Making An Impression To Someone During and After A Sexual Encounter

I was on my way to work when I happened to chance upon one fellow in medium height and who was wearing a light orange cotton shirt, white shorts, dark rubber shoes with laces in one of those subway stops in the Upper East Side (UES) in Manhattan very early in the morning. He's bald by choice of haircut and wears a thin mustache and I felt the attraction his presence was creating on that platform. For a few moments we were alone on the wooden bench that could seat at least 5 people while some other passengers would come and go by us, and which situation got both of us in the cruising dance that we were doing by choice. We recognized our attraction to each other. 

I was not sure if the other passengers were aware of what we were doing. I could remember the smell that emanates from that train station where the green lines pass by all the time. A white woman would come and seat in between us, such that he and I could not continue to make moves on our dance. He stood and walked towards the front end of the train, and presently I would follow him.

After briefly chatting the usual lines, I asked if I can hold the bulge in my hands. He willingly agreed and I was surprised about the size. I could not feel any hesitation on my part right there and then; I wanted to make it with him if we could continue with our dance that was abruptly put to a stop.

I was surprised he was giving me signals and telling me that I should be careful with what I was saying before him. Before that, we kissed briefly, and hugged as well. He's telling me that he knows that his own people, especially the women, would be listening even from a distance and could figure out what was happening between us. I actually knew that but I didn't want to be bothered by such concerns anymore, mainly because I'm beyond such concerns. Life's too brief to bother myself about what others think of me; it's their business, anyway. I've been out as long as I can remember, which has provided me the temerity to do what I want as long as I'm not unknowingly hurting or at worst, killing anyone. But to give respect to his request, I mostly kept my mouth shut as we boarded our crowded train. I knew people were looking at us, as I'm very much Asian-looking or Hispanic looking as others would tell me, and he's a well built black guy. 

As we stood next to each other inside the train, he would soon ask me to join him in his place somewhere in Crown Heights in Brooklyn. I quickly decided that I like to be with him and spend time so we could get to know each other better. He was surprised that I had been somewhere near where he grew up in Louisiana, and that I got the impression that he does not desire to create an impression that he's out as a gay person to others. I asked if he's single and that if he lives alone. He replied 'yes' to the first and I don't think I heard him reply to the second one.

We had to take the cab from the train stop so that we could reach his place faster. He's aware that I had to be rushing back to work as soon as we're over. We were soon naked together on his queen size bed that had dark brown bedsheets on that time. He put a white towel on it, which I noticed as I proceeded to do my work on his very well built and well toned body. Needless to say, we were both satisfied and done with our work in a few moments. Those moments included myself taking a shower, and himself taking a shower as well soon after I was done. He's surprised to realize that his neighbors were probably hearing what we were talking about, and that they could have seen both of us naked in the bathroom. The bathroom's window was half opened and I could see the neighbor's windows half opened, too. They could overhear us, definitely, if they would care to really lend us their ears during those early moments on that Sunday morning.

I have realized I created strong impressions on him. It's Gay Pride Day and I greeted him for the occasion. I heard from him, too, about a good friend of his who was visiting him and who flew back to his place by the time both my newly found friend and I came to that spacious 1 bedroom apartment. It's nicely furnished, kept orderly and relatively clean. I told him I'm out, and I knew he's taken somewhat aback by my attitude. But his attraction by me persisted in him, such that we ended up being in bed for the first time on that day. 

"You have to be extra careful with what you're saying especially when talking with black men, or those you may call 'colored men.' Women are particularly very sensitive when they overhear what we are talking about. And they're very harsh in judging colored men on the down low," he told me and I'm narrating here as far as I could make a recollection now. 

I have to add that we both created great impressions on one another's presence. I'm grateful to have met and known him. I don't really know if he would still like to meet up with me again. That remains to be seen. I know my strong impression on him bothered him as he realized quickly soon that I'm really out to celebrate myself as a person. I have not much qualms about showing out who I am as a person to others. And I keep in mind all the the time that others have the same right, which they always have to claim and act out to make sense about celebrating who we are as unique individuals. 

We can't continue putting each other down, just because  we behave not according to some people's unexpressed and ever evolving norms and merely being set-up to keep away from offending other people's sensibilities. The world continues to move on. I pray my new friend realizes that he has more to gain by being able to accept who he is really as a person. And I do hope he ceases to continue being internally homophobic with himself, with all its accompanying implications. I realized I've made a sustained strong impression on him, such that he would immediately give me instructions on how to behave when we are in public (which maybe useful if ever we meet again). Out of respect for his feelings, I'll take them to heart the next time I deal with him, as well as those other men who behave similar to him. As for myself, I know I'm happier in my own state in life, given all these troubles when I meet strangers with whom I have sex with in due time. I can only wish the same for my newly met friend and others similar to him, who would rather put into hiding those truthful but really beautiful aspects about themselves, than just lay down their hair whenever they are in public. 

The Less Boring and Untold Portion (Up to Now) of What Happened During That Particular Philly Trip

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.
I happened to recall one lazy Saturday afternoon about the unusual details of this trip I made to Philadelphia (Philly) with a friend who would call me, I have figured out, whenever he needs male company, for one reason or another. He has not been in touch with me for some time now (I don't intend to call him as he has been like that with me even before we went on this trip----he would just suddenly contact me out of the blue). This may sound petty, but I can only surmise that he got pissed by me for having not followed his instructions to wait for him at a certain time at a very specific place while we were visiting Philly one summer as he wanted to do some exploring by himself and thought of giving me the chance to be by myself for a few hours. I could very well be wrong, who would know the real reasons behind such behavior. He just decided to stop calling me since that trip to Philly we made years ago. And now that it's spring again, I am beginning to remember that particular trip where we had a three-some scene with another guy whom we met via online means, which was just like the way my friend and I met each other.

