This will be quite long, but I hope you will read it to the end.
I haven’t really told you how I started this blog. Well I have, partly, but I want to tell about it anyway so here’s the whole story. It actually started with me spying on my ex’s blog; “spying” because I was not allowed to read it. It was supposed to be his personal space, one of the very few parts of his world where I was kept out. But when I got a job and had to live away from him, it started to feel like the parts of his world that I was allowed in were slowly shrinking. So I decided to snoop around in the restricted areas.
One day, I decided that I did not only want to read what he writes, but also what he reads, so I followed the links in his blog roll. I remember coming across citybuoy and desoleboy from there. I read those blogs and, when I was done, went on to click on the links in their lists. I tend to do that a lot: follow links. I’d often read a Wikipedia article and find myself clicking on links and reading articles for the next few hours. My boss would attest to that.
My blog-hopping later led me to Darc’s place. The title was intriguing: “I Fell in Love with a Cyber-celebrity”.
It instantly reminded me of Agent Boytoy and his die-hard groupies. I read Darc’s latest entry, expecting to read stalker thoughts, but it was about an old woman selling vegetables. I was confused, so I figured I should back-read to learn how the cyber-celebrity topic led to the old woman. Before the day ended, I had read every single post. Never mind that he did not say much about the cyber-celebrity, he was a brilliant writer. I was hooked. I was a fan. I thought, “Shet, ang galing niya mag-English!”, and that became the first push for me. I had been severely out of practice at writing and my English was getting really rusty. Blogging seemed to be a good way to fix that.
Another reason behind the blog was my job. You see, I work as a programmer for the Marketing Department of a company that sells car parts through an e-commerce site. If you got lost in that last sentence, the only important keywords are “Marketing” and “e-commerce site”, which means making money through websites. For those of you who are familiar with the techniques, yes, that means SEO, web measurement, content, user experience, etc.
My job works this way: the people from marketing decide that a new feature, for instance, a new banner, could help increase sales so they make one. Then they give it to me and I put it on the site. The problem there is that I am not part of coming up with the strategies, I only implement them; therefore I have little idea on how to use the techniques. Once again, blogging seemed to be a good way to practice. I knew the techniques; I just needed a site to use them on. If I do it right, I can increase the traffic of my blog. Then I can place ads. Ka-ching.
The final push came with the breakup. This is the part that some of you may know about. When ex poured his heart out in his posts, his followers posted words of support and encouragement. There’s nothing wrong with that, except that some of those words were blows directed to me. Nobody knew about me back then. I was just a character in my ex’s story. That’s why it was so easy for people to say things like “He’s not worth it” and “You deserve someone better”. I was like, “What the hell? These people don’t even know the whole story. They don’t even know me, and they’re saying that I’m no good?” I could not really blame them though. It was not their fault that they only knew one side. That was when I finally decided to put up my own blog. I was going to tell my side. I was going to write about myself and about the story from my point of view. Then, when I saw that they already knew me enough to make a proper judgement, I was going to introduce myself as the ex.
And so I signed up for blogger. That was the easy part. Thinking of a title and a display name proved to be a lot more difficult. For the personal part, I had to think of a name and a title that will tell my story in nutshell. For marketing purposes, they should be intriguing enough to make people want to read. That’s how I came up with “Ex Jason” and “His Worthless Ex”. Not my best, I know, but they were the best I can come up with. And they were enough to serve their purpose. I hope.
I got to work once everything was set up. My first three entries were my version of the break-up. The ones after that were stuff about me interspersed with break-up emoness. Everything was in English of course. By the third entry, I had people commenting about how I had a skill for writing. Ha! If you guys only knew just how many times I revise my entries before I publish them. Heck, I even edit them after. But I really appreciate the compliments. That’s one thing I really like about the people here: everyone is generous with compliments, even the best writers.
I was telling my side and I was practicing my English, now I had to market my blog. The most basic way to do that, of course, is to build links. I walked around the blogosphere, following and commenting on every blog that caught my interest. Soon, though, marketing became just my secondary reason for doing that. In my blog-hopping, I discovered just how much talent there was in this community. Honestly, I used to think somehow that majority of bloggers were just like gamers: people who had little life beyond the PC chair. As it turned out, I was mistaken. Everyone had his or her own genuinely interesting story to tell. Bloggers, I realized, are people who live amazing lives and tell about them. The amazing life is a prerequisite; otherwise there would be nothing to tell.
Everything worked out as planned. I gained followers and the number of page views I got rose steadily, which means that the marketing side was doing good. Good for a newbie, anyway. I was still nowhere near as good as the pros, but it was enough learning experience. With regard to my goal of improving my English, I got help from a few of the good writers. I also got good feedback, a lot better than what I expected. For the telling-my-side part, people, even those who told my ex that his ex was worthless, started to understand my side, or at least that was what they said in their comments. I think this was thanks in part to the recently released song by Juris.
Needless to say, putting up this blog and writing those entries have been a great experience. However, I think it has already served its main purpose, which was to tell my side. I had already revealed myself three months ago. The breakup is now a thing of the distant past and there will be no more need to write about it. Also, I realized that I can’t use this blog as the rat for my marketing experiments because it does not sell anything. I will have to practice on some other site that has a more clearly-defined niche.
So, is this another phony farewell post? Don’t worry, it’s not. I will not stop blogging. Why should I? I still have a lot of stories to tell! But they no longer need to be told under this blog’s title. I’m going to make a new blog. This time I will have no other purpose other than to share bits of my life. No more half-assed attempts at marketing. And this time, it will no longer have the word “Ex” attached to it. I don’t yet know exactly when this is going to happen. I will be pretty busy these coming days, so it will probably be next year, which means I will be posting a few more times here before I move.
Whatever the case, I really hope you will still follow my new blog when it finally happens.
Ha! I had a lot of fun putting this list together. I’m not really much of a reader, but I was lucky that we were required to read some really good short stories (mostly written by Filipino writers) when I was in high school. Eight of the stories here were from back then and reading them again after a long time brought back a lot of memories. I remember how we discussed them in class and how intense those discussions sometimes went.
I won’t give out summaries and critiques because (1) I don’t want to spoil anyone, and (2) I’m not really a very reliable critic and I would not want to influence anyone with my inept assessments. I found links though so you can read them if you like. These short stories are actually not that short so they will consume a bit of your time, but they are worth reading.
This was used by a schoolmate for her “doble-kara” monologue. She played the part of Aling Marta and little Andres. Of course, she played Andres as a girl, so I suppose it was an Andrea. I found the story later in a textbook and I swear I felt like bitch-slapping Aling Marta after I read it. Isang giant echoserang frog!
9. Yumayapos Ang Takipsilim by Genoveva Edroza Matute
A very sad story about how people who used to love you and whom you used to take care of will eventually see you as nothing but a useless weight bag. To be more specific, about how parents get left behind. This story hit me hard because I was so close to my mother and I could not imagine this happening to her. Once again, it's the rainbow bond between gay guys and their moms. Unfortunately, I can't find a copy of this online. I have a book but I don't want to be sued for IP. I expect most of you have read this, though. This is a pretty common story in HS curricula.
