Tristan Tales

Dear Neighbor

2012-02-12T23:37:00.000-05:00

Thank you for today, I really had fun hanging out. I don't think it's really a date (because we never really called it that) but let's just leave it at that. It doesn't matter, I had fun. It has been a while since someone has made me feel the way I am feeling right now - giddy. I feel like I am sixteen again. I have been smiling like this for several months now. Whatever this is between us has been amazing and I am enjoying every bit of it.

Never mind if you don't really know how many wardrobe changes I need to go through every time I go out to see you. This morning alone, six! But, it's always been well worth it, me thinks… This morning, over brunch, I almost fell off my chair when you looked at me and said "that's a nice shirt…". You've already made my day within the first 30 minutes!

It doesn't really matter that I always feel uncomfortable when other guys look at us when we're together. I can't blame them, it's really hard not to notice me. I am so gorgeous. Ok fine, you too. Those beautiful green eyes just light up the room. Your smile is just so infectious. You look (smell and taste) really good too. Polished, every single time.

And then there are the other Asians. Skinny Asians with zero body fat. Ugh. Deformed Asians (and I am so glad you know what I am talking about). Slutty Asians that will do anything and everything to get your attention. I see the way they look at you - then they look at me, roll their eyes and go back to looking at you. I am so not used to dealing with these things, but you always make it easier for me. Thanks for always making me feel like I am the only (Asian) guy in the world.

Don't ever think that I don't notice the little things you do. I secretly love it but I'm just pretending to be cool. Thank you for opening doors; for always allowing me to choose seats first; for the interesting conversations. Thank you for listening to me while I rant about how Filipino I still am; for the early morning messages that I wake up to, which makes every waking morning something to look forward to; for "breakfast"; and for making me want to be a better person and supporting me all the way. Thank you for treating me right.

I am so frightened by what this is and what this might lead to (or not lead to). But, I am older now, less dramatic (err…), and I know myself better - and I know that I really like you (at the least) and I hope that maybe, just maybe, you like me too.

February, What Have You Done To Me?

2012-02-05T01:08:00.004-05:00

All the signs are there and I've been trying my best to ignore them. I know what's been going on the past few weeks. It has been a hell of a ride. Major ups. Things that make me smile. But, something's probably genetically wrong with me for I still refuse to acknowledge that everything's really happening. I know myself well enough by now. I am easy - and I sometimes do have this tendency to live in a fantasy world. Maybe it's me sabotaging my own happiness? Or perhaps, it's me, damaged.

The truth of the matter is, I am scared. It has been years since someone has hurt me so much that I actually felt it. I have healed since. But, I have never forgotten - in fact, I can still remember those sleepless nights where I found myself tossing and turning in bed thinking what I did wrong and what I could have done better. Should I have not asked the status? Should I have just kept mum about my feelings? Should I have just kept to myself and continued loving from afar. Healing has been a long process and I am not just gonna throw that away for some guy I sorta kinda like again. At least not yet.

I should probably ask what's been going on between us. I am sure he knows how I feel - I have been dropping hints as often as I drop on my knees for him. I just don't know how he feels. But because of fear, I can't bring myself to finding this out. I am scared that I won't be able to handle the truth - good or otherwise. Am I even as ready as I claim to be? What if there's really something to what's been going on. Am I really ready to be with just one guy for a long time? And what if there's nothing - that to him, what we have is actually nothing more than friendship, at best, am I ready to accept the fact that I may have just imagined everything yet again?

I just wish he'd say something - something more than insinuating that I am fun to be with, talk to, chat with, text with, do some stuff with. It would definitely make both our lives easier. But, I guess this is the whole point of getting to know someone - and it's probably the reason why people enjoy dating. However, this does not really work for me - I am very efficient. It's either you like me or you don't. It's either you'd just like to fuck or you'd want more. It's either you're a boyfriend and a total stranger. And no, I don't need another friend. Just give it to me straight and hard.

As I go through the last few days in my head one more time before bed, I find myself thinking about what tomorrow brings for us. Would there be food involved? How would the conversations begin? Would it be him or me who'd send the first message? Will I smile again when I wake up and see a message from him to me sent the first thing he wakes up? Will I giggle at a one-liner comment on some random item? Will I still be wishing that he'd see me the way I've been wanting him to see me? Will tomorrow be the day when I finally stop being scared and finally admit to him and to myself that there's something here - that maybe, just maybe, I am that guy... and he could be that guy too?

Today was a good day. If every new day would just be a touch better than the day prior, I am thinking that maybe, just maybe happiness is indeed just around the corner - and that elusive change may not be all too far away...

The World, As You Know It, Is Coming To An End

2012-01-24T00:23:00.000-05:00

I want my own fairy tale. That one good story I could tell our adopted blue-eyed kids in the future on how their dad and I met one nice autumn day in DC - and both of us knew, at that moment, that somehow we'd end up being in each others lives for a very long time. There'd be endless "oohs" and "ahhs" at the stories that we'd share over tea in our very own cabin by the beach.

I want a good love story. Something that I could call my own; memories of endless days and nights together; winter mornings spent cuddling in bed; and warm summers by the beach. Where after several attempts at love, two people find themselves strangely into each other all along - both of them saying "I finally found you..."

And I am working on it. Somehow, I know that this year might be the year I'd finally fall in love. It has been brewing for years but I never really acknowledged it - until a few months ago when I started dating to find someone. I am ready - more ready than I've ever been. And that should tell you something. I have changed. For the better. For real.

I wish I could just wish love - and by tomorrow when I wake up, it's there. If only life and love were that easy... But, the truth is, it never is. Not for me, at least. I am hopeful though. I know he's out there - waiting, hoping, wishing that I am out there too.

Maybe I've already met him. Maybe I haven't. If only he reads my blog...

Oh, but on second thought, I wish he doesn't.

Oh f*ck, what the hell is happening to me?

How Much Sex Does Tristan Get?

2012-01-04T02:35:00.003-05:00

Hello, fans! *waves* Happy New Year!

I figure that I'd start this year on a positive note and post something that got all the early readers of this blog hooked on: sex. I know there are a lot of local sex blog sites now but please, indulge me. I am international anyway.

This post starts a series of mini sex blogs with the aim of counting down how many times I get laid in a year. Honestly, I have lost count a long time ago. As of June 16, 2010 and based on my conservative estimates, I've hit close to 1500. Read the post here. But, since then, I have lost count again (though I do have a vague idea of which nationalities I have slept with) I am starting again from zero in 2012.

Because I don't intend to make any of my readers fall in love with me anyway (at least not anymore or anytime soon), I could not care less about posting this on Tristan Tales. Blogger's Note: I used to care about what my boys would think (especially the ones I have been trying to woo) so the number (and stories) you've been reading on this site is a lot less than what it actually is (and the stories, edited).

So here goes:

January 1 AM. Nothing like a Filipino to start the year. He's from Singapore visiting NYC and was leaving in the afternoon. He invited me over to his hotel a couple of blocks away from where I was staying. Told him I needed to get off and he was happy to help me out. He had just jerked off a few minutes earlier so he said. I walked over. Took the lift. Dropped my pants, took off my shirt. He was not really good at blowjobs but he kissed fine. Would have fucked him but I was in a hurry. It was after all 7:30 AM and I needed to be back at the apartment before everybody woke up. I came back and they were all up, suspicious grins on their faces. I told them I had to get coffee.