My friend and I were then staying in one of the big hotels in the middle of Philly, where we were using up his reward points so we could stay in those rooms practically free. As soon as I arrived by bus from New York City (NYC), he and I were having sex, eating fancy meals, walking, and touring around the city. We stayed in one major hotel the first evening we were together, and moved to another hotel the next evening, which was better than the first one. From the glass windows, I recall seeing a grand view of the Chrysler Building-inspired One Liberty Place that dominates the skyline of Philly.  From our hotel room the second night, we could see one of the grand fountains in Philly and the main building of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. From what I've seen, the city is pretty, lovely and enthralling during that part of the year. I like its old houses with their unusual spaces found at the back, which were used formerly as garages by families for their coach-driven vehicles  in eras gone by. Philly looked cleaner to me, and I even realized that I could move there if ever I decide to leave NYC. 

But my friend and I felt the certain and creeping sense of boredom after some time of being together. My friend, a widower whose beloved wife died from a terrible accident, of Cuban extract, an artist who created several paintings that hang in his apartment, and who went to finish his art degree in one of those old private liberal art colleges in that part of Pennsylvania, thought that we could use Craigslist to make a more fun, adventurous trip while being in Philly. 

Remarkably, my friend also took the chance to introduce me to the nuances of society in his neck of the woods here in the East Coast. I would listen to him with some fascination and would be grateful for the unsought-after briefer on class, society, differences and struggles that people and their communities encounter here in the East Coast, which experience got me into thinking that I'll always remain a foreigner here in the USA because I remain to be largely strongly unaware of the issues that affect most people's lives here. People here lead complicated social lives, apparently, in ways not usually shown in most regular Hollywood-style movies. I would fail to catch his drift from time to time (which could have been similar to how he was taking me as a friend from the Philippines, a country that shares a similar heritage to his maternal country, Cuba). I should say my friend meant well over all, and wanted to introduce me to his reality---he grew up in poverty in NYC, and wanted to share as much to me who has transplanted myself years ago in this city when I turned 40 years old. I probably was causing him to remember bad parts of his past by the way I would question him, which I did mainly because I wanted to know him better. 

And we went on checking postings on Craigslist that have appeared during that period. Before the night was over, we were soon connecting with someone whose name is 'Maxx', which I know could be his real name. After a brief exchange of emails which my friend took charge of, we agreed and made arrangements to pick him up somewhere on a street that's a block or two from the hotel where we were staying. I don't know if we were told that he's black, but discovering soon that he's one didn't really bother me. As with most black guys I met, he's barrel chested and with a shaved head, had heavy built, had some eyesight problem related to weak (most probably, it seems to me) muscles, and he stood at least 3 inches taller than me. Needless to say, he's attractive, friendly, brave, sexy, and in heat. He told us that he works in an office in New Jersey, based on what I could still recall now.

We were soon in our hotel suite in one of the higher floors of the building, and which luxurious-looking suite includes a small living room next to a bathroom, a room with a queen size bed in addition to the main bedroom that has the big bathroom with built-in spa features. I don't remember if the three of us set ground rules first, but I recall we started right away in playing with each other sexually. I recall having been nervous a bit; I didn't know what to do first given all these possibilities that would come to my mind. Of course, you don't regularly engage in these events----porn movies I've seen that show three-some (or more) scenes usually don't have strong and believe-able storylines that could serve as easy guides.  

Outside of my bathhouse experiences, I've not done threesome for some time and I don't remember having done it with the third guy who is black (although I strongly remember being with a black guy and a third guy who merely watched us fucked each other). In our threesome that night, my friend's a Latino, and I'm Asian. As soon as we have taken off our clothes and my friend had sufficient lubrication, I started to penetrate my friend as he and I continued to kiss each other. We have done something similar in our previous meet-ups in his apartment in the Lower East Side. He was already familiar with my style, and I knew we were both enjoying each other.

Maxx was merely sensing and watching how to go about with his act, and he would be joining us soon and I would kiss him on the lips as well. I kept on thrusting myself into my friend as Maxx and I continued kissing. My friend would be sucking Maxx as he and I would continue kissing. The evening went on about with its business of completing its presence during that memorable time happening among the three of us. My friend would then be fucked next by Maxx who would continue kissing me. I recall the three of us cuddled and hugged each other a lot. The three of us came and had our respective orgasm finally after some extended moments spent being sexual and responsive with each other. 

It can't be denied that I had total satisfaction with what we did. But at the back of my mind, I was wondering what would have happened if I led Maxx to fuck me. With his size, I wonder if I could even handle his load, although I probably would do better as I'm bigger in size than my friend who was able to keep his size without too much trouble. Thankfully, Maxx didn't push with the idea of him fucking me. I heard him give me credit for taking care of my friend as I went on and continued to stimulate my friend so he could come finally. The experience was mind boggling; I knew coming wasn't necessarily the end goal of that encounter. My friend and I would spent time kissing each other on the lips. Max would just watch as my friend and I kissed in the most loving manner. Max probably figured out that my friend and myself are more than friends, at least for those moments. Everything went about becoming spontaneous from then on among the three of us.