This story is something you would expect to see in an indie film or in a TV documentary. It bluntly showed how ugly the lives of street children can get and it really stuck with me. I still remember it whenever I see beggar kids. Also whenever I cross an overpass and watch the blur of lights from the cars below.
I read this one in a textbook for Filipino. I don’t actually remember how I got that book. Hmm.. Anyway, this one was a bit disturbing. I still don’t fully understand why the mother did that in the end. I guess she preferred that she did it herself than see someone else do it. It was still really drastic though. I mean, what if she just assumed wrong?
This story caught our interest because the description of the school where it was set was suspiciously close to ours. The school in the story had worse teachers, though. I mean, we had our issues with our faculty but as far as I knew they were nowhere near those in the story. But I still really liked it because it effectively captured the angst of high school students.
A story of how love can be a struggle. Though this story was set in colonial times, it evokes familiar emotions. Yes, the times when love and war feel the same, I suppose we are all familiar with that.
4. Autumn Mountain
This was about a man who heard stories of a beautiful painting. He later on met someone who had actually seen the painting once and who has been searching for it ever since so he can marvel at its beauty once again. The first man joined the second in his search, and all throughout, the second described the painting in detail to the first. This only fuelled the first man’s desire to see the painting himself. They finally find it one day, but both are disappointed at what they see.
Unfortunately, I could not find this one online, hence the half-assed summary. I think it was a Japanese story. Anyway, it led to the term “na-autumn mountain” which we used within our circle when talk about something (usually a movie or a supposedly cute peerson) that fails our expectations.
This is another story about love’s complexities. This time, it’s about how unfair the world can be to lovers, like “you and me against the world” and the world won. We sometimes let the world win, for whatever reason we may have. But it makes you ask afterwards if things would have been better had you kept on fighting. Okay, those last two sentences have nothing to do with the story.
This is actually a play we did in high school for our English class. I was supposed to play Mario, the good guy, but I suffered a week-long asthma attack and had to be recast as Pablo, the bad guy, who doesn’t appear until halfway into the play. This play only had three characters so we were the group with the least actors, but we came out as the best group in our class. Our teacher said we were all effective in our roles. I must admit, it felt really good to play the bad guy.
My favorite line was, “Living? You call this living? This, Gloria, is what you call dying. Dying slowly, minute by minute.” There was supposed to be a laugh after that but I dropped it. I couldn't pull off an evil laugh.
Ah, yes, my absolute favorite. Like “na-autumn mountain”, “na-dead stars” also became a term that we used. Okay, I’ll stop there. I can’t think of a way to say more without spoiling it for those who might be interested. Just go ahead and read it; it’s a beautiful story.
Company Christmas party. Ang theme ay Hollywood movies. Pipili ng isang movie ang bawat team at yun ang gagayahin nila. Ang pinili ng teammates ko eh Pirates of the Caribbean. Kahit daw hindi na magaya yung characters basta dapat naka pirata kami.
Bilang tamad akong maghanap ng costume at bilang wala akong kahit konting creativity sa katawan, nagpatulong ako sa mga tao para makabuo ng get-up. May mga mabubuting loob naman na tumulong sa akin at nagpahiram ng mga gamit. I-improvise na lang daw namin.
Una, sabi ng housemate ko, pwede na daw ang leather shoes. So hinanap ko tong sapatos ko na huli kong nakita nung graduation nung April.
Binilhan ako ni Honey, ang best friend ko sa team ng corduroy na jacket nung nag ukay ukay siya. Nagjajacket daw ang mga pirata, tapos eto binili niya para pwede ko din daw gamiting pang-opisina.
Kelangan daw ng maluwag na pants. Eh ang kaso, puro sakto lang sakin lahat ng pants ko. So pinahiram ako ng housemate ko ng slacks na maluwag.
Dinalhan ako ng team lead namin ng scarf. Hindi ko to alam, pero sabi niya nagsscarf daw ang mga pirata.
Camisa de chino ng boyfriend ni Honey, pinahiram niya sakin. Naka white na top daw ang mga pirata.
Hindi ko alam kung ano ang inimagine nilang magiging itsura ko dapat. Nag attempt din naman akong magpatulong kina Honey at sa team lead namin nung nagbibihis ako. Kaso, eto ang kinalabasan ko:
Kami yan ni Honey. Nung nakita nila ako, sabi nila nakakatuwa daw ako tingnan kaya wag ko na lang daw baguhin. Kunwari daw ako yung Koreanong kinidnap nila.
I only wanted to remember how they felt like. I did not know that they would not be the same. Or perhaps I did, but just gave it a try anyway.
I wanted to remember what it felt like to be kissed, so I kissed my friend. It was at the back of a bar, while everyone else was inside, dancing. It had been a long time since I kissed someone and I wanted to experience it again before I completely forgot how it felt like. I held his chin, leaned over slowly and kissed him. His lips were soft. His tongue tasted of beer and his breath had the scent of cigarette. His fingers ran through my hair while my hand held his face.
The kiss was sweet. It happened the way I wanted it to happen. But it was empty.
I wanted to remember what if felt like to be hugged, so I asked for a hug from my teammate. She found me slumped at my station. She asked me if I was alright. I told her that I was not feeling well. I had been working long hours for the past few days but I was still unable to cope with the load. To add the icing to that bitter cake, I caught a cold that morning and was all lethargic from the medicine. I held out my arms and asked for a hug, longing desperately for comfort. She hugged me, held me tight for several minutes.
The hug was every bit as warm as I hoped it would be. I felt my friend’s love as she tried to comfort me. But it did not feel the way I hoped it would.
I wanted to remember what it felt like to have someone sing for me. That’s why I was thrilled when a guy dedicated his song in the videoke to me. We had been dating for a few weeks already and I knew that he had an amazing voice. Our friends were teasing us and I could not keep from smiling. He sang a love song, a ballad that suited his voice perfectly. He hit all the right notes and the dynamics were heartfelt. Everyone clapped when the song ended.
It should have been better than that other song that another guy sang for me, but it was not. It did not even come close. Because it did not mean anything.
I wanted to remember what it felt like to take a long walk with someone and just talk about anything, so when a guy told me that he wanted us to talk before we went home, I said yes. It was the morning after a night of partying and everyone else had left. He told me earlier that he liked me and I was impressed by his courage and by his rather unexpected approach. We walked and talked for an hour. There were jokes and laughter, and then there were more serious moments.
I enjoyed every minute of our walk, but as I went home, I remembered that it was supposed to feel a lot better.
Futile. Of course it was. They were no more than synthetic moments, failed imitations of those that I hold in my memories. Good memories cannot be designed, after all. They just happen, and I will have to wait until they start happening to me again.
I woke up to the sound of something hitting the door. It was a soft sound, but it was enough to break the dawn’s silence. I groped for my phone to check the time; it was still four –thirty in the morning. Deciding that I just imagined the sound, I went back to sleep.