Now, that's one.

January 1 PM. A New Yorker I met in a club. It was already late. I was there no more than 10 minutes when he approached me and started chatting me up. Turned out he lived a few blocks away and had been trying to run away from another guy (Hispanic) who has been trying to get it on with him. Since I was there to get laid anyway, I decided to leave the club with him and welcome the new year at his place. It was fun.

And two.

January 2. A New Yorker I met on Grindr a day earlier. He has been trying to get me to his apartment a few blocks away from where I was staying on the morning of the 1st. But, I was hanging out with my friends the whole day so it was impossible. I woke up at 10 AM. He sent me another message at 11AM while we were having breakfast. All of us were taking the 1PM bus back to DC. I had exactly 2 hours to spare before we left - and I still had to pack. I was in his apartment at 11:45AM. He took off his clothes. I took off mine. He knew what he was doing. I was back in the apartment at 12:30ish.

Three.

January 3. Some guy from Manhunt sent me an email. He's from the Midwest and visiting DC for a week. Nerdy American guy who's cute but doesn't know it. Typical of a small town boy, I guess. I met him up for drinks at a local bar. After a couple of drinks, I asked him if he wanted to come back to my apartment. He kissed well and I enjoyed him. Too bad he's not from DC else I'd probably date him. He went home with a smile on his face and a promise to see me again before he leaves.

Four.

January 4. A couple of hours ago, after the midwestern guy left, my Grindr went off. A couple who lived a couple of blocks away. Wanted to PNP (party and play = ecstasy) which I was not totally into. Blogger's Note: I don't do drugs BTW. Never have, probably never will. I told them I don't mind playing without partying. Was fine with them. A smaller framed Latino (probably Mexican) and a white guy. They said they were friends, I think they were a couple. The white guy was a top. The hispanic guy, versatile. Go figure. But, it was quick. I had a few things in my head that was bothering me.

Five and Six.

I am scheduled to meet up a couple more guys from Manhunt, one from Grindr, one from Adam. I am pretty sure, there are more to come. So stay tuned.

to be continued...

Another One

2011-12-25T19:24:00.006-05:00

He came all over my chest. I came everywhere. He pulled me closer, my head on top of his left arm. I was on the nook. I reached for the cum rag and wiped myself off. I attempted to get off the bed and head straight to the bathroom. But, he pulled me closer. "Don't go yet. Stay for a while...", he said. I was lost for words.

From the moment I saw him, I was already smitten. He wore a tight yellow polo shirt that showed off his contoured body. His lips were perfect and he kissed ever so tenderly. His eyes pierced through my soul. It was all about the connection with him - and it felt refreshing. His body was chiseled to perfection - his chest was built, his legs, strong. His back, firmed up. His tool, long and thick.

And there I was, lying naked post-sex beside the perfect man. I laid beside him listening to his breathing. I looked up - he had already closed his eyes. He pulled me closer. I then felt his hand take my hand. he squeezed it gently as if he was telling me that everything in world is gonna be alright. There was no escaping this one, I thought. I might as well enjoy the moment. He was my very own prince - at least for a while.

I must have dozed off for a few minutes. When I woke up, I did not know what time it was. I did not know how long I've been in bed with this guy. I looked out the window, it was bright and sunny but I knew it was colder than when I had arrived at his place. I tuned back in to his breathing. He was still asleep. The sound of him breathing was really familiar - it felt like I've known him longer than a couple of hours. He felt me move. Once again, he pulled me closer. Much closer. I wrapped my arm around his chest. I was going all out.

I then saw him open his eyes. He smiled before he kissed me on the lips again. There was something about this guy that made him special - maybe that was it. I'd be a hypocrite if I did not admit that I wanted to stay in that moment. I whispered a Christmas wish - I want him... well not him necessarily, but someone like him. It was, after all, Christmas eve and maybe Santa was listening. "What is it with you that relaxes me?", he whispered to my ear. I lightly shook my head and smiled. I had nothing to say.

"I have to go now.", I told him after a few more minutes. He nodded before he kissed me on the lips again. I knew it was gonna be a challenge to leave that moment. But, it was all I had - and all I could have. At least for now and with him. I quickly showered, got dressed and put on my shoes. I took my jacket from the hook it was hung from. We kissed again before he gave me a tight hug. "See me again... will you?", he asked. I smiled and nodded.

I am sure his husband wouldn't mind...

***

Happy holidays, my dear readers!

I hope everyone had a great Christmas. I know 2011 has been a very slow blog year for Tristan Tales (only because I've been very busy...) but hopefully, I'd post more again in 2012. Thank you all for reading.

In case I don't get to post a year-ender (I'll be in NYC for the rest of year...), I wish everyone a happier New Year! Here's to finding love (and single, non-crazy, big dicked, smart, and financially stable men) in 2012.

Cheers, T

It's A Date

2011-12-03T18:51:00.002-05:00

I guess if you've been reading me long enough or if you know me well enough, you probably know that I rarely go on dates. It's usually just sex meet ups, a quick hook up, a f*ckbud arrangement, or something ultra casual. Besides, I've always been the type of "dater" who actually knows that I'd want a relationship with the guy before I go on a date with him. In that sense, dating becomes a just a formality instead of the initial step in the process called, dare I say it, love. Sadly, for years, my twisted belief of how dating works has been the bane of my existence. Apparently, everyone in the world got the memo except for me.

In the last thirty days, I have gone on at least eight dates. It's usually a drink followed by dinner (and possibly dessert) kind of thing. It was sex optional, of course. Needless to say, I have been drunk most weekends and some weeknights. I have also given up my precious virginity to a few - just to try them out. In fact, I have gone out on more dates this past month compared to say... uhmm, ever. I have never gone out on so many dates in a short amount of time at all. I can even be called a dating virgin to some extent. Yes, virgin and Tristan can still be used in the same sentence.

As I wrapped up another drink date the other night, I actually caught myself zoning out while sitting across a guy in a nondescript DC bar and listening to his stories. Don't get me wrong - that guy was cute, hot even (with a seven inch dick too which should probably tell you that it still went well nonetheless...), his eyes were a nice shade of blue, and he's probably a catch in spite of the fact that he talked about himself endlessly for hours and constantly showed me pictures of strangers on his phone doing stupid things. But, I needed something more. I needed that connection, which unfortunately, the at least eight guys this month did not deliver on. Maybe that or I have just been too damn picky.

To some extent, dating became repetitive so soon. It felt like I was telling my life story over and over again. I used the same lines. I had mostly similar jokes. I asked the same questions. They also had theirs. It had become so repetitive that I felt that I would be doing both of us a favor if I just gave all of the boys a link to my blog with a note that said: "here, read my life first then get back to me in three days". But, I can't. I had to smile. I had to nod. I had to laugh and pretend that something funny was actually said every time the guy across me laughed at his own stories. Thank God for vodka.

Usually, after the whole charade, I'd find myself in a man hug with a total stranger on the street just before we'd part ways. It would almost always end with a "We should do this again sometime" or the classic "I had fun tonight" which would always leave both parties wondering if both of them really felt the same way. Dating is puzzling really and it has become even more confusing because we often find ourselves being polite. I guess I better start telling the story as it is. If it was a sucky date, I should probably end with a "It was bad, really bad...". Maybe I'd end up helping the poor guy - much like how I tell it as it is in bed.

