On Lyric and Capitol Movie Theaters in the Escolta in Manila

During one lunch time with friends on a weekday somewhere in Roosevelt Island in NYC, I heard with extreme curiosity for the first time the confessional sharing made by one of my friends who were around that time. I am not going to describe him more here so I can help protect his identity for now. Suffice it to say that those who were with me during that lunch are good friends of mine.

He narrated how at age 14 (or so), he was approached by a Chinese older guy who was probably in his 30s and married while they were walking on the sidewalk of Sta Cruz, Manila. The man invited him to watch a movie in one of those movie theatres found in Escolta. I have been to two of these theatres, namely 'Lyric' and 'Capitol' (there probably were other theatres found on that street but I have to verify this). Although built with good materials, these theatres look old and passe by the time I started watching movies there, and they're mainly used by patrons who'd like to have fun with similarly thinking other patrons from all walks of life in this part of Manila and its nearby environs. I'm not sure if I wrote about those encounters I've had in those theatres in my first book....if not, then I should find time to write about them one of these days.

Going back to my friend's story, he shared how he was led by the older guy into the bathroom in the loge section of the movie house, and he was soon being orally accosted by the man whom he just met on the street one time he was enjoying himself away from the concerns his family and his small world then had.

He shared how he was given PhP100 by the man, and they were soon having a meal in one of those restaurants in the area. I am sure I had been in that restaurant that my friend mentioned, but I can't recall its name now. That PhP100 given to my friend in the early 1960s is probably equivalent to PhP1000 as of this writing. That also started a brief relationship of my good friend with that man who turned out to be a textile dealer with a store located in Binondo, the important commercial section where numerous businesses of Chinese-Filipinos started, flourished, and went on to bring about more money into the Philippine economic system. My friend shared how the man started giving him textiles that he was also instructed to sell by the businessman when my friend goes back to his province during weekdays.

My friend did start having his selling business of textiles soon, but he was not right away paid by customers. They had to wait for cash from their agricultural products, e.g., rice, so they can get what they need and want, and in turn pay their bills, including those with my friend. My friend would soon find himself being teased endlessly by his 2 half brothers after they started wondering how he's able to buy really expensive stuff for himself. That probably got him to eventually decide to stop seeing the man with whom he probably had an ongoing relationship for at least a year. 

What Do You Do When Someone You're Making Out With Tell You Later He's HIV+?

One of my regular fuck buddies has told me that it's confirmed he's HIV+. Latino, a US citizen born and raised in the USA, middle-aged, an enterprising fellow who seems to be tired from being taken advantaged of by the production system that makes use of skills and abilities to continue enriching the pockets of those who don't want to hear about such abusive systems especially because they're on top of the structure, my friend is a loving, bilingual, sensitive fellow. He did prepare me for the news as he would tell me at least 2 months before that he's been waiting for results of his health tests, which results came some time. I guess it's because he's got no health insurance so he has to wait for his turn at the publicly funded health system for him to get checked up, get results, and be shown his prognosis by license health practitioners. Was I scared about the results? Honestly, I wasn't, and I wasn't being stupid. But what do you expect me to do when a fuck buddy who's now become a good friend tells me he's HIV+? I think the least I can do for him is to be empathetic with his situation --- it's some kind of thing that could happen to any one of us or to our loved ones.

I continue to meet him, and we make it a point these days to follow safe sex practices. And I've been sharing him supplements I've been taking, which I believe helps me make my body systems working well and fighting all these viruses in and around us. You really never know how they are out there to quickly exterminate each one of us, even before we realize it. Look at the ebola virus scare, which is ongoing in certain places in Africa. In the meantime, I continue to use consistently my supplements. It's one part of the strategy to keep a healthy life. I have been using them for over a year now. They include: Daily Essentials , Bromelain Plus , Ultimate Aloe , ORAC.  I also continue being physically active, even if I feel tired at the end of the day. So far, we are learning that my friend and my own body systems, specifically our respective immune systems are successfully fighting all these viruses. We're limiting the damage so far. And I'm thankful for that.

Sunbathing at the Gunnison Beach, NJ on a Weekday

My friend and I were talking while in bed about going to the beach on a weekday. And before we knew it, we agreed to meet in that coming Friday. I was grateful that we had that talk on a Monday, which meant I still had all the time to prepare for what was needed to be done before I could head off to the beach. Thankfully, I even managed to get a second hand bike from someone in the North Shore of Staten Island. On the day itself, the trip to the Gunnison Beach started in a ferry boat from the East River in Manhattan, which I reached after biking all the way from my place in Stapleton, Staten Island. My friend made all the arrangements, and bought the tickets for ourselves, as well as for our bikes. 