But I was woken up once again, this time by the sound of the door opening. Still groggy, I glanced at my roommates and saw through their silhouettes that they were still asleep on their beds. That was enough to have me fully awake in a split second. Our landlady had warned us a few days before that there had been a series of thefts in our neighbourhood and that her son had seen a suspicious-looking guy lurking outside the house for the past few nights.
I tried to stay calm. I fixed my gaze at my laptop, which was beside me. My head was turned away from the door, so there was no way for me to check without being noticed if someone had already broken in. If a thief had indeed broken into our room, he would go for my laptop first. Its small twinkling light was easy to spot in the dark. What I would do though if I did see it getting stolen was something I did not think about.
I started to hear footsteps. I heard the sound of our slippers being pushed aside and my empty cigarette packs on the floor being stepped on. Each step sounded closer than the one before it.
I tried to ready myself. I still had no idea what I would do if I felt someone reach over me to grab my laptop, or if I felt heard the footsteps stop beside me. I realized I should have gotten up after I heard the sound at the door, but it was too late. I wanted to wake my roommates up, I wanted to get up and stop whoever had broken into our room, but I could not move. I was paralyzed by cold fear.
The footsteps stopped. I listened for any other sound but there was nothing. I stayed still, almost praying that I won’t feel a knife stabbing at the back or a belt choking my neck from behind. I strained my ears trying to catch any sound, but minutes passed and there was only silence. It was just my imagination, I told myself. I took deep breaths, cursing the horror movies I watched that had left me paranoid. I rolled over until I was lying on my back; slowly, just in case there was indeed a madman in our room. After staying still for a few more seconds, I started to slowly reach for my phone.
Then someone was pinning me down, weighing down on my chest. I could not breathe. I panicked. I tried to struggle but I could not move at all. I tried to feel my arms. They were not restrained but I can’t move them. I tried to see who he was but it was pitch-black. My eyes had been shut and I could not open them. Desperate, I tried to scream but no voice came out. Still, I kept trying to call out to my roommates.
It was then that I heard his voice, the voice of the one who was on top of me. He was mocking me, calling out my roommates’ names as I was struggling to scream them.
Exhaustion slowly took over me. I struggled for a few more moments until, eventually, I stopped trying to scream. I stopped trying to open my eyes. I stopped struggling altogether. Then, finally, I stopped trying to breathe. I had given up. But as I was lying there, blinded, unable to move, unable to scream, and running out of air, I realized that I was no longer afraid. The fear that had drenched me earlier was gone.
I was turned on.
His chest was on mine and I felt it move as he breathed. His strong hands were on my shoulders, holding me down. I reached up and touched them. I let my fingers trail up his arms, all the way to his shoulders, lingering for a moment before I slowly reached up to his face.
But it was over before I could touch him. My eyes were open. I can breathe. I can move. Outside, the sky was already starting to get light. I sat up, confused at what just happened.
Putangina, tigang na ata talaga ako. Pati bangungot muntik pang maging wet dream.
Yeah, so I have finally come to accept that I can’t run from my past. Or pretend that none of it happened. Went through denial for a month, now I’m going to try and deal with all of this again. And yeah, this blog really helps. I didn’t realize how much writing helped until I stopped it.
Ex Jason is back. I know I said that my previous post will be my last, but it’s my first offense. I’m hoping you guys can just let me get off with a warning.
Kung nagkataong ginawa mo yun sa ibang gabi, hindi sana ganito ang kinahnatungan.
Kung nagktaong tinanggap mo ako bago ang gabing yun at hinayaan mo na amang akong bumawi pagkatapos nun, hindi sana nagkaganun.
Yun din naman pala ang gusto mo, sana yun na lang agad ang sinabi mo. Hdini na sana tayo nagkaganito.
Putangina, may pride din naman ako. Pakiramdam ko nagago ako nung bigla mo akong binalikan nung nakita mong may ibang nagkaintteres.
Hindi ako "nagtaksil ulit". Napagod ako at nung nakausap ko siya, pakiramdam ko nakapagpahinga ako.
Pero handa pa din akong talikuran siya nun. Kasi sayo nga ako. Kaso nakipagbalikan ka bigla.Para akong nagago. Parang pinahirapan mo lang talaga ako.
Tapos ako ulit ang kontrabida? Kasalanan ko na naman ang lahat? Ang lahat lahat?
Isang bwan na mahigit ang lumipas, pero oo, may galit pa din akong nararamdaman. Para kasing nawalan ng kwenta ang lahat ng pagsisilbi ko sayo. Kung makapagpost ka noon, parang hindi ka man lang sumaya sa akin. Parang bang inapi api lang kita. Basahin mo mga sarili mong entries noon, bakal sakaling maalala mo na may kwenta din pala akong tao.
At para sa lahat ng humusga sa akin nang di man lang nag-iisip na baka may ibang nangyari na hindi nila alam, ang bobobo niyo. Sa susunod, aalamin niyo muna ang kwento. Ang parehong panig.
Yan ang dahilan kung buakit nabuo ang blog na to. Para ipakita sa inyong lahat na totoong tao ako.HIndi ako isang tauhan lang sa kwento ng iba. May sarili din akng kwento.
At ito ang panig ko. I did not give you hell that weekend. You thought you were giving me a chance but you weren't. I must admit, for a time i believed you. Pero nung bigla kang nakipagbalikan, i realized you were just bent on making me suffer. Then when you felt threatend, bigla kang bumaliktad. biglang gusto mo na ako ulit.
Tingin mo hindi kita minahal? Tingin mo ganun kadali sa akin?
putangina, hanggnag ngayon di ko pa matapon tapon yung wrapper ng oreo na binigay mo sa akin sa bus. Hnaggang ngayon pinipilit ko pa ding ayusin ang napipigtas nang kwintas na binigay mo sa akin. At ara-waraw ko pa ding suot. Nagrerecord pa din ako ng matinong inside your heaven, para sana balang araw pag sakaling nagkaayos na tayo eh maiibigay ko sayo bilang kaibigan.
Sana masaya ka sa kung ano man ang ginagawa mo ngayon sa buhay mo. Ako, miserable pa din. Bitter pa din. Pathetic pa din. Sinusundan pa din kita sa blog mo at twitter mo. Parang tanga lang. Muntik na akong pumntang megamalll nung biyernes kasi baka totohanin mo ang pagpunta mo dun.
sana hindi ka mapahamak sa mga ginagawa mo. Alala mo ba yung taga myanmar? Sana mag-ingat kang hindi na maulit yun. hindi na kita mapoprotektahan ngayon.
Sana di na lang ako pumunta sa party nung gabing yun. Baka sakaling naging tayo ulit. Pero di ko lang din sigurado, kasi kung hindi mo pa nakitang kinakausap niya ako, baka hindi mo pa din ako tinatanggap hanggang ngaon.
Pero oo. Mahal pa din kita. putangina. mahal na mahal pa din. kung kaya ko lang talagang ibalik lahat sa simula.
To everyone, this will be my last post in this blog. Thank you, all of you, for taking the time to read my story. I leave my best to all of you. And I hope none of you will have to go through what we went through.
Ex Jason's story is finished. It did not have a happy ending. It just ended.
