Yesterday was a Monday. We all know how Mondays are. The first day of the week. A battle to recover from the weekend that just passed. An attempt to jumpstart the week ahead. This Monday didn’t seem any different. The cold December air made things worse. Morning showers are much harder to get into these days, aren’t they? I left the house realizing too late that I’d forgotten the bracelet and the ring that I wear every single day. The first time it’s ever happened since I got them. That was just not a good sign of things to come.
Morning rush hour was worse than usual. Must be a Christmas thing. Of course, since I’ve been daring to ride buses to work for some time now, I experienced every minute and inch of that traffic. My only consolation would’ve been the cool weather. But midway during the trip, I started cursing the cool weather when I felt the need to pee and had to hold it in until I got to the office. Good thing I made it. I got to work half an hour later than usual.
Work was not any better. It was a slow day, and everyone seemed like they were in vacation mode already. And sniffing and snorting my way through the day didn’t help either. The sniffles that I brought back from Cebu still haven’t gone away totally yet. Argh.
At about 5:00 pm, I got a text from a friend in the neighboring office asking if we could leave together. He’s not exactly a new friend, but an unexpected one. He actually heard that I was HIV-positive and approached me one day with much curiosity, and we’ve been close ever since. Everyone else seems to think that we clicked because something romantic is going on between us, which just isn’t the case. And today, since I’d been wanting to go check out a mall that was on his route home, I agreed to his proposition.
We were chatting in the jeep the whole way to the mall. There, we leafed through the huge collection of bootlegged DVDs – shh, don’t tell the OMB – and we ended up buying a couple of movies each. From there we headed out ready to go our separate ways. We were walking to where we were going to get separate rides, when he asked me if I was in a hurry. He wanted to buy something at the grocery and asked me to go with him for another few minutes.
We were walking to the entrance of the grocery when I spotted someone I thought I knew. This guy happened to be walking beside me to the door. I actually wasn’t 100% sure it was him, but I don’t know what got into me. I put my hand around his shoulder, which prompted him to look at me. He smiled, not because he recognized me, but because of the gesture. Seeing his face, I was a bit more convinced he was the guy, but I was quiet, trying to recall his name. It came to me quickly, just as the guard was about to inspect my bag, “Ikaw si _____, diba?” Silence.
“Yes,” was the next thing I heard. It was clear he was wondering why I knew him. “Ako si _____,” I said, reminding him who I was, and offering a handshake with it. A sigh of relief. We’d finally met. We’d finally, finally met.
This guy is actually a fellow pozzie who I’ve been chatting with for over a year already I think. We’re linked on Facebook and other places, so we did have some idea of what the other looked like. Oh I’ve even seen him on webcam... nope I just watched him sleep when he forgot to turn his cam off.
We’ve probably talked about everything under the sun already, from family to poz life, and from love to sex. He mostly likes to tease me about my YM id. And I tease back. Sexually, we would be a match. But I see him more as a little brother. He’s a couple of years older than I am, but looks-wise, he could pass as someone a decade younger. Amazing, right?
What really prompts me to see him as a little brother is his stature. He’s a petite guy. Petite, but all man. He’s always said he’s a shy and quiet guy, but talking with him, his maturity shows and his huge heart shines through his mysterious exterior. I always knew we would get along well.
We had actually just been chatting earlier in the day, talking about how we should finally meet for the first time, before he left the country end of the month. Of course he didn’t let the chance pas to tease me again about my YM id. He dared me to meet up. No reason why we shouldn’t meet. We just never thought it would happen so quickly and so unexpectedly.
It was a really quick meet mostly because it wasn’t really planned. But the quickie was enough to keep me smiling all the way home. I found it hilarious how the heavens work sometimes. What if my friend from the office didn’t suggest we leave together? What if we got there a minute earlier or a minute later? What if I didn’t accompany him to the grocery? What if I brushed the guy off as just a look-alike? What if I didn’t muster up the guts to put my arm around him? What if I chickened out of talking to the guy? What if the world wasn’t that small? What if, what if, what if?
The right time, the right place. It was all really just fate. Destiny. Serendipity. A hell of a stroke of luck. I’ve mushed myself all over him already yesterday via text messages, telling him how happy I was that we’d finally met, and how everything was meant to be, and how absolutely adorable he really is. I know, right? I’m a schmuck. But really, if you saw my face the whole ride home, you’d know it really made my day. Hay... ain’t Mondays and life just grand?
