Recycling

When my newfound friends found out I am dating someone I used to be with for about eight-nine months roughly eight years ago (yes, even before this blog started), they were rightfully confused. Even I was confused.

I mean, whenever i would recall my past breakups, the breakup with this guy was the one I regretted the least. I mean, he was not the kindest person back then. That's what I'd thought to myself, at least. But I remember loving him dearly, with all the heart my eighteen-year-old self could possibly give.

And then the pieces of the puzzle started coming together. He moved to the South for me when we were together. I couldn't catch a ride back home, and was in the middle of Pasay, and I remember him being so worried about me. And all those little things. I was crazy about him.

Until I was not. Stuff happened, and I fell out of love in a snap. Ours was the stuff of love stories in college. I loved him, then I hated him for hating on my best friend. But that love felt real.

Fast forward to today, where I spend my weekends overnight with him, huddled in bed, and where I meet his friends occasionally, and where I go to church with him. And all of it, all of this, brings me back to that time when I truly felt genuine care for someone.

I have to admit, it feels good. After more than a year of being single and dating around, and failing to develop feelings that ripen into love, it does feel strange to worry about and want the best for someone again.

It feels good, and it feels dangerous.

What if this does not work out? What if I end up hurting? What if I am into him more than he is into me? All these questions stir up weird insecurities I thought I had gotten over with. And i often have to slap myself back to reality.

And tell myself: you're alright. And if it this does not work out, then at least you felt felt love--or something that approximates it--again.

Maybe it will work out, maybe it won't. I guess I'll have to see.

I am okay

I know I have resolved to write here more, but several obstacles have prevented me from doing so--not the least of which is my inability to remember my password. I'd try for a couple of times, then stop trying altogether. And then I delay.

Just now I have decided to try a bit harder, and here I am, finally! :) My first update in half a year?

Try harder--that's what I failed to do here, in this makeshift journal, and that's what I fail to do with my love life. I guess I have to note here in some way that my more than two year-relationship has ended a couple of months ago. Yep. There goes my longest relationship.

I would have written a couple of things just to "honor" what we had, but the memories have mostly been forgotten, deliberately or inadvertently. Looking back, still, that will always be the benchmark by which I would measure any prospective relationship. That sounds pretty fucked up, comparing a future that has no real existence to a past that ended for the right reasons. But my ex and I, I would like to think, were doing fine. We had mutual respect for each other, and I would always be the first person to vouch for his happiness.   I would even venture to say that, despite the general inaccuracy of feelings, I loved him. Whether as a really good friend or as a romantic partner, I guess I will find out in the future. He remains to be one of the kindest and most selfless people I have ever had the honor of having cross paths with in my life.

But that's the problem. We were doing fine. We were coasting along. And I don't want to coast along. I didn't want to remember my late 20s pouring in all my time for work and for a relationship, and not knowing where and who I am. 

It's funny, because I know what I didn't want. But I don't know what I want either. And not knowing is okay.

I am okay. All things considered, I am in a pretty good place now. I know I am a relationship person, but being in a relationship for the most part of my adult life has bred in me a perennial sense of disappointment and discontent; I was always looking, asking, expecting for something more, when all I needed was to be by myself.

Don't get me wrong, though--I date. Like, a lot. Being single again after a long time of being cooped up in the relationship bubble has really opened my eyes up to all those apps. But unlike before, I don't go out there with a sense of optimism. I let things unfold and not force them to become a creature that I'd later be discontent with, in either a few weeks or a few years. This definitely means that I am more scrupulous when it comes to commitments, rarely jumping into adventures without caution, but my renewed approach to take things more cautiously despite my instinct works for me.

These days you'd see me working late nights, drinking and going out with friends, sometimes partying out, going to the gym as regularly as possible, hanging out with my family, and often just being alone watching TV series (totally hooked on Transparent, which deserves another post) or reading books after a long night. 

I honestly believe that this is the best version of myself so far. It could get better--I still have those random pangs of sadness, and I could be more financially stable, and I could do with a little less traffic driving to and from work. Of course, I could also do with a  little less stress with work, but I guess legal practice is by itself a whole bag of problems waiting to be solved by people who don't know any better. Definitely, the President could do with a little less blabbering to help me sleep more peacefully at night (to selfishly put it).

But I am okay. And being okay, right here, right now at this point in my life, is more than okay.

Who are you?

I woke up from a 5-hour sleep, fully aware of what lied ahead: another mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting day in law school. But I had a few minutes to spare, so I decided to check my social networking accounts. Now, I rarely get messages from random people (except this one time when I was flooded by messages, apparently because of an acute and irrelevant television stint…don’t ask, hehe). I was quite surprised then, that I had a message in Facebook. It said, and I quote:

Hi!