In keeping with my blog's emo streak for this week, here is something I wrote a couple of years ago, back when Ex Jason was still BF Jason. It was Christmas time then, and Ex and I were going through a rough patch. One afternoon, while waiting for my mom to come out from her office, I rented a PC in a nearby shop and typed away. I guess I've always been emo. Then I posted the entry in Friendster blog. Yeah, remember Friendster?
Here is the entry, in all its unedited glory.
self control has never been my best asset. in anything i do, i couldn’t quite catch the moderate level. right now, for instance, it’s Christmas time. food pours from every direction and i take them all with arms wide open, my mouth opened even wider. when i came here, i fit in my 30-inch pants just fine. now, i hardly breath whenever i wear my size-32. i’ve only been here a little over a week.
i took home with me five assignments; my professors were nice enough to make sure i don’t get bored during my eleven-day break. to make sure i did them on time, i made a little schedule that would let me finish all of them and give me enough spare time to lie uselessly on my bed, which is my favorite way of resting. today, four days from the end of my vacation, i still have 4 and a half assignments left. apparently, my estimates of the time i would need to finish them were faulty. i am currently trying to cramp all of them in my remaining vacant days.
i hate how it’s so hard to do things just right. nothing is ever just enough. i either give too much or too little. too much time thinking, too little time doing. doing too much without feeling anything. feeling too much and not thinking enough. and it doesn’t matter how hard i tried. no one gives credit to how hard one tries to do things right. a failure is a failure.
i wish everything were defined. i wish i knew exactly how much to give and how much to expect. i wish someone would measure everything i give and take, tell me to give more when i fall short. and when it’s too much, tell me to stop.
if i believe that everything will be alright, am i believing too much?
if i want to be happy forever, am i wanting too much?
if i give everything to keep things the way they are, am i giving too much?
if it hurts to know that i am not needed as much as i am in need, am i expecting too much?
if i love with everything that i have, am i loving too much?
There is something beautiful in goodbyes. The exquisite pain, the sadness, the void it leaves, and the recovery; the different colors that paint a dark yet wonderful picture. We long for them. And when the picture has faded, we wish to witness its beauty once more. And so we forge bonds once again, looking forward to the day when we finally say goodbye.
I was standing at the same spot where I waited for my ex to come out for our date more than three years ago. It was at the side of the road, beside two small palm trees. On the other side was the gate to his apartment. The place has changed a bit since then. The payphone that used to be on the wall behind me was now gone. The gate that used to be barely above waist level was now seven feet high. But other than that, everything has pretty much stayed the same.
It was evening then too. It was going to be our first date. We were going to meet properly for the first time. I can still remember my nerves while I stood there. I shifted from leg to leg, taking long drags from my cigarette. I was worried as hell that he won’t like what he would see. I stalled. I smoked one stick first when I got there, then waited a few more minutes before I finally took out my phone and texted him that I was already outside.
I found myself smiling as I recalled the scene. I also had a cigarette in one hand and my phone in the other. And like that night, I was also stalling, taking my time at looking around the place and reminiscing. I recalled how I was in awe when he finally came out and walked to me. He was beautiful. I remembered how we walked together to our date, unaware that we will fall in love and share some of our happiest days together.
But that was more than three years ago. And my cigarette was almost out. I took one last puff before flicking it. I typed at my phone as I started walking.
It’s October already and I still haven’t really achieved anything yet. Yeah, I’m trying to search my memory right now but I can’t remember anything relevant happening to me besides the breakup and the post-breakup breakup. And the post-breakup-breakup non-rebound date. Notice how I got unnecessarily defensive.
Nine months of underachievement is enough. It’s time to get up and get moving, that’s why I’m putting together my to-do list for this month. I’ve sort of made lists like this before but this is the first time I’m writing it down. I heard it works better if you get to read it every day. I just hope I manage enough self control to follow it.
Wait, scratch that last. I should be positive about this. I’ll definitely pull this off. I’ll get myself out of this streak. I’ll be an improved guy by the end of this month.
So help me god.
1. Come to office on time.
Also, no more absences. In my one year of working, I have yet to experience receiving my full salary because of all my deductions from poor attendance. I checked the total money I lost to laziness this year and it was disheartening.
Set the alarm at five forty-five so that I’ll be fully awake by six. My shift starts at 8am and travel time from our place to the office is only around forty minutes. I should have enough time to get to the office a few minutes early.
But the problem isn’t as much in my wake-up time as it is in my sleeping time. I need at least six hours of sleep. I used to able to run on only three hours of sleep back in college but I just can’t seem to pull that off anymore. Must be me getting older. Sigh. That means I should be home by eleven thirty and asleep by midnight. There goes my social life. *sniff*
2. Reduce the number of nights I spend drinking.
Lately, I’ve been spending too many nights drinking with whomever. And it’s never just a couple of bottles; I always drink at least four. I had just recently come to accept that it’s not a good habit, considering that I have work and that my salary is not exactly suited for nightly parties in the city.
Make Saturday night and Sunday night the only valid drinking nights. Other nights should be devoted to other activities, most preferably, sleeping.
3. Work out. Lose weight.
I’m a hunk trapped in a chunky body; if I could only get rid of this belt bag of fat. The sad thing is I’m actually enrolled in a gym. I have been since January. I was just too lazy to work out consistently. That’s why this month I’m going to get serious with the gym thing. Yeah, this is one of those resolutions that I’ve been consistently failing at. God, I really hope writing it down makes increases the success probability.
Work out every night from Tuesday to Friday, since those are the only nights when I’m in Manila. I should be out of the office by 6pm so that I’d be ready to work out by 7pm.
As for the diet, I’m not really sure how to go about this. Perhaps I should see a nutritionist. I guess my plan for now is not to eat more than three meals in a day. And no more pork.
4. Join a choir.
I was a choir singer back in college. I joined three choirs, actually, and, in the past few months, I’ve been missing singing with a group. However, I was hesitant because I felt that I was too old to still be singing in a choir.
But last night, I got to watch a video in YouTube that stuck in my memory. It was the original Moses Hogan Choir singing Elijah Rock. The choir members were, for lack of a euphemism, old. Like grandma and grandpa old. And yet they were still singing. I had an alleluia moment right there at the shabby internet shop and decided that I wanted to sing again. Singing is one of the few things that I’m good at, and I realized that I didn’t want to waste it.
Look for choirs that are open for auditions. I have already started contacting my ex-choirmates. I’m going for hard core, brutal-training choir. My voice has gone rusty in the past months that I stopped singing so an intense rehab would be ideal.
Yeah, just in case there’s someone among you who is a choir member, please tell me how to audition in your choir. I’m a Bass 2. Please?
5. Improve my writing.
I’ve received comments from some guys here that I have potential in writing but also that I would need to learn plenty more techniques if I’m going to get serious at it. Well, if you have potential, might as well excel, right? So I’m going to start this month.
There was someone who was willing to tutor me. I hope the offer is still open. At the end of this month, I will write a short story and have it critiqued by my writer friends. I hope I fair well.
