Bus Buddy

An ordinary weekday morning. I hopped on a bus on my way to work, all seats were taken. I stood in the aisle. I took a seat that became available at the rearmost of the bus. I was followed by others who had just gotten on.

And then, of course, as buses are somehow the root of some worldly desires for me, it got weird.

A guy took one of the other seats in the six-man row I was in. My peripheral vision was teasing me. Was he looking at me? I’m oddly visually challenged. I’m far-sighted. So I can’t really scout out guys who are seated too near. Or I just don’t really want to seem too obvious. Hmm.

As people got off along the way, I was able to transfer to the two-seater just ahead. I still felt like I was being watched. It was just him left in the row behind me. He was oddly leaning forward foregoing comfort for something else. But a lady was seated across from me, which may have been stopping him from making a move. Or I was just being too presumptuous.

We had reached Shaw Boulevard, and I felt him gathering his things. He slid over to the aisle. I felt his hand on my headrest. I heard a piece of paper. Then a couple of taps. I was intrigued but remained unobvious, both to him and the lady seated across. He got up and headed up front to get off. I tried looking out the window to see if he’d give one last glance, but didn’t spot him.

So what was that? Was he indeed trying to show interest? I remembered the sound of paper I heard. I ran my hand up the headrest and took a piece of paper slipped into it. It was a bus ticket. Today’s date, the fare, the origin and the destination. At the back, a name and mobile number was scribbled.

I had all the options in the world. I could have thrown it away. But then, of course, I’m a pleaser. I had a chance to make someone happy. How could I just ignore the guy? A guy who did not shove my face into his crotch on the first bus ride for a change? So yes… I sent a text message to the number.

And then the exchange began. He was relieved that I noticed the little message he left in the bus. Naman! I’m not that dense. With that, we became text mates. We’d text daily, at least mere good mornings or what not. This went on for a number of weeks. Maybe a month.

One Saturday morning, I was on my usual mall routine with my mom. At the hardware section, while looking at rechargeable lamps, my eyes caught a glimpse of someone. A guy. Tall, dark and neat, built with a little bit extra. We just stared at each other, short of saying “You look familiar,” “Where do I know you from,” and “Is that you?“ It was him. We didn’t talk or anything. We just texted.

At some point during that text conversations, I realized how ridiculous it was for us to be relying on chance to see one another. So I suggested that we plan out the next time we’d bump into each other. He agreed.

August crept in. And upon establishing the common point of our respective daily commutes, we agreed to meet and share rush hours. I arrived at the bus stop first, he came in a bit. Must’ve been funny seeing two grown men who couldn’t wipe the smiles off their faces.

We hailed a bus that would run our common route. We took seats beside each other. Sometime during the trip, he took my hand and held it the rest of the way, not even minding if other people would see. Cool. It was really nice having a hand to hold through traffic. There was a movie playing on the bus, too. Vic Sotto and Rosanna Roces. Basta Ikaw, Nanginginig Pa. Oy, is this a sign from the heavens? Not really. We were really without the kilig of it all because we were giggling at how ridiculous the movie was. He tapped my leg before getting off at his stop.

The next day, same thing. We rode together. Same bus line. No Pinoy movie this time, which we giggled about again. Again he had my hand firmly in his. Rush hour again. Traffic again. He got to his stop again, and tapped my leg. As he stood up he looked at me, sort of waiting for me to say something or wanting to say something himself. I’m sure I had a confused look on my face. He leaned in and gave me a smack on the lips. And then he turned and trudged to the front of the bus to get off, not even looking back.

Wait... what just happened? But no more confusion, I had a smirk on my face by this time.

I got a text message from him shortly.
“Ingatz”
     “Ikaw rin. Hmp nanggugulat ka. Hahaha.”
“Hahaha… Nakuha ko ba sa bilis?”
     “Oo. Kung Pinoy movie yun, dapat sasampalin pa kita. Hahaha.”
“Hehehe… Sige di na nga maulit.”
     “Oo. Di na mauulit na magugulat ako.”
“Hahaha… So laging ready ka na?”
     “O baka ikaw na magulat. Sige. Ingat ka ha.”

The next day, same thing. Without the movie. And without the smack. He didn’t even hold my hand. I felt he was teasing me. So I took initiative and grabbed his hand. Hmp, akala mo makakatakas ka ha. So there. We were officially bus buddies, and this was our daily routine. I felt like I had a date every single day. I did, sort of.

Okay, fine, we haven’t always been that patweetums. I think there’ve been three occasions that he holds my hand and leads it towards his crotch for me to feel his erection through his slacks. But that’s the farthest we’ve gone. Nope, he still hasn’t shoved my face into his pubes. But he’s managed to keep me curious as to what’s down there. Wholesome, but naughty.

As of this writing we’re still on it... our daily date. I think in almost a month, we’ve missed just three or four days, but I liked how the days we missed together aren’t a big deal. Because on days we were together, the least we’d be is just napping in the bus holding hands. Nice.

Basically, we're barely past being acquiantances. I don't know his surname. Not even his real name. I don't know what he does, nor does he know what I do. And no, I haven't told him the virally significant secret that I hide. Not like he'll catch anything by holding my hand.

So there, now you know my bus buddy. We’re not a couple. No commitment. No I-love-yous. Just something comfortable. And major-major safe. A huge ego boost, for me, at least. Nice. Really nice. And naughty too sometimes.

Isn’t life great? And aren’t buses too?

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The Buscapade

I rode the same old bus, from the same old stop, at the same old time, along the same old route. This morning was supposed to be just another regular commute to work. But no, no, no. I would just not be that lucky.

What is it with me, buses and sexual tension?