But in spite of several mildly successful attempts at first dating, I still feel that it is a necessary evil that I need to unwillingly undergo in order to find my happily ever after. And so I try harder. And I muster all my remaining strength and determination to say yes to some of the invites that had gone through in the last few days. To be perfectly honest, I still can't believe what has been happening - from the moment I started acknowledging that I can also be the dating type (the type that actually goes out on dates to get to know people as opposed to sleeping with them right away) - I found out that there are really so many guys out there who actually think that I am either:

A. Hot,

B. Cute,

C. Sexy, or

D. All of the above.

Either that or they were just extremely horny and think I am a cheap date (get drunk easily) and an easy lay. Damn it. Remind me to change my online profiles soon to read: Conservative Filipino boy who needs to be wined and dined first. Sex only after dessert.

So as I embark on another first date tonight, tomorrow over lunch and hopefully dinner, and Monday's lunch (different boys, mind you...), I resolve to be cautiously optimistic of the future that awaits me with the lucky guy who can win my heart and my manpek (man pekpek). I also promise to be a less cheap date (though I can't promise that I won't be easy... blue eyes, big dick... come on!). Finally, I also think that it's time for me to stop believing that true love comes to those who wait - because really, true love comes to those who date.

Thankfully Yours

2011-11-24T10:17:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, I almost died.

At least that was how it felt like. I could not breathe. My chest was tight. Blood was rushing to my head. I panicked. No, I freaked out. For a moment, it felt like I was out of control. It was then when it hit me, everything could all be gone in an instant. As I struggled to breathe, I thought about how dying was so inconvenient. When I prayed, I suggested that everyone should be given a dying plan - so that we could all prepare for it. I still needed to get rid of my porn collection, clean up my hard drive and delete this site, among others. I could not breathe and I still was thinking of what other people will be thinking if I go. It was sad. Damn need for affirmation.

I quickly got dressed and hailed a cab. I could not 911. It was embarrassing. Besides, I knew I could still make it to the nicer hospital. What if the ambulance takes me to a dingy one, how can I ever survive that? When the emergency room nurses first saw me, I was pale and confused. I was definitely having a panic attack. They escorted me to a holding room where at least three doctors saw me. Blood was drawn, an IV line was attached (I was an IV virgin until that day), EKG, and an Xray test was done. It was first world medicine at its finest. But, I still could not breathe well. It was, to say the least, scary.

After a couple hours of testing, they told me I was fine and it was just a serious case of heartburn - actually they have a technical term for it but it doesn't really matter. It was heartburn and I was being overly dramatic. Let me repeat, I am fine now. Haters, stop celebrating. One of the nurses then came up to me and asked me to fill up a form - something that had medical privacy stuff written on it. I was too light-headed to understand what I was signing. Then she asked me one question that made that night a wee bit tougher - "so who is your emergency contact person?"

It was the question every single gay guy who lived by himself in a foreign city dreaded. Who to put in case of emergency. Easily, it was one's family. But, my family was eight thousand miles away. It was pointless. Friends, you might say? I have several friends - yes they should be my in case of emergency. But, which one? As I scanned my phone for names, I found a few. I chose based on practicality - I answered the basic question, "who can come and coordinate stuff just in case?" I filled out the form and handed it back to the lady nurse.

The moment she turned around, it hit me. I was alone and was being overly dramatic about it. That night, I was the classic Asian drama queen. Sue me, I was sick. I needed a boyfriend - or a husband - or anyone that can come close to being an "in case of emergency contact", I thought. While I continued to ponder on my single status, texts messages and calls started pouring in. It was from other friends who had learned what had happened. My eyes became misty. I was having a moment. It was a classic Thanksgiving moment.

I spent a total of three and a half hours in the emergency room. I was given some medicines and I actually felt better before I left. While on the cab home, I once again thanked everyone who sent me messages. I felt really loved.

Man indeed cannot live (on bread) alone. We all need an "in case of emergency" too.

***

I never really understood Thanksgiving even after three years of living in the US. Now, I do.

While I continue to wait for that elusive rich-jock-bigdicked-smart-top boyfriend (hey, a boy can dream!) who will take me to my happily ever after, I am confident that I can still count on great friends to help me fill that void. I am really blessed to have people who are always there to help - those who, in spite of their busy lives would still check on me once in a while, and those who even from miles away have and I know will always be there to make me feel like I am not alone.

Happy Thanksgiving!

***

By the way, the doctor was so hot. He made me feel better - and gave me a hard on at the same time. LOL

Sweet November (Part 3)

2011-11-07T10:56:00.011-05:00

Sweet November (Part 1)
Sweet November (Part 2)

I wondered why he wanted to have frozen yogurt when it's thirty fuckin' degrees (about zero Celsius) outside! But hey, I was not choosy. However, I told him that there was a nice cake and waffle shop a block away from where we were. He said he's never been there - so we decided to just go there instead. They served great coffee anyway and he loved coffee.

We were ushered to our table the moment we got there. It was a quaint little cafe in the gay district. There were very few people in the cafe, maybe two other couples. I figured that since it was already dessert, I might as well go "date mode" on this one. I became a bit more relaxed talking about stuff - how Filipinos ship boxes back to the Philippines around October, how my mom loves Splenda which she refers to as the "unequal Equal", and how I was such a FOB (fresh of the boat) when I got to the US. He laughed at all of my stories - probably also wondering how he got stuck with me that night.

He, in turn, told me stories about how got into gourmet coffee, how one sales clerk thought that he could not afford a pricier coffee pod, and how he never hangs out with his family as much as I would have wanted to hang out with mine. He asked me about Thanksgiving plans and Christmas vacation schedule. He told me stuff that he has probably told a million and one boys before me but still, I thought, were very personal. He was a revelation over dessert.

While he sipped his espresso, I daydreamed about life with this guy. I imagined myself being invited to Thanksgiving and hanging out with his friends and family. I envisioned myself finally going to Whole Foods (an overpriced organic supermarket in the US) with him one Friday night and asking "honey, what do you want for dinner?" - our dog waiting oustide. I imagined a whole lot of things - all while listening to him tell his stories.

Maybe it was just me but I did feel, at that moment, that I may be ready to embark on another attempt at love. But, I needed to play my cards closer to my chest. The gay manual says so - it was, afterall, just the first undefined dinner and dessert night. Hopefully, there would be many more to come. I took a quick glimpse of the clock - we had been together for two and half hours - not bad for a first thing, I said to myself. It was getting late and the next steps would be critical - to fuck or not to fuck. That was the inevitable question.

We paid for dessert and made our way out of the cafe. We took a few steps and crossed the road - the road leading to another road that leads to my house. We were in the right direction. My heart was pounding. Are we or aren't we? And if we are, how do I even begin the conversation? Should I even be the one to start that conversation? I imagined myself as Carrie of Sex and the City - remember those scenes when she and her guy would walk up to her apartment building? Then she would say "well, this is me..." before she would casually twirl her hair and wait for a goodnight kiss. I wanted that to be me. I wanted it that to be me...

"So where is your apartment?", he finally asked when we reached the road that leads to my road. I smiled and prepared myself for the hair twirl. "I live a block away...", I casually replied. My voice may have croaked. I was nervous. Are we really going there? Oh my God - I was gonna be Carrie. He looked nervous too. There we were two guys waiting for each other's invitation. I surely wasn't giving it. I was Carrie that night. He had to be Mr. Big. He had to take charge. "Well, I have to take the bus on 14th....", he finally said.

