Weekend In New England

I have been a fan of Barry Manilow since I was a kid. One his songs that I've been obsessing over for quite some time now is Weekend in New England. For those who aren't familiar with this song, check out the lyrics and the music posted on Youtube.

Perhaps what I love best about Barry Manilow's songs are the stories being told. Most of his songs tell a story, none of the crap that we often get nowadays. Weekend in New England, in my opinion, speaks of a married man who takes trips to New England where he carries out an affair. Some even say that Reba McEntire's song Whoever's in New England is the wife's perspective on the husband's romantic trysts in New England with his mistress.

"Last night, I waved goodbye. Now it seems years. I'm back in the city, where nothing is clear."

For the first time, I am acknowledging feelings that I think I might have with an officemate of mine. I am in a relationship right now. I do love my boyfriend, so much. This is me releasing these feelings I have for someone else.

We're about the same age. He was born the same month as me, the same year as me. We were born 15 days apart. We started in the company the same year. I would notice him from the first few days of training. He has one of those nerdy boy next door looks that make geeks like me want to swoon over him. He's about as tall as me. He's quite lean. I love his complexion. But that was it. My property is different from his. He's assigned to a low-end property, and I'm assigned to high end one.

After the training, I didn't get to see him much. I would see him in company parties and functions, but we don't really interact. In fact, it wasn't until over a year later when we interacted again. My boss at the time made me perform for the Christmas party. I was going to sing, and he was one of the dancers. They were going to dance to that song with the lyrics, "I was dying inside to hold you. I couldn't believe what I felt for you. Dying inside, I was dying inside, but I couldn't bring myself to touch you."

He could dance. And he would always attend our practices, even if he had to commute all the way from Quezon City to Makati. I think I had a crush on him then.

"And tell me when will our eyes meet? When can I touch you? When will this strong yearning end?"

Another year went by, and I was asked to help out for another Christmas presentation. Since I had just come from an operation, I couldn't really actively participate in the presentation, so I was asked to help with the costumes, and the make-up. He was part of the group again.

An innocent crush can change quickly to desire, and when he was changing costumes in Intercontinental Manila's function room, he just took off his pants in front of everyone, I was shocked seeing his bare chest and his boxers. I couldn't stand it. I had to excuse myself. Imagining what I would have wanted to do with his smooth chest, and wanting to pull of his flimsy boxers, I chose to leave the function room.

I went out to purchase oil and  black body make up, because the men in the group were to wear a "bahag" and nothing else, save for their oiled and "messed up" torsos.

I came back and everybody starting oiling and applying black body make up on themselves. He asked me to apply oil and make up on his torso. I wasn't breathing at all while I was doing so.

"Time in New England took me away to long rocky beaches and you by the bay. We started a story whose end must now wait."

Last Friday, I went to Baguio. It was our company's annual summer outing. He was part of the first batch. I was trying so hard not to mind him at all. There was a bonfire Friday evening where our HR announced the group leaders for the scavenger hunt to be held the following day. I was one of the group leaders. I went up and was given a list of the employees who belonged to my group. I started reading from the list, but my heart stopped on the last name, and I hesitated before I said his name out loud.

The scavenger hunt was quite an ordeal for me. I was physically not fit to run around Baguio looking for clues. Furthermore, I was sporting a hangover from drinking the night before. We rode a jeep going to one destination, and he was sitting beside me. He would pass payment from other commuters to me to give to the driver, and our hands would touch. Each touch was electric to me.

We were running to Strawberry Farm, and he must have realized I was having difficulty. He took my Porter messenger bag from me. One of the locations was muddy. I was cringing because my Yohji Yamamoto sneakers were getting encased in mud. He asked me what was wrong, and I told him my sneakers were PhP 15,000.00, and he was shocked in the most cute and concerned kind of way. He saw dirt on my bag, and he started brushing it off. I laughingly told him he'd be aghast to know that the bag was more expensive than my shoes, and I was right. He smiled.

He needed money to use the restroom. I told him to just get it from my wallet. He was shocked because I had PhP 10,000 pocket money and SGD 400 in the wallet.

One of the challenges called for us to row a boat in Burnham Park to get a flag. He was having a hard time rowing, and I wasn't because I must have done this in Baguio a hundred times already. He was so ashamed and kept apologizing to me. I didn't mind because at the back of my mind the thought of rowing in Burnham Park with him was one of the sweetest experiences I've had of the man-made lake.

I was watching a movie in the living room of the cottage Saturday evening, and he was drinking with his friends in the dining area. He would bring shots of vodka and soda to me in the living room. He offered a body shot. 

"And when will I hold you again?"

He's straight. He's married. He has two kids.

I'm gay. I'm in a relationship. I'm happy.

I don't know how he factors in.

All I know is that I'm a spoiled brat who lives in a condo, drives around in SUVs, and dines out in expensive restaurants almost nightly. On weekends, I grudgingly go home to my family's house in New Manila, where I plan dinner menus, or make reservations for restaurants.

He's a family man who lives in Cavite with his wife and two kids. I don't think he owns a car. His wife cooks for him. His kids wait for him to come home.

We're worlds apart. And I don't mean this in any belittling manner.

But at random moments, I end up thinking of him. The ride back to Manila from Baguio, all the songs in my iPod made me smile randomly, because all I thought of was him.

Going to Singapore in a couple of days with my boyfriend. I will make better memories there.