Come to think of it, Fathers’ Day came and went this year with hardly a hint of a fuss. Had I not gotten the call from L that day and heard his son in the background, I could’ve possibly completely forgotten about it. I know I seem like such an ungrateful son to have only greeted one person and it wasn’t even my own dad. But that's just how it went.
Growing up, I didn’t really have my dad beside me. His profession required him to be out-of-town most of the time. He did, however, show up around once a month if I remember right. During those once-a-months he’d come home, I would run out to meet him and hug him around the waist, my little arms unable to wrap around his fully-developed beer belly. Yep, my dad was a Pale Pilsen person, and he was a real man.
I remember the lingering scent of a smoker, as well as his signature smokers’ cough that filled the house every time he was around. I don’t even wonder why I never felt the need to get hooked on cigarettes. Yep, my dad had his own carbon footprint, and he was a real man.
I’m a bit ashamed to admit that I used to sleep in the same bed my parents did. And waking up beside my dad without his shirt on, I would wonder why there were stray hairs around his nipples, which I’d try to tug at, eventually waking him up every time. Yep, my dad walked around without his shirt on, had armpit hair, nipple hair and a full mustache, and he was a real man.
But of course, my dad was a real man in all the other senses of the word.
He would go hang out with his drinking buddies out on the street corner, usually coming home so drunk that on some occasions that he’d fall asleep right on top of our school books, and on one really bad day, he pushed my mom around and left her in a heap on the floor right before our very eyes. Yep, my dad was an alcoholic, and he was a real man.
He was always right. He knew how to use any product ever manufactured, even better than the manufacturer. And not even the scientific knowledge that we, his children, would bring up was enough to overturn his own know-how. Yep, my dad was a know-it-all, and he was a real man.
He was one hell of a driver. He had a habit of running female drivers off the road, and honking them to jitters. He hated being overtaken, and loved cutting in. Yep, my dad was king of the road, and he was a real man.
He was a man of few words. When I told my mom that I was gay back in 1999, she actually forced me to tell my dad. So I did. I admit it scared the shit outta me, but hearing him say Just let him be in a matter-of-fact way just shocked the hell outta me, too. Yep, my dad seemed void of emotions, and he was a real man.
So my dad may have seemed like as much of a real man any man can ever get. But it took a real man to put my dad down... he succumbed to himself.
In late 2003, my dad felt the need to once again be a real man, as he ignored advice from his doctor-cousin to go for a checkup. By the time he couldn’t bear the pain, which was when he finally went for a checkup, it was too late. He was diagnosed with terminal stage cancer.
Of course, being a real man, he still didn’t follow everything his doctor said. Yes, he went in for chemotherapy, which would seem to say he still wanted to live. But he still ate what he wasn’t supposed to be eating, drank what he wasn’t supposed to be drinking, and did what he wasn’t supposed to be doing.
The fact that he outlived the 10 months he was given didn’t even help. He just became more stubborn. I felt how it was to have a child... and a brat at that. He couldn’t see that we were just trying to take care of him. He wanted to live, but wasn’t willing to make the sacrifice.
I remember thinking to myself, Is this what it takes to be a real man?... If it was, then I was rather relieved that I wasn’t one.
Finally, his moment of humility came as he was lying helpless in the hospital. With his wife and all us kids around, he confessed that he fathered two other sons with another woman, both of whom shared our family name, as well as our initials. Oddly enough, we were far from shocked, having known about it since years ago. But the way he said it... the first ever time I may have seen him cry... was a breakthrough. It redefined what I knew of what a real man was supposed to be.
Sadly, about a week after that, we were awoken by the dreaded call that rushed us to the hospital. Other than the doctors trying to resuscitate him long enough for us to get there, it was too late. My dad had died.
Time flies, and it’s been almost five years since. I still will openly admit that we hardly had a real relationship, and still think that he was an arrogant, stubborn ass most of the time. But hell... I had to get some of it from somewhere, right?
