Un. Re. QUIT. Ed.

Last night I watched the movie Sikil for a second time. It’s the first movie in a looong time that I’ve gone out of my way to watch in the theaters more than once. When I was in high school and college, I’d make it a point to watch movies several times; first to enjoy it and the subsequent viewings to re-enjoy it again while breaking down the technical aspects of the film during the parts that I really, really liked. Why did the director shoot it at that angle? How quick was the cut-to-cut editing in that scene? How did Meryl Streep do that? After going through the technicals I go back and enjoy the scenes as a whole again and again, reliving the feeling. That’s why I end up watching at least 3 times; my most watched movie of all-time is still E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial, with a total of 7 viewings in the theaters (video cassettes and DVDs are exempted). Damn that Ken Escudero. He’s the reason why I’ve seen the movie Sikil twice.

Okaaay, I exaggerate. So maybe it’s not really his wounded puppy eyes that keep drawing me back. It’s really the oh-so-familiar story of a gay man falling in love with his straight friend. It has happened to most of us at one time or another—having a crush on a straight friend. But while most gay men would move one with nary a scratch on them, I perfected the art of unrequited love. With my first childhood crush I fought with my brother for his attention; in the end he preferred to hang out more with my older brother than me. In high school, college and several years beyond, I “pursued” four straight guys for at least a year or more (not all at the same time silly, one after the other). And there were a few more who attracted my eye and kept me busy trying to get them to notice me. But with all of them I ended up with nothing. Well, all except one.

He was the one who was different from the rest. Maybe it was his (relative) youth that made him fearless. Maybe it was his exposure to cultures other than ours that made broadminded. Maybe he was just flattered with the attention and importance I gave him. Whatever the reasons, he was one of the few exceptions who didn’t wince and pull back their friendship when I revealed my true feelings towards them.

One night I ended up sleeping over at his house after a party. As luck would have it, the others who were also going to sleep over decided to pull out last minute. In his room I offered to sleep on the floor; he insisted that his bed was big enough for the two of us. But won’t you feel uncomfortable sleeping beside me knowing my feelings towards you, I asked. Nope, he replied with a shrug and a smile. I decided to push it. Can I hug you while we sleep? I tentatively asked him. Without missing a beat he said sure. And he laughed and joked: Basta hug lang ha? Hehehe. Without missing a beat I said of course.

A few hours later I woke up to a very dark room with my arm around him and my face inches away from the back of his head. I could still smell the lingering scent of his shampoo; his nape had that hint of Ivory soap that’s so sexy on a guy. I listened; his breathing was slow and deep. I lifted my head and moved closer to look at the side of his face. He was deep in sleep. From that angle I couldn’t see his eyes but I knew they were closed; I couldn’t see his lips but I knew they were partly opened as he breathed in and out. Inside me I sighed: so near and yet so far.

Then I lifted my arm off him and turned to face the other side of the bed, my back now facing his. And I forced myself to sleep again.

The next morning whatever romantic inclinations I had towards him evaporated like a wisp of a dream that, a few seconds after snapping awake, disappears forever into the mists of night.