Although my friend has since then never contacted me after that Philly trip (I do hope, he's still around), Max texted me at least 3 times since that encounter. He was inquiring when we're going to meet again. It may take awhile, most probably, as I don't come often to Philly. And I've since then lost his number after losing my celfone including those names and numbers in my directory (I still didn't realize that Google or Yahoo can be used as online directory, which I should start doing soon). I do hope he'll get to read this (or someone who knows him will tell him about this), and will attempt to contact me, any which way available to and working for him.

5. Some Nagging Personalities

The book is now available, in hardcover,  paperback & ebook formats, from my online store, Amazon.com,Barnes and Noble,Xlibris.com, Powell's Books, and other online stores. 

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.

7. On the Confines of the Past and Present

The book is now available, in hardcover,  paperback & ebook formats from my online store, Amazon.com,Barnes and Noble,Xlibris.com, Powell's Books, and other online stores. 

"Curt Urbanozo pictures"
Index:
An American with a PhD
Bastion de San Andres
A bunch of four
A Roving Salesman
An Architecture graduate who works as a druggist
A guy from Cebu
He makes Senator Enrile laugh
A male hairdresser

Until now, I still summon the memory of a certain outsider in the midst of strangers. Someone who was from the USA got somehow involved with me after we met in this section where provincial buses used to pull over almost all days then. Lanky and somewhat noticeable as he was a foreigner, he began our conversation right away after we recognized each other’s presence. Somehow uncertain with myself whether to proceed with the conversation, I felt the attraction was mainly due to a certain kind of outstanding difference that I was always yearning for from those I get to encounter in the area. I’ve read somewhere these people just get to hang you down for fun purposes. Still, I attempted to overcome the stereotype, an idea, which I didn’t, really understand completely before.

“How do I get in touch with you?” as he asked me in order for us to focus more with the then ongoing conversation.

He was particularly charming that evening. I remember we eventually settled down in his unit at one of those apartment buildings in Remedios where we did virtually all at the balcony with the CCP as a lucid backdrop. A performance had then been ongoing, as the CCP fountains were on and lighted brightly enough from that distance. Roxas Boulevard looked very cosmopolitan, with the volume of vehicles passing, and the big yet dark expanse of water at the other side. The apartment unit was tastefully designed, sparsely decorated, with much available space for someone who is solo-living, and with us naked outside with Ms Dietrich singing a strange German song in the background.

I later learned he was from the US Navy. I asked if he was a writer, but he replied that only got to write for his dissertation material. With a Ph.D. in Literature from a university in the US (he taught in De La Salle University, but he found his students to be “generally below average”), he had lived for a long while in Morocco, where he had quite a collection of art objects that he sold when he decided to leave and go someplace to proceed with his lifestyle. He mentioned that he often goes back and forth from Hongkong and the Philippines mainly to check on his stockmarket investments. I didn’t know how exactly to deal with him, as he was rather unassuming. Looking back, he could have provided me the means to get away from my limiting background. Among several possibilities, I could have gone out of my way to simply make good use of myself in taking advantage of his wealth. But of course, he was far more wiser than myself. He mentioned about his recent past lover whom he thought was merely taking advantage of his “wealth” - this could be easily relative, though.

I recall that we never really got far with whatever we have attempted to work on due mainly to personal differences in beliefs towards our respective families, handling my own money, political outlook, places to visit as well as general lifestyle. More meetings between us followed. I dreaded about him picking me up from my work in Makati, but he still insisted. My lady officemate, who was rather sophisticated herself on worldly setups like this (I later learned from another source that she had gone of her way, more than once, to pick up from the road her type-of-a guy using her personal car, if she had strongly felt the urge to engage in casual sex), acted somewhat suspicious about my ongoing meetings with him. Of all places, we even had to be meeting somewhere in Greenbelt, just in front of National Bookstore. I recall that he wanted us to be going out on dates. Yet, I simply didn’t have that much drive nor interest in pursuing something far more long term.

Somehow I felt the presence of the soul yet I was in disbelief that he would fall seriously for me, considering that we just met each other in the Walls (a notion which even todate has prevented me from considering serious options from certainly interesting and startling individuals).

The times then were heating on the issue whether the Americans should be kicked out of the Bases in Central Luzon or just maintain the status quo then (I agree with the earlier choice). We had arguments on these related matters while we were in bed. In essence, I just couldn’t contend with (I was younger then) a foreigner who was subtlety mercurial in his views to whatever stand I had then on life in general. He was even nudging me to keep myself away from financially supporting my family, an unusual idea in the usual Philippine extended family support system which, by the way, is one reason why our social system is still intact todate, inspite of the intrusions through the decades. I felt he just couldn’t even stand someone who kept on arguing against his beliefs, particularly someone imposing like me who hails from the Third World.

In the end, he got extremely disappointed with me. He disliked the fact that I had to entice him into seriously getting again in another relationship, which I never thought of telling him anyway. He was far, far older than me and he despised my playing naïve yet I felt sophisticated enough in dealing with him. Remarkably, I remember that we practically had the same size - it actually felt weird holding him, I thought I was holding mine - yet I never told him about this fact.

