testosterone boy

sad, beautiful, tragic.

Blank space. 

“I had the best days with you,” he said. His gaze was wide and comforting. It was almost impossible not to believe him. “You have always made me proud.”

“But I don’t remember who you are!” I exclaimed!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I looked all through my mind for memories of him. Unable to find any, I had to take his word for it that he was my father.

These are the words I held back.

Stephan Jenkins was enjoying the night, dancing to the 80’s hits like “Always” by Erasure. He danced as if the songs were written just for him, as if the party was never going to end, as if the pub was inside a time-space warp that brought him to his teenage days. He was having a lot good of a time.

I was watching him.

Although I was busy entertaining myself as well as the folks who attended the party our management team worked hard to accomplish, my head was somewhere else. Perhaps someone else. Everybody was partying and jamming on the dance floor with him so I took the opportunity to take glances at him from across the bar knowing nobody would really take notice, just as how I didn’t notice the shots of tequila and glasses of rum Coke I’d down as I steal glances at him. 

He looked happy.

As the evening went and the alcohol in everyone’s drink had finally kicked in, I knew I had to man up to get his attention. “Hey, are you having fun? Do you want anything?” I asked when I was able to get close to him surrounding a sea of tipsy faces. 

He reached closer to my ears so I could hear him: “I’m okay. Maybe just water.” That was my cue. 

I got him his glass of water and we were standing at the bar. Even the pub reeks of alcohol, sweat and cigarette smoke, his perfume remained unaltered by the mix. But he was also sweating so I handed him my hanky. That was a long shot but I was determined to put it out there. Smart move, Justin haha.

It was our first time hanging out; and with the crowd mostly itching to get his attention, I had not expected he would take it. Maybe he was only being polite or maybe I was too insistent. Regardless, he took my offer in kind. That was more than enough. 

The next dancing and singing scenes, he was wiping off sweat on his face, neck and nape with my hankerchief. And no, I’m not crazy so I never planned on smelling it obsessively or not putting it in the laundry. I was just so glad that maybe he had seen my good intentions in making him comfortable throughout the party. 

He thanked and smiled at me countless times. It felt good. The night panned out wonderfully and I was blushing on the way home.

Stephan Jenkins, it was enchanting to meet you. 

Looking for bottom. 

Earlier this week while scrolling (and bitching, per usual) through my Grindr feed, I stumbled upon I_F_U. It’s his Display Name. Of course his Profile Picture showed his abs and perfect v-line. You may have also figured he’s a Top. He is. 

What caught my though attention was his profile bio. It says: Uncut top. Blow job only. No kissing. Wow! That struck me as cold. As much as the inner bottom in me wanted to drop him a message or send him some of my Instagram-ready photos, I backed myself up because:

1. I’m also a Top. And judging by his short, narcissistic bio, he won’t be willing to go bottom. If you should know, I like a guy who’s not very tall but bigger than I am. I like the idea of him being able to toss me and pick me up easily and aggressively at the same time. But more importantly, I like someone who’s top-looking and beefy enough that I can top.

Topping a muscular guy is just hot. 

Imagine having Channing Tatum opening his legs for your entry. That’s heaven! I can never really put much interest in topping a femine dude much more versing with them or for them. I mean, it just doesn’t seem right to me. I’m slim and standing 5’8″ tall. I may as well carry a “Bottom here” cardboard with me in public. That is how society has typecasted gay men. I want to counter that. 

My kind of hookup or boyfriend is your typical gym rat. I enjoy topping them as much as bottoming for them. But I’m also picky, fyi. 

Which leads me to 2. If you wanna fvck me, make sure you’re up for kissing unless I specifically said otherwise. For hygiene and hypocrisy reasons, I understand kissing isn’t necessary. However if you show off, please have the decency to get the show going; and that includes kissing. 

3. When there is no mouth to mouth action, how can you expect someone to suck your uncut dick?! That’s BS. No offense to uncut dudes, but sucking you can be really surprising. My taste test is the kissing part. That’s when I can tell it is safe to get down on you. Also, that saves us time. 