Aw, suddenly I feel nervous.
6. Learn more about internet marketing.
This one is work-related. I am a programmer for the marketing department of an e-commerce company. Apparently, we have one of the best marketing teams in the country. I don’t really like my job here since I only get to use a tiny fraction of the skills that I learned in school, but I might as well make the most of my stay here. I’m going to learn as much e-commerce techniques as I can.
This one is already in progress. I have already borrowed a book from one of the managers in marketing. My goal is to finish the book this month and try to see how the concepts are applied in our website.
Things have indeed gone ugly. Allow me to say my last piece about this.
A friend once told me that to forget a great love you need an equally great amount of hate. Of course, i disagreed, being the hopeless romantic that I was back then. How can two people who shared so much possibly end up hating each other? It’s impossible for something that special to just be forgotten and replaced by something as ugly as hate. That was my argument.
Silly me, that’s what I ended up doing these past weeks. I was hurt when you called me abusive and the relationship we had as bullshit-peppered. I retaliated and took my turn at hurling mud. I was pathetic, I admit it now. And I’m sorry. I hope you will accept this last apology from me.
Please don’t think that what we had was a lie. Our love was not a lie. It was real. We were happy. Yes, we ended badly, but that doesn’t erase anything. Nothing can, not even hate. I tried to hate you, i tried to look for reasons to be angry at you, but I only ended up more wounded and bitter. I realized that what I needed to give was not hate but acceptance. I just have to accept that our happy times together have ended.
It will take time. That’s where we went wrong. We were in such a hurry to move on that we resorted to the hate route. But I’m going to stop it now. Our years together can’t possibly be forgotten in a few weeks. Trying to move on so fast would be insulting what we had. I will move on in time.
Until then, I will keep crying every time I watch Glee. I will keep starting our Pokemon Dungeon rescue game and levelling up your Corsola. I will keep picking up an extra pair of spoon and fork by mistake. I will keep turning my head every time my seatmate sprays on her perfume. I will keep checking if the empty Oreo wrapper is still in my bag. I will keep finding myself staring at your name in my phonebook. I will keep wishing I’d hear “Jajap ko” one more time.
And the image of you hugging my bag and waiting for me to come back to you that night, I will keep remembering it until it no longer hurts.
Sorry naging tarantado ako. Sana mapatawad mo ako balang araw. Pero minahal kita, yun ang totoo. Maraming salamat sa lahat. Hinding hindi ko makakalimutan ang pinagsamahan natin.
Walang ibang ma-post. Kaya ipopost ko na lang ang mga naging buhok ko in the past year.
Bilang wala akong camera, lahat ng pics ko eh puro may kasama. Kaya halatang naka crop lang lahat ng pics ko dito. At maliliit lahat.
Hayaan niyo na. Kita pa din naman ata.
Ito ang una. Yan hair ko nung kakastart pa lang magtrabaho. Halatang fresh grad. Wala man lang perang pampagupit. Tsaka matagal din akong long hair, pakiramdam ko nun di ko na kayang pakawalan. Therefore, tambay look pa rin sa loob ng ilang bwan.
Eto ang next. In fairness, may pera na. Pero di ko pa din kayang pakawalan ang aking long hair. Nanghinayang ako, ang tagal na din kasing mahaba ang buhok ko. Ayan, lumabas na emo.
Ayan, nag decide na akong mag let go sa long hair. Kaso di pa din sanay. Kita niyo naman, ni hindi marunong mag-ayos. Kaya ayun, parang forever out of bed ang itsura.
At dahil nga nasanay na ilang bwan ang pagitan ng pagpapagupit, eto, umabot sa awkward stage. Di mo malaman kung long ba o short. Thick ang kinalabasan.
Pero eventually, natuto din. Nagpapagupit na every month. At kahit papano eh marunong na ding gumamit ng clay. Ganito pa din more or less ang buhok ko ngayon. Short na tirik tirik sa tuktok. Pag hinayaang humaba eh nagmumukhang troll.
Pero nabobore na ulit ako sa buhok ko. Parang gusto kong magpa long hair ulit. Kinausap ko na yung stylist ko nung nakaraan, aalalayan namin ang pagtubo ni hair para maganda kalabasan pag nag long hair ulit ako.
Yun lang. Nawa'y may napulot kayong aral sa post ko. Sa susunod sana nasa kundisyon na ako para magsulat nang may kabuluhan. Lol.
He was walking slowly, looking at the pieces of flesh before him, a predator on the prowl.
We were the willing prey, waiting to be devoured.
I leaned against the wall, letting the darkness hide as much as it can. I watched as he paused in front of the others and examined each one, slowly making his way to me. He passed by each one, seemingly unsatisfied.
Then he came to me and stopped. He stared at my face before his gaze crept down slowly until it reached my shoes, then came back up. He smiled and moved closer; he had chosen his target for the night. My heart beat fast as we stood inches from each other. I knew what was about to happen. It was something I had been wanting to experience, but at that moment, when it was actually happening, I found myself scared. I wanted to run away but I had allowed myself to stray too close to escape.
I moved towards the seats but he stopped me; he wanted me right there. He pounced without warning, going for my neck first. I felt his lips, his teeth and his tongue on my skin. One hand crept to my head and the other one to my back. He pulled me closer and buried his face further as I tried to stifle a moan.
The others moved in to cover us as he slowly moved his way down.
I closed my eyes as I felt my pants being pulled down. My mind was too clouded with lust and fear to do anything else. Heck, if I had been thinking clearly, I would not have gone there in the first place. It was something that I had been craving for, and every caress of his fingers, every rub of his palm and every flick of his tongue only fuelled that craving.
Then he suddenly stopped. He stood up, turned around and pushed down his trousers. I realized what he wanted me to do. I knew at the back of my mind that it was too risky, but by then I was already too intoxicated with pleasure to resist.
We were both panting. My arms were wrapped around his waist and I was thrusting with total abandon. His whimpers were delicious; it was as if the tables had been turned. I drove harder and harder, desperate for release. There was a gun fight in front of us. Cars were flying. I was vaguely able to make out an explosion as I reached my own climax.
I looked around us while trying to regain my senses. The others were smiling, obviously satisfied with the double feature. Some even clapped their hands. Others tried to have a taste, like they assumed that they were going to get their turn, but I was too spent. I slowly walked out. The doors have not even closed yet when I broke into a run.
I wrote this a couple of months ago. Some of you may have read this already in Alterjon's blog. I asked him to publish it for me since I can't publish this back then.
Spontaneity has gotten the better of me too many times over the long weekend. Weekend’s over but here’s one more kick.
I have already told some of you about this and there are some who just figured it out on their own. I'm not really sure why I'm doing this. It may or may not give an added perspective for some of you. Whatever, I’m too tired to care.
There are certain things people expect from you when you're gay. Of course, we're not required to follow the labels. But sometimes, it gets a bit frustrating for me when I try to do things that should come naturally for gays and yet seem so hard for me.
Top Ten Reasons Why I'm a Disgrace to My Stereotype
I can't sing well in falsetto. My gay friends would always belt out Regine Velasquez, Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston songs when we sing in videoke. I tried it a few times and it didn't sound good. And dammit, it hurt.
