Months Later

Months later...

I've broken up with my boyfriend. Apparently, he really isn't worth it. The poor guy though, after I broke up with hi, was so devastated and desperate that he slept with a guy his best friend had slept with, and slept with a friend of his who is in a relationship.

So that means he really isn't taking things well.

I on the other hand, have dated also. Dated a guy who was around 41 years old. At first, it was okay. We were going out almost everyday, we were having so much fun in bed. Until three words slipped out of my mouth while having sex with him. I LOVE YOU. This is so funny, but the bastard ran away. I didn't hear from him, until I posted something on Facebook wherein I stated:

People get scared when told, "I love you." These people are cowards and have no balls, lose them. And no, the let's be friends crap is, well, bull.

The statement, though, wasn't really for him. It was for this other guy that I was seeing. He's turning 39 this April. He really knew how to make ligaw. For an entire week, he made ma hatid-sundo. That was until three words slipped out of my mouth again. I LOVE YOU. I haven't seen him again since then.

You know what, there's something wrong with the Ateneans from the older batches. They are so afraid of putting themselves out there. I am tired of the dating scene. Really. Whatever fucked up thing happened to your generation, I am so not going to date anybody below batch 1996 from Ateneo anymore. 

Perfect news though, I am so excited to spend Valentine's Day with my new boy. He's younger. He is 24 years old, still immature, but the thing about younger boys is, you get to train them, and mold them into whomever you want them to be. It's a huge responsibility though, because we're talking about somebody's future here. 

I know I love him. He's still rough around the edges, and there are so many things that he needs to learn still. But generally, he's going to get there. 

Waking Up From Nightmares

I haven't been able to write lately on the blog because I've been so busy writing a novel.

Yes, I am writing a novel. I started a month ago. My boss commented that my first-world problems could be the plot of a movie, and that made me think. Movies sometimes are not taken seriously, but books, these are immortal.

The novel I am writing centers around me, Cityboy, and my boyfriend. I am honestly not sure how it ends, because the story is still ongoing. Right now, my boyfriend seems to be the supporting character who might get trampled on in the end, but who knows.

I've been waking up from nightmares recently. This past week, I would wake up in the middle of the night, and not be able to go back to sleep.

I woke up from a nightmare again today. Cityboy was in my dream.

I don't know what he feels about me, in the dream. He seems to take me for granted, in the dream. In the dream, I get a sense of yearning, of wanting to be with him. In the dream, I am in love with him.

I am in love with him, I know that. He makes me want to take care of him. He seems lost, and confused. He's young. I want to nurture him, but I don't know how to do it because I have always been the one on the receiving end of that type of love.

You always end up with the person who doesn't fit your ideal, my mother told me that. She preferred chinito mestizo men, and she ended up with my dad.

I prefer stocky guys, who are older, in a sense more mature than I am, because I want to be "babied". I am the eldest in my family, and I always had to be responsible, so I wanted someone to be responsible for me.

Its different with Cityboy. He's tall, lean bordering on muscular. He looks very young, and he's a bit on the immature and stubborn side. And yet, he constantly plagues my dreams. At work he's there all of the time, ready to offer a smile. The way he looks at me, makes me want to melt. The stolen glances he would give me during meetings, these make me want to hide under the conference table. The way he "accidentally" brushes himself against me, and I try to get away from that accidental "touch" only for him to lean in closer.

Is he straight, is he gay? He claims to have a girlfriend, and I was holding his iPhone for him one time when a message from "Hun" came in. So I told him that "hun" was looking for him and that he should leave me already, and he just replies, "Hayaan mo na yun. Okay lang." I won't even dismiss my boyfriend that easily.

I am ranting now, because a couple of weeks ago, I broke up with my boyfriend because I was so confused. Last night, I committed myself to him.

It is not a marriage yet, but I committed that I will stay with him for the rest of my life, through thick and thin, whatever comes along the way. Like I said before, Cityboy was, or is still, a crossroad. I had to ask myself which path I should take? Do I take the road less traveled? Will it really make all the difference?