Remembering my dad and my own challenges today, I will have to say that I got more than my tolerance for alcohol, my thinning hair, and my skin color from him. If he could see me now, I don’t exactly think he’d be proud, but he can definitely rest assured that some of the better points of his “real man” legacy may just have rubbed off on me.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
The Real Man
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
One Fine Day... Part 2
Getting to his hotel which was a short walk from the MRT station, I walked up to the elevators. I stepped in and pressed 6. I remember looking at myself in the mirrored elevator walls, nodding my head and saying to myself What am I doing here? But there was no turning back now. I walked down to the end of the corridor and went straight to door number 645. I took a deep breath, and knocked.
As the door swung open, there he was – the total hotness of him – in the flesh and smiling at me. And a lot of flesh it was, as he stood half-naked in just a pair of shorts. He led me in, shut the door and grabbed me in a tight hug, saying how he couldn’t believe I was there with him. Am I dreaming?
We sat down on the bed, he took my hand in his and we began talking, during which he never broke eye contact. I felt like I was melting in the light of his hard stare. What was he seeing? He interrupted me in the middle of one of my sentences and asked permission to kiss me. I felt faint as he leaned forward and took me in his arms, passionately engulfing my mouth in his.
He stood up and dropped his shorts and his underwear. I took his cue, stripping myself down to my skivvies. And soon, like a panther, he pounced, resting me on my back and laying his hard body on top of me. “Is this okay?” he asked. “Of course,” I answered. From then on, we just did what came naturally.
I’m sure no one would be interested in hearing all the sordid details. I will not go TMI. All you need to know is that, for a brief moment – well, half an hour to be exact – I felt like the me I was before, prior to HIV. Wild... raw... carefree... uninhibited. At the end of it all, we were left with a lubey mess on the floor and a condom full of passion.
From there, we showered and got dressed, as the driver was due any minute to pick him up. He asked that I run his errands with him if I had no other plans for the day. Sure. We reached the lobby just as the van drove up. As we hopped in, he took my hand in his, weaving his fingers into mine. I stared at him smirking with disbelief as he discussed our itinerary to the driver, to pick up some colleagues, have lunch and drop them off. Noticing me looking at him, he snuck in a peck on my lips, not even caring if the driver would notice.
During the whole trip, he hardly let go of my hand as I sat beside him. He told of how his close pal had AIDS and died some years ago and I understood where he was coming from, causing me to hold his hand even tighter. Even in the company of his colleagues, he made sure we sat at the rearmost seat of the van just so they wouldn’t notice our mischief. Finally, after lunch, we dropped his colleagues off at their hotel. With my hand still in his, he told the driver to head to Makati, where he needed to pick up some stuff at the mall.
Getting there, he just told me to wait at the lobby of the mall while he went to run his errand. I was wondering if this was his way of losing me or something... I would not be me if I wasn’t paranoid. But of course, he proved me wrong, as I spotted him strolling back towards me after about fifteen minutes.
As we waited in front of the mall for the van to pick us up, I opted to make my gracious exit, saying I should head home so we could both get some rest for the week ahead. I thought, quit while you’re ahead. I just needed to grab my bag from the van so we could go our separate ways.
The van took a while to pass by, which gave me time to thank him for the wonderful day. L expressed his delight as well, and said that he wanted to kiss me right there and then if he could. Don’t dare me, I half-joked. Not to be beaten, he called his own bluff. And amid all the passing vehicles and crossing pedestrians, we leaned in for a quick smack on the lips. It was like a movie scene. Dreamy.
As the van stopped before us shortly, L hopped in and reached me my bag. We said our goodbyes – for now, at least – but not before kissing each other on the lips again, something I’m sure the driver noticed this time. And with that I shut the door of the van and waved goodbye.
Walking away, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, which suddenly turned into a grin when I realized that we scandalized the guard at the door of mall with that last kiss, as he looked at me from head to toe and conferred with the lady guard beside him. I’m pretty shy, but oddly enough, I’m not the type to get conscious of things like that. Not at this point, at least. Kissing a guy on the lips would just pale next to the other shameless things I’ve done in my lifetime.