I look awkward when I dance in clubs. My "dance" involves raising my arms and flailing them around while trying to shake my hips. A girl friend told me that I looked like a sleazy dude when I danced. My ex told me I looked like a monkey.
I don't know how to use make-up. Heck, I don't even know how to powder my face. I always ask someone else to put them on me.
I am always late when it comes to gossip, be that celebrity gossip or real-life. This was what made one of my friends actually tell me that I was disgrace to my stereotype. I was shocked when they told me that two of our batchmates were already together. Apparently, they had been together for a couple of years already.
I don't dress well. You'll almost always see me wearing a shirt, jeans and dilapidated shoes.
In relation to #6, I don't enjoy watching fashion TV or reading fashion magazines. I am just absolutely clueless when it comes to fashion. I watched "Launch My Line" once, and the clothes I thought looked good were bashed by the judges.
I'm a slob. My room has clothes strewn across the floor. There are coins and empty cigarette packs in every corner. When I finish eating junk food, I just put down the wrapper and leave it there until I decide to clean up, which usually happens once every week. And I sleep on the floor.
I am no good at giving blow jobs. I tire after ten bobs. My jaws start to hurt after two minutes. Um.. Yeah.
I feel really uncomfortable using gay speak. I use "friend", "teh" and "kebs" and I just recently started to use "chos", but full-blown gay speak (example from badinggerzie: Witchelles naman akey nalurkey nang bonggang-bongga) is beyond me. I try, but it is always badly-delivered.
I don't have gaydar. A person will have to tell me outright that he or she is gay. Otherwise, I won't have a clue. Yeah, even our trans friends. I always mistake them for biological females.
“Did you come here to drink or to text?” Rachelle asked Mariem, obviously irritated. Mariem had been fiddling with her phone ever since we arrived at the bar.
“Sorry, it’s boyfie. He’s checking up on me,” Mariem apologized while still busily typing at her phone.
“What are you, sixteen?” Rachelle said with her brow raised.
“Hey, leave her alone. She has to report to her superior,” I teased.
“Wow, thank God you’re here Jason. Otherwise there would be no one on my side,” Mariem shot back as she tried to hit me on the head.
“Yeah, you’re one to talk,” Rachelle said, now smirking at me. “You still text your ex every day. And now you’re even trying to win him back.”
“How’s that working out for you, anyway?” Mariem asked as she looked up at me.
“Hey, wait a minute, we’re talking about Mariem here, not me.”
“Whatever,” Rachelle said before she took a swig of her beer. “You’re both the same. You make fools of yourselves because of your guys. Take Mariem, for instance. She’s a free-spirited girl. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, is boring. I mean, he wouldn’t even come with her when we go out for a drink. And yet he wants her to report to him everything that she does while she’s out.”
Mariem fell silent.
“And how exactly am I the same? I cheated on my guy, remember?” I pointed out. “Now I’m trying to make things right.”
“Yes, but you’re not the type of guy who flourishes when leashed. You said that yourself,” she argued. “And yet now you’re trying to win him back. Why go through all that trouble?”
I fell silent for a moment as well. Why indeed?
“Because I realized that he’s worth it,” I answered.
“May kailangan ba akong malaman tungkol sa’yo?” My mom’s voice was stern. It was just over the phone but I still cringed. It was just like when I was still a little boy: me cowering while she scolded me for breaking my toy. Only this time, it was my life that I was ruining.
The semester was already coming to a close. Graduation day was approaching and I was supposed to be among those who will march. But I failed to finish my Special Problem, which meant I was going to be extended for yet another semester. My mother went ballistic when I told her. She can’t be blamed, really; I had already exceeded our curriculum’s span by two years. That was because I messed everything up on my third year. Now that I was going to add another semester to my stay in the university, my mother can’t help but think that I was messing up again. She was going to get answers if she has to beat them out of me. Yeah, just like when I was a still a little boy.
“Ano’ng kailangang malaman?” I asked in a small voice.
“Tungkol sa’yo. Tungkol sa personality mo.”
She knew. Of course she did, she was my mother. No matter how I try, I can never keep a secret from her. The problem is, whenever I confirm her suspicions, she gets angry. That’s why I’m always apprehensive when she tries to squeeze a confession out of me. Besides, why was she asking me this at this time? Does she think it was to blame for my delay? Or was she simply taking advantage of my helplessness to make me answer the question that has long been bothering her?
“Ma.. Kasi..” My voice was helpless, pleading even.
“Anak, sige na. Sabihin mo na sa akin kung ano man yan.”
I started to cry. The day that I had been dreading had come, and her attempt at a comforting voice did not help at all. Was she just pretending that she will be a good sport no matter what I was going to tell her? I was not sure, but I was inclined to think that way. Blame it on the countless times we’ve been through similar situations. This was also what she did three years ago when I screwed up big time in school. She made me believe that she was on my side and that we were going to fix my problems together. Instead, she pulled me out of school for one semester and tried to fix me.
“Anak, kahit ano pa ang mangyari, nanay mo ako. Kakampi mo ako,” she said gently.
I was taken aback. I didn’t expect such gentleness from her voice. It got me to thinking maybe I was too quick to judge her. She was my mother after all, and mothers are supposed to know best.
“Jason, anak, bakla ka ba?” The dreaded question suddenly came. The moment had been building up to this, but I was still unprepared.
I figured my life was already falling to pieces, might as well get this over with now. What’s one more piece?
“Oo ma,” I said between sobs. “At may boyfriend ako. Malapit na kami mag two years.”
There was dead silence from her end.
“Ma, wala tong kinalaman sa SP ko. Hindi ito ang reason kung bakit hindi ko yun natapos. Pero tinanong mo na din kaya eto, inaamin ko na din. Ma, I’m gay.”
The silence continued. Trust my life to always be replete with telenovela scenes. Just weeks ago my boyfriend and I nearly broke up. And it has only been a few days since I realized that I wouldn’t be able to finish my SP on time; I had just recovered from the daze. And now this.
“Anak,” she finally said. I sobbed harder after hearing that word. She and I had a very fragile relationship and we both knew it. Ever since I started living away from home back in high school, our once strong bond had seemingly thinned to a thread. Hearing her utter that word at that moment reminded me that I can still hold on to that thread.
“Kahit ano pa ang mangyari, nanay mo ako. Mahal na mahal kita,” she said in gentle voice. That was enough to cast away all of my doubts. I had made the right decision in telling her.
I wish it ended with that, but my life, as I so often realize, is as far from a fairy tale as can be.
She wanted me to change, or rather, she tried to change me. She attempted to cloak it, probably because she did not want to add to the strain, but it wasn’t difficult to spot.
She told me to move to my cousin’s because she’d be more at ease knowing that I was being taken care of. The travel from my cousin’s to my school takes two hours. It would actually be more inconvenient as opposed to staying with my boyfriend in our apartment which just outside the university.
She once forwarded to me the number of one of my classmates from grade school. A girl. She said she just wanted to me to keep in touch with my friends from our town.
