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Check the drafts of a memoir (available in leading online stores) in long blog posting-format that account on how I coped with youthful urges with having no positive role models and growing up under restrictive social conditions, in Manila, Philippines, circa 1980s way much until after I moved to NYC. Drafts of my other book projects are here, too. God be praised!

Meeting Someone I Got Seriously Attached With In A Second Run Movie Theater in Sta Cruz, Manila

My first book is now available in hardcover, paperback, e-book formats from my online store, Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, Xlibris.com, Powell's Books, and other online stores.
Having been away from the Philippines for over 6 years now, I don't know if this particular movie theater still exists somewhere in Manila as of this writing. It's standing right in front of this well known old restaurant called 'Ambos Mundos' in Sta Cruz, Manila, which I believe is along an old street called Oroquieta that runs parallel to Rizal Avenue where the LRT passes by before it crosses over the Pasig Rvier. Based on the details I would notice inside, the movie theater must have been one of the best looking theatres on its heydays but it has been in its rundown state by the time I discovered it in one of my innumerable sojourns in Manila and had since then started watching so many Tagalog movies inside, which were billed as double so you get to watch 2 movies at a price of one. Not a bad deal for someone with so little spare money for entertainment, and the deal becomes better as you get the chance to cruise around and play with fellows who may get attracted to you or those you would find interesting and attractive. Couples would make it while seated, or even in the bathroom. In the darkness inside the theater that was just lighted by the shadows cast off by the huge and already dust-covered screen, I saw all imaginable positions being performed by those who willingly played before my eyes; I remember seeing straight couples as well every now and then. And I also knew some families, most probably those of the workers in the theatre, live in one or two of the small rooms built-in into the theater.

This is not the same theater many of us regular patrons would call 'Perlas' or the Tagalog translation of the word 'pearl,' which was grittier and easier to find as the building stands on the main road, Rizal Avenue. This is another  of those run down theatres where I would see more flagrant and more shocking activities done among men who would get together to enjoy and have fun in each other's lovingly extended arms and playful hands.

Why I remember this theater, despite its physical ugliness, is mainly because of the many encounters I had here with different men who would seek out the company of other men to relieve whatever ails them sexually or probably emotionally. And one time, I met someone here who would become a lover for some time, and whom I would meet many years after in a different run-down movie theater in another part of Sta Cruz, Manila, but had since then been looking disheveled, older, and with one or two of his front teeth gone and not yet replaced. He would still recognize me but I would barely recognize him, which was unusual of me as I would always remember those who have been involved with me, one way or another. I heard his voice as he approached me while I was seated on the bench with faux leather in the dirty lobby of the balcony of that other theater.

We met in the first theater where I remember seeing him in his tucked-in shirt in denim pants and looking neat, cute and sexy. He's small in stature but you'd notice right away his bright, almond shaped eyes with long lashes and lips covered with light mustache. I never realized how hairy he was until we were together in a room that we hired for our first intimate encounter. We didn't stay much longer in the theater as soon as we met each other as the place was scalding hot and a lot of people were milling around us, probably hoping they could play with us, too.

I was soon penetrating him, which I continued as I stood over the bed and walked around the room, with him in his position where his legs were wrapped around my buttocks. I continued thrusting. And we continued kissing so longingly and warmly. Those were memorable kisses.

Afterwhich event, we hastily moved out of that rented space, which was around 3 blocks away from the theater. It's another very cheap looking motel, which the owners make money from, largely by renting the dirty looking rooms to people like us who need to keep what is left of our privacy while we're engaged in intimate acts we normally can't show to others. We would walk to Quezon Boulevard in Quiapo, the neighborhood next to Sta Cruz, where we took a jeep going to the Welcome Rotunda that stands along the border of Quezon City and Manila. I encouraged him to have a very tasty meat-based meal in a favorite foodstand where jeepney and taxi drivers would quickly have their meals. I totally enjoyed it, myself, as I had in the many previous times I was there.

The next time we were talking on the phone, he said he had a bad stomach from having that meal; I promised not to bring him there anymore. A few days after, he had to go back to the Middle East where he was then working. He would tell me of the many times that he almost got raped by Middle Eastern men who thought Filipino men are actually women in men's clothes. He came back again after a few months and we would meet and get to know each other better and become closer to each other's hearts. Soon, we became lovers and we would send each other snail mail for at least two or three years.

