5. Some Nagging Personalities

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Index:
A CoastGuard Man
There were eight of us!?
First meeting at the Theatre
A Binondo based Ad Guy
Two college teachers
We had the same name
A cousin of an action star

One rainy night, I opted to be in search again of something familiar. Bringing with me an umbrella, I decided to park myself for a jumping start at the Central Post Office. Motivated largely by the past evenings when I had good chances of meeting interesting strangers, I looked at every face I got to face that night.

The rains fell softly at the start. Soon, the drops became furious and mad, I thought of thanking myself for being able to find cover under the tall columns of the Central Post Office. The bright golden lights were on, which helped highlighted those standing around. Men, mostly vagrant types, or simply those unable to find comfortable corners to sleep for the night were lying around. I pondered on the tall columns as I tried figuring out my status. I saw a man, medium in built, possessing such bright eyes, and looking cute in his short, curly haircut, who was in fatigues. He was smoking. Actually, I earlier saw him running from one of the jeepneys plying towards Pier and as he sought cover from the strong rains. I thought why he would have opted to alight a jeep at that point. Approaching him, I felt the urge to immediately seize my chance. Opening my umbrella, I stood beside him until he took note of me, looking at me intently. I couldn’t recall how we started to converse with each other. I felt relieved I was over with the preconditions then.

“Sama ka sa akin? (Would you like to come with me?)” as he took note of the use of my umbrella in negotiating the strong rains falling and making us wet somehow that moment.

“Saan? (Where are we going?)” as I asked though not really meaning what I wanted to say.

“Sa barko (To the ship),” as he explained that he had to be back to the Coast Guard ship at the Pier beside Manila Hotel where the Presidential Yacht was then docked. Without any hesitation, I jumped at the idea of joining him at the ship.

Actually, this man belonged to the command whose main job is to guard the Presidential Yacht (I guess, they must have sold this Yacht, as we never get to hear about it these days, except during the Marcos era). I recall that we just breezed through the security as we crossed the water to be on the ship, where I saw quite a number of the Coast Guard. I tried not to talk that moment. I didn’t want anybody to be noticing me then as I was figuring out what I was doing there then in the midst of those Coast Guards who kept on a face while the rest smiled slyly at me being around. I guess they knew somewhat. They were then ready for their dinner that night. Invited to share in their dinner, I scooped some freshly cooked rice, sardines, mackerel, and fried ordinary fish - medium rare, looking pale and presented in unappetizing style, which could have been caught underneath that very ship where we stood - from a wide brown flat pan as the other Coast Guards were also getting their share. I wasn’t hungry then, yet I felt the need to share in the dinner in the hope I was not being offensive to the crew.

That particular Coast Guard was then on duty, as he explained that he had to be back after a few hours. He made my lie on his cot at the sleeping quarters. I didn’t really feel comfortable with the thought that I would be alone in that corner of the cabin. Trying to get sleep, I saw several uniformed men who came in and out just to get something out of the cabin made up of around 12 pull down cots. I figured out that they were quite casual about anything. They didn’t really talk, and they just moved around. The corner felt cold and wet, as I heard rains falling and the water below splashing back and forth. The ship was in slow, slow motion just like the rhythm of my body.

Later, the Coast Guard came, and asked me how I was then. I just smiled and noted his heavy frame as we lay side by side. He took some clothes from his cabinet beside the bed where I was lying. We just continued to talk about his duties, his colleagues, the weather, and the seeming boredom of it all. He went to the shower where he I saw him undress. He didn’t close the sliding metal door. I saw him naked as the shower was on pouring strong current on his body. Soaping himself all over, he looked like the typical man you see on TV ads selling soaps. Looking wet and glorious, his brown nakedness was discernible, as the ceiling light in the shower was bright in focusing details of the scene. He was not mindful at all, as he took his time in the shower as both his hands grasped himself fully in my sight. Fearful that somebody might just come in anytime, I controlled my urge not to make it with the Coast Guard that moment. Feasting on the details which felt so much within four steps distance, I heaved so much sighs on seeing him have fun while being keenly watched by me at a safe distance.