I've read about this nude beach somewhere in New Jersey, and even joined a group going in that part of New Jersey years ago but we didn't really go to the designated nude beach. We were in Sandy Hook but in another part of it, and we took the car in going there. But in this trip, I saw the grand-ness and the beauty of New York Harbor on a sunny summer day. Our ferry passed under the Verrazano Bridge that spans the distance between Staten Island and Brooklyn. Sandy Hook lies almost just across the tip of Staten Island. From it, you'll see Manhattan skyline, and you could even identify iconic buildings from among the silhouettes shown from that distance. We biked from the pier to Gunnison Beach, which was about 15 minutes in travel time, if I estimated it right. Approaching the beach, I soon sensed it was scorching hot, and I was soon burning my big toes after walking on the sand as I excitedly cast away my shoes and socks to my bag, and never bothered to put on flipflops. Oh, well, I have to learn something critical each day.

We were soon naked, which we did right there and then (just like in other nude beach areas). And a lot of naked people has been there way ahead of us. But each one of us had enough space for ourselves. 

Check out the pictures below.

Almost Scared Shit of Getting HIV Infected

I found myself chatting with a roommate one afternoon at home about exciting encounters we've had recently. I immediately opened up about sharing what I did with someone who lives in a 100+-year old mansion on Richmond Road in Staten Island that was converted into several apartments, one of which is being rented out to a recently-found bed mate. His unit looks so lived in and with fascinating furnishings and glass windows that open to a view of tall trees. I added that I felt being in between being scared and being fascinated while I was in that apartment that late weekday evening.

As soon as he was hearing me describe more closely what I experienced during the scene with my new found friend, my roommate was immediately giving me almost accurate descriptions of the place. Looking worried, he was soon telling me that I should keep away from ever making it out again with that guy who he said is a criminal, as in someone who would go to expensive Manhattan restaurants to have dinner and not ever paying them. My friend added that this guy would have to hide himself among the thick foliage of mature trees that surround the said mansion one time the cops came trying to catch him. He also added that the place is known to have a few drug dealers living in some of the units. He soon followed it up by saying that the guy's HIV positive and that he gets financial assistance because of his health situation. I asked him how sure he was about his information, and he replied that he knew a personal friend who used to live with the said fellow.

Then I furtively stopped doing all the cleaning that I was engaged then while I was chatting with my roommate. I recall that I engaged in safe practices when I made it with that guy that particular night. I quickly had a barrage in mind of a long list of reminders so as to convince myself that it is not that bad as it seems to be from what I was just hearing from my well-intentioned roommate. Soon, my roommate had to chat on the phone with someone whose call came right there and then.

I was left to myself and was justifying what I've just done that particular night. I could not believe I was being so stupid. I was secretly shaking my head. And I proceeded to tell my landlord on what I just heard, thinking that it would help me get relieved somewhat. He was soon telling me about what happens to those who are promiscuous, indirectly describing me in the process. After a while, my other roommate showed up in the room and started sharing what he heard from me with our landlord. But he asked for my permission first, to which I agreed, to share it. The 3 of us were then having a heated discussion about the needs we have to fulfill to be happier in our lives, which desire does not mean endangering ourselves in the process. I convinced myself that I could barely detect a hint of hypocrisy from both of them, which I guess was due to the fact that I had been very open to them about things I do in bed whenever they ask me what I've been into lately. You know how most people are, they ask "How have you been doing these days?" There's a prime value on being honest with your roommates, being my personal policy when living with people I've not known before I came in this dwelling we all now share.

But it also occurred to me to ask my roommate to look into my new found friend's pictures online where I first saw him. My roommate agreed, and we were soon finding out that we were talking about the wrong person. My new found friend's a different one from the one my roommate had in mind. I felt instant relief. My roommate soon shared the information, too, to our landlord. My roommate proceeded to get to know more about the online site that I use for meet up purposes, among other, practical reasons why I get online to link up with people. I doubt if he'd use it as well; I know we've got different tastes when it comes to the type of people we prefer to meet up and have intimate relations with.
 

Talking About A Male Rape Experience During Intimate Moments

It's very strange to start talking about the topic of rape when you are engaged with someone in very intimate acts. Recently, in a meet up with a Puerto Rican friend with whom I go to bed with after we've discovered a lot of similarities in our tastes for food and having fun, and with whom I agree to being 'friends with benefits, he was asking me if I was ready to come. We were doing it for some time then, and I could see that he's got other things in mind to do before finally ending his evening. He would still be having to get up early the next morning. And he wanted to finish making the cake that one of his clients ordered. He knew that he had to do something more so I could come, if I really wanted to come, which is not normal in my case (coming is not the end-goal of this activity for me). 

I then asked him about his first fuck, as in "Who fucked you the first time?" Then his reply was totally unexpected.

"I was raped."

"By whom?," I took the chance to inquire, as if such details have to be known right away after getting myself shocked.

