testosterone boy

sad, beautiful, tragic.

Tag: self

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. 

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.