The next morning, the Coast Guard woke me up. I refused to join in the breakfast. I just had hot coffee as we talked about how to get in touch with each other next time. I remember to have made several phone calls to him until we finally lost touch with each other after several months. I last saw him in the papers with his colleagues, all in frogsuit, who were then in search of some lost, drown bodies due to a ship which sunk somewhere in the borders of the Manila Bay, Corregidor and Cavite.
* * * * * * *

The Postal Bank head office used to be closed and unused then. The area looked abandoned particularly in the evening. Then, the extension office building of Main Post Office stood among tall grasses, and in a semblance of an unmaintained garden. An old medium sized truck used to park for a long time just right on the other side of the road of this unkempt building. The kind of men who gathered there in the evening simply represent those types whom everyone meet everyday.

There was an instance amidst the tall grasses where I made it together with about eight different men who came one after another, and who shared with me my cravings for the particular night. We were primarily jacking ourselves off in front of the rest of the men who were doing the same in the group. In the midst of it all, the heat could get to be very unbearably beyond control, as our collective murmured sighs could be heard as the rest of Manila continues with its business.

There were others who just couldn’t contain themselves from kissing the men of their desire in the group while the whole event was ongoing. I guess, we must have lasted for over an hour or so doing the same act until everybody decided that it was time to go on. Yet, while we were in the midst of physically sharing each other with the rest of the group, the whole place gets to be lighted by trucks, jeepneys, and private vehicles passing by towards Pier, in between 2 AM up to 4 AM perhaps.

I guess people must have seen us but they just couldn’t do anything but to move on with their own business. Plus, there was the constant nagging fear, as well as the source of excitement, of the Police catching us in the act as they surreptitiously patrol and appear from nowhere while we are in the middle of our disheveled act. Nevertheless, on Judgment Day, I realize, all of us in that crowd, as well as with the rest of humanity, our judgment will come as what we deserve. Most of us believe on this.
* * * * * * *

Just outside the vicinity, I particularly remember meeting again someone whom I first met in one of the theatres near the place. Being a tall man, he was instantly recognizable in his shorts and his serious dark eyes. I made it with him again in a nearby area where we repeated the same happening which took place earlier when we first met. This time, he was the passive one as I went on ramming myself into his body. I particularly remember his being very passive that night, that he kept on accommodating me. He still has the same style, same manner of approach, the same brooding silence as we were heavy serious into the works.

I remember the season then, being Halloween. I thought, and was correct in thinking so that I could easily make it again. At least, if this is actually a valid point of consolation, this time, it was with someone I met before. This is actually connected with my wrong belief that if I attempt to just limit my sexual encounters with those whom I have met before, my chances of catching the dreaded virus may turn out poor. Actually, this remains to be affirmed. Inspite of advances lately about the nature of the HIV, so much is still unknown about it, particularly, just how exactly it spreads from Zero Person to the next one, until it reaches, any one of us. I was brought back abruptly to the scene with this man. Thankfully, it was over. I walked towards the buses, and walked under the darkened portion of the bridge connecting Sta Cruz and Lawton. I saw the white ferryboats floating at the waiting shed where several young people who have that typical vagrant look who have settled in the space for the night.
* * * * * * *

There was also one rainy evening where I even made it with someone inside the truck which was parked just right outside on the other side of the road fronting the Main Post Office extension office. The antelobby where we saw each other was in the cavernous Main Post Office the columns of which provide cover to those inside this wide and rectangular space inside. He kept on touching himself in his shorts while giving me that dreamy look. Walking away from the antelobby as I saw him follow me, I thought of having both of us getting inside the truck, without even thinking that people could easily prey on us from nowhere. Given the heat, I was thankful it started to rain heavily. Standing in front of me as I sat in a makeshift chair, he was simply following all orders that I demanded from him, which made the whole experience rather so unnerving while the rains continued to pour strongly outside the truck. While in the act, I recalled having met the same guy someplace in the Walls. I think this must have been in the circular elevated stage in the former Mehan Garden. He must have been with someone else, whom I wanted to replace as I saw how passionately he behaved at him that night. We actually talked for a while then, many nights before, as we attempted to decide whether we actually like each other or not. I remember him telling me that he belonged to the underground movement, particularly those groups affiliated with the militant labor sector. I smiled and said to myself some possible reasons, why he saw the need to tell me that. Yet I remember, I was inquiring about our respective jobs. He was proud to be doing such kind of work. I actually felt good doing these things to him. I remember seeing him again a long time after our encounter, this time in a bus in Balintawak where he alighted right in front of the Cloverleaf Market.
* * * * * * *