The bus had reached Cubao in a record-breaking time, thanks to less traffic probably due to students being on their summer break. We got in queue at the foot of the MRT station again, reminiscent of my Superman experience not so long ago. Hmmm, come to think of it, I never saw that guy again.

A handful of people got onto the bus as we screeched to a stop. I was focused intently on watching all the people who seemed to be scurrying about that part of Cubao. I just love to watch people, and the view from the vantage point of a bus window is always perfect for that. And then it started. I felt someone, one of those who had just gotten on, looking straight at me. Oh, boy, here we go again.

With just my peripheral vision to work with, all I noticed were his long-sleeved layered outfit, his oasis-style hairdo, and his bug-eye shades. Sigh. My gaydar went off the scale. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against their type. I admire their tenacity to layer clothes without a single drop of sweat amid this Manila summer heat. I envy them. But that’s as far as my admiration goes.

Sensing him make his way towards me, I tried to occupy as much as my two-seater as I could. But it was not enough. I guess his own gaydar went off as well. He stopped adjacent to my seat, and I had no choice but to move over. I just stuck myself as close to the window as possible, and went on with my people-watching.

Of course, the story didn’t end there. He made sure we were close. Very close. Hip to hip would’ve been normal. Thigh to thigh, understandable. But the way slouched and moved further forward in his seat just so our calves would touch was... outrageous! And his elbow, which began poked into my side, was actually resting on my belt – no, resting on my hip bone! You can get beaten up if you happened to do that to the wrong person.

It wasn’t like this bus was one of those whose seats were tailored for humans without arms and shoulders. It was one of those more comfortable ones actually. So he was really pushing his luck and making every effort for his intent to be known.

I could’ve easily felt violated and acted on my paranoia, but that would just get me into trouble. I hate making a scene. Plus it was all harmless flirting. It wasn’t like I was losing my virginity or something. Nor was it my first time to experience such things in public transport. Been there, done that.

Better yet, I thought to myself, act nonchalant about everything and hopefully turn him off. So that was exactly what I did. And thanks again to the smooth flow of traffic, the bus reached my stop – and in turn, the torture was over – in a short while. I knew he was getting down as well at my stop, so once I got moving, I never looked back.

I knew instantly that this adventure would hit the pages of this blog soon enough – in a matter of hours actually – so I just thought it funny if this guy would happen to read this entry and figure himself out as the subject.

What would he think? Would he realize what a close encounter he had with HIV? Would it make him sweat in his seat? Would it occur to him that I did him a huge favor? Would he think twice next time about letting his hormones take control so early in the morning?

In the very words of Bayani Fernando, Urbanidad.

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Maniac Monday

Sigh. What was supposed to be another usual Monday morning, suddenly turned out to be a bad start to the week ahead. After my regular morning routine, I stepped out of the house bravely, ready to face the dreaded rush hour. I hopped on a bus out on the highway… and then it happened. The bus I was in stopped at the next corner, where several people climbed on. And there he was, a familiar face that made me cringe with discomfort. My Maniac Monday began.

This guy was familiar because we had met this same way the first time – on a bus – a couple of weeks before I found out I was HIV-positive. I remember he sat beside me, tried hard to show he was interested, and started rubbing his crotch beside me. One thing led to another, and I was reminded why my Yahoo! user name is pinoycumeater. Let’s just say the closest I got to Bayani Fernando’s Urbanidad, was not leaving a sticky mess inside a public bus. Gulp.

I admit, it was exciting. And destiny seemed to be horny too, that we’d chanced upon each other on buses a number of times more following that first day. But after the fourth or fifth time it happened with this same guy, I just lost the thrill of having sex in a public place, and he just seemed to suddenly turn me off in a dirty-old-mannish kind of way.

So being on the same bus this morning was more torture than anything else. I just greeted him with a nod, and thanked the heavens there wasn’t a vacant seat beside me. I didn’t look his way after that, fearful of unknowingly sending hormones rushing to his loins. But his persistence was admirable.

The moment a space became available beside me, he slid into the seat, and started engaging me in some small talk, all the while rubbing whatever part of his leg he could against mine. Believe me, I was in no sexual mood. So I was ready to shoot down whatever advances he was going to make.

When he elbowed me and suggested we retreat to the rear of the bus, I knew what he had in mind and I declined, and just stared out the window. He then asked if I was mad at him, which I wasn’t. I couldn’t blame him. He’d developed an idea of what a rePUTAtion I had. Yes, rePUTAtion. That’s a reputation with a capital P-U-T-A. After a few minutes, he tried again, asking if I no longer craved for what we used to do. I apologized and said no.

I was just sooo tempted to just blurt out my ultimate excuse of having HIV, but didn’t. And although technically it’s not an excuse, this would’ve been one of the few situations where I would’ve wished the person I was talking to actually did feel some stigma against HIV.

I’m not sure if he finally got my drift, but thankfully, his stop had come up and he got off, leaving me with some room to heave my sigh of relief. I’m really the type of person who has a difficult time saying no, so this was absolutely out of the ordinary. So am I just overplaying my new virginity thing?

Absolutely not. I don’t know either what got into me, but I just felt offended all of a sudden, being expected to give sexual pleasure on a public bus at a moment’s notice. I’m not saying I wouldn’t do it again, but think of it this way – giving blowjobs inside a public bus is NOT my obligation, it IS your privilege.

As much as I’d love applause all around for my taray moment, I had absolutely no clue that I still had some pride left in me. But I do believe that was part of it – pride. I also may have been trying to deceive myself into thinking that I’m saving what’s left of my dignity for my special someone – without the assumption, of course, that I am my special someone’s special someone. But that’s a whole other story whose ending remains unknown. Sigh.

For now, the curtains on this particular chapter, the one of my Maniac Monday, finally draw to a close. When will our characters’ paths next cross? Dreadfully, only heaven knows.

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