You don't know me, but I know you a little. We have a common friend, (Flower Boy), whom I guess has been a great part of your life.

I don't know if this is right (messaging you), but I guess I have to.

(Flower Boy) and I were x-es, and just recently, I was trying to have him back to my life. Our conversations, unfortunately, include you as a topic. It hurts my ego of course, and I can't do anything to erase you in his mind and heart.

Anyway, I had to end our thing. I can't stand hearing and seeing him being in love with somebody else, while me hanging by a thread. Yes, he still misses you and oh boy, it hurts.

Ikaw, minamahal ka nung tao. Wag mo na siyang pahirapan. Sana mahalin mo rin sya. Ingatan mo si (Flower Boy), please. Ayoko na din masaktan.

Hmm. Amusing. I replied back, if only because I was beginning to turn into this sorry sap for love. I said, and again I quote:

Hey,

Wow. That was a bit surprising. Anyway, (Flower Boy) and i... We never really went 'there', for me at least. We just had a few dates and i ended it before it even began.

Maybe you can hang on a bit more. Things might work out for you. I'm a sucker for happy endings and i hope you two have yours.

Love is too strong a word and even i won't use it for as long as i can help it. I wasn't in love, and am still not. So yeah, i wish both of you luck. :)

But, Flower Boy’s ex persisted. So he said, roughly and almost unbelievably five minutes after my above reply:

Well, he fell in love with you. And he kept on telling me he needes (sic) to move on for months and months like a real break up.

I deleted him as a friend here in facebook and other social network sites even YM. He doesn't want/love me anymore (I'm sorry to inject that - I know it's not of your business) but you know, I suggest you give him his closure. He needs it.

Thanks (Arwind).

Was I stunned? Was I offended? Holy fuck I was. Maybe it was the ungodly time of the day, which I confess is partly my own doing. Or the fact that Flower Boy probably used me as a scapegoat for not loving this turd. Maybe it was the probability the Flower Boy commissioned his “ex” to say just what he did.

Or maybe it’s the fact that here’s a complete stranger telling me to: 1) love a person I clearly don’t back; and, 2) give that person the closure he “needs”… I mean, who in the flying fuck is he?

Well, judging by the frequency of my curse words, any person can probably infer that I am pissed off. Because I am. I’ve never had any person tell me what to do, and here’s an alien I couldn’t care less about tell me what to do.

For the sake of diplomacy and the fact that the exchange can go on forever though, I decided to save myself the trouble of talking to him and to just ignore him.

Now that I think of it, I may be violating a certain law by communicating the contents of my private communication in writing. Well, he started it first.

But, wow, I was really pissed.

The End of the Story of the Boy I Met at the Mall

I agreed to meet with the boy who followed me in the mall. There were three things that came out of it:

1. I over estimated his looks. Let's just say some things aren't worth a second glance.

2. He won't stop talking! Seriously, I've never met anyone who can talk about a wide range of topics without even being asked...and without even realizing that the person he is speaking to isn't remotely interested.

3. In the midst of all his blabber about his life in the province or the girls he used to do, I found myself falling.....asleep. Seriously. There came a point when I literally couldn't discern his words, it was like one long drone lulling me to sleep. So fall asleep I did.

And you know what's the worst part? I traded that for a night with my family! Yesterday was a holiday and, by some opportune twist of fate, my sister didn't have work. Nights like those, we would usually watch a DVD, tease each other and ultimately sleep in one of the rooms, all four of us. Yes, we're a tightly knit family, and no, I don't know why I turned gay with that kind of background.

After the rendezvous, I realize how pathetic I was, thinking I would find love in a person I played a staring game with at the mall. This...this is just an entirely new low for me. I mean, what is it with me and my elusive enchantment with love, along with my pretension that I don't care one bit about it? Because I do. I'm one of those persons who pretend I don't care about ending up alone, but there's a dark lurking feeling inside me that says I just might be one of those old crooked bachelors. I do care about love and pretending that I don't tears me up little by little.

So, as I'm reading David Sedaris right now, I find it imperative to finally come up with a list of non-negotiables that a prospect partner must have. It's nothing, really. He must just be totally into: Coldplay, Killers, Brandon Flowers. U2, Pink, Stars, Death Cab for Cutie, or any 3 of the mentioned with the first two as essential requisites. How hard can that be? Quite difficult, apparently. I have yet to find a person who shares the same fascination as I have with regard to, say, A Dustland Fairytale.

Also, that person must have a fair amount of loathing for v-neck shirts, boots for men, and permanently worn glasses (which I wear, and which is why, whenever we would hypothetically run out of topics, we could always drop the "I hate wearing glasses" line and talk forever about it). The person must enjoy pop culture as much as I do, but, no, he must not listen nor read nor even mention Cristy Fermin or Lolit Solis in any of our conversations. In fact, it would be pretty incredible if one day we switch channels to the local tv and he asks upon seeing either, "Who is that sea urchin?"

