testosterone boy

stealing hearts and running off and never saying sorry.

It’s hard not to find it all a little bittersweet.

When you read this, I know you’re going to raise an eyebrow because I had written yet another blog entry about you. I know how much you hate it when I “drag” you into my ~sad, bitter~ posts. So before you start scrolling down to read anyway, let me warn you start by saying I am sorry. Really, I am.

I’m sorry for sharing a little too much of our relationship in my previous blog entries. You never truly listened to what I had to say and I didn’t want to constantly bother my closest friends about what was going on at the time so I had to turn to my blog for company. I’m sorry for putting my emotions and feelings out in the open ‘cause you were not always there to appreciate them.

I’m sorry if I didn’t commit to gaining weight and building muscles. To be “masculine” or “toned” is never my thing but yours. Maybe that’s one of the reasons you kept hooking up with other people. You were never completely attracted to me, physically.

For that, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I am very much happy and satisfied with the way I look.

I’m sorry if I had to write about all of your shortcomings. If in any way these blog entries made you feel like a bad boyfriend, know that it was never my intention. I never wanted for my readers to see that you were never contented.

I’m also sorry that you had to constantly lie about almost everything because you thought I could never handle the truth. I’m sorry for wearing my heart on my sleeves, that’s why you thought I’m too emotional to take the hard truth in.

I’m sorry if you were never satisfied with just me. I’m sorry that my not being enough made you the lying, cheating boyfriend that all my friends hate. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry if you think I’m crazy and psycho because I am way too smart and clever for you too fool. I’m sorry if I always knew when you’re lying. I’m Nancy fcking Drew, deal with it.

I’m sorry if I had become a different person. I’m sorry if I was no longer the person you loved. I’m sorry if I had become more bitchy and shady and mean. I didn’t intend to become one. But after years of keeping it all in and sweeping things under the rug, you soon realize that in your attempt to not lose someone, you end up losing yourself in the process. I didn’t want that to happen any further. So I’m truly sorry.

Most of all, I’m very sorry if I honestly believed in everything that we had. I had imagined we were going to last.

Now that you have reached the last two paragraphs of this long and boring blog entry, I want you to remember the next one.

In spite of the secrets and lies, I am more than happy that somehow I was able to make you feel genuinely loved in a way nobody else can and probably nobody else could. And I am happy for the fact that it was my only part in your life.


Because I love the players and you love the game.

Every day I wake up hoping there’s a message from you in my inbox. I always wish for a “good morning” message or “how was your sleep?” Even just a “Hi” would excite me. But no, I always welcome the day feeling defeated and disappointed that there’s nothing from you.

I still message you. I always do, to show you that I honestly care even it is clear that you don’t. I send you clever gifs so you would see the effort I put in my attempt to get noticed by you. I text you when my Facebook messages remain unread even you have been online all day to let you know that I can reach out to you in all methods and platforms available.

Just like clockwork, I spend most of my day thinking about you: how you’re doing, have you slept well, have you eaten yet, is work stressful again etc. And just like clockwork, you almost always never respond. When you do, it is always one-liners of “Thanks,” “Haha,” or a set of emojis and stickers; yet these one-liners still make me happy in the most pathetic, cliché way.

You know, I think a part of me knew the second I saw you that this would happen.

I knew you’re just another guy that showed interest in me because either you were bored or drunk or lonely or horny or a mix of all these at the time. I knew the moment you flashed that sweet smile that you’re trouble, and I’m willing to walk right into you anyway; knowing that I’m just one of the many other guys in your roster, waiting for your next sweet move to lure one or all of us in.

“You always make yourself available. Even you know he’s only going to want you when there’s no better offer on his table,” one of my best friends said to me when I told him about you.

Now I won’t demand for an answer why you make me feel like a dog always chasing after a piece of bone. But please tell me if it’s true that you only keep me around because I always make myself available to you.

Say that it is true so I can stop sending you messages. Say that it is true so I can rid myself off the wishful thinking that you like me too. Say that it is true so I can stop wanting you, before I get myself in too deep that I can no longer climb back up. Say that you only want me because I make myself readily available. Say it so I can give up; because my mind forgets to remind me you’re a bad idea.

See me again, even if it’s just pretend.

His hands griped my neck tightly and the pressure of his fingers set me to hardening as our lips made fine acquaintance. He let me disrobe him and we both pulled our pants down.

At the same moment, we went for each other’s lips again and kissed even more passionately. Stephan Jenkins was kissing and biting my lips like a pro. Next thing I knew, my hands left his sides and slipped them between his legs. My fingers curled around his crotch, then I went down on him. My lips drove down his dick and he pushed down on my shoulders as his whole body bolted in pleasure.

He pulled me up, took the lead on top of me, then came my turn.
We continued to pleasure each other for hours—






It was witching hour and I was under a spell. Everything about him had thrown me off balance in the best possible way. Sure, my nervousness had made me let him try to fvck me bare, told him he can cum anywhere he pleases (even inside of me), and shared with him my ~weakness~ in the sex department.

Yes, I had filibustered about the differences between the things we had talked about prior to our meeting. And yet, I could tell that he was having a nice time. He was flirting back at my lame pickup lines and dirty talks.

In the outer reaches of my mind, before I kissed him goodbye when he dropped me at my place, I began to wonder what had really happened. Maybe he had overwhelmed me. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he was only drunk or horny or both that’s why he reached out. Maybe the sparks had distracted me from the signs. I'm not entirely sure.
All I know was he had me at “Hi Justin,” then found myself riding shotgun in the front seat of his car, he’s got one hand feel on the steering wheel and the other on my heart.

So I am praying to all the Gods to make him want to see me again. Even if it’s just pretend.

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.

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—


GRINDR, 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 hoped 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.