#YoureWelcome

Red lips and rosy cheeks.

Today I’ve seen someone at the coffee shop and at that moment our life together flashed before my eyes. 

Chances are, we would never know each other. But his name would be Anthony. Ben. Charlie. Dan. Emett. Finn. George. Henry. Iñigo. Jack. Kenneth. Liam. Marco. His lips red and his cheeks rosy. He would be smart and witty. He would look incredibly handsome in sneakers and white t-shirt.

We would spend Sundays in bed together because we would have a long and fun night at the bar or with friends on Saturdays. I would look out the glass window knowing he was looking at me. We would love being naked, happy, and admired by one another. We would spend Sunday mornings in bed together. He would laugh at my jokes. He would look handsome in the morning. I would not mind his morning breath. I would still kiss him, massage his back and play with his hair.

I would clean the dishes without him asking me to do it. I would vacuum the apartment without him having to ask me to do it. I would bring him coffee. I would know exactly what he wanted before he ask me to do it. 

His kiss would be magical. It would be tender, sweet, soft, deep, hard, dominating, warm. He would be a really good kisser. My touch would be sensual, aggressive, ticklish, firm, electric, passionate, hard, and delicious. 

We would enjoy making funny faces and making each other laugh. We would goof around together. We would be up for a lot of fun and not be embarrassed. 

Our first date would be at the Mind Museum in Taguig. We would go there to see the many wonders of Science. We would be comfortable in public; walk going home, plant a kiss on each other’s cheeks time and again, hold hands.

His favorite food group: pastry. My favorite thing about him: he would let me be picky with what I eat and let me use my fingers with my food. He would be the kind of boyfriend who would let me be myself. He would not run from arguments and miscommunications. 

We would be happy and all our single friends would be jealous. 

IF we would be together.

IF.

The playful conversation starts. 

Before stepping out the door, he reached for Ivan’s lips and kissed him goodbye.

“Do you want to use protection?” He asked Ivan, sipping on his glass of wine. He was fully aware of what was going to happen there, but at the same time he needed to know should there rules be placed on the table. 

This was their first time meeting. 

To say that Ivan resembled a Greek God was a complete understatement of the guy’s undeniable physique. He’s like a cut-out from a magazine cover. He was handsome as hell.

“You could fvck me bare if you want, as long as there is lube.” Ivan responded, suggesting he was open for that kind of fun. “I’m negative since June 13 so…” he continued. At that point, Ivan sealed a reputation that he’s someone very much willing to take risks in the sex department. 

This made him lustful. He started weighing down his options. It isn’t everyday he could get a sex invite from a guy as good of a catch as Ivan. All the while, he was also half-hearted if he wanted to do it bare with this incredibly hot dude he only met that morning on Grindr. 

He placed his glass of wine on the bedside table, turned to Ivan and he kissed him. His kiss was gentle at first, giving himself the liberty to assess Ivan’s kissing. It was not bad. He was enjoying it. Ivan was returning his kiss in kind all the way. Their mouths were making a fine acquaintance. It was intimate and passionate. Ivan was giving him a taste he sure would definitely ask for more.

Kissing.

Rimming.

Licking.

Sucking.

Fvcking.

And then more kissing and cuddling thereafter. This surprised him because it was something he had not expected from a hookup. Normally, he would towel off and leave when he’s done.

Ivan didn’t finish but it sure didn’t matter. He knew this beautiful bottom enjoyed every pulse-quickenig, heart-pounding, breathtaking moments of it. The sex was quick but they didn’t feel rushed or anything. It was great and fun and Ivan sure wanted more.

“Are you going home after?” This was Ivan trying to start a post-sex conversation. “Yeah, I have got nothing else to do.” he answered back.  Although at the back of his head he wanted to insist on staying, maybe for another round or two. 

They toweled off, then Ivan offered another toast of his white wine. “Cheers!” he said with so much glee, “Thank you for coming. Promise you’d come back, yeah?”