My world of make-believe collapsed in front of me. It was the end of my fantasy. It was the end of whatever it was that I was on. I had to save myself. I just had to. "Well, take care...", I said casually trying to hide my disappointment. Right there, on the corner of gay and gay, two gay guys hugged and said their goodbyes. He planted a kiss on my cheek. On the fuckin' cheek!

I was the first one to pull away - so the gay dating manual advised. As I walked home alone - one entire block - I turned around and saw him walking. As if on cue, he turned around and looked my way. He smiled.

"Thank for you for meeting me up tonight. It was fun.I hope you get home safely", I texted him - the gay dating manual said to do that too.

A few minutes later, he texted me back.

"Just got home. I had a fun time too. I probably talked too much tonight. I hope I did not talk your ears off. Let's meet up again soon."

And that made me smile - and wonder... deep inside, I wondered if I should even bother asking:

"When?"

Sweet November (Part 2)

2011-11-03T14:33:00.001-04:00

Sweet November (Part 1)

They say love is a risk. Well, it is. That night, at that fateful restaurant, I took a risk and it scared the shit out of me. Well no shit, but still it scared me. I feared the possibility of rejection. But, I'm pretty sure I could handle that. I've had enough practice. Fuck my life. LOL. I guess what I am trying to say is that I fear acceptance more. Was I even ready for what was coming my way? Have I enjoyed myself enough to say that I am so done with other men? What if this one was indeed for real? I took a deep breath, smiled and accepted my fate.

"How are you?", I asked him after the hug. I could feel that my hands were cold. My voice was trembly. I was not my usual self. He said something back. I forgot what it was. Most likely, he said he was doing okay. It was a bad start - at least that's how the gay dating manual would rate it. After a few more exchanges, we were ushered to our table. It was a corner table at the farthest end of the restaurant - for two. Wow, it actually feels good to dine for two - for a change.

I took off my jacket when I got to my seat. He did the same. In my head, I was already planning what to say - and what to say after that. Fuck my life (again). I was too tense - he looked awfully relaxed. That sort of calmed me down. I tried to be zen. Zen. Zen. Zen. Why the hell do I have the nerves? What is so wrong with me?

He is a beautiful guy - dark blonde hair, bluish green eyes, chiselled nose. I looked at his teeth - they were really white. I wondered if he had bleached them before that night. It looked good. He was wearing a pair of medium wash jeans and a plaid long-sleeved shirt that had a bird logo - maybe an eagle, and old people shoes. LOL. I dunno.

There was a whole lot of small talk - food, hang out places, things we do weekends, friends, family, why we both love running on the treadmill instead of outside, our shared appreciation of lying on the couch Saturday mornings while surfing through HGTV and the Food Network and everything in between. No mentions of past and present dates, failed relationships, sexual activities, preferences, perversions and the likes.

The food arrived and we continued to chat - why veal is politically incorrect, the must see places in DC, and how we both cook weekends. Interesting conversations, really. But, I don't think that the night was entirely effortless - as is typical of first dates. I'm pretty sure he was working hard to make conversation - and I was too. Since it's pretty uncommon for me though to try so hard with conversations, I was beginning to think that I may have bombed that first date. Dinner. Whatever.

Pretty soon, our lady server came back and offered dessert. He looked at me for answers. At that point, I had my doubts - I was not quite sure how the date was progressing. I looked at him - he looked very tentative. I decided to skip dessert. He did too. The server left and came back with our check. I figured that whatever it was that we were on was over. Typical me, I guess - trying too hard...

"Do you know of a frozen yogurt place we can go to after this?"

I swear my eyes lit up. It was him - after dinner - asking for dessert.

to be continued...

Sweet November

2011-11-02T15:13:00.000-04:00

You know that awkward feeling one gets after going on a first date? I have me one of those - and it's well uhmm awkward.

***

I don't usually date. When I do, it's usually a date in disguise. It's actually sex. And when that is over, so is the date. Which brings me back to my first point, I don't usually date. But, recently, I finally did. I think it was a date - and yes, there was no sex on the first date. It was definitely a date. I think. Whatever.

I met him a few weeks ago. Well, he sort of found me in my more wholesome gay social network. He said he was attracted to the profile - no different from who I am except for better lighting, I guess. I thought he was kinda pale - but then again he's white so go figure. He was kinda cute - and somehow, a strange thing drew me closer to him. No, I was not horny. It was just something strange.

So we started chatting. Every so often, he'd send me a message. I'd then reply with something standard but flirtatiously cute. He'd laugh and that's it. I have my way with words, I guess. He was doomed. Little did I know that he was somewhat interested enough in me to actually ask me out. "We should meet for a drink.", so he said. Even his line was pretty commonplace. Coffee is tentative. A drink is playing it safe. Dinner is all about commitment. Dinner and dessert, well that's something. I had a drink.

We play with the cards we are given, right? So I said yes. Yes to a drink. Yes to meeting up. And yes to whatever comes my way. I never really thought it would happen. Our first attempt was a dud. He stood me up. One night, I was waiting for a message - and nothing. Needless to say, I brushed him off. He was probably just one of those guys. I moved on and fucked around. And that was it. No harm done.

The following day, he apologized for whatever it was that needed an apology. I could not care less. He said he'd make it up. After chatting and finally texting for another week or so, drinks became dinner. I picked the place. He wanted me to. I picked the time. He wanted me to. Then that was it. I barely messaged the guy before we met except to confirm the day before that we were indeed on for the following night. "Absolutely", was his simple response. There, it was a date - or dinner. Whatever it was, it was something more than a drink.

Since I have been stuck in the dating black hole, I decided to brush up on my skills. Google. I did as I read. I showered, shaved, put on something decent, brushed my teeth, practiced my smile, planned to arrive on time. I relearned the art of conversations, the topics I should avoid, the things I should encourage him to talk about, my table manners and stuff. Should I kiss on the first date? Or have sex? How to pay the bill? Where to go? What to do? These questions, I pondered on. After a couple of days of stressing, I was ready. In the process, I felt like a fool.

Armed with my perfect smile, I walked to the restaurant. I was exactly six minutes early. He arrived a full minute later. I saw him the moment he went through the door. He instantly recognized me. It was the restaurant's perfect lighting, I guess. I was prepared to shake his hand. Instead, I got a hug. Ooh a hugger! I was thrilled. My heart was beating through my chest. I could not believe I was actually nervous. This guy was giving me the nerves.

I think I like him.

to be continued...

My Southern Gentleman

2011-10-08T01:55:00.002-04:00

He started touching my leg. We were now on the freeway. I was still buckled up. He was too. It was the law. His right hand slowly moved up my crotch, feeling it. I suddenly became hard. All I could do was enjoy how it felt. It was electrifying.

"Hey, you better focus on the road...", I reminded him.

"It's okay, I can multitask.", he replied.

I laughed. He sure can. He already was - one hand on the steering wheel and the other on my crotch.

***

His name is Will. He was not the first boy I met in Nashville - where I was last week - but he was definitely one of the more persistent ones. He offered my ass a tour of the city. Yeah, it was my ass that he wanted to meet - I came in a close second. He had seen my be-hind picture in one of the gay sites I use. It was what I'd like to call, hardcore marketing.

