Sa Fezlaboom ng Malars, Na Super Kalurkey!

I haven’t been to Malate in a while, so on the way there for the 2011 Black Party I was wondering how much it has changed. We were off to meet our friends at the Love Yourself (LYS) booth.

The parking lot where I always park my car was still there. The attendant was still the same guy; he greeted me with a “Long time no see, ser!” after leading me into a parking spot. He didn’t bother to give me a parking ticket anymore; he knows I’ll never leave without paying.

Most of the familiar establishments were still there. However, the crowd felt a little thin, especially on the “straighter” areas of Malate. Just a few minutes past midnight, the volume of the crowd is usually at its peak.

The intersection of Nakpil and Orosa was closed off for the Black Party. I like to think of that particular spot as the intersection between the straight Malate and the gay Malate. That’s where the sexual lines blur, and the only orientation is to have fun.

The party was in full swing. We missed a performance by one of our friends (Von, hahanapin ko ang video sa YouTube, hahaha!) But the LYS hunks were out in full force. People were dancing on a stage erected at the intersection. And folks were having their pictures taken at the LYS backdrop. A little later, with the party in full swing, they switched on two bubble machines positioned on both ends of the booth. So fab, so gay.

Then it occurred to me that despite this intersection’s blurry reputation, most discreet gay guys will still never dare step into Malate, most especially during a big event such as the Black Party. For them, it’s a place and occasion for guys who are mostly or totally out. They would still rather prowl the more discreet places like The Fort, Greenbelt, Resorts World or Tomas Morato. For them being seen in Malate is a red flag of confeeeearmation. Kalurkey!

And I remember what Tony said about creating spaces for gay guys to be comfortable in. Which made me wonder, is there a place where discreet gay guys can mingle with out gay guys? I don’t mean a big event, like Big Fish events, where straight people are also in attendance; rather, a place exclusively for gay guys of different states of self-acceptance to be accepted as they are.

Or maybe I dream too much. Maybe discreet gays will always steer clear of the out-and-about ones. They will never interact with each other in the outside world, because to be seen with the out-and-obvious is another form of confeeeearmation.

Meanwhile, we can only intersect furtively in the dark or online.

Cold Comfort

My friend Leigh and I had lunch at Masseto, a swanky and chi-chi resto in Salcedo Village. As what happens with most long-time friends who haven’t seen each other for months, such an occasion is marked with good food, much laughter and heartfelt sharing of significant life moments that happened in between meet-ups.

She has been going through some emotional stuff recently, so by the time dessert came along we were deep in conversation, occasionally taking a break by asking for more water or, when the waiter handed us the dessert menu, ordering Salted Caramel Ice Cream and asking that it be split in two, since we were both quite full.

When dessert came, she was struggling to keep her emotions in check. She had already taken off her glasses and, at one point, covered her face with her hands. Still, she bravely continued her narration, while picking up her dessert spoon. I also picked up mine. She was talking while she scooped a bit of ice cream, and placed it in her mouth. I absentmindedly mirrored her movements, all the while concentrating on her story.

We both tasted the ice cream at the same time.

Oh.

My.

God!

Suddenly everything stopped. We both died as the ice cream melted in our mouths.

“Oh my god, Leigh!”

“Ay putang ina. Wow!”

“Shet Leigh, ang saraaaaaaap!”

And right there and then, we forgot all about her situation. We were oohing and ah-ing and marveling at the thick texture, the way the ice cream had already melted on the sides, and how the sugary residue clung to the back of the spoon.

Great food can be that powerful. Even for just a few seconds, all is well in this world.

Chasing Stars

For the full short story, go to: http://www.strangehorizons.com/2003/20030106/estrellas.shtml

* * * * *

Dean Francis Alfar’s short story “L’Aquilone du Estrellas (The Kite of Stars)” is an amazing tale of unrequited, one-way love. (SPOILER ALERT: Read the full story first if you don’t want to read the spoilers below. Because I’ve quoted in italics all my favorite passages from the story.)

The story is about Maria Isabella du’l Cielo falling for a stargazing young man. When told that he only has eyes for stars, she thought of a plan for him to notice her. She approached master builder Melchor Antevadez with a strange request.

“What I need,” she began, “is a kite large enough to strap me onto. Then I must fly high enough to be among the stars themselves, so that anyone looking at the stars will see me among them, and I must be able to wave at least one hand to that person.”

“What you need,” Melchor Antevadez replied with a smile, “is a balloon. Or someone else to love.”

She ignored him like most love-struck fools do, and insisted on a kite. Finally the master builder gave her a list of materials he needed; to complete the list would take sixty years. She accepted the task without hesitation.

Melchor Antevadez squinted at her. “Is any love worth all this effort? Looking for the impossible?”

Maria Isabella gave the tiniest of smiles. “What makes you think I’m in love?”

Melchor Antevadez raised an eyebrow at her denial.