"Oh, there were 4 of them," he casually blurted out the number.

"When?," I asked as I grew more curious.

"I was 11 years old then. I didn't even know I would turn out to be gay," he added more details for my surprised ears to hear and analyze. And as far as I could recall now, he went on to provide me with some more details about these men who raped him. I would learn that he had to bring himself to the hospital after the scene was over. The event happened somewhere in Puerto Rico.

"Are they still alive? Do you still see them?"

"No. They're all dead now," he answered in a matter-of-fact style. I could imagine he's relieved about the fact but I could be mistaken. Who would ever forgot such horrible moments in one's life? Already distracted, I gave him a long loving look as I continued to work on myself so that both of us could be finished with our act. But I knew I got deeply distracted, and I had to keep a mental note that I should be writing about this information from my friend.

Now, I would recall similar stories from other men with whom I've been to bed with. I recall someone back in the Philippines, with whom I had sex with in a dingy movie theater, and who mentioned about how he was raped by an older guy when they found themselves alone in a beach during a family outing (I suppose he personally knew his assailant). I recall, too, what another dear friend who now passed on, told me how he was raped after being seduced by a much older, bigger man when he was still a young boy.

Are rape scenes ever sexy? 

Yes, male rapes have been going on as far as we would bother to recall. These are horrifying acts of violence, which should be stopped right away. I just wonder why we're not talking more openly about these rapes, too. I guess, it's the desire to be respectable among many of us, which we think would help us to lead better lives collectively. And we're missing now the opportunity to correct these terrible misdeeds. Remember, those who have experienced unresolved ill emotions due to acts of violence inflicted on them will continue to inflict such acts as well to their children and those whom they think are inferior to them. That's how they have learned early on. And such lessons are very difficult to overcome.




 

On Making It With A Park Avenue Building Irish Doorman All These Years

I have just chatted briefly on the phone with this friend whom I've met through Craigslist.org over 6 years ago, and has since then grown into a fragile friendship that's always on the verge of being severed due to a complex host of reasons. Oh, well, first off, he's really a problematic character I have been fortunate to meet with here in New York City (NYC). He's both a Park Avenue building doorman and a superintendent for a walk-up apartment building in the Upper East Side.

I've learned a lot from him, particularly about racism and racial discrimination here in NYC, the subtleties of which could have continued to be lost to me if I didn't meet him. For example, he once told me that no Filipino tenant occupies the exclusive Park Avenue building he works for all these many years. I mean he can't imagine Filipinos being so wealthy --- there are so many wealthy people in the Philippines such that they are insecure in keeping their wealth and would not think of sharing any part of it to most people. Just observe the contrast of the haves and the have not's when you find yourself in the Philippines. 

My friend also once said that he'd seen maids who are from the Philippines, and one of them works for the household of a tenant's family who live in his building. I mean, I would normally be horrified listening to him about such culturally insensitive remarks, but I know I can make my own share of biased remarks, without myself being aware of what I've been making. For example: I would tell some of those guys I meet about the other black guys I've met these past years. I simply couldn't get away from this reprehensible focus on highlighting skin color as if matters really at the very core of what connects us as humans, even if we're together making love or something sort of like it. 

I'm just annoyed from time to time whenever I meet up with my Irish friend. He's actually from Ireland, from Galway where one of my favorite writers, James Joyce, hails from. Imagine how he speaks, as he's got that particular accent. I guess he's simply amazed at how I go about speaking, reading, writing in English, which he claims, apparently, to being exclusively for people like himself. But that can't be practical as the English language for all these centuries has spread its usage worldwide, including those of us who come from the Philippines, originally. And I don't intend to apologize for my English; I'm very proud that I can speak, read, write most excellently in English. Whatever flaws you see are just 'flaws' and I can pinpoint to you purists SO MANY examples when the so-called "native English speakers" (btw, are there really such beings in a globalized environment, internet-crazy-linkages we have in our midst these days?) make terrible mistakes themselves so regularly (I don't even go out of my way to correct them --- a language like English is very dynamic, anyway, so what's the main point of being a language purist? Does it pay to be one, by the way?).

This Irish man looks like Richard Gere, even in his middle aged years, and stands tall like him. I appreciate him for who he is as a person. He loves nature and he's very nonchalant in his ways although I know he needs to show an image of formality when he does his work as a doorman. But I can imagine exactly what happens, especially when he tells me about his cruising activities, including one story I heard from him that dealt about his encounter with a Latino guy who gave him an awesome fucking experience.