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Beating Monday Blues
Monday, August 10, 2009
Spilt Milk
Monday rush hour. Braving the rain, armed with my trusty umbrella, I took a jeep to the MRT station. Jam-packed and with the plastic sheets pulled down over the windows, yes, I was kept dry, but I suddenly felt my claustrophobia creeping in. Logically, my eyes went to the rear of the jeep, hoping to at least see some air. But no, someone was hanging off the back of the jeep, blocking that view as well. But against what little light there was, I felt the man’s eyes looking at me. Was he smiling? At me?
I checked him out a bit. He was probably in his mid-20s, tall, fair-skinned, dressed in just jeans, a shirt and a cap, and good looking, I thought. I remember wondering if it was someone or something else he was looking at. But I still felt it was me he was looking at. I shrugged it off. He got down ahead of me, and I eventually lost sight of him.
Making it up to the MRT platform, I stood at my usual place, the middle door of the third coach. Waiting for the next train to come, I couldn’t help but look around. I was surprised to spot the same guy standing just two meters to my left... and still looking at me... this time, from head to toe. I was now sure he was checking me out, complete with an impish smile on his face. I busied myself looking around, panicking, honestly. I regret trying to check on him with my peripheral vision, only to realize he now stood right beside to me. Oh, fuck.
When the train finally came by, everyone seemed to get sucked into its open doors. Rushing in, I felt a hand wrapping around mine... yes, it was him. I couldn’t help myself. The next thing I knew, my hand had betrayed me and clasped back, revealing my interest in him, too. Inside, he made sure to stand next to me. It seemed he still wasn’t convinced that I was interested, and still made little efforts of looking my way, rubbing elbows, and finally holding my hand as he concealed it with his bag. I looked back, rubbed back and held back. That’s what he was waiting for.
He soon struck up a conversation of whispers. We introduced ourselves and found out I lived near his brother’s place, where he stays on weekends. He asked if he could drop by sometime... I said maybe. I was getting off ahead of him, so before we got there, he asked for my number and saved it on his phone. He rang me up to make sure I got his number, too. It was time for me to get off... the train, that is. And with that, I fell in love with the MRT.
I just felt so good about myself. It was such an ego boost. He was just... so... interested! I couldn’t believe how aggressive this younger guy was. Or maybe he just judged my age wrong. I’d blush if that was the case. But honestly, it was so extremely flattering. His moves gave me the kiligs.
We were texting a bit during the following hours, and establishing our preferred roles in bed, it was clear he was after sex. And we were a perfect match. I jokingly guessed that he had a relationship, which he confirmed... he had a girlfriend. Okay, I can deal with that. And so it was set, we were to meet the following Saturday. He was to come to my place... honestly, I was excited. But then my dilemma of revealing my secret came with the excitement.
During the following days, I tried not to worry too much. It was my hormones that were taking control. I cleaned my room and changed the beddings, and even replenished my supply of prophylactics. It should’ve been so simple, but not for me. I knew I was worried, because I found myself asking a number of my friends whether I should tell this guy about my HIV or not. Opinions varied, and I was still at a loss. The decision would still be mine to make.
Well, it was more like I knew what was right, but didn’t want to take the risk of “losing” this guy. I didn’t want to make the decision. So Saturday crept up slowly and the time to decide was looming. He just couldn’t wait. Friday night, he sent a message asking if we could meet already. This was it.
I was in a jeep when I replied, finally revealing my little secret. I told him I was bothered about not telling him about it, and mentioned that it was my way giving him the chance to change his mind. Honestly, I was expecting the worst, but really hoping for the best. I stuffed my phone back into my pocket as soon as it was sent, anxious of what reply I was going to get.
After five minutes, I checked for a reply. Nothing. Another five minutes. Still nothing. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was thinking about it. For the next hour, I was flipping my phone every five minutes... and the realization that he was no longer interested was hitting me again and again and again. I felt sad. Sad that I was reduced to an HIV-status. Sad that it tipped the scales against me.
Do I regret telling him? Well, the sex in me says “Sayang!”... but my consuelo-de-bobo would be that hopefully he realizes that you can’t tell one’s HIV-status just based on looks alone. Hopefully, he’ll play safe from now on. But damn! I really, really wanted him!
So there, I chose to do the right thing, but ended up with nothing. I guess the worst part about it is that he completely lost interest, not even considering the option of being friends at least... he just didn’t want to have anything to do with me. Ouch.
But you know what? I can’t blame him. That was just the harsh reality of things... for now. I took another risk, and lost again. Nope, I gotta convince myself that it’s his loss, not mine. No more use crying over spilt milk. After all, I could always spill my own milk... by myself.