Will is a white boy - a true blue bible southern gentleman in his early thirties. Green eyes, blonde hair, regular built - lean not muscular. He was for all intents and purposes a country boy - and I, I was a sucker for country boys as I would later find out. I felt a certain vibe when I read his message - he was right.

"Can I give you a tour of the city?', he asked.

I was hesitant. No local in their right mind would offer a tour of the city to a complete stranger without anything in exchange. I knew how it worked and I wanted to prepay for the service.

"Do you wanna hook up first before you give me a grand tour?", I asked.

He laughed.

"We can do that afterwards..."

In spite of the image he wanted to portray, I can sense his nerves. He was still very much a southern gentleman behind his bold moves - and yes, he did not know what he was in for when he invited me for a drink that night. It was going to be a wild ride.

***

He had been flirting with me the whole night. I flirted back. Somehow, I liked the boy I was with - even if I was never really fond of good boys.

"I really like you.", he whispered to my ear after an hour or so of picking me up from the hotel.

I brushed it off. It was either he was horny or he was buzzed. I guess it was both. After several cocktails, I had unleashed something in the southern gentleman that somehow felt familiar. There was a bad boy beneath his perfectly ironed shirt.

"If you only lived here, I would date you.", he said.

I almost choked on my vodka. Now, where have I heard that one before? I planted a kiss on his lips in the middle of a crowded bar.

"Date my ass...", I mumbled to myself.

But, Will turned out to be an interesting character. He and I conversed as if we had known each other for years - it was turning out to be a wonderful "date". I checked my watch and we were running a bit behind his bedtime - they sleep early down south. So I asked him to take me back to my hotel. We said our goodbyes to the bartender and we walked hand in hand back to the car. Much to my surprise, Will opened the car door for me. I almost fainted.

"Oh no, you did not just do that?!?", I exclaimed in disbelief.

He laughed.

"That's how we do it in the South...", so he explained.

Man, I felt like a woman.

***

"I bet you're hard...", I told Will.

He giggled. I can see the bulge on his tight pants getting bigger. I had managed to feel it earlier when we were in the bar. I had to check the goods - and man, this guy had it packing. He was not quite sure how to react when I pulled down his zipper. Yup, definitely there was a boner.

"You are turning me on...", he said as he continued to drive on the freeway.

"So have you ever...", I started asking the inevitable question.

I noticed he was getting really excited.

"Once, when I was really young...", he explained.

"Do you want to?", I wanted to tease him a little.

He was dying in anticipation of what was about to happen. I took his cock out of his pants. His was at least a seven and a half - white, cut, thick. Each stroke I did made him gasp.

"Oh man, you are driving me crazy...", Will exclaimed.

I smiled as I loosened my seat belt.

"Honey, THIS is crazy..."

***

From the outside, one would think that Will was just driving alone that night.

But, in fact, he was multitasking...

...and I, I was driving a stick.

SPAM

2011-09-29T00:43:00.003-04:00

Just when I thought I had already run out of things to write about (which by the way explains the long break from posting), I teared up.

***

It's bunso's birthday today - yeah, the same kid that I used to carry in my arms is now seventeen. One more year and he's legal. If you think about it, it's kinda disgusting that I still sleep with boys just a couple of years older than my youngest brother, no? But anyway, this is not about my boys. Trust me, it's not!

You see, there are very few things that can make me all melodramatic about living in the US by myself - and bunso's birthday is one of them. I have never missed a birthday since he was born - not until I moved here. I'm such a dad that way. This year, it would be the third year I would be away. I guess one never really gets used to being away from the family. Every year, it pinches just as much - and when it does, I would need a reminder as to why I am here. What is my purpose-driven life? Char.

But seriously, there are days when I would find myself wondering what my life would have been if I did not really move to the US. I had a really stable job in the Philippines, a vast network of friends, lovers and fuck buddies. I had family a couple of hours away whom I see every few weeks. Life was good to me. So why the hell did I move? I needed my flags? Char again.

Good thing there's SPAM. Yeah, the meat in the can - the quintessential Filipino balikbayan canned good. Every single time I see it in my pantry, it reminds me why I am here. When I moved here, I was able to do stuff for people back home - well, not really do stuff but more like buy. Yeah, proximity was replaced with currency. It's a sucky exchange but somehow, for families like us, it's a trade that needed to be done. In times of great depression, I think of SPAM.

***

Anyway, back to birthdays - I called home the other day to check if our roof was still intact after the storm. The plan was really to call the Philippines today, greet the brother and maybe do a little catch up. Stupid storm ruined my plans. After I spoke with Nanay and Tatay who told me that they actually saw me on the evening news - hint hint - I chatted briefly with bunso. I greeted bunso and told him to enjoy his birthday. He then thanked me for his gift.

Before we hung up, I asked him one more question.

"Gusto mo ng SPAM?"
(Would you like some SPAM?)

He laughed - and it felt like all of this (imagine me pointing at all the bullshit I have to deal with) is indeed worth it.

My Fabricated Fairy Tale

2011-09-06T00:36:00.004-04:00

I looked outside my window and I could tell the hurricane was almost in the city. I checked my watch and confirmed that it was just about the right time the weatherman had predicted. From where I was lying, I could see leaves and branches shaking. I could hear the wind howling. Rain was just starting to fall hard. It had already become dark outside. There was indeed a hurricane approaching.

As I continued to wonder why people in the city were so scared of a hurricanes, I found myself looking around my small studio apartment. I had the basics with me and sufficient food and drinks to get me through the storm. I had just eaten a late lunch and had taken a warm shower. I was half-covered by soft comforters and was watching anything and everything on TV. I had it all figured out. I could get through the hurricane.

I then heard my phone beep. A guy whom I had been with a few times wanted to come over and hang out. It was a booty call right smack in the middle of hurricane. I figured that it would be much more fun to go through the storm with someone else in the house. Besides, a guy on my bed would make for a very nice addition to my picture perfect hurricane setup. I asked him to come over. Sex, storm and maybe soup later in the night. It was perfect.

***

He smiled at me as he got out of his car. I met him up front. He had a few things with him - a bag and some more stuff. I wondered if he was gonna spend the night. I was not quite sure how I felt about that but later on I'd find out that he had wanted to take a shower at my place before anything else. It was really good planning on his part. The perfect storm was just about to start.

He stepped outside the shower with the white towel I had handed him earlier. He smelled good. He looked at me and smiled. We tried to break the ice - the few times he had been at my place, we barely talked anyway. It was what it was. After drying himself up, he laid on the bed with me. He had his boxers on. There was a movie on - James Bond, I think.

It took a while before anything happened. We just laid in bed, barely talking - waiting for someone to make the first move. Nobody did. I could not really care less - all I knew that a guy on my bed made for a nicer picture of how I would like to spend a stormy afternoon in the city. I was not really interested in sex that time - probably because that time, I just wanted company.

I looked at the boy beside me. He's very cocky - in more ways than one - but, he was really quite vulnerable. I noticed he started to move a little closer. I took a deep breath. He looked at me and with his broken Tagalog, he asked me how I was. That made me smile. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to drop my defenses. He smiled back, took my hand and wrapped it around his body.

The warmth of another human body was both familiar and strange for me. I realized that it has been such a long time since I had been that intimate with someone. I felt scared. I did not want to lose control. But, at the same time, a part of me wanted to experience it again - how it feels like to be locked in someone's embrace; to wake up with someone else on my bed - someone whose real name I know; how it feels to be vulnerable; how it feels to be safe in someone's arms; how it feels like to be loved.