He shut the door strongly at the last time I went to his apartment. Acting rather cold and indifferent, he got extremely mad at me, for I had to courage to dump him, when I felt like doing it the previous night. Today, I was thinking if I could still take my chances again (he must have thought it over). Well, obviously, I was wrong.

“Why do you have to come back? I should have not allowed myself to open up again, you simply hurt me,” as I remember him blurting hurt emotions in one of our last meets. By this time, I have learned to be more guarded with my emotions. Much as I’d like to pursue something long term with him, I felt, I won’t be able to stand the whole thing out, I have not been that prepared yet (so I believe).
* * * * * * *

Recently, the walking areas on top of the Walls facing the Manila Bulletin’s Offices along Muralla St served as backdrop to an array of adventures whenever three or more men get bodily together. I had been tired by then due to walking back and forth on the Walls as I had been out since the last evening from a drinking session with some fellows. This was simply one of those nights when there were not that many options moving around. That portion of the Walls renders a vast stage for anything that can be executed with practically the wide horizon of playful clouds above anyone else. From where one stands, one can see the Puerta Real at a very near distance. I guess they call the place Bastion de San Andres. There stands an unusual arsenal like building built in the space hidden by the Walls, with complete tiled roofing, wooden heavy doors, with deep crevices on its three sides that cautiously give one an eerie plunging feeling. It could actually be developed into a very lovely garden if vines, blooming wild flowers, scented blossoms are placed according to a peculiar pattern among those rocky walls.

Recently, some small minded developer has started building some structures in this area near the Puerta Real and the Bastion de San Andres, the portion of the Walls fronting Manila Bulletin Publishing Offices. The Philippine Daily Inquirer has reported that these are supposed to be used as low cost housing projects, if I recall it correctly. Should we be bothered by such recent developments? Yet, I just couldn’t figure out how these can even meet the needs of those poverty stricken families? I mean, perhaps, they wanted to make more appropriate use of available space for the poverty alleviation programs of the Estrada Administration. I guess, they’re thinking of making the whole place more livable as it used to be during the Spanish times. Or perhaps, they’re making the housing spaces for the squatters who are still living in some streets inside Intramuros. I can just imagine how this can even provide for at least a semblance of normalcy in the Walls. Recently, I went in the area one rainy afternoon. Practically nobody was in the area, except for some uninteresting fellows who might just be around in the area to ponder on some past moments in their respective lives. Some have taken the task to do some fishing at the ponds below the Walls. I could see that they were harvesting some quite number of kilos of fishes, mostly tilapia. The greens are in such terrific hues, and the soft rain has started to drizzle. I can see the mountains from Rizal province from the distance. I was delighted to have seen so many swiftlets hovering in a corner of the Walls along Burgos Street leading towards the Manila Hotel. I thought, I couldn’t be able to make it with someone, as I thought no one was particularly interesting. I told myself, days like this happen, as I proceeded to walk. Until I reached Bastion de San Andres, where I saw some enclosures signaling “no trespassing allowed” to any intruders. I saw the state of construction that was taking place and I attempted to cross over. A guard stopped from continuing to do so, as he used his whistle at me. I decided this was not a good day, indeed to proceed with what I have in mind. As I persisted to cruise by walking along the path below the Walls inside, I met someone. He was just taking his chances as he sighted me from a distance. I thought he was okay, but he wanted something more swiftly, just like me doing it with him there and then, in full view of those construction men in a site near Letran. I just smiled and moved on.
* * * * * * *

I heard mass one Sunday morning in the Cathedral. This time, I couldn’t recall if this has been one of those Sunday mornings when I found myself cruising in the Walls. Perhaps, I must have decided to start cruising at the Walls at an early morning hour, just like the rest in the pack.

At this point in time, I have garnered many similar experiences when I found myself hearing the mass, either in San Agustin, or at the Manila Cathedral. I must have gone out of a cheap motel recently. I must have spent some few hours with someone who just wanted himself to be fucked as I reminded him of his former lover who worked in Pizza Hut in Baclaran. I felt amused by it all. Or this Sunday could have been one of those in the past when I just have spent the previous night without sleeping. I felt ridiculous and I thought of myself evolving into the imagined sick person that I could easily be, without being completely aware of the situation. Yet, I seek more engagements after this mass, as I promised myself, I’d be in search for more.

The mass in the Church has been always one of the simplest celebrations I’ve attended so far in memory. Yet, there was something about its stark simplicity that easily has caught me offguard away from my usual defenses. Guilt feelings slowly crept into being. I saw the poor children in rags offering flowers that they could have gathered in the Walls, themselves. San Agustin’s altar, with its pure red velvety cloth as a background of the Crucified Christ on the Cross, somehow has always made me nudge a bit from the center of my own self. I needed to confront myself, and work on seething conscience that hounds me every now and then. Some of the masses I’ve attended here in Intramuros featured some variety of a wedding in combination with the mass. I felt angry, at my failure to get into a marriage myself. But straights themselves feel apprehensive about the prospects of their own respective marriages, as well. I have my own set of style of departure from this usual setup, as I view the wedding ceremony. At the end, I felt happier, I have watched another wedding. I don’t want to engage myself in empty intellectual discussions of the same sort that attempts to explain why I am into these types of activities. Indeed, my attendance in the Church almost always makes me get into this type of brooding. There were times, I just simply have observed myself weeping, just alone by myself amidst the small crowd that characterize Sunday masses in Intramuros churches.