Another event with much nerve took place at the same earlier mentioned area points to someone I met at the Post Office Main Building one early morning. I was standing at the left side of the Post Office with a huge planter covering me from the view of Lawton. The place smelled strongly of fresh urine. I just wonder why people wanted to turn this space into a loo. To exact revenge at the reeking smell around, I released my share on the wall nearly up my chest, and saw a couple doing their own thing down near the bushes. At one time, one of the guys kneeled down before the other, and at an instance, the other guy was then sinking himself into the guy who was earlier kneeling before him. Meanwhile, I soon learned I had company at the space where I was standing while watching the couple below. I actually saw him hours earlier as I noticed his shorts for an outfit with a tennis bag on his left arm. He was brooding all the time, with out even attempting to look at me into the eye. I thought he must have been very serious or tired. He approached me and took down his shorts, exposing himself for me to stare at while I turned panicky at the thought that we could easily be thought. I realized that as soon it was over that I have gained much confidence in myself in engaging in such activities without much concern on what may turn out possibly next. What took place next does not matter anymore; what matters is that I get to acquire the means to satisfy my temporary longing on the verge of being spilled outrageously in the open. People have turned to be mere outlets in an instance that I get to make it with anyone of them. I have lost count of the number of times when I just acted so programmed driven with my urges – with what I have learned in abling myself to overcome certain events in my existence.
* * * * * * *

One Saturday sundown, I happened to be around the vicinity to catch up with my mailings at the Post Office. I chance upon a chinky eyed, pale looking, mustachioed man who was then almost through with this smoke, and who must have talked to me at the instance that he sighted me coming from the Jones Bridge. The Post Office was then almost deserted, and I could behold the stretch of fiery red and orange hues of the sky above us, I felt all the urge that I could muster so suddenly (mainly perhaps due to wonderful sensuous scene). The whole Postal Office turned into picture perfect landscape, just like in several stylized TV advertisements of cellphones, slacks, or snackfood. The man and I were soon crossing the Binondo Bridge, leading towards an Office Building somewhere in the business enclave of Filipino Chinese. The whole experience, almost always reminds of one of those late afternoon walks I had while still a student when I chance upon a floating corpse of a man along the Pasig River, near Escolta. A crowd was soon gathering around the floating corpse that floated here and there in the murky waters of the river. He must have been one of those salvage victims that have been gleefully posted in most newspapers in Manila that hungers for the worst and macabre among the ordinary.

The guy that I was with that time looked so typical, in his T-shirt and slacks. We were then entering an old Binondo building along Paredes St that leads towards the center of the Binondo district of Manila. I noticed guards were milling together as we entered the office, while some other people were rushing to move out of the office building. There is something rather romantic about this kind of buildings, which evokes memories of old Hong Kong film rolls shown almost every now and then in the MTV channel. We reached the third floor, whereupon we entered an office, which turned out to be one of those ad agencies found in Binondo.

The minute we entered the room, we immediately shuffled all the papers and other paraphernalia on two tables. We were already kissing each other in the lips as he was trying to lock the door. It looked so invitingly private, and I could still see some glints of the colors of the sunset from the window. We simply rushed through the works.

This guy turned out to be indeed a family man who has had his first chance of sexually engaging in with men, when he was still a hardup tricycle driver in their small town somewhere in Laguna. Some of his passengers turned out to be some of his earliest experiences. I could just imagine his looks when he was younger as I took note of his huge, muscular legs while we were doing all the works. He needed to be very discreet these days, as every now and then, he had to relieve himself of the urge, the taste for which he had developed when he was younger.