And Desperate Housewives! Modern Family! How can I forget? And food. God, I hope he knows how to cook good food.

Let me see.. that person must know when and how to shut up. The inexplicable silence as we read a book and take ourselves on entirely separate journeys , but together? This just brings to mind A Single Man, arguably my pink film of choice. The earlier part of the film perfectly illustrates the kind of life I want in the future... quiet, alone, exciting.

It also wouldn't hurt if that person was smart, dangerous, decent-looking, etc. Hey, with six failed relationships at a golden age of twenty, I can afford to be choosy right? Please, please, please tell me I am right.

....I am so shallow...and nervous about our Obligations and Contracts class. I really ought to study.

Stranger Danger?

Our eyes met for no more than three seconds. He's cute. FINE. He's really handsome, by my own crooked standards. But so is more than half of the gay population. Plus I didn't even have enough time to assess his features then. So after that brief encounter, I walked on.

I had a clear goal in mind: go to the nearby mall and buy a pair of ear plugs and a book stand. But then I inadvertently looked back, and there he was, heading for my direction. I always gave everything the benefit of the doubt, so I thought, maybe he just needed to go to the mall too.

I let him go ahead, just so I can get rid of him--his handsome face and unquestionable charms. He used the escalator; I went to the hardware store--all the while we were looking at each other. When I started to look for the ear plugs, I thought our little game was over. But no, I caught him walking by each aisle, presumably checking if I was in any of them. But I was already at the counter.

And I smiled at him. He went out of the hardware store, and pretended to tinker with his phone. About three meters away from him, he smiled. I smiled back. And that's where he said, "Hi."

I died. You see, this is something I'd usually hear or read about, but I didn't think it would actually happen to me. Whenever something like that got close to happening, I'd always look away or pretend to be asleep. I'm a wuss like that...but that time, I figured I'd take my chance and see if things would take an exciting* turn. It did, but why do I only feel skepticism?

I should've trusted what my mother always told me, which I always followed...until earlier this night: don't talk to strangers.

*Exciting, by my definition, is me exchanging numbers with a total stranger, eating food in a weird restaurant, and letting another person walk me a few kilometers away frmo home. And no, it doesn't involve any sexual activity whatsoever.

Pushing the IGNORE button

Isang gabi sa Facebook chat:

Me: I see you're happily married again. Congrats! [Why did you break up with him in the first place? It was an ABSURD move.]

Ex: 7 months! Thanks btw for, hmmm, helping, in some way.

Me: I know it wasnt easy but there you are.

Ex: Yeah you knew (sic) it wasn't easy. Well...basta, thanks

Me: Oh well nice to have helped .

Ex: Eh musta na pagtrial and error mo? hehe [Referring to a brief phase where I allowed myself to flirt with a couple of guys in hopes of finding THE one]

Me: I stopped already. busy na eh!

Ex: Hahaha naka-ilan ka na rin naman eh

Me: Not a lot actually

Ex: madami. :))

Me:uhm. not really.

Ex: i just uploaded our pictures of last night

Me: on me flirting, let's not go there. magaaway lang tayo.

Ex: Di ko gets. Your telling that to me? i mean, baka magaway tayo? bakit tayo magaaway?

---

Lately, I've discovered that ignoring a person and avoiding confrontation can be a lot better than facing it head on.

Take for instance this annoying blockmate of mine who, as I was reading a paper on effectively studying the law, crassly asked me, "Hoy [insert my surname here], ano na naman 'yang binabasa mo? Wala pang pinapabasa satin, basa ka nang basa. HOY!" He kept on doing this for as long as his attention span let him. At that moment, I wanted to look him straight in his fugly face and tell him to fuck off, mind his own business, and learn to have some manners.

But of course I didn't. Instead, in spite of his repeated remarks, I silently ignored him as if the big elephant, pun intended, is not in the room. Ayun, natahimik.

Just like the conversation above, I chose to ignore rather than confront the ex head on. First of all, it's none of his business whether or not I choose to flirt. Second, he's not exactly the authority in not flirting. God knows how much of a flirt he is and how fast he swaps boyfriends as if he's just changing his underwear. Kaya please lang, don't he lecture me on what to do with my (love) life when I'm much, much more restrained with mine than he is. He managed to have at least three boyfriends after we broke up, whereas I only had one. Not that I'm counting...but!

At the very least, I don't "cool off" with a boyfriend and flirt during the in-between period. And for the record, I didn't even flirt with that many guys, so I suggest he straighten his figures before telling me what to do.

He's been doing this for days, telling me to stop the "trial and error" phase. Through and through, I've always wanted to tell him: who the fuck are you? Nakakainis talaga ang mga taong pinipilit ang perspective nila when they don't even understand yours. I want to make them realize they're flat out wrong...but I ignore.