It was daybreak then, a Sunday actually when many usually decide to take a walk along the Walls. Most have reasons other than to cruise, I suppose. Some just get there to be with others who have similar interests and longings. Some go there merely to watch. The rest may just get there to toil with their bodies by just walking, running, or perhaps angling for fishes that live in the man made lagoons dotting the golf course down the Walls. In fact, there are those who are just around to gather their friends to get into a funny version of a beauty contest – where one gets to see beautiful looking adolescent men participate in a spoof of the typical variety.

I was amidst these individuals who were into a variety of reasons why they were around the area. Up until I met two couples who were largely bounded with each other because of their strong looking and domineering presence, when I finally realized I was already becoming deficient in action. I instantly got attracted to the bunch. Praise God, someone from the group talked to me immediately after I approached them to take a better look on what’s happening. The others in the area were rather making curious glances at what they’re doing. They just couldn’t help but touch each other without restraint whatsoever. I felt, however, like a violating outsider. The ongoing free wheeling conversation dealt on how they behave when they’re within the usual borders of their daily respective lives. I soon realized they must have met each other a few hours earlier. And then, one even pointed out the prevalence of the stereotype from a certain province in the South. He, then shifted, to his unexpressed fear which his colleagues may have eventually affirmed by the way they treat him on how he was handling his fear of his inner desires. He’s into public engineering works, as he shyly informed us then. Someone commented a stupid remark for all to hear; not exactly to express any similarity of a sympathetic concerns whatsoever. He then pointed out that there are really many like us around. Too many, they abound the perimeters and beyond the Walls. When pressed for some details, he nonchalantly told us about his previous work as a callboy. Spending more than two years as a commercial sex worker to the clients of Club 690 (he told us, the place used to be the place to be when one’s looking for fun and service way back in the mid 70s up to the late 80s then), he easily had interesting partners. There was even one Major from the military with whom he had spent more than three years in a relationship.

“Gusto ko yung hindi maarte. Basta ba nagkakaintindihan kami ng gusto namin sa isa’t isa, tuloy tuloy na kami. Yun bang hawakan ko lang ang braso, alam na nya. Wala nga kaming pinaguusapan tungkol sa kabadingan. Ewan ko nga ba? Basta ba, okay sa kanya, okay rin sa akin. Nagtagal kami nang isang iyon, ibinahay nya ako for more than two years, nagselos lang kasi dahil sa nadiskubre nyang mga tumatawag sa akin” ("I want someone who's got no qualms. As long as we know, and agree on what we want from each other, we'll pursue what's on hand. Example: I'll just his arms, he'll know what I want. We wouldn't talk about being gay. I don't know why? As long as it's OK with him, it's gonna be the same with me. We lasted as lovers for some time; he asked me to live with him for over two years...he just got so jealous when he discovered some guys had been calling me on the phone").

The succeeding details I heard sounded both hilarious and sad at the same time as they brought forward certain real concerns on the variations of the kind of lifestyle we similarly lead. Yet amidst all these, I sensed the kind of liberation from the repression they were enduring while in the middle of that entrapped period of time in the Walls. Soon, one couple was engaged in very wet kissing.

Nevertheless, the ensuing conversation continued to flow to all directions. I soon got to learn that the silent fellow is a Muslim, and that he works with a government agency that deals with the cultural minorities. He seemingly just didn’t want to talk. I just coached him to answer either in the affirmative or the negative. Initially, I just really wanted to know whether he was Muslim or not. I was aware I was threading on volatile grounds that time. The attraction I had towards this man who silently confirmed that he’s a Muslim became stronger as I saw him kissed his lover for the moment on the lips.

The other couple followed. Soon the first couple stopped for a while, and one of them motioned me to make it with one of those three or more who were hovering around them. I just resisted the idea, I never felt any attraction whatsoever towards any of those who were then around and just merely watching. He was then being fondled by one of those who were fluttering down us. One couldn’t help but be somewhat startled by the physical dimensions he possessed as he displayed himself amply to us, considering his small yet well framed built. Soon the scene become sweltering in the events that followed. They kept on kissing and the other couple before long followed – I was stuck into just viewing. I decided not to participate actually, I felt bad I couldn’t really engage as I just wanted to make it with the man who told me he’s a Muslim. Nevertheless, a chance soon showed up as his lover was then being worked on by one of those who persevered to participate in the whole scene. I got to talk for while with this Muslim as I caressed his nipples and we suddenly kissed each other. His mouth savored like healthy herbs and spices. Meanwhile, the other couple just followed what the first couple was accomplishing. Every now and then, we had to freeze the whole scene. Some cruisers still persevered in approaching our group. But soon they moved out after they recognized that they’re not invited in the inner circle, and we just carried through with the whole spectacle. They could view us from a safe distance, anyway. After a while we paused and decided we had to move to a more secure corner as I noticed all the bright white clouds hovering around us.

“May naninilip ("There's a peeping tom up there"),” as one pointed to the wide glass windows of the Manila Bulletin Offices at the other side of the section of the Walls. I actually couldn’t discern who were those keeping keen eyes on us from that distance. But I figured out that those construction workers, or some security personnel got interested at what we’re doing with our selves, physically.

“Nakikita mo yung bintanang iyon. Di ba may tao? ("Look at that window. I see someone in there.")” as I soon discerned a brown human face seemingly gazing at us.

