Boy Meets Boy

The sembreak was short and sweet, but I managed to finish two books. One of them is Boy Meets Boy. I meant to read it as a little experiment; I've always limited my reading preferences to fantasy books (Robert Jordan, George R.R. Martin...okay, I'll stop talking now) or contemporary classics (which is really just a label for books neither I nor anyone can't quite group under a specific category). I figured this time, I should venture into gay teen fiction literature. So venture I did.

I searched high and low for gay teen fiction books and found that there are actually quite a lot of them. Sadly, not a lot of them can be downloaded as ebooks... which I know doesn't do the authors or the publishers justice but hey, I'm a poor law student solely dependent on his parents. Blah.

After two days, I can't help but conclude that this book, simple as its plot is, is easily one of my favorites. It's not so much what the plot contains but the mere fact that I took time to read it that makes this book so important to me.

As the title suggests, the story is about a boy meeting a boy. In a bookstore. The story gets a bit complicated when shortly after, it's revealed that Paul, the protagonist, has leftover feelings from his previous relationship with Kyle. His bestfriend, Joni, also becomes a pain in the ass when she starts dating some boy Paul hates. There's also Tony, a Catholic school boy, whose parents can't quite accept the fact that he's gay...ehem. Really, there's nothing more to it than that.

But there's something about Paul's life that I envy. At the risk of being a spoiler, I'm going to say very little of it. The utopian world Paul lives in and how he never takes serious flak for being gay might exist for real in this world, I suppose, but it doesn't exist in mine. Is it the world I want to live in? I'm not entirely sure. But will it macertainly ke things easier? Certainly.

I can sympathize with how Tony is feeling (very few would probably be able to relate, but I'll go ahead and say it anyway)--that I'd have to live with the circumstances. For the moment. And by moment, I mean roughly four to five years (perhaps even longer) until I become lawyer and be truly independent. Contrary to what other people might say, it takes a lot of courage to shut up, move forward, and withstand the pain in a sometimes unforgiving environment.

In the end, all I felt is happiness for the characters in the book and melancholy for myself. For them, life stops at their happy endings...unless the author writes a sequel, I guess. As for me, I go on, study like crazy, and open myself up to a world of possibilities that is gay teen fiction.

Any suggestions?

PS. By the way, I have an ebook copy of the book. If you want one, feel free to email me at arwindvera@yahoo.com. :)

Lord of the Rings. Gay. Frustrations.

For the past two days, I've been watching what I am now going to call my favorite movies: the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I was around eleven to thirteen years old when the movies were screened in the cinemas. Although I appreciated the sceneries and the action back then, I didn't really understand what the movie is all about. I remember reading the books back in high school, but I nearly if not totally forgot about them.

I managed to finish the movies without getting bored one bit. It doesn't help that there are visual treats as well:

Aside from that, I can't help but wonder what's going on with Sam and Frodo. As if the PDA they've been doing throughout the movie wasn't enough, Frodo just had to give these parting words to Sam:

My dear Sam. You cannot always be torn in two. You will have to be one and whole for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be and to do. Your part in the story will go on.

So what if Sam is a married halfling? For all I know, gay men are the best adulterers. :> Oh, the things I allow my head to run off to.

Anyway, I'm two days away from the official end of sembreak. Of all the men I flirted with over the break, there's one man left standing (or, err, texting). He's not exactly my ideal partner. On our first date, he asked me if I wanted to have sex, to which I said no. Our exchange of messages was limited to stupid greetings or queries of what one or the other is doing. Worst, he's this clingy and needy creature who literally craves for attention. I pointed all that out to him, and he ended up liking me even more for my "honesty". Great.

What really did it was when he asked me if I could loan him some money. I told him it would never work and, just like that, I stopped talking to him.

At the last part of the film, Frodo said something. These words sliced through me, and I couldn't help but feel exactly the same:

How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on... when in your heart you begin to understand... there is no going back? There are somethings that time cannot mend... some hurts that go too deep... that have taken hold.

The truth is, I don't think I would ever fall in love again. These hurts are self-inflicted, sustained after roughly four failed relationships. Why did they fail? There was always something missing. To put it bluntly, none of them was the one.

The one would have to be someone who could put up with my spontaneity, with me putting up with any of his quirks. He (maybe even a she? LOL) would have to be street-smart, to supplement my lack of life skills. Maybe good-looking, even average... but definitely not the macho and debonair type, as I would probably just be insecure and wary all the time. He must not be a sucker for love, someone who knows what he wants and is working to get it. That person should like movies and books a lot as I do, so we'd have something to talk about without forcing topics into each other's mouths. Oh I can go on, but do I really know what I'm talking about?

The commercialized world would have us, specifically me, believe that all these standards will be done away with anyway once I am swept off my feet. I disagree. After four failed relationships, I can say as a matter of fact that there are things that are not a matter of compromise. I cannot, and shall not, compromise depth and compatibility for a pretty face, the warmth of intertwining fingers, or the sudden rush of inexplicable emotions. I do not care for those moments when I am treated sweetly, knowing that they are merely fabricated to ensnare my heart. Through it all, the worst part is knowing and at the same time not knowing what I really want and in whom these standards exist. Okay fine, I'm being dramatic again.

J told me I should go out often, stop studying too much and start seeing people. A invited me to go to Malate with his friends. I brushed aside both pieces of advice. I suck at contrived settings of socialization, ie planned conversations.

So right now? At this very moment? I don't think I will fall in love again.

But I just know I will, someday...someday.

Everyone But Me

Last night, I had myself enrolled for the second semester. Because I'm such an adult, I brought along my mom. I insisted on her not coming, but she would go on with her speech about how it hurts to be pushed away and how I used to be such an adorable kid, etc. The point is: enrollment. POST graduate degree. mother. with his 20-year old son.

So after enrolling and getting some of my grades (so far, so good..), my mom told me she'd take me anywhere I wanted. While having dinner, I told her about one weird thing about me. And it's not about me not being straight.

Needless to say, she was happy to know that I've neither been drunk nor tried to smoke a cigarette. Now when it was my turn to ask her if she's ever tried to smoke, she went a bit too far and talked about the parties she used to have, and how she tried smoking every once and a while and... I WAS SO FREAKED OUT.

Apparently, almost everyone has tried it but me. I don't know why, but smoking feels so wrong that trying it doesn't ever cross my mind. In fact, an ideal boyfriend would be, foremost, someone who doesn't smoke.

While having a shower immediately before writing this post, I was thinking about how I shortchanged myself by compromising the qualities I'm looking for in a potential partner. It's like I'm always in a rush to find the best one I'm possibly going to spend the rest of my life with.

Now that I'm single, I can't help but realize how I've thrown myself in relationships I wasn't prepared for, making promises I couldn't keep. I was wrong. So from now on, no rushing into relationships--or no relationships at all, even.

The inevitable conclusion of this sembreak? Everyone's into smoking and relationships but me. Sue me.