I am scared. I am scared of breaking a heart, I am scared of breaking my own heart, I am scared of forcing a heart to love me.

First Love Damage

I've been gay since high school, I guess. I probably had it coming because I studied in an all-boys school. I didn't have a concept of how gay relationships are supposed to work. But the first time I fell in-love was in high school. I actually thought I was saved from these things, but it happened during my senior year. I fell in love with a junior. What was so difficult about it was he was a really good friend of mine, and it just happened. I didn't know I was in love with him. He had just told me, like a good friend, no, more like a best friend, that he had shortcomings, and that one of these was his being constantly horny. He told me that when he was in first year he had phone sex with a batchmate of his. I wasn't bothered by the fact that he had phone sex with a guy (that I knew, might I add), but at the fact that he had phone sex with someone. I was furious. I got into my car (yes, I was driving in 4th year high school, an expensive sports car) and left him.

He kept on calling the devoted landline in my room that evening. He kept sending messages to my phone. But I wasn't answering. I answered at around 1:00AM, and all he could ask me was, "What's wrong?" I didn't know. He kept on apologizing, until I asked myself, what was he apologizing for? We both didn't get off the phone that night. At 6:00AM, I had to tell him that we needed to prepare to go to school. Not one of us got any sleep. Driving to school, that's when I realized, I was in love with him.

I didn't tell him right away. It took months before I was really able to tell him, just weeks shy of my graduation. I was trying not to act weird and all around him. My gay friends knew, and they would constantly tease me, but I had my fair share of information that would always get them to shut up. But I did tell him. We drove to a quiet spot inside the campus, parked and just stared at the sky from the grass. We love doing that, talking about endless nothings. His head tended to run off also. And I told him. It was quiet.

Finally he told me that he was not ready. I accepted that. We probably weren't going to see each other anymore, I said. I was off to college, and he had his senior year to go.

So I went to college, and started a different life. A couple of months shy of my freshman year in the university, his friends from class sent me a text message. I needed to go back to the high school and talk to him because he wasn't functioning well. He wasn't applying himself to his studies, or to his extra-curricular activities. I didn't see him during the summer, and I was pretty damn sure I was over him, but I had to go back and at least find out what was wrong.

It was a Friday when I drove back to the high school. The grounds were pretty empty because it was almost 8:00PM. He and his classmates were still in school because he had an important 3-day event that he was spearheading, and everything was about to come undone because he just wasn't himself. His classmates blinfolded him, and led him to the driveway, into my car, where I was waiting. I didn't say a word.

"I know you're here. I know this is your car. I wouldn't forget its smell," he said with his blindfold still on.

I told him that his classmates were worried about him and that they had called me to talk to him. He asked me to bring him to my favorite spot in my college's campus. Fine, I thought. I drove to a secluded running track in my university. He took off his blindfold, got out of the car, and asked me to sit on the grass with him.

"I spent the entire summer not thinking about you," he started to talk. "And I tried not to think that I should have done something when you told me the truth about what you felt."

I was quiet, staring at the track field.

"Then at the start of the school year, even before the first month ended, my class had its silent retreat. I shared the room with a classmate of mine. One night, he went to my bed and started touching me. He took my shirt and shorts off, and he started to touch me. He put my cock in his mouth, and I let him," he said.

I was still quiet, I really didn't know what to think at that point.

"I had sex with him, during our retreat. But throughout, I kept my eyes closed, and I was thinking of you. I was imagining that it was you I was having sex with. I wanted it to be you," he said.

I didn't know what to say. I just sat there with him, quiet for another 30 minutes, until I said, it was time I brought him back to the high school.

We still saw each other after that because he ended up studying in my college, but I tried not to feel anything for him anymore. I'm sure he was hiding his feelings too. Eventually, I had moved on. I'm not sure about him, but I didn't love him anymore.

I saw him again recently, and we've kept in touch. But I don't text him anymore. What happened between us was just tough. And the damnedest thing is he never ever said that he loved me. Just that he wished it was me.