And he would proceed to marry a woman with whom during his honeymoon period, he would be calling me on the phone long distance. I wanted him to enjoy his honeymoon. And I couldn't believe it that he'd call me while being with his new bride. Another friend would tease me when I told him about it---it meant I was the one in mind of this fellow all along even if he was already married. I didn't really understand nor appreciate the meaning, for whatever reason it was that motivated him to call me while he's on his honeymoon.

His family, particularly his ageing mother, was happy to see him getting married. I know I heard from him one time that his mom knew about his previous long term relationship with someone who was a college teacher in one of the public universities along Taft Avenue, near the City Hall. But for some reason, they parted ways after some time. I would become his next long term lover, and we shared memories, mostly of the sexual variety to my recollection. I also knew that he contacted my Mom while they were both working in Saudi Arabia; my Mom was curious who he was in my life. I won't be able to explain myself to her, I would recall. How do you explain to your Mom that the one who called her from nowhere in a strange, middle eastern country, was actually her son's current lover (and who could have been her son-in-law if marriages among those of the same sex had been legal in the Philippines).

But he's a warm, loving in his own ways, thoughtful, sweet person who taught himself to love someone like me who's adventurous, bullheaded, arrogant, and temperamental. I was still in the process of discovering myself along these encounters. Those intimate encounters we had were tempestuous yet we complemented each other's bodies; he's among those few I met who I deeply really cared about and actually enjoyed having me inside of him. Being abroad and most probably lonely most times, he's the one who would often write me handwritten letters with his latest photos attached, some of which had been very revealing. I would imagine him making it up with a lot of lusty-looking Middle Eastern men, but I didn't have the gall to ask and confront him about the truth being previewed in my youthful and jealousy-wrought imagination. I just didn't know how to cope with the long distance relationship then in place between us, and we were then both young, goodlooking and proud, which probably gave us so many other opportunities to date and hang-out with other people in and out our respective networks. 

Somehow, his marriage floundered. His wife would be the one to stay and work in the Middle East. He would soon be tasked to take care of their son, so he stayed in the Philippines. Domestic issues in their marriage crept in. I saw the toll on his face. But he then had a new lover and they even brought me to the place where they live. It's in the middle of a squatters community somewhere in Manila. A lot of the houses are in concrete, and they show the growing affluence of their owners who have relatives abroad who would send money back to the Philippines and gradually improve their respective economic standing in the local neighborhood. They've got very similar narratives with other families I know personally. But in contrast, my friend and his lover live in a very humble, pock-marked house where they would work together to build a cooked food retailing business, sold on cash basis. Somehow, the earnings had been sustaining them, it seemed to me as I continued observing their situation as we got drunk and shared merriment among ourselves.

Nowadays, I would see him on Facebook often. His memory has been etched in my mind now, most particularly the time when he showed up in the funeral of my late father, whom he knew personally. I was then already involved seriously with another partner. I think I managed to introduce them together. I just don't know what my partner then was thinking after the introduction I made. I guess, I could not guess that correctly anymore. 

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My "GoodReads" reviews

The Garden of Two Dragons Fucking The Garden of Two Dragons Fucking by Jerusalino V. Araos

My review

rating: 5 of 5 stars
remarkably illustrated, concise, and irreverent (not a porno book, whatsoever)!!! an old friend lent me a copy years ago, and have found it very fascinating. of course, part of the excitement of reading this book is it's "curious" title. it's actually a children's book, (would you believe?), by araos, a respected artist in the philippines. the title may be offensive to most adults who have concerns about "fucking," but i'd believe parents would become more authentic as "persons" (who get hurt, need to be loved, need to love as well, etc.) to their children, if they get to have them read this book. you may not need to explain the title, as there's really no need for it. its being "irreverent" is mainly because of the use of the word 'fucking' & nothing else. it's all about discovering your being you as a person, pursuing your dreams, and not that one person others may have in mind when they see you. i could not get hard copies of this book myself, so i kept a xeroxed copy of it in my library back in the philippines.

View all my reviews.