She suggested that we talk to someone to help us with our strained relationship. I agreed, and then asked if she knew any therapists. She said she was actually thinking of talking to a priest. I immediately withdrew my approval.
She broke down when I told her that I joined an LGBT organization in our university. I think that was the time she felt the full blow. I was gay and I was not going to change. She cried. It was heartbreaking to see someone as strong as her break down, but she had to understand that this was not something she could fix. It was not something that was broken in the first place.
“Paano ka na anak? Habang andito ako , alam mong ipagtatanggol kita. Paano pag wala na ako? Natatakot ako baka ano na mangyari sa iyo.”
I resolved not to cry. It was at the point that I resolved not to show her any weakness.
“Wag kang mag alala ma. Pinalaki mo akong matapang. Tayong dalawa lang naman ang magkasama mula pa noon, eh di kanino pa ba ako magmamana?” I said as I hugged her. I reassured her that everything will be alright, though it was not something that I entirely believed in either.
We are still pretty much shaky until now, more than a year after I came out. Coming out had further complicated our already complicated relationship. There are a lot of questions on both sides. But we’ll figure it out eventually. That’s what mothers and sons do.
I had always known that I was a bit geeky or nerdy. I try my best to hide my geeky tendencies, if only to avoid making people uncomfortable around me, but there are times when it just brims over. When that happens, well, what else can I do but own up to it? Lol. Geeks are cute. =P
Top Ten Instances That Outed The Geek/Nerd In Me
10. When my officemate said "Wow, may eclipse na!", I thought she was talking about the Java IDE.
9. When I was trying to scare a cat in our apartment, I started to shout, "Hado no-!". Luckily, I stopped myself. I was about to shout a Bleach destruction spell at the cat.
8. My orgmates were laughing at the phrase "Non-human primates" because according to them "Ang effort naman." I defended it and said, "Tama naman ah. Set of primates minus set of humans, diba?"
7. Back in high school, my friend and I went to the library every lunch time, stood in front of the giant world map and memorized the capitals. Our reason: we had nothing else to do.
6. When I heard this line from Apologize: "I loved you with a fire red, now it's turning blue", my reaction was "Diba mas mainit ang apoy pag blue kesa pag red? So uminit lalo love niya?"
5. Honey, my best friend at work, once showed me this picture and tried to fool me by saying that it was a newly-discovered fish with legs. I answered right away, "Honey, hindi isda yan. Axolotl yan, isang amphibian." 4. I was playing taboo with one geek friend and a few other non-geeks. The topic was countries and it was geek friend's turn. He read the mystery word and said, "An arid country with giant polyhedrons." Everyone fell silent. Except me. I excitedly shouted, "Egypt!"
3. I still know the old three o' clock habit prayer. Yes, including the bit after the prayer, until "..and at the hour of death I will not be judge for them but the merciful saviour." I watched TV that much when I was a kid.
2. I used the word "petiole" when I tried to explain how to make a bubble solution from Gumamela flowers.
1. My high school was a haven for nerds. There was one time when our chemistry teacher asked us what the properties of this certain liquid were and I joked, "Malleable." Everyone laughed. Then my teacher joked back, "Yes, and it is also ductile, right?"
And here's a nerd joke:
What weapon is made when you combine potassium, nickel and iron?
Let's see who answers this one correctly. Fellow nerds, reveal yourselves! =P
I’m sparing you guys from my ex dramas for now. I don’t want this blog to be uber emo, lest everyone, including me, gags from all the bitterness. So at least for now, I’ll treat you guys to a different flavour, bitterness though of a different sort.
There was a time during my early college years when my friends and I traded emo love quotes through text. I’m not really sure how or why that started; maybe we just happened to be dealing with love issues at the same time. (Wait, come to think of it, we were always dealing with love problems.) We all pretended to laugh scornfully at the messages, but we were all secretly obsessed with finding the perfect quote that would fit us. Anyway, I saved my favourites in a folder, aptly named “Ampalaya”, and I just discovered this morning that I still had that folder in my phone. It was funny reading those messages again. I remembered how “ampalaya” – and yes, how jologs – we were those days.
So I’m spreading the love. There might be some bits here that can sum up what your inner college freshman’s heart is going through, or they might remind you of how we fumbled with love when we were younger. Or, most likely, you might just laugh or get annoyed by their sheer absurdity.
1. You’re so kind, so kind I can’t bear it Don’t touch me. Don’t call my name in that voice. Don’t be kind when you don’t actually feel a thing for me.
2. Why must you torture me? Why must you keep me hanging? Tell me, what exactly am I to you? A lover? A brother? A friend? Just a man standing at your side?
3. How could you possibly know that things will work you between you and someone? Well, the thing is you couldn’t. You don’t know, and you can never be sure. But you take the plunge anyway. Sure is for people who don’t love enough.
4. You don’t want to be happy, you’re a drama junkie. When there’s no drama, you create it. When the dust settles, you kick up some more because you don’t know how to just be happy. -Desperate Housewives
5. Why do you always have to be so tough? Why are you so scared of letting anyone see you break apart? You don’t need to be strong all the time. Let me in, break if you must. Fall to pieces in my arms. I’ll put you back together when it’s all over. I won’t let you stay broken.
6. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry about what I did. But it happened. As much as I want to take it back, to undo it, I can’t. What you and I have is real. It’s love. But if that’s not worth you even making an effort to forgive me, then there’s nothing I can do. And there’s nothing left to say except I love you, but I can’t beg forever.
7. What’s the hardest part in ending a relationship? Not the feeling of letting go. Not the part of goodbye. But going through every damn day And having to remember it.
8. People spend a lifetime looking for love, wanting it, needing it, seeking it, and most of the time they don’t find it. But once in a while, once in a great while, it comes to you. It throws itself in your lap, pounds on your door and says, “Here I am, take me, I’m yours!” When it comes, how can you turn away from it? How can you say, “Not now, maybe later”? How can you not take that chance, knowing the opportunity may never come again? - A Perfect Stranger
9. Nasaktan ako nung iniwan mo ako. Nasaktan ako nung sumama ka sa kanya at nung sinabi mong mahal mo siya. Pero pinakamasakit nung sinabi mong “Sorry, akala ko kasi mahal kita.”
10. Paano mo malalaman kung mahal ka niya? Simple lang: tumalon ka tapos isigaw mong mahal mo siya. Pero pag di siya dumating, wag kang mag-alala. Ano bang silbi ko? Diba taga salo pag wala siya?
11. The things we do for love: How we are always there when they need us. How we wait for them to call when they’re not around. How we laugh at the silliest jokes and smile at the littlest compliments. How we try to make them laugh when they’re sad. How we take care of everything they need. How we let them kiss us without asking. How we let them stay without knowing how long they’re going to stay. How we hug them so tightly as if we can keep them. How we stumble. How we fall. The things that we do for love. They’re always, always not enough.
You were not supposed to read my posts, but you did. I know you’ll read this one too.