Whatever we do whenever we meet depends really on the mood of the occasion. He loves to turn his fantasies into reality whenever we're together. But he also makes use of my help whenever it's convenient for him --- it's the hallmark of some people I've met here in NYC. And I'm just greatly amused by his behavior (no wonder he's decided to just stick to what he's conveniently been doing all these years of living in NYC). I guess he hates the image that he projects to me, so he can't help but to make very sarcastic, bordering-on-the-insulting remarks whenever we have a conversation. I just keep cool, remain quiet, and take my time for vengeance in small actions meant to make him see me as a person, and not someone like those typical characters he meets and who behave as if material wealth is only what matters in life and living. 

We need each other, somewhat, and hence we continue to meet. I keep very upfront in my dealings with him. I'm happy as I am, gratefully. I've grown to know that I have to keep a very diverse set of friends and acquaintances in my network, especially in a city as big as NYC. Failure to do so will get me to wearing invinsible blinders that make me not see and appreciate what's inherently beautiful and great with human beings.

Some Growlr Exchange With A 'Bottom Indian'

Hi

Hello! How r u today? Thanks for checking out my profile here... 

Fuck me 

I cant today...wednesday next week will for me...where do u live? Can u host? 

Can u host 

It is complicated. I have to introduce u 1st to my landlord & roommates, then we can do it in my room d next few times u visit d house

 The come pick me up

Sorry, i don't drive... 

Wow u suck

Ha ha ha u r really an Indian, nothing matters to u except material wealth.....good riddance! 

No.
Pakistan. 

(I didn't edit the lines anymore even though you'd see errors there. Are Pakistani members of the LGBT community really like this one? I hope I'm just mistaken and it was just my fortune to meet someone like him that day online.)

Two in a Day, and It Could Have Been Three in 2 Succeeding Days

The first time meeting with dude #1 took place in the morning in Jersey City in New Jersey, just across my borough in Staten Island. I would hear his remark that he thought Staten Island is actually New Jersey in his mind, which was OK with me and I could understand from where he is saying such an observation. This happened after we've been done with steamy sex that included a hot tub bath together, which we took right in the backyard facing someone else's house and a blooming magnolia tree. In the midst of our activities together, I did business prospecting with him, and he was aware of me being engaged in my building my business such that he made sure I would listen as well to details on how he's happily and quietly leading his life with his husband. And we did everything in bed that imaginable during those 4 hours or so in that 3-story single family house that he shares with his husband with whom he has been involved with for at least 11 years. I would notice that he prepared so well for this meeting, which I believe is a reflection of his mental strength as shown, among so many things I saw while I was in that house, by the fact that he's a college math professor and does editing of academic journal articles as well.

Subsequently, later that night, I met for the first time with a prospect, dude # 2 who is Puerto Rican divorced from his wife and who had 2 children who are now dead, in West Brighton in Staten Island. His place is a few steps from a peaceful view afforded by its location on top of a hill that includes scenes of parks, houses, the water, and the foliage in that part of Staten Island facing New Jersey. He lives with his 2 tiny dogs, and explains that a good friend, whom I suspect is one of his former lovers, would show up early in the morning and stay for some hours during the day. He bakes cakes for a living, mainly, and receives disability of some sort from the federal government. 

I don't need to present more details and contrast their styles as they're 2 different individuals with very distinct life histories. I would emphasize that I totally enjoyed the pleasure of their company. Who knows if I'll meet with them again and again? I know I would still meet up with them sooner or later. The next day, I thought I would meet with a third one and engage again in intimate activities, even for brief moments. But this didn't happen. I was just too tired after doing all my activities that included a long meeting somewhere in Flushing, Queens.That prospective meeting would have been with a much younger guy who is black and does maintenance works for a living. I've written about him earlier in this blog site. He's sexy, desirable, and very versatile in his ways in bed with me. I thought that makes him very sexy, which has got me thinking of him even if I just did it twice in a row some hours past. But physical limits got me doing something else. I decided to go home, instead.

Making It With a Maintenance Fellow

In one those smartphone apps that allow you to connect and network with others, I got the chance to meet someone who looks far better in his pictures than in person. Well, that's unusual as it is. But what's more unusual was discovering that he lives with his friend, the details of which almost got me backing out of my first chance to meet with him. I was caught totally surprised by it. But my very strong sense of adventure would get the better of me so I took the chance that first time. He and I would soon be making it in bed even if I felt somewhat disappointed upon looking at his face. He's got really red pouting lips but he would give me that look like he's shy and his eyes would look starting from the bottom and directed to the top of his vision. It gives me the idea that he's really shy and ready to get whatever it is that the other person would give him in return. But it's a different experience altogether being in bed with him. 

While in bed, I would see his friend give us snatches of his own curiosity as he would come into the door and look at us, as if he's having a preview of a porn movie being made on that bed in their 1 bedroom apartment on that street that's a few blocks away from the real Chinatown of New York City (NYC). This guy's white and the one in bed with me is black. Needless to say, a lot of things would come into mind while making it with this guy, but these distractions would be gone soon as he and I click very well in bed.