I eventually gave in. For a few precious hours, I allowed myself to live in a fairy tale. I tried to forget how fabricated the whole experience was. There was a hurricane outside my window - the winds were howling, the rain was falling, and it was dark - and I, I was locked in a tight embrace with the boy on my bed. It could have been love. It was definitely a fairy tale.

And, it had a very happy ending.

***

I got off the bed and went straight to the bathroom to clean up. I dried myself up and wrapped myself with a towel. My boy had just finished wiping himself off too. I looked at him and smiled. He laid in bed exhausted - like he always did. I took a seat at the edge of the bed.

There was no more hugging or all that intimacy shit. I just wanted to make soup to enjoy on a cold stormy night and then curl up underneath my sheets. I wanted to watch TV until I fall asleep. I wanted to wake up in the morning not wanting to worry how my breath smells like; how puffy my face looks or what I should serve for breakfast. I just wanted to be left alone in bed and enjoy the rest of the night. Alone.

I was in the middle of my thoughts when I saw our reflections on the window. I smiled as I gently shook my head. The boy had somehow fallen asleep. I was still on the edge of the bed looking annoyed. I just wanted to kick him out of my bed. Haha. It was, at that point, that I was able to confirm one thing: my fabricated fairy tale was so over.

Rock My World

2011-08-23T21:53:00.004-04:00

My world was shaken this afternoon. The US East Coast - and, of course, Washington, DC - was rocked by a magnitude 5.9 earthquake - right smack in the middle of a work day. It was, to some people, impeccable timing. For me, I was busy and I had to stop working. Really bad timing.

So there I was typing away stuff. I was making sure that my performance evaluation this year would glow. In fact, it had to be blinding - so much so that the bosses that are meant to read it will be so blinded by my greatness and finally give me a major major promotion. Yes, that was me channeling Venus Raj.

It started as a loud thump on the ceiling. Or so I thought. Then the thumping became louder. I stopped for a moment and wondered if people were having sex on the higher floor - then I remembered it was an office floor. Then it sounded like a big girl was running above my office. Yeah, a really big girl. She was black. At least that was how I imagined it to be. But that was just me being crazy. Of course, it was not a big girl.

I looked at my computer and clicked on save. I knew it was an earthquake. I'm Filipino - and I know earthquakes but I need that promotion and no ground shaking can stop me from getting that. I logged off. I heard people get out of their offices. They were all confused and did not know what was happening. How could they, earthquakes are a rare occurrence in DC. Almost never.

I saw the office sway. It felt like I was drunk - really drunk. I remembered my drills. I looked at my desk. I ducked under my desk. It looked sturdy enough. I then reached for my bag where my lunch was - uneaten at almost two in the afternoon. Yes, I was that busy. If I were to get trapped underneath my desk, I'd at least have lunch - and yes, a fabulous performance evaluation. I was so proud of myself.

The world stopped shaking. People in the office were obviously, uhmm... shaken? I found myself making my way down several flights of stairs with a few panicky women - most of whom have not experienced an earthquake in their entire lives. Compared to all of them, I was a pro at hiding underneath office desks. Pacific Ring of Fire Training - or so I'd tell all of them eventually. In the meantime, I had to calm them down.

I told everyone it was probably a six-er. They all looked at me funny. Official news came and confirmed it was 5.9. I missed it by a hair. Darn it. I looked around. People were on their phones - calling, texting. I reached for my phone and sent my first post-earthquake tweet which read: "Oh shit, an earthquake...". I did not know what to say. I then sent a message home to my Nanay (mom) who was definitely asleep. I told her I was fine - just in case she was worried while she slept.

As I look more closely at the people around me, it finally hit me. Everyone had someone to call. Everyone but me. Such is my life - it can be sad sometimes. Just when I was about to wallow in self-pity, amidst the crazy that was happening around me, while on the streets of Washington DC, my phone beeped. My first message.

"Are you ok there?", the message read.

I could not help but smile. It was from a boy I once, uhmm... loved.

"Thanks, I'm fine.", I casually replied.

But, what I really wanted to say was:

"I'm happy you remembered."

Birds of Paradise (Part 2)

2011-08-13T13:28:00.003-04:00

Birds of Paradise (Part 1)

Something had taken over me. I was really horny and I could not care less about the world around me. All I know was before me was a tattooed Latino whose dick was in my hand. It was warm to the touch. I found myself seated in a cube next to the two white guys making out. The Latino took a step closer to make sure his cock was in front of my face. I decided to let go completely.

I felt his cock slowly slide into my mouth. He filled me up and I was just barely halfway. I can feel his balls hitting my chin. I sucked on his dick gently at first while making sure my tongue felt every single inch of his flesh. I heard him let out a faint moan. I sucked on it harder as it made its way in and out of my mouth. I felt powerful.

I felt him push harder. My gag reflex started to kick in - but I knew how to control it. He liked hearing me squirm with every push. The smell of his crotch on my face only made me feel more horny. I felt his hand on going down my crotch. I let out a faint moan when he started playing with my cock. I sucked him harder.

The steam became totally unbearable. I stopped what I was doing and stood up. I shook my head to tell him that I can't do it anymore - not in the steam room. I took my towel and wrapped it again on my waist. He understood. The Latino planted a kiss on my lips - his tongue was in my mouth and it felt good. He then whispered ever so softly in my ear.

"Let's go to my room..."

I had made it to the first cut. The audition was a success. I knew that being asked to go back to the room was something every guy in the steam room was aiming for - only because it meant that it would be uninhibited sex. I watched him wrap himself up with his towel. You can actually see how big his cock was underneath the towel. I knew I did a good job.

He opened the door to his room. I stepped in first. He followed me in. It was a small room - just enough for half-a-bed and a space for someone else. In front of the bed was a wall of mirror. I must admit, I have enjoyed checking myself out on the mirror while getting fucked. I'm perverted that way. He did not fully close the door. The lights were on.

I found myself on my knees sucking him off. I took my time admiring his big tool -how it curved slightly upward; how it's uncut yet it still looks cut; how his balls were perfectly imbalanced; how his pubes were trimmed so close to the skin; how he smelled. I felt so horny, I started touching myself. I felt his hand make its way to my hole. I gasped as he pushed a finger in.

I knew he could not control himself when he asked me to stop sucking. I stood up. His face was now directly on my crotch. He looked at me before he slowly took me in. This guy had a mouth so warm that I let out a moan as soon as he started working on me. Maybe it was his tongue on my balls or maybe it was his fingers in my ass but somehow I felt that I could no longer control my desires.

"Fuck me.", I finally said.

He looked at me, my cock on his mouth, and winked.

to be continued...

Birds of Paradise

2011-07-29T16:44:00.000-04:00

The small window opened. The guy behind it asked for my ID. I smiled and handed it over. I heard the usual buzz. The door was unlocked. I stepped inside. The guy looked at me, smiled and asked if I wanted a a day pass or a one-month membership. I had my response ready. I know how things worked now.

"One month please... plus a locker and flipflops."

Then I smiled.

"That's thirty seven dollars... check out at 2:00 AM"

I handed him my card. I had six hours to do whatever I please. Six hours of raunchy uber casual stranger sex. The guy buzzed me in again - this time through the second door. He then handed me my keys, a towel, flipflops and a couple of packs of condoms. I helped myself to the lube packs.