“Of course. I had a great time.”

“Me too. It was fun.”

“I’ll just finish my drink and then I’ll go. I hate to disturb you any longer.”

“No, you’re not disturbing me. This is great!”

“Yeah, but I just have to go. There’ll be plenty of time, next time.” 

Ivan handed him his belongings and ushered him out. Before stepping out the door, he reached for Ivan’s lips and kissed him goodbye. He was happy. Ivan reminded him to take care on his way home before closing the door behind him. He was smiling.

We could end in burning flames, or paradise. 

When you said to me the words “I love you” and “I never want to let you go,” I honestly held back the tears to run down my face. They weren’t tears of happiness nor of complete sadness, but confusion. 

Two years and I remain clueless of what this relationship has in store for us. For me, mostly. 

I know it’s easy to just get the hell out of this, move on with my life, hop on to the next train ride to date another guy, but I also know leaving is what scares me the most right now. Although I have a handful of friends telling me I have a great life ahead of me, I know at this point in my life, you’re one of those that makes life great. If I ever let you go, I don’t know if it’s ever gonna be the same. 

Perhaps, it will be. Maybe even better. However, this is something I am most reluctant to take risk in. 

I have given myself an awful lot of opportunities to turn my back and go away. But I love us. Mostly, I love how I am with you. It is cruel what this love does to me, but to hell with it! I am taking chances yet again. 

You should know though, this is the last time I am going to try believing in you. No more bullshits after this. If I get hurt by you again, I am done. I’m prepared to end in burning flames, if that’s what it takes to finding my paradise. 

Please don’t be in love with someone else.

One afternoon, I was having lunch with a girl friend when we suddenly opened the conversation about our relationship and the set-up that we agreed on. I tried to dismiss the topic because I know she wasn’t gonna be okay with it, but she insisted. So I told her everything, hoping at one point she’d be open-minded to accept that this is something I don’t regret choosing. 

I explained to her that I feel the intensity in our relationship. And then she asked, “Is that ‘intense good’ or ‘intense bad’?” I had to really think about it. 

You know, this terrifies me. Every day. I feel that I’m just going to wake up one day with you gone. Either I would be the one who gives up or you would go for somebody else. Maybe younger. Or perhaps older. Somebody you would be more than willing to commit yourself to. If this were to end tomorrow, part of me would be devasted. But to be honest, I also think that another part of memaybe a larger partwould be completely relieved.

I remember when we first met, I never planned to take it on an emotional level. It was entirely for sex. A one-time sex, for that matter. But for some weird and odd reason, you took me. The next day at work, I was furious when people think I was completely being stupid with the very idea I was beginning to psych myself for with you.

Then we spent the next weekend together and it was epic! We talked for hours until the sun came up on a Sunday. You took me and disarmed me and put me in my most vulnerable state. The next Monday, I realized I want more of it with you.

I enjoy what you do to me. You’re leading me. You’re actually leading me to me. To the side of me that enjoys playing the wife, which is totally gay. Whenever I stay at your place on a weekday, thinking of what to prepare you for dinner is the highlight of my day. Really. What’s also weird is that, I have never been much into cooking. Makes me feel like a girl, which is terrible feeling! But I like cooking for you. It brings joy to my heart and I guess it helps me paint the love I can give.

You completely, single-handedly changed me. For the better. Even people at work and my other friends know about that.

You get me. I am completely myself with you. And the insane thing is the more I am honest with you, the closer you come, the better it feels. 

It is amazing how you took me. And there are times when you just completely and utterly take me. In the best sort of way. It totally disarms me and makes me completely relaxed. Whenever my friends give snide remarks about us, I simply shrug them off. Their opinions don’t matter. All that matters to me is that I feel surrendered, I feel at peace, I feel alive when I’m with you.

Erl, this is the only thing I can give that no one else gets to have. You get to have me in a way nobody else gets to have me. I want this to be the one thing you get that no one else gets. 

I wanna give me to you and only you. Cheers to two years of being together and please don’t be in love with someone else.