Deciding to get married, he now (then) had two children whom he patiently brings to school in the National Teachers College, from where he also struggled to finish a bachelor’s degree in Education. He taught for a while, until he found and developed a talent that enabled him to write copies deemed to be well crafted and fetching in the ad agency business. He soon found a stable job in a Makati ad agency, soon got bored about corporate life, and shifted to Binondo for a less pretentious, yet more moneyed environment. I smile everytime I see samples of his works in the papers, particularly those on men’s underwear. His company likewise has huge billboards, announcing different brands of men’s undies somewhere in Recto, Cubao, or Makati. We could have sustained something as a partnership, perhaps starting as regular sex partners. I could sense his disappointment at me, when I called him up after two months. He wanted me to call him more regularly, that we move on to the other aspects of friendship. Yet, then, I still couldn’t figure out the means to separate shades of our friendships. I was rather indecisive.
* * * * * * *

There were instances in the earliest evenings that I’ve gone cruising in the Walls that I got to meet familiar faces. I actually have met some of them in the previous nights, yet some are quite particularly interesting enough, for one reason or another. I saw two fellows whom I have met first in the University. The first one was with another college that offered computer science course. He was an alumnus of the University, and had remained single throughout his life. He was a looker, and fairly well attractive even if he has thinning hair palate on his head. The last time I heard of him, his name was in the tabloid for having got himself killed by his young lover. I could sense the same typical treatment of the storyline that these tabloids seem to have as a bias for this type of story. The story detailed that of the young lover wanted some amount of money, which his lover couldn’t provide at once. There was a fight that ended in shooting match, and the former teacher-lover died in the process. The second one has got to be one of my teachers in the University. He’s a professor who has worked hard for his PH.D, and who has got a reputation of being difficult among the students. He never recognized me as he actually approached and smiled at me during one night of cruising in the Walls. He didn’t smile out of recognition, but out of his desire to make it with me, at least for the night. I never got the guts to inform him I was one of his former students. I have figured out these individuals tend to get to be ultra lonesome on certain nights. Such lonesome nights creep into one’s own being on certain periods of the year. It’s actually a maddening situation, especially if one’s caught up with this certain sense of loneliness that seeks out the loving presence of the beloved, even among strangers.
* * * * * * *

In the early evenings that I’ve pursued cruising in the Walls, when I have not yet counted that many number of encounters (as perhaps, judged relatively by others who fail to get their share), I remember with a certain affectionate fondness having met a tall, lanky and hirsute fellow the same age like mine. In fact, we share more than having the same age. And as they say, people are, almost always, not what they appear. Just like this fellow who appeared like he was waiting for a jeepney ride towards Pier. He was more into something else, just like what I was into that night. I was actually undecided whether I should first approach him, or should I just let him take good notice of me, and finally approach me. Having decided the former, I recall that I turned somewhat listless as I couldn’t think of a logical way to approach him. I noticed how he looked so stony silent possessing such impenetrable cold gaze as he stood in front of the Main Post Office that late evening.

Some short periods of time were spent further in fidgeting over actions that should have been rendered far more earlier that particular evening. He must have observed me looking longingly at him, as if I was waiting for something crazy to happen, like he and I, getting to eventually get to know each other. Inevitably, we did talk with each other, as I awkwardly started to give out the first familiar sentence.

“Kanina ka pa dito? (You've been here long?)” as I probed my eyes on his height and his dark colored long sleeves that looked so fit on him. I also noticed closely how he has allowed a beard to grow on him, which fits him to a T. This must have been one of my lucky nights, no matter how I such a disbelieving attitude towards luck, as I gave him a smile.

“Hindi nga makasakay (Darn it...I could not get a ride!),” as if he wanted me to believe him, after seeing him let several jeepneys passed him by. Or perhaps he might just be waiting for some kind of a vehicle to pass by, and perhaps, pick him up (I’ve observed such encounters like that in this place).

Soon, I got to learn that he had the same first name as mine, and I reached out my hand to touch his right shoulder as I got astonished beyond myself upon knowing the fact. On second thought, he must have been taking me for a ride, as he looked quite experienced on events like what we were progressing into that night.

In a few minutes, the usual sex act immediately took place between us that night. It was as casual as we could get. Yet I recall, I have grown quite fond of him as I felt something uniquely special for him. I told myself, I should have not allowed myself to get into sex with him, that first night.

