrelevant video using a terrible speaker. I knew I had to change it but 1. it was already playing and 2. I got too ashamed to stop and replace the video, so 3. I sucked it up and went on with it. It was awful. I. Was. Awful.

Also, I think all the shit everybody’s going through at the office will soon be just yesterday’s news. Eventually, things will pan out okay and people will be just fine, whether it be with the problems they face or practically the decisions they’ve made and battles they keep fighting for.

But you know, it is true that no matter how much you tell yourself ‘everything is gonna be okay’ and you tell everyone you are fine, the moment you lay on your bed is the time it’s gonna tell you otherwise. It all settles in. The disappointment that your father you had hope to see for the first time went AWOL, the sadness over people saying that you’re a bitch and they can’t live with that, the fake smiles you put to mask the pain, the reality of it all. All these cruel things you keep at bay suddenly crashes on the surface. You couldn’t control it.

However you try to pretend every day there is something to be happy about, deep inside you know something is not right. Nothing has ever been. Even the sincerest of laughs simply could not hide the fact that although you are okay outside, you are not fine at all inside.

When good things happen, you try so hard to hold on to it. And you do that, too, when certain people make you feel happy. You don’t want to lose that moment. You become determined not to let them go. Everything becomes like an amazing Christmas vacation that passes fleetingly. It makes you less sad and a little more alive than you ever were. You need it.

I need it.

Now if you ask me how am I doing? Ask me again tomorrow.

The lingering question kept me up.

I know your first name is not Isaac.

I have been going over and over in my head seeing your face, seeing you look at me, seeing your eyes behind your glasses and how badly I want to spend my days and nights with you.

I keep fantasizing you’re here, what I would want you to do to me—

kissing me,
playing with my nipples,
playing with my dick, or just
sleeping, and
waking up next to me.

I can still see your puppy eyes staring at me, I couldn’t believe it was happening.

Usually I’m the one who steals a glance and make eye contact, check out the hottest person near me. At first, I couldn’t tell. Were you actually checking me out, or was it me…wanting it to be true?

Today was different. You walked up to me wearing your denim jacket with ALONE printed on the back and tight starched jeans. As we walked, we were talking, I didn’t say half the things I wanted to. You had to leave so you asked for my phone and keyed in your number. I was so excited of the thought that it was really happening that I accidentally deleted it.

If you read this post get back to me, so we can do nasty and romantic things to each other.

I’m frustrated.

I’m excited.

I’m enchanted to meet you even I just made this all up to justify my reason for smiling. I like you and that is why I am smiling. This is the type of smile that makes the muscles on your face tired, but you really don’t give a damn whether they’re sore and you keep smiling for as long as you can remember.

All those other guys, well they’re beautiful and your type. But would they write a mojito-induced blog entry about you?

So here’s to the silence that cuts me to the core.

You would never understand how terrified and depressed and lonely I am now, ever since you and I said farewell. I’m not the same person anymore.

I hope it to be easy. It’s not.

Every person I meet reminds me of you and how they are not going to be you. My world revolved around the idea that I’ve found my Forever Person in you; now that you’re gone, I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone that could love me the way you did, or if I ever going to love someone as much I loved you.

This is the next page in my life where I have to get used to not being with the person I had hoped I could be with forever. This is me praying that you’d come back, say you love me, and you are going to stay with me to continue the life we shared for 10 years. This is me wishing for all this pain to just stop.

Because I miss you—

and your returning home
your playing the piano
your library of books
your set of old films
your love songs
your embrace
your writing
your love
your sex
you.

Tomorrow I’m flying to Seoul. We were supposed to go there together, remember? I’m bringing a camera with me to capture the beauty of the city and watch everything in silence. I’m hoping to discover new things during my stay, maybe meet new people. I’m hoping to find myself there, hoping when I return home I could be the new version that is moved on and happy and optimistic that you’re gone for the better. But as cheesy and cliché as it is, I’m hoping to find you.

And in the cold weather of Seoul, your warm embrace would comfort me and I would cry in your arms and you would never let me go.

You would say, “forever and always, baby” even when you don’t mean it. I would take it all in for as long I could remember, until I decide it’s only mindless dreaming.

You’re just a lost boy. 

I have lost count how many times you have messed up just as how many times I shrugged it off and forgave you. Nobody is counting, but we both know there had been countless occasions. It got too exhausting now.

It was a risk when you offered me the “boyfriend” label but you made it so convincing that I fell with it. Both my heart and mind trusted that this time it’s different. You were going along with me to make it work.

Now that the cat is out of the box, even I try to get past what you did, I’m just going to be paranoid every time you’re out going to work, to the gym, hanging out with your friends, or even getting a massage! It’s never going to be the same. I will not believe you anymore. Because all I see is you want to have sex with other guys. You want to keep fooling around. And it disappoints me that you’re doing that because I may not be enough.

It may just be sex for you, but to me it isn’t. Commitment means the world to me. It’s not a passport that you renew when it expires. Or car parts that you repair when the engine brokes. There is so much more to a relationship than having sex or making love. You’re old enough to know that.

Sure, it’s just a blowjob or a one-time bareback sex with a random guy and it isn’t going to affect what you feel about me or the life that we share together. But I care about what we do to and for each other.

Perhaps that’s what is different about us. You view this relationship in an oppposite perspective. To you, everyone slips up and it should be okay. I may slip up, yes. Who knows, right? But the difference is that I’m not looking for a hall-pass to slip up. Because I’m with you. Because I would prove that what I have with you is much more than some quick thrill. Because I love you and I care about us.

Ask me again in 5 years, maybe I’ll feel differently. But all I know right now is I want to make the choice to not fuck other people and you can’t or won’t try to be monogamous, so where does that put us?

You’re just a lost boy. You’re not ready to be found.