So with that, the day came to an end. More than the sex, I enjoyed every minute we spent together. All 300+ minutes of it. The time with L left me with the thought that this is the kind of guy I want. This is the kind of guy I deserve. Simple, sweet, sexy and smart. Someone who will respect and accept me completely – HIV and all. And this is the kind of relationship I want. This is the kind of relationship I deserve. Something effortlessly fun and happy. Where HIV is a non-issue.
For now, L is back in Mindanao, and though we have not made any commitments to each other, we’ve been in touch. We’re apart, but I’m happy. He’s been making more than enough effort to stay in touch. Personally, I look forward to seeing him again sometime and spending more time getting to know him. But if at least, I was honored to have met a guy like him, and appreciate how he made me realize my self-worth... something I’ve been needing for sometime now.
Thank you, L. Thank you for that one fine day. May it not be our last.
Monday, April 27, 2009
One Fine Day... Part 1
I sort of met someone last week. Yes, last week. I apologize for the delay. It took me a week before telling you about him, mostly because I needed a week for that unbelievable day to sink in. I needed to make sure it really happened, that he was for real, that I wasn’t hallucinating, and that I wasn’t dreaming. Let’s call him L.
L and I had been communicating via the web since last year, when he found one of my profiles on one of the personals sites. He had made clear his interest to meet up with me, calling me “idol” as his term of endearment, and even texting and calling me regularly on my mobile phone. Honestly, sex was on his mind, and mine, too. He wasn’t exactly a stalker, as he was the type of guy anyone would be honored to be stalked by. It was not hard to fantasize about this guy with all his profile pictures online. He was hot, hot, and hot. And he wasn’t even naked in most of them. He didn’t think I was so bad either.
Of course, my HIV secret would complicate things, but my first line of defense was that L was based in Mindanao, so our meet up was not to be simple to begin with. This was one case where the distance between us worked to my advantage, as I could keep my secret safe – that is, until he said he’d be coming to Manila for business. I panicked, and was suddenly hit by the need to tell him I had HIV. I sent him a text message saying I was HIV-positive. I meant to give him time to rethink everything, and honestly expected him to lose interest. But... he surprised me.
It seemed he became more eager to meet me in person. I remember thinking Is this guy for real? He called me after a couple of replies, and indeed, it was evident in his voice that he was somehow thrilled that I was HIV-positive. Weird. It turned out, HIV and AIDS were not foreign to him, as someone close to him had it and died of complications some years ago. I was amazed at the coincidence, and even more at his excitement that I had it, too. Not the reaction I was expecting.
After my disclosure, L was able to make a couple of business trips to Manila, but we never met. Mostly we ended up with botched plans mostly because of schedules and circumstances, but also in part because of my skepticism, which left me uneager to make the effort to meet him. Until last week, April 19th, when the inevitable happened.
L made sure I knew he was coming to Manila, so I had no excuses and had made no other plans. It was a Sunday and we were scheduled to meet at 3:00 pm. He called me that morning, though, and asked how soon I could get to his hotel. Eager beaver? I’m not a big fan of sudden changes in plans, but I don’t know what got into me. I found myself on my way to meet him at 9:30 that same morning.
I remember being on the MRT and receiving a text from him requesting me to send him a message if I was already nearby. Another text message followed, asking me to go straight up to Room 645. And another message after that, saying I hope you brought a rubber. I forgot mine. Hehe. That made me laugh. But of course, I was prepared, as always. I have to be.
I’m honestly the type of person who has no qualms about having sex on a first date. I’ve always been like that. And I find that having HIV doesn’t change that point of view of mine. I won’t say whether it’s right or wrong, just to each his own, I guess. I'm single, after all.
Getting to his hotel which was a short walk from the MRT station, I walked up to the elevators. I stepped in and pressed 6. I remember looking at myself in the mirrored elevator walls, nodding my head and saying to myself What am I doing here? But there was no turning back now. I walked down to the end of the corridor and went straight to door number 645. I took a deep breath, and knocked.
To be continued...