Pausing for a while, we soon realized that nothing actually will stop these peeping toms from watching us. In addition, the sun by then got more scorching in its heat above our heads. Nevertheless, we had to make certain adjustments with the arrangements of our bodies every now and then.

The first couple then decided that they couldn’t control themselves anymore. Parting away with their pants to further provide space for each other’s closer examination, they continued to kiss and lick each other. With the sight on hand, I helped myself as well. One of them leaned over the side of the wall covering at least half his body, and he was as if discerning those figures who were watching from the windows of the building on the other side. Safely hidden from that side and directly seating down him was his partner, who was then busy in actively outfitting him what he sought for at the Walls. On the side, the other couple lied down in newspaper matting, as they provided each other full comforting hugs, kisses, and tight bodily search and hone outs. In a few moments, the five of us went on a binge of staving off our passionate cravings.

I recall meeting the same characters in the succeeding cruises that I did in the area. This process has been endlessly repeated practically everytime I am in the area. This never fails to amuse me to the extent that I realize that it’s actually a crowded place after all, even if there’s so much space surrounding us in the darkness. Basically, we just turn to each other to acknowledge each other’s presence in the darkness. A glance will actually do. Some smile back if I smile at first. Some are surprised. Most will try to ignore me. Some even will dare go towards different paths, as if they could actually go away. Anyway, everybody’s misguided in the area in the first place. At most instances, I was sure these were the same persons I’ve met in past evenings. We just tend to be less excited of each other as good prospective sex partners in the meantime of current evening. Simply, the excitement has been gone, and we move on to some new prospects that can meet those unidentifiable qualities we actually sought out.
* * * * * * *

One recent encounter recalls of someone whom I have met earlier in another area in the Walls. I remember we even had some snacks together, but then, nothing exciting happened between us. I actually thought of him as a good prospect for a long-term partnership. I remember that we must have met each other at least three times. Once, he simply was avoiding my presence. There was even another chance that I noticed some others who were actively cruising after him, as he has this certain physical presence. I remember he told me of his girlfriend who knows his situation. This girlfriend even extends much of herself in implying that she understands him, by telling him she knows what he has been doing, without him admitting anything. I have also gathered that she even knows this guy has had encounters with some other men who live with him in the dormitory.

I recall, he even related to me that he’s an Elementary Education degree graduate and he’s in town doing saleswork for a consumer products retail company. He tells me he drives around sections of Metro Manila, selling various items to sari sari stores. Looking cute in his imposing built, with two rabbit like front teeth, he has remained to be a looker, particularly in that area. He refused my company, actually, then, for I supposed he could see much of himself in me. But this time, when we saw each other near in front of Andres Bonifacio monument, our recognition of each other had to go beyond the usual exchange of hellos. He was on the other side walking towards the short underpass towards Letran College, as he gave me that interesting look. He glanced back at me and I just thought we could get together even for a short while. I didn’t recognize him actually as I followed him in the underpass. We immediately did the works, with him wanting to penetrate me. I was thankful I bought some condoms, but we just failed in making much use of them. He just couldn’t get through me, so we just simulated the act, while he jacked me off. All the while our encounter was twice interrupted by passersby. He was looking at me intently, as I saw him give me the quizzical look of recognition, as he soon realized we have actually met before. I never talked to him about it, as I worked on him. I recall with thanks that I might have come, but sadly, I knew well that he never did. It must have been the alcohol in him, as both of us smelt of alcohol that early, early morning.
* * * * * * *

I try to move on, and not be bothered anymore with these cruising evenings. Yet, after each periodic effort, my attempts fail. Perhaps, I need to be back every now and then, just as to be reaffirmed of my being. I now cover the grounds along the Manila Hotel, as the view along this section offers much more in many aspects.

One encounter refers to someone who sprouted out of the darkness, one late evening, as I was already preparing myself to wait for better prospects. Those who came earlier seemed to look quite uninteresting. I simply couldn’t get going until I saw this one who looked as if he was merely passing by. He appeared in his late twenties, quite big in his frame of 170 pounds, and very typical of those men I see in Cavite or in Batangas. There were many attempts for the two of us to finally get to talk with each other, but at the onset, we kept from talking by settling ourselves to study each other’s presence. He had this tabloid with him, as he tried to show to me that he was reading its contents. Somehow, we overcome the first thirty minutes. This procedure of merely studying each other closely continued until, I went out of myself to speak the first word. He simply couldn’t control himself from showing me what he has, as I noticed the bulge. He was then, very much willing, and we settled to look for a place outside the Puerta del Postigo. The ruins of Fr Blanco’s garden can be seen from a distance. He led me to a space behind some plants. He neatly laid down the pages of the tabloid to serve as our instant groundsheet. I thought we could easily be caught barefooted, in case, someone decides to be there that second just with a goal to catch men like us. He felt free in lying down on what he prepared. It looked so convenient. I felt panicky, as I was unwilling to engage with him at he guided me towards his body. He has then removed down his pants up to his feet, plus his shirt rolled up to his nipples. Soon, this shirt was removed completely as I groped with his body.


