And as much as I wanted to continue this blog the way I kept it for the past year or so, I could no longer summon the energy and inspiration that I used to have. I know that if not all, most of you would be disappointed. So, bear with me. I’ll write this way as of the moment, until I can find the "badinggerzie" in me, again.
But life goes on . . . . . and my stories are still bound to be told . . . .
Picking up from my last confrontation with love and my "very well said" failure being dumped and all . . . I can say that the hairsplitting days were over and the moments of self-pity were already thrown in the train to the city of "forget-all-about-him". I could only grieve so much and if I'll let myself down for long, I would be a walking cadaver by now.
So, I let it all slip my mind and go through with my gay life.
And what is the best way to get over a very tormenting emotional pain but to replace it with a very excruciating and yet pleasurable physical exercise? And is there any other more convenient place to find it aside from the web?
I opened my G4M account after an era of disbelief because honestly, I'm not much of a fan of the well-chiseled abs, perfect smile and Adobe-Photoshopped pictures of guys in there but I told myself, "What the hell . . . . ."
And the search began . . . . .
I am a practicing homosexual since God knows when, I've been through both ends of the homosexual spectrum, I've seen all shapes and sizes . . . . and so I thought. As I browse through G4M, I can't help but wonder where in the f*cking world did these guys come from. I mean, don't get me wrong . . . . these are not just guys . . . . . that you see in your everyday life . . . . some of them didn't even cross my wet imaginations. I couldn't help but just clench my teeth because I know that that is the most I could do.
I want to be realistic . . . . so I just passed through their pages, really not thinking of hooking up with them, you know, because I don't want another anthology of heartache.
My own capacity for devotion is hypothetically focused on certain guys I saw walking the streets: strong-looking men who didn't aspire to conventional fame or happiness, who cleaved the air with definitive thoughtlessness. I looked as unobtrusively as possible at naive-looking guys who don't seem to exist, sullen college guys, and tough, cute boys who appear to be just in their post-puberty age but already thinking that they know everything.
I knew my interests were probably unhealthy. But they remained - they were the geography of my desire. A particular boy I saw sometime at the MRT with unkempt hair and an irritated expression could make me tingle by brushing my elbow with his sleeve.
And so . . . from one personal page to another . . . . I continued the search based from my "unhealthy" interests.
A couple of guys stood out.
One is a college student, studying somewhere in U-Belt, 19 years old and quite troubled and disturbed.
Another one looks boyish but he's already in his mid-twenties, working as a finance analyst, geeky as he may appear but based from his profile . . . I sensed depth and sincerity.
The third one is tough-looking, with the tattoo and a goatee going on, in a black sando with this "astig-ako" look plastered on his face. He looks dangerous but I guess still worth the try . . . . . anyway, I do not have any intentions of marrying him.
The fourth one is somewhat ordinary. 20+, lives with his folks, looking for a job, loner, loves music and reading books . . . . he'd prefer mind over matter.
And there were like a dozen more that I sent private messages to.
A part of me felt icky from what I just did but the majority said, there's really no harm in trying . . .
I wanted to surprise myself . . . . so I waited for like three days or so before I opened my account and saw a couple of messages. Most of which didn't make sense at all . . . and there were only two who made favorable responses: the ordinary, 20+ mind-over-matter guy and the geeky-finance-analyst.
Messages were exchanged to and fro until we came to the texting period, as what the usual routine would most probably dictate . . . . until a decision would be made to finally meet.
It was the 20+ mind-over-matter guy who first decided to meet me.
To be continued . . . . .