From the start, he took me by surprise as he admitted having been meeting every now and then with his psychiatrist for a period prior to me meeting him in the Walls. Perhaps, he was taken aback as well by my straightforward approach in engaging him in a talk and fast casual sex. He told me the sessions usually took place periodically, just as to help him cope with himself. He took prescribed medicines in order to help manage his behavior; I thought the whole thing was downright stupid. Therapy, I felt, was what he needed, and not prescriptions. He must have been undergoing sessions to help him manage, perhaps, his depression, or perhaps, something more psychologically clinical to warrant prescribed medicines.

That night must have been one of his lucid nights. Yet being a believer in psychotherapy, rather than tablets for managed ideal behavior, I was biased and angry towards his psychiatrist. He meets the shrink at the Philippine General Hospital (PGH). I suppose my friend must have been one of the psychiatrist’s guinea pigs, or he was just being studied just like a specimen for additional residency credentials of the said medical doctor, who, chances are would just be one of those student-doctors at that hospital. PGH is known for this, being a medical learning institution, affiliated with the reputably best publicly funded Philippine institution of medical and allied studies. While my friend goes about discussing all the procedures he has to undergo, I could just imagine how he was being treated at the hospital.

Looking back, I had an inkling from the start of our meeting from his lovely, sad eyes that carry certain hallmarks of a person who has been drenched heavily by his mind boggling frame of psychological makeup, of a fellow working on a recent emotional breakdown.

We met several times, as he was one of the very few guys whom I have eagerly shared my contact phone number. I made use that we would have to meet again, as I grew very curious of him. This is one guy who nonchalantly tells just about anyone about his experiences with the shrink, which trait is untypically Asian. I was actually happier that he would want us to see other quite often, at any given the chance, even as I tried to find time for him inspite of my heavy workload in the office (as I have to develop a career, having just graduated from college two or three years earlier). In addition, I like to compliment him for not even seeking any financial help from me, considering that he didn’t work then, and had to quit his studies, in order to pursue his med sessions.

Actually, it takes me a certain level of effort in recalling deeply buried memories of this event in my life. It’s simply like breathing out with three fourths of my lungs already bloodied from suffocation. He simply contributed much in helping me evolve my general attitude towards loving, and being loved, being desired and desiring (and other parallel concerns). I couldn’t recall substantial remnants of any of our conversations yet I recall his presence from time to time. Actually, he could have been one of those ghosts who have been haunting me of late. He always had his enduring presence in my mind that I’ve physically seen quite rarely for a while lately. Also, from him, I’ve learned how to actually confront the theories I’ve worked on for a degree, on just how practical they can get, if the situation warrants it.

It’s only now that I’ve realized that there’s nobody particularly like him from the all those whom I’ve met, even outside the Walls. From him, I’ve simply learned the ironies of affectionate emotions for someone who needs all the emotional support that I could provide for him. And from him, I’ve grown to be pessimist for a long while. My views have grown negative on the prospect of ever getting to meet someone for a long-term partnership, at least emotional, or better, loving setup, if this could ever be worked out, by both partners (unless, of course, if the setup allows one to play submissively, the other, more actively).

I soon found out of his continuing emotionally draining struggle for his father’s acceptance of him. His father considered him psychologically deviant from the rest of his children who happened to be all boys. He told me how his Father related how he hated him for being what he is (without uttering any despicable and descriptive term, whatsoever). I could just see how my friend has managed to cope with a range of emotions brought forward by a situation like might provide him, at any point in time. I got my chances to talk with his father over the phone, and he has such a cool, baritone voice, being a professional radio announcer. Indeed, I was relieved at hearing that he sounded friendly to me. I recall that my friend spends much of his time with his paternal grandmother in Quezon City. He receives a special allowance from his grandmother, so as to support his fees for his regular meetings with his therapist.

We once met one night at the front steps of the Finance Building in Luneta, near the skating rink. I was late by over an hour that night as I had a difficult time commuting from our place to Luneta due to the sudden heavy rain pour. I saw him waiting patiently, drenched wet by the rain; I saw his lovely wet face. I was surprised as he kissed me on the lips for a long while, just right the minute I emerged from the steps of the Burnham-designed Finance Building.