We thought we were not satisfied with what took place – he simply couldn’t believe himself doing those things there. I just wanted to believe him, anyway, as the prospect of something new rather excites me. This could easily be a repeat yet I recognize some obvious differences. We proceeded to get into a conversation. We were oblivious from the gazing and surprised presence of those who came passing by as we sat intimately on a bench. Among other information he shared and I got to learn was that he was soon to be married to his long time girlfriend (they were already planning the wedding details), who knows nothing, it seems, about his other activities. He just couldn’t offer any explanation why he is into cruising as well. He offered that it could have been to the extreme excitement that he gets into every time he engages in this. He continues to offer me some info: he’s a roving supervisor with a fairly stable, nationwide company; that he has helped himself get an architecture degree while working with the same firm; that he values his family so much so that he likes to build his own family as well. He told me he dislikes effeminate men. I realize that he is also challenged by the thought that he’s making it with another man who supposedly possesses the stereotype physical attributes. He told me about some men in his work that have accosted him with the prospect of becoming discreetly attached to any one of them. Soon I found out that he gave me a different name, as in the next meetings, he felt the need to protect his own identity from a complete stranger. That same night, we proceeded to engage again with each other in a more private room nearby.

He called me several times at work, as he must have wondered why I haven’t been calling his cell phone. He informed me of his longing at certain nights to receive a call from me. I tried to call, but simply, his cell phone was unreachable by our landline phone. Something was wrong with the connection. We met again and repeated what we did the first time. We could have progressed into something more concrete and stable. I figured this just couldn’t be so as it’s basically an illicit one (though very exciting). I thought I couldn’t be sharing someone very close to me with someone else.
* * * * * * *

As I walked on one night, I got so tired with all the ensuing tiresome small talk and empty silences I got from some prospects. I decided to just allow myself to be cruised by hopefully some interesting fellows. I decided I would just sit for a while along the unlit pathway of Burgos Street. They have just turned off the lights inside the golf range, as it was way past midnight. It was pretty black all throughout except from lights coming from the vehicles and trucks moving towards South Pier. One lanky guy came by walking from the opposite direction of the lights coming from the road. I could see that he looked interesting, though not exactly good looking. Something was within the range of his looks that remind of some naughty events that may yet to come, if I allow myself to get his attention. Somebody was following him, as I get to see him more clearly in his youthful outfit. He sat beside me, I felt relieved. Soon, we were talking.

“Mukhang okay ka naman, sama ka sa akin? ("You seem to be OK....would you like to come with me?),” as I heard him invite me to his place.

I suggested that we just take the taxi, as I understood that he lived quite nearby, which apparently turned out to along the Remedios Circle in Malate. I saw a number of other men who were also in the lookout for some kind of a event, yet they were definitely in a different galaxy of a cruising area, where some different rules of the game are played. Things were turning okay, as I felt proud that I was in for a seemly different night. I almost chickened out when I saw an office colleague of mine standing in a sari sari store, where he was drinking gin with some other three fellows. They were a bit drunk. I felt paranoid. I could sense he knew what I was into, yet I felt, I had to proceed as normal as I could. I just introduced the lanky guy to my officemate, and I thought of buying Coke, just to create some kind of effect. So I just proceeded and followed my companion, just at least for the night, as I supposed.

He showed a cube of a room upstairs, where practically all our sound might get to be heard outside. He motioned me to just keep silent as he turned on the 50 watts bulb above our heads. He showed me some photos from a man to man magazine, which he must have thought could provoke something of the sexual in both of us. I told myself, I didn’t need any of these, as I felt aroused anyway, at any rate. He even showed my some fancy photos of himself, which I was sure was taken from the studio, to make him look good, at least the most correct manner possible that the photographer could create into the given limits.

He got a big cache of other photos from a big black portfolio, as were working on ourselves already, already lying naked in the small mat and two big pillows that smelled of big men’s perspiration. He soon revealed to me that he has a lover, who’s away for the next three nights, as he’s abroad, somewhere in Singapore, doing some manpower recruitment business. I soon got so eager to find out who his lover was. I got to befuddled by what he showed me in the photos – his lover possessed such angelic face in a hunk of a man. I took a long, serious at my partner tonight. His lover has one of the best looking faces I’ve seen in along while, as I saw his pictures depicting him almost naked, inside the same room where I lay naked for tonight. Moreso, he’s got such well-toned skin. I was tempted to ask for a copy that I’d like to keep myself. He just smiled and continued with the works that started with the usual tight hugs and kisses all over my face.

As we were working ourselves to eventually come, I kept thinking of his lover. I kept on asking about his partner. My partner told me they got to first meet each other in Cebu City, where they used to work together in SM Cebu, and where both had serious girlfriends. They eventually got to be closed buddies in a gym, where they got to assist each other in the weights, until my partner for the night went back to Manila. Two years ago, they got to bumped into each other in Robinsons Manila and my partner even failed to recognize his present lover. The friendship blossomed, until one night; my partner got himself enough courage to propose into something more serious. They have been lovers since then. One setback though, as my partner, moaned about his lover’s disinterest to explore other areas in their sex lives. My partner apparently wanted more. He could get himself satisfied enough with what his lover was able to provide him. He knew his lover was faithful to him, and he felt proud of their loving friendship. The night was over in a few hours. I felt like telling him to work on the aspect of faithfulness, as I got wake up beside him in preparation for my trip back home.
* * * * * * *

One evening could have turned out to be among the ordinary ones had I not got the chance to meet one big fellow who’s also into drugs, particularly shabu. The minute I saw him along the dark pathway near the Manila City Hall, I realized that he was very much for the taking. Wearing a short polo shirts, he had this cute mustache, and sweet smile, and a slowly balding head. In a second, I actually got to fuck him among the bushes, while no one was coming from the visible distance. He was relieved but he wanted to fuck me as well. I thought against the idea, as we could easily be caught with our pants down. Barangay voluntary security personnel have been doing the rounds in the vicinity lately. He walked and we just talked. I asked how he has managed to keep away from getting caught. He smiled and showed me some money bills, and noted that “everything’s just a matter of money,” in his cute Ilonggo accent. We continued walking until we reached the space where an old white Toyota Corolla was parked. He showed me, and I noticed that the car’s back seat have been removed from its place. We could have easily made headway in this space actually.