"Enjoy...", he said after I thanked him.

I was not quite sure about that. But, I will try.

***

I did not want to get a room because I was not quite sure if I wanted to stay long. I was just hoping to get off and then go - and yes, I had to pay thirty seven dollars for that. Such is life when you're single and do not want the complications. I find that even Grindr gets complicated -and websites too. A lot of back and forth and then I'd have to do stuff before a hook up - like clean my house. It's just too much work plus, of course, I'd have to entertain then and make them feel wanted. What if it turns out that I did not want them? See? My brain complicates casual sex these days - and so I sought refuge with the familiar. I went back to THE bathhouse.

I found my locker and quickly undressed. I saw a couple of guys checking me out as soon as I came in. They watched me undress. I felt objectified. I did not really care. Since I had just taken a shower before coming over, I decided to check out the steam room as soon as I wrapped the white towel around my waist. The place still looked the same - the people were different. I walked around and saw at least eight people hanging around. There were guys tucked in between cubes, seated, obviously waiting for a guy to dangle his cock on their faces. A few of them were walking around - looking for that hungry mouth. Yes, it was one or the other.

As I did not know what I was into that day, I decided to walk around and check the guys. There was an older white guy seated by the corner. There was a tattoed Latino standing near the door. I could tell he was hung. I saw a black guy quietly jerking himself off in another spot. A few white guys were walking around. There was another Asian guy. After I had checked the whole place out, I decided to stop and stand by the door - near the tattoed Latino who was watching a couple of white guys do each other. He looked at me and smiled.

I smiled back. I decided to approach the guy. He was hard. He unwrapped himself and it was then when I saw what was hiding behind his white towel - a seven inch dick, I was not able to control myself. I looked at the guy and he was ready to be played with. I grabbed his thing and played with it. It felt good to the touch. It was warm and firm enough. I jerked it for a while. I saw him close his eyes. I felt his left hand feel my ass up. He was getting horny watching the two white guys make out. One was sucking the other.

Maybe it was the steam or maybe it was the the sound of the white guy moaning that got to me. Perhaps it was the feel of some other guy's cock on my hand. I felt a sudden rush of heat through my body. For a moment, I felt that I could just let go. I looked at the Latino's face, he was enjoying every second of what was happening. He signalled me to take a seat and service him. He was really hard.

And I, I was so horny.

to be continued...

Seriously?

2011-07-27T00:07:00.003-04:00

I just finished watching PNoy's 2011 State of the Nation Address and I can't help but feel impressed - enough to actually write about it. Beyond the bits and pieces of political gimmickry, I find this is as one of the most positive speeches ever delivered in Congress, to date. It also focused on what I consider as the most pressing problem in the Philippines, corruption.

I hate corruption - I believe that people should actually work hard for things that they get - unless, of course, they are Paris Hilton or Kim Kardashian who can get by for being famous. The sad thing is, corruption is everywhere in the Philippines. It has even become part of our culture - much like Filipino time. And now, for the first time, I felt that there is finally chance for change.

PNoy presented his story - how corruption has been curbed on certain levels; how audits are being done more regularly; how the system works to make it more difficult for these things to happen; and how his government will continue to work on controlling leakages on government resources. I have never heard a President talk about corruption as much as he did. One billion pesos spent for coffee in PAGCOR, really?

I do not feel sorry for the government officials who find it more difficult to corrupt the government's money. I do not feel bad for people in GOCCs (government owned and controlled corporations) whose income had been reduced dramatically. I laugh at the thought of politicians losing a good part of their "salaries" earned through automatic cuts on government spending. I wonder how corrupt police officers cope these days. While I do realize that these things still persist, I am just happy that the system now makes it more difficult for them to do their business as usual and that the discussion is out in the open.

Where is this disgust coming from? I once worked for government. Four long years. I did not take a glamorous Makati job after college. Instead, I worked for one of the most "masa" agency around QC Circle. Eventually, I moved to Commonwealth to smell Payatas every single effin day. I worked my ass off for public service - and yes, just like everyone else, I got taxed. Big time. What the hell are my taxes paying for? Oh yeah right, the Arroyo's pension fund. Ugh.

I witnessed first hand how things worked. I was offered bribes several times - in exchange for information. I was too idealistic to even consider accepting it. I learned how money travels through the system. I even saw how resources were diverted to a certain province during election. It was money being corrupted - and I was far too junior to even do anything. I was helpless. I promised myself that I'd help out when I can. Now, where I am at, I am well-placed.

When I moved to the US, I can't help but feel apologetic when my colleagues talk about the Philippines. Our reputation internationally had been tainted by countless of years of corrupt governments. Gloria was always referred to as "that corrupt Philippine President" and the Philippines was that corrupt country in Asia. It was embarrassing, really. I usually find myself silent and not being able to say anything to correct their impression. Until recently.

When PNoy took office, it became a little easier to be proud. Cory was well-known and was, at least internationally, the least corrupt Philippine President in recent time. Having her son take office was something good. PNoy is not the perfect President. He has his flaws. But, as long as he has his heart in the right place, his morals intact, he continues to fight make the system less conducive for corrupt people, and he finally does something about that wretched international airport, he can be a good one.

Consider this post a break from the usual - a glimpse of my real world.

Adam4Adam

2011-07-22T01:07:00.002-04:00

The room reeked of sex. The sheets were wet with sweat. He laid beside me trying to catch his breath. He leaned over, looked at me and planted a kiss on my cheek.

"That was fun, Tristan.", he whispered to my ear.

I looked at him and smiled.

***

I went straight home from work today. It's been hot and muggy on this side of the world and I did not want to stay out. Heat and humidity always get to me. Instead, I decided to while away time watching TV as I prepared dinner. After eating, I decided to turn on my laptop and check my sites. Three new messages on Adam4Adam since I last checked earlier in the day - one from an older white guy, another from a 28-year old jock and the last one was from Adam - a white guy in his early thirties who just wanted to fuck. It was already a little past eleven.

"Hey man, you horny?", his message read.

I clicked on his pictures. He was okay. I preferred the jock. But, he was offline. This guy was online. I thought about my options before I sent a reply. I was not really horny. I was just hot.

"Yes. What are you into?", I finally asked.

"I wanna top."

"Of course you do...", I said to myself.

I checked his pictures one more time. His dick looked nice. Thick and, based on my guesstimate, a seven. It's been a while since I last got laid so I decided to go for it.

"So how do we do this?", I asked.

"I can host. But, I prefer to travel.", was his brief response.

I replied with three things - my name, my address and a phone number. A few minutes later, I received a message.

"I am on my way."

It was Adam.

***

I met him outside. We chatted a bit as we entered my apartment building. He was sweating. It was that hot outside. He noticed I had porn playing on my laptop. He smiled. I told him I was just getting ready.

He kissed me on the lips. He had thin soft lips - his breath was fresh. I kissed him back. I played with his tongue. He played me back. I felt his hand move down to my crotch. I was hard. I felt him up too. He was hard. I felt a big cock underneath his trousers. I knew I had made the right decision.

He pulled away. He then slowly took off my shirt. He then unzipped my shorts. He told me sit on my red couch. I saw him kneel.

"Oh.", I gasped.

He took off my underwear before he took off his shirt. I was butt naked on my couch with a hard on. Adam went down on me. I felt his warm mouth playing with my thing. It felt familiar - yeah, just like the many guys before him - I have gotten so used to the feeling that it did not really feel special. But, I wanted to enjoy it. I decided to let go.

