testosterone boy

sad, beautiful, tragic.

Tag: gay

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.

Leave this blue neighborhood.

On Wednesday morning, I was finishing up on my graveyard shift when I started to feel itchiness in my throat. Shit! I knew it was not going to be a good day for sleeping.

True enough, the coughing and feverish feeling came forward later in the day when I got up to prepare for an evening commitment. My head was heavy and it felt as if gravity was ready to knock me down the bathroom floor.

I still fought the distress my body was all too susceptible to succumb into. I went to my Wednesday night thing.

That same day I was awoken by my ringing phone: it was my sister. To my joy, I straightened up and began asking about her and mom and our other siblings and her daughter! I was just ecstatic to have had to catch up with her! I didn’t let her speak in our first two minutes on the phone, until she stopped me with―

Kuya, kelangan ko ng pera. Padala ka naman.” Brother, I need money. Please send me.

Then the next couple of minutes I had her on the line circled to why/when/how much do you need? That was it. That was all. Of course.

You know, the thing about my sister is that she maintains her communication with me, which makes me happy. She never fails to reach out whenever they need something i.e. money, hand-me-down clothes or cellphones, money. She is very consistent at that. Even my mom. Which is also sad, because I don’t really feel they care about me. At all. Well maybe they’re confident that I can manage on my own.

But it sucks. Big time!

I always have to live with the fact that the very people I expect to express affection in me are the same people who show otherwise. Hence I had become hopeful-to-the-extent-of-clingy to the idea that other people outside my family tree should give me the care and love and attention and affection I try so hard to receive. This is very upsetting, tbh. And annoying, I should add.

Other people should not be obliged to show their interest or attention in me. But I tend to shove it down their throats often that it becomes sickeningly hard to swallow. I make them feel responsible to shower me with affection―

 

with understanding
with acceptance
with love

 
And I know it is not right. I am truly and utterly sorry for being this way. I just feel so alone and neglected and uncared for. I hate to be this person. I hate to have this behavior. I hate myself for acting this way. I just couldn’t help it sometimes.

I want to leave this blue neighborhood and never come back. I just couldn’t find it in my gut to know how.

😭

All you had to do was stay.

I hate not waking up on my own bed; not knowing where I am. Sure enough, your bodies can get intimate while asleep, but then you wake up asking yourself, “What the fuck am I doing here?!”

It’s a horrible way to start a day!

Gary and I had been hooking up for a week now or so. But this was the first I had spent the night with him and I knew instantly that I had to go. I got up from his bed and, careful as I could, picked up my clothes so I could leave. And then my phone rang―

it was my Ex.
it was probably to greet me Good Morning!
or it was probably nothing.

Gary was now awake. He sat up on his bed still half-awake and asked, “Where are you going?”

“I have to go home already. Thanks for last night.” I responded whilst zipping up my pants.

“Hey, stay. I’ll make you breakfast in bed,” he responded, all the while pulling the left back pocket of my jeans toward him back to the bed. “Or…we..can be each other’s breakfast…in…this…bed.” Gary teased.

Sometimes I don’t think. Sometimes overthink things through. And sometimes, I let my dick think.

I stayed.

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