He lived somewhere in San Antonio Village near Vito Cruz in Makati City. His bed is beside a wide mirror where we could practically watch ourselves while in the bedroom. With the cold blow of air coming from the airconditioner, I felt sexy and free as my mind went out of its own order. We started watching a number of man to man VHS tapes, that showed everything imaginable, without any recognizable stories at all. This was actually my first chance to watch these kinds of tapes in all their glory without fear of being caught by someone who would come out of nowhere. Looking more closely, the actors looked very mechanical in their approach in the given situation, yet the actors possessed such good and well toned bodies. Most didn’t possess that typical passionate outlook that we expect them to get into, at least, in their efforts to portray this whole business of pornographic sex. Soon as the night progressed into a lull, he eventually succeeded in fucking me in the bathroom as we started having sex again upon entering the house that smelled of a particular dried herb. He actually talked very well, even among other people whom I get to meet in my ordinary life. We were completely engaged in a conversation, about the costs of maintaining his lifestyle, as I went about fucking him again as he moaned and moaned up to coming. Very witty and sexual, he remarked that even Senator Juan Ponce Enrile laughs at his effortless witticisms. That evening ended the next day, when I woke up from the voice outside the window. I saw him got up to open the door from the other room. They were talking. I was soon introduced to another tall guy. They’re friends, and they were then involved in advertising needs of the Philippine Airlines (PAL). These were the ads of PAL which showed the “beauty of the Philippines is shining through,” at scenes after scenes of the exquisitely photographed Philippines are shown. We went out and ate in a Japanese restaurant nearby, as both of them continued talking about their meeting with another close friend, who’s a excellent middle aged, sexy actress who also sings well and whom you get to see performing in TV movies once in a while.

We met several times after that initial midnight to breakfast meeting. I soon found out that he possessed the same first and surname, with the Spanish connective “de” in between. He lived with his old mother on the other half of the house that is separated by an undetectable door smartly place among the décor. He also had a doberman dog, that stood almost as tall as myself, that’s quite friendly yet scary to be with, even if he is around. I simply fail to forget this fellow who told me startling things about this kind of lifestyle that we lead.

He told me about his previous job as a General Manager of an overseas recruitment agency that supplies Filipino workers for assignments abroad. He related to me how he had made it with many applicants who willingly have sex with him at any instance, even inside his office. He remarked about the number of good-looking Filipinos who were just very much willing to offer themselves just as to get employment abroad. I guess, this must have true as well in some other agencies.

Another of notable stories includes that of his encounters with some other young, cool and tall men whom he get to meet in the malls. They usually get enthralled by his smart talking approach, as each of them get to follow his usual details of his ritual. He smiles and appears ultra friendly. He appears helpless and longing. They talk. They drink. He brings the catch to his car. They may get into taking some drugs. And he usually ends up fucking each of them. It gives him extreme pleasure to get to fuck the type of man who has never even thought nor invited the idea of getting fucked in his whole life, earlier. This type usually ends up crying, after realizing the kind of experience he has gone through, as if losing his innocence.
* * * * * * *

The first time I got to meet this chap, he was in complete black attire, from top to bottom, to include an expensive pair of black shoes. He wears the latest cut in hairstyle then, which helped make him looked considerably younger. I’ve noticed that his facial skin must have been treated regularly by a dermatologist, as it looked rosy and tender. He confirmed this to me later. There is an air of over confidence around him yet he was not at all condescending in attitude (unlike some typical fellows who carry that poor attitude on their sleeves when dealing with guys not of their social kind). That first time, he immediately dropped down his woolen pants, as he allowed me to fuck him, right there and then, among the bushes just after the Manila City Hall across the street. It took as a while to get over the act, as he wanted more and more of what I could provide him.

We were talking about his arrival from abroad a few hours earlier prior to his cruise in the Walls. Growing curious, I asked him about the kind of business that he has, but he refused to give me additional details. Yet he willingly volunteered to inform me that he lived somewhere in one of those townhouse units in Valle Verde. He was worried as his old, nagging mother, come breakfast time, would then be asking him again as to his whereabouts the night before. He needed again to work on the security guard of the association, just as to silence the guard from ever telling his mother as to what time he arrived the night before.

He gave me his number, which I actually used to get in touch with him. He was almost always panicky whenever he receives a call from me, typically unlike when he’s the one who gets in touch with me. In fact, we met several times. I even recall agreeing to meeting with him at an SM Cinema outlet in Quezon City, where he gave me a blow job, while I was intently watching a serious foreign film amidst the darkness of an almost empty theatre.

We saw each other somewhere near the Metropolitan Theatre, just across the flyover leading towards Quiapo. He was with another friend whom he introduced to me, as he was delighted to see me again. We had sex, right there and then, in front of his friend, as the strong rains were falling, as were doing out thing underneath a covered space in the space-for-rent of the Theatre.