He's a maintenance guy, someone who's doing custodian works in a federal government building in Manhattan, which gives me the idea that he's got a relatively stable job that he could keep until he's retired or until he's disabled. And he's still in his 30s, so I have a feeling he'll just stick it up with this full time, manual job unless he's got other desires in his life that he wants to work on and pursue. 

His friend, I would later come to know, works with another federal government office, and he's a psychologist. I would hear him complain about his co-workers who could probably be the most inept in his own view of the world, probably not realizing that such situation runs along similar lines in other organizations. I think I recognize the feeling he's got, including the frustration. I've been prospecting both of them for my franchise business, which I look forward to having good outcomes in due time. 

In the meantime, I continue meeting with my friend. I've been told that I could come anytime I want (I guess I would have to coordinate the schedules, of course). We would still make it in the same bed that he shares with his friend. I'd ask them if they're lovers, but they both denied it. Upon more queries I took the chance to get answers from them, I would learn they had met in a bathhouse in that section of Flushing, Queens in NYC that had since then been closed. What a convoluted but rather intriguing story, I noted to myself. 

Something Not To Be Missed When It Comes to the World of Dancing: Dominican stripper - XTube Porn Video - boricuarican

Dominican stripper - XTube Porn Video - boricuarican

Make sure you have watched the whole video before you started reading this. I'm excited by the video mostly because the performer was performing before a mixed crowd of Latinos and Latinas that are known to be ultra masculine and sexy, respectively, in the images they project to outsiders. You'd be hard pressed to identify the sexual preferences of any of those persons you'd see involved in the video. Nothing much is new about this, mainly because such events have happened in so many places before. In fact, I've seen a documentary on Oprah's Channel on couples who involve themselves most intimately with other partners. Some people like to call this polyamory, just to give it a convenient label. But what's really in a word? Behaviors that are covered by this label are found in many groups anywhere in the world. It won't even surprise me that such behaviors are more prevalent than what's imagined and would like to be talked about and covered in mainstream media. Some are just appalled by such practices, period.



I recall my exchanges online with a Filipino-American who was raised here in the West Coast of USA. He's now retired from his career as a military guy and a business person. He's retired with his current wife who was from the Philippines, too. And he confided to me how he despise his current existence there in the Philippine islands. The way he shared and described his situation there is that he can't just be himself. He had been a practicing bisexual, which aspect of him was brought about when he was still married to his other Asian wife with whom he had encounters making it with other guys in their bed. He would begin to understand why (some) women enjoy the mind-boggling pleasures of being fucked.



This acquaintance misses the days when he would make it with other guys. He simply couldn't risk anymore to be out to his wife and family, it seems to me. It's similar to those lines told to me by a former fuck buddy I had who's Irish, Catholic, from the upper middle class, a retired corporate guy, married with 3 lovely daughters. He simply loves Asians and anyone who's got darker skin. He told me that the minute his wife would find about his gay practices, the marriage would be over. I actually tried to send him an email but it would bounce back to me. This means he's been beyond my contact, unless he goes out of his way to contact me. I do hope he's still doing good; I recall he lives upstate and that he would get in touch with me one of these days.



I'm trying to understand how it is really to be in such states of sexuality. I like to be empathetic and become a better person from doing so. I don't want to even look at such situations as means for people to take advantages of others who lead secret lives, aspects of which are pretty obvious to some of us who have been there before. It's dangerous and personally draining of one's energies. I wonder if the performer, those who were watching him, and those who were participating in his performance were really having fun. It looks like a private party, anyway. I think they were enjoying themselves, more than anything else that I like to imagine. But I think things would be totally different if some of them would realize that their partners prefer partners of the same sex. Or am I just imagining situations here? Help me get enlightened.

Recalling a Middle-East Pilot from Someone Else's Story A Long Time Ago

When I used to visit one of those early lgbt-friendly bathhouses back in Metro Manila many years ago (I know it was owned and operated by a couple whose connections with the then powerful Marcos clan were really that strong and dependable), I met one guy with whom I exchanged furtively-narrated brief stories in between our cruising activities in the bathhouse. Of course, I can't recall the complete details now, but I still recall how one of his stories would turn me on and make me imagine more details than what were originally provided to me by this fellow who took a particular liking to me that evening. 

He's one of those cute guys who work in one of the major airlines, and you know right away that he's well compensated unlike most workers I'd see those days. He was behaving like he was getting disappointed over his waning prospects of ending up with someone he really likes to be with that night. I saw him walking all over the place, as he would cover the ground floor and the second floor, which was typical with most every one else during that night. 