His family lives in Sta Ana, and I used to wait for him somewhere in the patio of the Sta Ana Church. He told me that he was taking his chances as he wanted to introduce me to his family, particularly to his father. He expressed surprised at hearing that his father actually handed him the phone, whenever I call him in their house in Sta Ana. My friend remembers previously, his father almost always refused to receive phone calls for him. Or even take messages for him. His Father simply hated the kind of friends that he keeps. In making such a remark, he reminded me again of his Father who thought of him awkwardly different from the rest of the brood.

He waiting for me to get a jeepney-ride back home. He pointed at another tall guy, better looking than him. He told me the guy’s his brother, who’s actually a healthier version of my friend. They never talked that moment, yet somehow, they took cognizance of each other’s presence, by simple nods. The guy soon rushed to get a taxi ride, and away from our probing eyes. He must have seen the admiration that I had for his brother’s looks from my eyes. He then went on to explain that his brother actually has a rich Chinese lover, who lives in Binondo. I inquired for how long has the set up been like that. My friend didn’t answer. In reply, he related instead on how his brother’s actually a kept guy, yet their Father has yet to know this (or must have refused to recognize the meaning behind this situation of one of his other sons).

I simply couldn’t figure out the discrimination (or just how do you describe this?). Perhaps my friend has been the more outspoken, the more sensitive, and the more self accepting, than the rest of his brood. He must have been certainly the most rebellious among his siblings. He was the one who would rather be honest with himself, who accepts stupid judgments from the family (who’s supposed to understand and accept him for who he is). Perhaps to put a check on my behavior further that particular night, he even continued by pointing out that he has got another good looking brother. I just don’t know exactly why he has to tell me this. Or why he has to give me his calling card, only to give me strict instructions not to get in touch with this particular brother of his. My friend described him as one who own such matinee idol looks that he was being sought out actually by several producers to appear in their run of the mill movies. Yet he opted, instead to lead a corporate life with the Philippine Gaming Corporation. From my friend’s very eloquent eyes, I’ve seen the depth of complexity of the life that he leads. I got somehow scared over the hopeful prospects as our relationship as it progressed into an area that was beyond the familiar to me, then. Now, I could just say to myself that it could have a hell of a relationship. But then, I like to add as well that my friend has been lucid all the time that we’ve been together, as I recall him now. And if only my friend’s Father knew and understood all about these.
* * * * * * *

There were nights then when I could see groups who get to huddle together just as to talk, or engage in something inane, or simply make fun out of the situation that all of us there are into. I got to get involved in a good-looking younger fellow who happened to be a first cousin of a relatively well known movie action star. He even informed me that he’s a stowaway from his family for more than three years already. He simply had to run away from the clutches of his family, particularly his father who works with the Bureau of Internal Revenue. From then on, he accumulated that much experiences as he had to send himself to finish highschool, in Bicol, where he had to stay for a while with the family of one of his friends.

One thing with this fellow has been very charming looks such that practically anyone who gets to know him, gets to quite fond of him, particularly of his having that helpless charisma around him. People tend to like to help him, as I’ve observed as we got to know each other pretty well. We met one late November evening, and we heard some Christmas songs, which must have prodded me to go out of my way to offer something more stable for him, just like the two of us getting into a serious relationship.

Now I recall him everytime I see his friend who was essential representation of a fellow who has had difficulties in accepting himself. He studied in one of those well known boys’ schools in Quezon City, and he once regularly played polo with some rich young fellows whom he has met in highschool. I’ve seen him lately. He dropped out of school, turned to shabu, got more confused, got more angrier, remained unemployed even given his connections with established big business, as expected from someone like him with a fairly well known set of family and relatives. I always recall in him my friend as I always wonder about the prospects of a long term relationship if I only went out of my to be really serious about what I’ve wanted with my chance encounters then. Yet, then, I felt, it has no good long term prospects as I couldn’t cope with someone very pretty looking yet daring enough to make use of these goodlooks in order to penetrate deeply other people’s lives, including my own.