testosterone boy

sad, beautiful, tragic.

Tag: self

He was the best of times, the worst of crimes.

IT IS HONESTLY SAD AND CRUEL knowing that most people we meet and learn to adore eventually have to leave. It isn’t always the case, yes. But in my experience it always happens like clockwork.

When I met James, I was confident he was only going to be a hookup. One that I had psyched myself up to settle for since I become single. Again. I was also certain he saw me as an available sexual offer on his table as well.

I didn’t know it was going to be more than that because he made it oh-so-easy for me to like him.

I remember the first time he took me to his favorite breakfast place. It was a sunny Friday in June. We ordered our food to-go, and as we walked back to his place, we ended up eating our food in the nearby park ‘cause I told him I haven’t seen it in the daylight. It was my second breakfast at the park, which was very memorable because my first was with my mom when I was 10 or 11.

I appreciate people more when they do things for me and with me that reminds me of my childhood and of my mom. James gained multiple “pogi” points for it.

Although he and I never went out on a date or at least there was none that we considered as one, I still had great times with him when we were at his place just talking about our lives. He was always interested about my stories and I, to his.

For a little over two months, we were spending time together without having to fck, which says a lot because I was always horny around him and I was able to restrain myself. Haha. We were contented just to cuddle in his bed and chat until we fall asleep. It was nice and warm and sweet—

I fell for it.

My blind optimism romanticized what we were and I had hoped it would lead to something more. It was as if there were no red flags in front of me. It was as if he wasn’t seeing other guys, or as if my friends never warned me he was not a good idea.

Of all his good qualities, his being charming was a standout. That’s what made me want him more. And who passes up on that? I’ve always been a princess, and every classic Disney fan knows princesses are always paired up with a prince that is charming. That’s how their fairytale stories were written. But alas, we were not that kind of story.

Surely, I’ll miss James.

Now that he’s left my country, all there’s left is to watch his pictures on Facebook like I used to watch him sleep, and I’ll feel him forget me like I used to feel him breathe.


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.

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.


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.

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. 


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.