I would soon learn practically everything about his sexual preferences that time. Among his stories, he shared me his encounter with a commercial airline pilot from the Middle East. The fellow who was sharing me these details probably could have been an airline purser, or one of those who checks out airline personnel before a plane flies out or if there's something that has to be delivered personally (probably a reader out there can explain to me if this makes sense). One time, he had to approach the cockpit and had to brief the pilots for one critical reason or another. The pilot, whom he described as goodlooking, middle-aged but with well-preserved physique, gave him a look and asked him to pay him a visit at his hotel later that night. He understood very well the invite.

And he did show up. He was soon knocking on his hotel door, and he was let in, and he saw the pilot had already started having his cocktails. Oh, my storyteller would soon share me how this pilot would soon be penetrating him several times that night. They would share the whole evening together and parted ways the next day when the pilot had to be flying out of Manila.

I was fancying about this recollection of a story I heard many years ago mainly because I had been seeing numerous retired professional pilots on TV lately because they're being interviewed to share their thoughts out because of the missing Malaysian Airlines airplane. It's my fervent wish and hope that the plane would soon be found out somewhere out there in the waters that cover over 70% of this planet where we do all sorts of things that we can ever imagine during our respective lifetimes.

Swimming in the Nude at Haulover Beach in Bal Harbour, Florida

Haulover Beach in Miami, Florida was the must-visit destination where my good friend brought me to on a Sunday afternoon in February when I took a week-long trip to that state, which coincided with a business trip. Prior to the drive from Ft. Lauderdale to Bal Harbour, we almost didn't go there as we were seeing earlier that the sun wasn't showing up at all. The other option was to eat home cooked Philippine food among other Filipinos who work in cruise ships that were currently docked in the many ports found in the area. We were asking ourselves 'what's the point of swimming in the nude if the sun's not up at all?' Thankfully, the sun showed up by the time we were there, and it was out for at least 4 hours.

During that afternoon, I saw many naked swimmers of various races, sizes, gender, and health statuses. I've been to other nude beaches here in New York and New Jersey but what makes this place special is that it's where you can do nude beach swimming even during winter months up in the North East. I didn't even want to believe that I was swimming as my mind was still set on winter mode because of the season New York was in during that trip. Together with other sunbathers, I also took the time to get myself a well deserved tan, although I now realize such a decision was risky as we're not encouraged to expose ourselves to the sun at noon time up to its setting in late afternoon. With myself enthralled by the wide vistas of the ocean before me, I saw and felt that the beach was clean, beautiful, and was set in deep aquamarine color. I recall seeing the same hues on the bodies of the birds that kept flying all over the beach while people were there. These birds have been learning that they could get fed by these sun worshippers. Delightfully, the wind wasn't blowing strong at all as I meditated on my very tiny existence in this universe while looking at each of the newly-built tall residential buildings a few feet away from the beach.

It's been one very interesting beach adventure; I wasn't really expecting something like it mainly because I didn't even really bother to read about the places that were available for me to explore when I get to this part of Florida. I just made the trip mainly for business reasons (I wasn't even aware that Ft. Lauderdale comes ahead before Miami as I was on the train to and fro my destination during this trip). Just like the others who stayed around for some time when the sun already set, we ended up cruising towards the night with other night-going denizens in this part of Florida state.  I was delighted to have made it with someone who was friendly and hispanic. Soon, I found out that there was more into him that I could manage to handle and face as the light from the tall building basked on our connected bodies. There were many others who were around but, somehow, nothing was happening at the earlier hours of our trip there. Practically everybody's just minding their own business.

Seeing a Deceased Friend/Lover's Sex Videos Just Now

MSJND1 - XTube Porn Video - MeniSwallow

Yesterday, I got one of the last big surprises of 2013 in a major area of my life. While checking the latest postings in a porn site, I saw videos of a friend engaged in explicit sex acts. Now deceased, he was shown making it with someone who I know lives in the same neighborhood where my friend lived when he was still around. He committed suicide a few days after he reached 50 years old. We were that close, such that one of his sisters would ask me if I was her brother's lover during the hastily organized funeral in Queens. She must have heard so much about me from her brother, such that she thought it was safe to ask about this matter. Actually, he and I were lovers. Given the fact that I have been involved with multiple partners at any point in time, this one with my friend was a wonderful relationship in many aspects, but this one had its own share of disappointments and highlights. We just recognized that we actually liked each other, and we took action to let each other know about these mutually satisfying feelings. Because of the kindness and generosity I've experienced from him when he was still around, I'd say I had a become a better person because of him. 

How sure am I about these facts? Are they verifiable as far as those who may want to know more about these videos? I had been to that living room for so many times when my friend was still around. I could still recall the many long playing albums he had, the coffee table with glass top, the living room set where his dead body was found by the cops, and of course, his genitals plus the details of his body hair on his body down there. Was I angry over this discovery? I felt a tinge of jealousy but I was overtaken by a deep sense of longing to be with my good friend again. The guy with whom my friend was making it with in those videos also described how he misses this common friend we have. He even used his real first name in describing the video. I've been struck by feeling and realizing more deeply and assuredly now that my friend really had a great time while he was still around. He probably just didn't want to suffer longer in life anymore; I would recall how he detested the idea of growing old and helpless with himself (he had relatives who had to struggle with old-age health concerns). 

