testosterone boy

sad, beautiful, tragic.

Tag: gay

The moment I knew.

It was a Thursday afternoon. The room was wonderfully bright and warm. On the corner night stand was a Bluetooth speaker playing “Your Song” by Rita Ora from his iPhone.

He was packing work clothes in his gym bag and other items in another bag for his trip to the beach that weekend.

“Did you eat your food already?” he asked.

I didn’t reply so he went towards me as I was finishing the buttons of my shirt. He was wearing a black tank top that had Les Mills printed on it and black gym shorts, all fitted his tight chest and body. Standing in front me still waiting for my response, I reached for his right hand and stood up. 

There’s no way I am going to back out again. I was going to tell him how much I admire his sweet smiles, the goofy faces and pickup lines he makes, his poi dancing, and most of all, I love the way he makes me fall for him in many effortless ways, even I know he doesn’t feel the same towards me. I knew I wasn’t going to lose the moment this time.

He smirked at me and stared, fixed his eyes on mine, as if he already knew what exactly I am into. His dark green eyes told me to remain on guard and stick to what I had to say that very moment when he was only a breath away. 

It felt like melting along with the continuous sound of music filling the entire room. I didn’t know where to begin. I’m scared of what might happen next. I’m afraid that he might reject me. Again. For once, those negative thoughts backfired on my head.

But I was too weak and shy to speak for those words. I thought it was not the right time until he put his arms around my waist and pulled me towards him, without hesitation, without any words, he opened his mouth and reached for my lips. 

All of a sudden, it felt like I was floating in the air with my both hands around his neck. If I was in the middle of a beautiful dream that moment, I wished not to wake up at all. But it was for real, I’m not in a mindless dreaming. It was the best two and a half breathless minutes of my life.

When our lips parted, we remained standing locked in each other’s arms; that was the moment I knew it was going to be our last kiss.


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.

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—


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.

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?