Post-script:
As of Saturday afternoon, he sent me a text message asking how I was and if what I had confessed was true. I just said it would be such a bad joke to tell. He admitted doubting its truth, and I ended up lecturing him about the fact that you can’t tell one’s HIV-status based on looks alone. Nothing again after that. Sigh.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Boy Friday on a Monday
It was a Monday. And I had a date first thing in the morning.
A date?
On a Monday?
First thing in the morning?
Five years ago, I met this guy through one of the personals sites. His apartment just happened to be halfway between where I lived and where I used to work. I remember it was a Friday morning that I first agreed to go to his place to meet him. And again, it was another case of sex on the first date. We were a perfect match... which wasn’t surprising because we had settled all the sexual logistics already online. So it was natural that that first meeting would not be our last.
We continued meeting almost every Friday after. I remember getting so attached to him, thinking it was something more than just sex. So much so that when he warned me not to fall in love with him, I admit, I did shed some tears… but I made sure he never knew. I understood. Well, not really... but it was clear from the beginning that no promises were made between us, and no expectations needed to be justified. It became clearer later on when he admitted... that he was in a relationship. Yep, I was a third party.
So what? I think we enjoyed each other’s company enough to continue seeing each other. I respected that he had a boyfriend on at least six of the seven days every week, but yep, he was still my boy-Friday.
So this went on for a number of months. With week after week passing by, it became apparent it indeed was more than just sex. I remember he’d confide in me about the relationship he was in, and come to me when he had problems, but he also did his part, even coming condole with us at my dad’s wake. I definitely didn’t feel like I was just a mistress. We were friends.
Even when boy-Friday left to work abroad, we were able to keep in touch. The world-wide web made it easy. He’d share with me how homesick he was and how tough a time he was having, and I just listened. Until the time came that I needed him to listen too... I told him I found out I was HIV-positive.
Of course the ease with which I told him may have been brought about by the relationship we had built, plus the fact that we hadn’t been with each other for years, making it was almost impossible for me to have put him at any risk. It was just an FYI. An honest answer to the question "How’ve you been?".
I still haven’t erased the message he sent after I told him. "Well, for what its worth, di ako nandidiri, and it hasn’t changed my attitude towards you. You’re still one damn hot guy for me." (insert blush here...) "And above all, I still care for you... and of course I still would want to see you... Hello?! As if naman I’ll get AIDS if I touch you or kiss you... not ignorant here." This guy... he was just the sweetest.
Latest news, he was back in the country. We still were in touch, and he did still express interest in seeing me again, but I admit, I was skeptical. Another is-this-guy-for-real moment. So for over half a year, I’ve managed to avoid meeting up with him. But his persistence was admirable. He finally caught me online this weekend.
"It’s making me think hard, _____. We have a lot in common... and in most respects we are compatible. Hay... I hate myself for what has become of us... I know it was entirely my fault. Darn!" he said. I was drawn aback. Regret? No way. Blaming him was the farthest thing from my mind. I admit thinking that if we had gotten together back then, things may have been different. But I have no regrets. This was meant to be. We were meant to be where we are now.
After a short chat, we’d established that he now lived nearby to where I now work. And with that, I no longer had an alibi. I admit, I did want to see him... half to be with him and make sure he was doing well, and half to show him I was doing well, too. But it just wasn’t that easy for me. I’m glad he was persistent. I needed that push.
So Monday morning, I went my usual route, but got off a few blocks from where I usually do when on the way to work. I walked up to his building... but not without assessing how I was feeling. Nope, unlike my usual EBs, I wasn’t nervous. I was relaxed, surprisingly... and excited.
I buzzed his door and waited... there he was in just a white shirt and a pair of shorts… dressed down but hot as ever. Even with five years added to the board, he was still hot as hell... hotter even. He led me into his bedroom, and sat me down on his bed... and we got to do it... we got to catch up, that is. We were just sitting there, watching So You Think You Can Dance on the tellie, just talking, reminiscing, giggling, and laughing. At times, we held hands and lay in each other’s arms... just like we did before.
If I was to say we were totally wholesome, I’d be lying. But other than some playful teasing, touching, licking and kissing, I can swear on my father’s grave that we did not have sex... of course, to me it’s just not officially sex if no one ejaculates... so there, you have an idea. TMI? Oopsy.
Anyway, after about an hour, I made my gracious exit. I needed to report to work, of course. So we sealed the morning with a huge, tight hug... and with that I was to have a great day and week ahead.
Looking back, I can confidently say that I wasn’t there to look for romance or demand for a commitment or anything of that sort. It was a different kind of commitment, I guess... just two people reminding each other that they remain... two people rekindling an old friendship... two people continuing their journey through thick and thin.
Boy Friday on a Monday... I love it.
Monday, March 30, 2009
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.