Need I say more?

My First Book on Scribd.com

I was surprised to discover this lately, which happened after doing a search on a certain friend who already passed on. I don't know if I'm going to earn money from this listing on Scribd.com but I thought I might as well use it to help promote my first book. Buy the book, read it and share me your thoughts on it. Thank you.

  Angels in Disguise by Xlibris

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. 

I Appreciate the Very Frank Discussion I Had With My Highschool Mates on the Gay Life

The setting had been Hooters somewhere in Manhattan, and the participants were the 3 of us friends who met each other back in highschool who gathered that hot summer afternoon. We were supposed to meet with 2 others more from the same school, but they had to attend to some emergencies at the last minute. And immediately right from the start, I was confronted in his usual masculine, almost bullying way (which didn't really put me off) on how I had been leading and enjoying my life in the New York City (NYC). He and our other schoolmate started bamboozling me with questions on how I manage with my life, specifically on questions related to my sexual activities.

Yes, they have been very curious to know more details. I know one of them bought my first book, which could have opened his eyes to what I had been doing back in the Philippines prior to moving here in NYC for good these past few years. I recall him telling me before that Intramuros, which is the setting of my first book, remains memorable to him because that's where he and his wife would date when they were still based in the Philippines. He, also, mentioned about his thought that I was having issues on lifestyle back in the Philippines. And I had to explain that I had a long term partner with whom I had lived in in the same house for 8 years (but who would not like to come here in the USA to work and stay, just similar to what I'm doing now). I had to add that the main reason why I moved to NYC was that I was experiencing the so-called glass ceiling phenomenon in the Philippines. I had to break free from the barriers that are being put in place by those in power and the influential in Philippine society so that I, together with others who are similar to myself and my kind, would stay in our place forever until we decide to quit and move on (which I did, and so I'm way happier today than when I was still in the Philippines, inexplicably, even if my loved ones, lots of relatives and friends are based in that country). 

Among a number of questions, I was asked as to who does the passive and the active roles, respectively when I am engaged in sex. I told them I'm versatile, that I enjoy being the top as well as being the bottom, depending mainly who I partner myself with when in bed with someone or with others. I was somewhat surprised to learn as well to hear from one of the guys that he had been hearing about how one of his friends would make it in bed with black men, although he lives with his partner at home. 

And they were curious as to my involvement with black guys. I had to explain that the preference (as of this writing) is basically similar to what one tastes when eating food that has been basted, fried, browned. Check that yourself, if you doubt it. Those possessing darker color of skin are more exciting, actually, but you have to be adventurous to know that first hand.

I was also asked about my decision to keep and maintain 2 spaces to live in in NYC's Queens and Staten Island boroughs. Of course, it's more money, no matter how you look at it. But I gain the benefits from choosing which place to stay in for the night after I've been up on my feet the whole day. Also, I gain pleasure from knowing that I can be with the person who I am dating currently (or involved with) as long as we both can find the time to be together. They would continue teasing me about the idea, though.

I'm happy that they look forward to seeing me with my regular date one of these days. I just wonder when that would happen; I basically work during weekends when most people who work during weekdays get together. But I'll keep waiting and being open to the idea of sharing with them the friendship I have with my regular date. For all I know, I'll get more of the benefits of getting to know my date better as he and I would be exposed to more regular people, especially those I've known way back in highschool.

I can imagine that there would be more questions to come my way. I have a feeling I have a lot more to explain and share to my friends. I didn't feel intimidated, hurt, nor bullied at all. If there's a better way of making others understand and appreciate this lifestyle, I wish I could use or do it. It will help in clarifying notions and making truths come nearer our lives, which we badly need in these days of confounding questions on differences and what-is-curiously-fascinating on lifestyles. 

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.

That Pedestrian Bridge Connecting the Chinese General Hospital and the College of Nursing

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.
These encounters took place so many years ago that I am struggling to recall and share more vividly a lot of the details I still have in stock memory about them. I would continue to wonder why I recall the encounters once in a while, even if I'm already based in a faraway country from where they originally took place. And I still get snatches of the freshness of the encounters in my mind when I ponder on the best scenes from my intimate experiences, especially when I'm just by myself. The memory of making it with some fellows who happened to be around during those nights when I decided I'd like to cruise somewhere near the Manila North Cemetery still comes into shore as if they just happened yesterday. The memory would usually start with what I had observed from some distance. I had seen many times from my seat in a moving vehicle the street where we were passing by had men who would be running to and fro from the cemetery. They're moving as quickly as they could from something scary and what was similar to what happened to me many times when I used to cruise in the Intramuros Walls. 