What makes this story extra melancholic is that Maria Isabella hired a 14-yr. old butcher boy to accompany her in her task. After sixty years they came back with all the materials; the great grandson of the master builder had taken over from his late great grandfather’s shop. When Maria Isabelle was being strapped onto the kite, she tells the butcher boy (who had grown into an old man already), “This is certainly no time for tears,” Maria Isabella reprimanded him gently, as she gestured for him to release the kite.

And she never realized that the butcher boy had loved her all this time.

As she rose, he sighed and reflected on the absurdity of life, the heaviness of loss, the cruelty of hope, the truth about quests, and the relentless nature of a love that knew only one direction.

I wish I had read Dean Francis Alfar’s “L’Aquilone du Estrellas (The Kite of Stars)” when I was younger; it would have saved me a few years lost in stupidity.

Patience And Memory

“What is patience? It’s 86 missed calls just so that on the 87th, D will wake up and not be late for work.”

Even as I was typing it, I could already anticipate the responses for that Facebook status and tweet: “That’s so sweet!” And true enough, I did get those on Twitter. On Facebook they were able to write longer comments. But what I really just wanted to point out was how surprised I was that I reached 86 missed calls.

* * * * *

D knew that if he relied only on the alarm in his phone, he’d continue sleeping; that’s how deep his sleep usually is. Thus his need for me to be his alarm clock.

One time it took me more than an hour to wake him up. Afterwards I told him how stressful it was for me since I personally felt responsible for waking him up. We eventually agreed that D would supplement my call with an alarm clock; meanwhile, I promised I will not stress myself out if D took long in waking up.

Because D is on the night shift, I’d end up trying to wake him up while I’m driving home from work. I’ve turned this task into something advantageous for me. The drive home is already tedious due to heavy traffic; this task keeps me preoccupied. I’d use an earphone so I can put the phone down (handsfree!); thanks to redial, I found it much easier to call him up with just a press of a button. (Still, hitting an all-time high of 86 missed calls was something I never expected.)

Someone reacted, “I’d have muttered ‘bahala ka sa buhay mo’ after missed call #3 or #4.” I did think that a couple of times in the beginning, especially after going past the 10th call. But I could never get myself to just drop it.

* * * * *

In our opening ice breaker exercise during our planning session last Wednesday in Tagaytay, we were asked to say 5 things about ourselves that is not so well-known in the office. Without thinking much, I blurted out that: [1] I have a 21-yr old boyfriend; [2] who’s my very first, and I, his; [3] that we’re celebrating our 14th monthsary on that very day; [4] and I already texted him but he hasn’t replied yet; [5] because he’s most probably asleep, since he works nights as a call boy. In a call center. LOL. It was the first time I announced it so publicly and to such a big group. They all cheered and clapped. I think I was squirming with inner delight.

Afterwards I proudly texted D about it. Last night he corrected me: “Hon, ano ba?! 16 months na tayo!” Oh no, senior moment.

I may be his alarm clock, but he’ll be our almanac.

Are You Open To It?

An open relationship is not for everybody. Both parties should be able to handle the fact that their partner hooks up with other guys. Not everyone is capable of separating sex as just a physical act versus sex as a physical expression of the love between two people.

It doesn’t mean that persons who can handle open relationships are better or more mature. It just means they have a different point of view or a different set of values from those who cannot imagine sharing their partners with others. This is also true vice versa.

So to those monogamists who feel sorry for the ones who are in open relationships, don’t. I’m sure those “sluts” are having just as much fun and satisfaction as those “prudes,” albeit in different ways. To eat his own; err, to each his own.

The Prude Fabcast, Part One

After our “Departures Fabcast” (aka “Pigsa In The Perineum”), we focused on our special guest, Paul aka Iamtofuboy.

I first met him online; I follow him on Twitter and we’re friends on Facebook. He had said before that he has always wanted to meet the Fabcasters and to take part in a Fabcast recording.

So when Migs and Gibbs co-celebrated their birthdays, I invited Paul to the party. There he met CC, Tony and other members of the peanut gallery. During the course of the night, he actually mentioned to me and CC that he was a prude, and he viewed it as some sort of “problem” for him. So we thought, hey, that can be the topic for the next Fabcast.

So now here’s the first of a three-part discussion. Because this was recorded on the same night as the “Departures Fabcast,” don’t be surprised if our running gag for the night continues on the following episodes!

Download this fabcast (right click and save)

Music credits:
“Ooh La La” by The Wiseguys
“Like A Virgin (Live)” by Madonna
“Sho Nuff” by Fatboy Slim
“Why’s It So Hard” by Madonna

Kirk Versus Bane

You have Chris Pine, who was such a hottie as Kirk in the Star Trek reboot. Then you have Tom Hardy, who sizzled and stole all his scenes in Inception. For me, it’s a nosebleed movie! Even Reese Witherspoon, who I find an excellent actress who’s easy on the eyes, is suddenly relegated to the background, along with Chelsea Handler and all those explosions.

If I had my way, Chris and Tom would dump Reese and just get it on with each other.