So why do I do it? Why do I push the ignore button?

It's not for the sake of avoiding confrontation itself. It's just that some confrontations can drag on and on that some wounds will inevitably be uncovered. Before you know it, you won't even know where the entire disagreement all started.

Also, I honestly don't think confrontations can be worth it, especially since they require so much emotional and mental effort, i.e., finding the right words, crafting the right approach, etc. They're the last bullet, to be fired only when the ex or the annoying classmate is far across the line. Until then, I opt to just push the ignore button.

And yeah, I can really be a moody person. Hindi naman halata no? :P

Project Revival

I

I just took a quick look at all my past entries and I can't help but wonder: when did my life get so complicated? In my last few months in college, I used to go to school, had a lot of fun with friends, enjoyed my extracurriculars, and generally relished the whole ride.

A few months after, there I was, typing my problems away as if I was the only one who had them. I was selfish....actually, no. I was in love. Now, I'm only furious that some people can't move on and seem to find inventive ways to create drama out of nothing at all. I can provide a long list of when I started falling out of it, but it's all moot and academic.

In reference to a famous pop culture line, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

But honestly, I was thinking about bringing this whole site down altogether, this blog being the force that initiated a series of events that eventually led to the demise of my recent relationship.

I decided against it. I need a PLACE. If I bring this site down, I lose the only place where I can freely express myself without, save for the few people who won't spare themselves the agony of reading this while knowing my identity all along, worrying (too much) about what other people would think.

I would apologize for the rather impolite things that shouldn't have been read by the persons I constantly referred to. I was questioned for every thought I placed in here. But why? Since when were negative thoughts considered wrong? They're my thoughts. I know this is a sour defense, but I am entitled to what I should feel and think. You can't fault me for hating on someone who disrespects his parents, and you certainly can't call me out if I am more excited to get a haircut than to watch a movie.

These are my thoughts. So I stay.

II

SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED--would be an understatement. My first date after the break-up was with a guy a friend of mine set me up with.

He was okay: he didn't look awful, he had a car, and he was a gentleman. So far, so good.

The second time around was when problems crept in. He would call me this disgusting term I expressly told him not to. He gave me flowers. And he kept me waiting until 10 PM.

The worst part is I can't seem to wrench anything sensible from him. I'd talk about how frustrating some criminals get away with their unlawful actions. And what would he do? He'd stare into space driving and pretend that he never heard me all along.

Our parting conversation went like this.

Him: Ok lang worth it naman ang pagiintay eh.

Me: Dont wait kasi.

Him: Ayaw mo ba talaga akong magintay for you?

Me: Oo

Him: Bakit?

Me: I don't think ill ever be ready

Him: You can never conclude something if you haven't even tried it.

Me: Didn't we try?

Him: Is that trying?

Me: To me, yes

Him: Bakit hnd ba nagwork?

Me: I just realized it didnt work for me

Him: how?

Me: hay. dont make me explain

Me: because explaining means you rebutting

Me: and then we'll be in an endless loop of giving reasons and rebutting them

I just realized that the last few things I said set a precedent for situations where I'm asked to explain. May point naman diba? Why explain when there will always be disagreement? Sometimes, a yes or a no is all that matters.

III

I must correct myself. For some reason, I have been misquoted as someone who no longer believe in love. Now, don't I?

For the record, I do. How else would my parents still be together? How else would our family still be as compact if we didn't love each other so much?

But after four relationships gone wrong, you can't expect me to have the same outlook in love as most starters right? I should at least be four levels wiser than the average gay boy. And actually, I think I am. I don't rush into relationships as fast as I used to and make it a point not to go beyond emotional flirting. I can even control my emotions far better now. And my libido, too.

So expect my shock when someone invited me to drink beer (which I regularly do about twice in a year...fine, maybe once a year at most). At an apparently bisexual bar called P1. Or is it P2? I am positively scared at places like that and haven't even gone to Malate. I guess, in many ways, I'm still a prude.

IV

My college friend's mom died last week. When I found out the news, I was so sad. Never mind that she stole the presidency I wanted in our college organization, or that I had second thoughts about her loyalty to our friendship... really. What happened made me realize that the worst thing that could ever happen to me is to lose family.

I haven't gone out of the closet. I don't know if I ever will. I can't hurt them that much. The truth may set me free. But is my freedom more important than their happiness? People who have gone out to their parents will have countless arguments. But for some reason, I can't. I can't break their hearts. I can't let them think twice and look back if they had lapses in the way they raised me. They are perfect. And until I find a good enough reason for me to come out to them that doesn't involve abstractions, I just don't think I should.

How did I connect my friend's mother's death with my coming out? Some people just find a way to make everything about themselves, dont they? Tsk.