Just right in front of the main entrance of this well known cemetery in the Philippine capital, you'll see a nondescript single story building that you could easily guess to be a public restroom. I would assume that this public restroom (which in the USA is called a 'bathoom') was built only as an afterthought and without due regard to design, as it looked so  incongruous as it stands between the wrought iron gates of the cemetery and the pedestrian bridge. I recall that a deep canal flows next to where this restroom stands. But nobody among the regular folks would venture to go there just to pee. And during those years when I used to pass by this area, this building stands almost under the pedestrian bridge and next to the Chinese General Hospital. I'm not sure if it's still there.

I noticed that pedestrian bridge was barely used, which was confounding to me. Or I must had been mistaken by my biases over seeing growing colonies of squatters who live full time within and among the tombs inside the cemetery. These residents could just be using these structures to relieve themselves when they happened to be nearby and had to go. But I would soon discover that it was used by generations of cruisers, including myself who was around for a few times in the late evenings many years ago. One time I walked up the concrete stairs of the pedestrian bridge, which was totally filthy and in a state of disrepair, I remember having made it out with a young man who was thin, goodlooking, with strong solid facial features and who showed up suddenly from nowhere that rainy night. I even brought with me an umbrella. Upon seeing me, he would right away bring down his pants to his knees and allow me to approach him and give him head until he came. And we didn't have the chance to talk, except for a few instructions from him on how I should work on him while we were together. We were both young, so restless and so full of sexual energy that we were then learning to manage (probably no one among our networks would be willing to instruct us on how to manage these energies oozing from our young bodies) to meet our needs and wants.

As I would soon discover, the public bathroom right under the pedestrian bridge was also known to have been a tryst used by a lot of men who just wanted to have some adventure, a little bit of privacy, and quickly come or just watch other men jerking themselves until they come. Inside, it was reeking with urine smell, dried and fresh feces and other unimaginable dirt. But you'd make up faces of men as your eyes have been exposed to the dark after a while when inside; you would soon figure out that these men had been doing something more. I recall having met another young man there, who was probably of the same age as mine then. We grappled at each other's bodies as soon as we found each other in the dark space. But the strong stench of the place probably got into him so that he decided to invite me to his place, which he said was nearby. We'd walked a few blocks, and I recall the place was close to the Dimasalang Bridge. It was past 3am then, and I noticed all the silent and dark houses whose residents were in deep slumber. The streets were all lighted, and I would quickly recall in mind some movie scenes showing such typical streets in Manila. We stopped before a single family house that has a passenger jeepney standing on its front. 

Inside the jeepney, I saw a man sleeping and heard him softly snoring. My companion volunteered to tell me the guy's their driver; his family has a jeepney for business, apparently. We moved and walked along the side on an unlighted short alleyway that leads to the front door of the house. It was dark, and he stopped just in front of the door. In an instant, we started kissing and hugging each other as we continued with undressing each other. Our shirts were off, then followed by our pants, and our underpants. We just continued kissing, hugging, cuddling, and moaning. 

I could see that the door might be opened by anyone from inside the house. But who would think somebody might do that at such an unholy hour? We silently proceeded to suck each other's cocks. We were soon coming on each other's laps. It was over in 15 minutes or so, the prelude of which was started in that very dirty public restroom. I was glad I did come. I recall that good looking guy wanted us to meet again some time; I might have been given his phone number so that I could get in touch with him. I paid more attention to his good looks; he's a skin tone lighter than myself, which quality in the Philippines is generally given more premium when it comes to physical looks. We were similar in height, built and weight, plus with similar middle class social background (we were both in college then). I felt like I was being attracted to another version of myself as I continued observing him. He was friendly, I recall. And just like typical properly reared adolescents, we said thanks to each other. But I don't think I went out of my way to contact him again. I recall he had then been studying at the nearby University of Santo Tomas (known as Asia's oldest university). I was still then not sure if I wanted to be in touch with someone I surreptitiously had quick sex with. But I knew I totally enjoyed the brief encounter.

I never went back again to that tiny cruising ground in front of the Manila North Cemetery. I would just go back there mainly because I knew one of my brothers, in his very young age as a baby of around 7 days old, was buried there. Unfortunately, we couldn't locate his tomb anymore during the last time we were there during the traditional annual day of visit to honor the memory of the dead. The authorities must have placed his body with those others whose families or relatives have failed to pay the annual dues to the city government, which happens as a way to control the dead population being buried in that cemetery that has among its permanent residents the rich and famous of the Philippine state, and that has a grand collection of very elaborate, unique and awesome tomb structures (a must-see destination of any curious, open minded tourist in Manila). To this day, I'm still sorry our family never got the chance to keep and maintain my brother's tomb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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