You said you were hurt when you read one of my recent posts, that you felt like you were just my back up plan if I failed to get a date. That’s not true. I continued seeing you because I’m still happiest when I’m with you. You have always been my first choice.
Remember when I texted you while I was drunk? Yeah, you guessed right: I was drunk that night. It’s strange; I shouldn’t have remembered you at all. After all, I was drinking with my mom. That itself should have been distracting enough. But I remembered you, and how none of the dates I had even came close to you. It was frustrating. I was trying to look for someone who can make me forget about you, but they all just ended up reminding me how stupid I was for letting you go.
When you asked me why I wanted to be your boyfriend again, I was unable to give you a good answer. I tried, I’m sure you can tell by the way I stuttered, but my answer was probably insanely stupid because I don’t even remember what it was. I just remembered saying that I had been yearning to get back with you for a long time. You were not satisfied with that, and you left.
It was my HIV test ordeal, actually, that made me realize that you’re still the one I want to be with. It started the night after my failed attempt to get tested. I was scared that I might be dying. While I thought of my possibly impending death, thoughts of you relentlessly invaded my mind. And I realized that I didn’t want to die yet, and that it was because I still wanted to spend my years with you.
I was overjoyed when I received my test results the next day, because it meant that I had another chance at life, another chance to sort my life out. I wanted to start with you. I knew I had hurt you a lot and I wanted to make up for it. I wanted you back. I wanted to be the boyfriend that you deserved. I wanted to be that guy again.
You were already doubtful from the start, but even more so when you read about Luis in a recent post. You asked me why I still planned on dating him after everything I told you. My answer was, “I was only going to date him if you turned me down.”
I was an ass. I’m sorry.
Yeah, you probably won’t accept that apology anymore. Heck, you probably won’t even listen to anything I’ll say, or you might listen but you won’t care. I guess I deserve that.
I didn’t realize how angry you were at me until I read your entry this morning. I knew you wanted to hurt me. That’s what you do when you get mad. You punch me in the shoulder, you pound at my chest, you bite my arm until it bruises. Reading you entry was no different. I felt every blow.
I’m not sure if you will really do what you said you would do. You seemed dead serious, but I’m still hoping you won’t do it. I know we’re just bitter exes now, but I hope you’ll somehow remember that we were once lovers, and that our happiest days were with each other.
My first love letter was for you.
So was my first bouquet of roses.
Remember how I gave you flowers in front of all your friends on our second Valentine’s Day? That’s easily one of the happiest nights of my life.
You were the only guy I introduced to my friends as my boyfriend, and I think I was the first guy who did that to you.
I remember those afternoons we spent playing Pokemon. We only paused to eat. Our favorite merienda was RC and butterfly bread.
There was one time when I heard you absently chanting “Luncheon meat! Luncheon meat! Gusto ko ng luncheon meat!” so I bought a can for you. You were surprised how I knew that you were craving for it.
Whenever I went outside to smoke, you always went with me, even if you didn’t smoke. You said you just wanted to be at my side.
Funny, I’m not a guy who cries, you know that, but I can’t hold back my tears right now. I guess you’re still my weakness, after all. You were the first guy I truly loved. And I still love you.
I love you. I still love you. I never stopped loving you. I wish there was a way I can make you believe again.
I have dated several guys since ex and I broke up. Dating was one of the things I missed the most while I was in a relationship. I love getting to know people. I love making new friends. And yeah, I enjoy flirting. It’s the uncertainty that draws me to the whole dating game. You’ll never know which of the preconceived ideas you have about your date will turn out to be correct. You’re also not sure if the date will be the start of a good thing or if it will be a disaster.
One of the downsides of dating for me is, no matter how much I try not to, I still end up baring a small piece of my heart. I don’t go to dates because I’m looking for a boyfriend, not at all. But that doesn’t keep a small part of me from somehow hoping good things. That small exposed bit leaves me vulnerable, and if my date discovers where that piece is, then I am screwed. But that’s part of the thrill, and the gamble will be worth it if the date goes well. it was definitely worth it when I dated my ex.
But the thing is, most of my dates lately we more nightmare than magic. I don’t know why, but I seem to have rotten luck with the guys I get.
Mr. Long Term
First, I had guys who were looking, no, craving for a long term relationship. I’m sure you know the type; the one who talks about settling down and building a home together on your first date. While it’s a good thing to know that the guy is not just after sex, it’s a turn off seeing that he wants to rush into a relationship, as if there’s a deadline that he must beat. Maybe he was just trying to come off as a keeper or maybe he was trying to show me that he was really into me. I don’t know, for me it was just plain creepy.
There was one guy who I actually had quite a pleasant dinner with. I texted him when I got home, “Hey, I had a great time. I look forward to knowing you better.”
His reply: “Me too. I hope our relationship blossoms. And I hope we have God at the center of that relationship.”
The opposite of the first type is just as frustrating. You meet the guy, you have good conversation, and you are pleased to see that he has a good amount of substance. Then he talks about fucking halfway into your date. At first you find it a turn on that he has a naughty side and you jokingly throw back naughty comments yourself. But he brings it up again not long after. You try to change the topic but he persistently brings it up over and over until it gets annoying.
At that point, you have no choice but to flat out decline. He gets the point, backs off, and you carry on with your date. You almost enjoy the rest of the date, but you remember that the guy treated you like a desperate slut.
Mr. Quickie In Disguise
Then there were those who I initially thought had great potential. I go out with the guy on a few dates and we have an amazing time together. He seems interested in a relationship, but unlike Mr Long Term, he’s not desperate for it. And he has the right amount of naughty without Mr Quickie’s depravity.
After our fourth or fifth date, he invites me to his place. I go with him and we have great sex. We kiss before I leave.
Then he doesn’t reply to any of my texts.
I mean, come on. If he had told me at the start that he was just after sex, then we could have gone straight to it. We would have been spared the weeks of pointless charades. I don’t mind meeting up for sex. It just has to be clear that that’s what we were going to meet for.
Lastly, there’s the type who treats dating like a contest. For him, there are rules that must be followed at all costs. He should not be the first to text; neither should he be the last. He will never ask you out for a date, you should be the one to ask him out. If he is ever going to ask you out, it will be spontaneous, so it will seem like he just thought of you that moment.
Basically, his goal is to make you fall for him without you noticing that he actually likes you too. Now I know that it’s called the “dating game”, but actually playing by those rules is pathetic. What’s there to gain from pretending that you like or don’t like a person, anyway? Try to play a game with me and you’ll find yourself playing alone.
Of course, they were not all bad. There were a few guys who were actually great. They were not boyfriend material (like I said, I’m not looking for a boyfriend to begin with), but they became my friends.
Just recently, one of my girl friends texted me.
“Jason, interesado ka pa bang makipag date kay Luis?”
“Oo. Bakit, ipapadate mo sakin?”
“Bakit mo bigla akong nirereto dun? Ano nangyari?”
“Kinumusta ka niya sa akin kanina. Type ka din pala niya. Mukha ka daw straight. Gimik daw ulit tayo pagbalik niya dito sa Sept.”
September daw. Ito ba yung tinatawag nilang booking? Lol.