He loved my balls. That part, I enjoyed. He then went down. With every lick, he'd go lower. Until he reached the place. I let out a fake moan. Yeah, I'm bored with rimming too. It's just wet and warm. But, I had to play the part. He was good. No, he was really good. I, I was just bored.

"I have condoms, do you have lube?", he asked.

I pointed towards the fishbowl beside my bed. It was a fishbowl of condoms and lubes. I stood up and handed him a pack. He tore the packet and wrapped himself up. He then reached for the lube and helped himself. I watched him intently. It was kinda hot.

***

"Take it slow...", I said to him.

It always hurts - and he is big. I suggested that he takes me from behind. It was more comfortable that way - and I did not have to worry about how I looked while getting fucked. I can let go a little, I thought. He worked me up again before he started pushing it in. It did hurt, as I expected. I knew it would.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?", he asked.

"No, it's cool. Just take it slow.", I replied.

And he did. Inch by inch, he went in. I ordered my inner thighs to relax. Pretty soon, he was thrusting, pushing it all in. With every push, I gasped for air. I did not know if it hurt or I was enjoying what he was doing. It was a good mix of pain and pleasure.

Inside me was Adam. Adam was inside an Adam.

That was really hot.

***

My sheets were soaked in sweat. Adam came on his tummy. I came on his chest before I laid down beside him. He wanted it that way. I reached for the tissue box and wiped him off. He seemed to have enjoyed the ride. He leaned to his side and planted a kiss on my cheek.

"That was fun, Tristan.", he whispered.

The look on his face told me he was not lying. He really did enjoy the ride.

I looked at him and smiled. He was a good lay and I was lucky.

Too bad, I needed something more.

And it was not casual sex.

Auf Wiedersehen

2011-07-20T12:35:00.001-04:00

He had been asking me to meet him up for a couple of weeks now. Two weeks ago, I was extremely busy. Last week, I was away on vacation. So when I finally got back to work and he saw me online on the office server, he sent me a message and invited to me to lunch. He said he wanted to catch up. I gladly agreed.

I was three minutes early. He was on time. He was his usual smiley self. I got off from the chair and stood up. He shook my hand. I looked at him closely. He had lost weight. Then I saw what he was wearing. I cringed.

"White pants? Really?!?", I said.

He laughed.

"So what's wrong with my pants?", he asked.

"Well, it's white and I don't see the beach anywhere. Second, it has pleats."

He shook his head, a little embarrassed.

"Well, you should have told me that before I shelled out 200 dollars for this pair!", he explained.

We laughed.

"So how are you, sexy?", he asked.

"I am hungry. Let's go get something to eat."

We found ourselves a comfy, semi-private spot in the cafeteria. It had to be semi-private only - if people could only hear our conversations, they'd probably die. Besides, I am still trying to be very discreet about my private affairs while at work.

"So what's new with you?", he asked.

"Nothing new really except for the fact that I am now a dinosaur.", I explained.

True. Ever since I hit thirty, I felt old-er. I felt that my urges have waned. I am no longer the same person. My priorities have also changed and I find myself less of a party animal. Tristan is now a dinosaur. Of course, my German boyful found it absurd. He was at least ten years older than I am anyway and he was always hungry for fresh meat - fresh Asian meat for that matter. In fact, that was how we started - a winter snow storm and our mutual need for body heat. We later on decided to just become close friends - this, after I realized that he was not really my type and he figured that he cannot control me with money (or sex).

"Well, I have news..."

I laid my chopsticks on the table - I was eating Japanese by the way - and waited for his news.

"I'm leaving the office."

I was silent. He and I had been talking about this for at least a year now but I did not really take him seriously. He was, clearly, serious.

"And the best part is...",

"Oh no, you won't....", I cut him short.

He laughed. He did.

"I am moving to the Philippines."

I shook my head in disbelief. It was a mix of emotions - I felt envious, worried, saddened, excited, happy all at the same time. Then he started telling me about his plans - when the transition will take place, what will happen to his apartment, his stuff, where he will live, what he will do. We discussed his options - Filipino boys and all. I begged him not to be "a dirty older white man in the Philippines". Apparently, that was his plan. I wanted to slap him.

"I'm gonna miss you when you leave.", I finally said it.

He looked at me and smiled.

"I'm gonna miss you too but, technically, this is all your fault...", he said.

I raised my brows.

"And why is that?", I asked.

"Well, you showed me how good Filipinos are in bed... and you were right."

I laughed.

"You're stupid!!! But, I'll take that as a compliment."

Facebook Dilemma

2011-07-05T01:04:00.003-04:00

I am sure you guys have Facebook. I have one - no actually, I have two. Friends and family are in my regular account. Most blog readers, on Tristan's account. Or Twitter.

I am also pretty sure that you guys have faced the typical Facebook dilemma - to add or not to add.

Well, that is the question.

***

A few days ago, a really good friend from way back chatted me up. To my surprise, she told me that she had given birth a few months earlier. I was so surprised. I sort of expected that we'd remain in touch. We were that close. A few minutes into our conversation, she then asked if I had Facebook. I gave her an email address to add. Then I received a request. I quickly approved it. I was actually quite excited to reconnect so I decided to check her account. I browsed through her page - nothing - there were just five random pictures and her email address. I felt a bit disappointed.

I asked her why I could not see anything on her page. No wall posts. No comments. No nothing. She said that was just the way it was. She had, apparently, set out a privacy setting which did not allow me in. She, on the other hand, as a friend whom I added, had access to most of the things I felt comfortable sharing with people I consider my friends. I honestly felt cheated. A few minutes later, I changed my settings so she can also see everything but my email address when she views my page. A manos.

***

I remember asking someone not too long ago for access to his account. I just felt it was important for me to get to know him as much as possible. Requesting access was always better than stalking someone, right? Besides, if you were to be serious with someone (and I assume that we were), I felt that being connected on Facebook was justified. At least that was how I saw it.

That request never got accepted. We never became connected on Facebook. We were connected everywhere else. Trust me, everywhere else. He explained that his account was just for friends and family and that I, I belong to a different category.

"Ibang level kayo...", so he explained.
(People like you are of a different level...)

Yeah right.... I knew I should not have taken it personally. But, I did. It was very personal. For a few hours, I felt like shit. I tried to find reason in the explanation. His friends get on his Facebook. Relationship prospects (and, at that time, even the current flame - yeah, sue me) are not allowed in. I asked myself if I would have done the same thing if the situation had been reversed. I knew I would have added anyone up if I were trying to establish a relationship with them. But, then I guess not everybody thinks like me. I cancelled the request as an act of maturity. It was what it was.

In the end, whatever it was that we had ended in flames. A few months later, he added a few of my friends (whom, I assume, he barely knows and who barely knows him) to his personal account. Asshole.

***

I guess what really bothers me is that it seems that a person's "value" has been reduced to how much information he has access to in your Facebook account. This is sad. No, this is really sad. While I appreciate the value of privacy and a person's right to choose who sees what online, I am still at a loss.

I guess this is just me valuing people differently. Or maybe I just expect too much of people whom I consider my friends - and this makes me want to reevaluate who the important people in my life are. I don't think these two will make it on that list anytime soon.

Ugh, I hate that I aced GMRC (Good Manners and Right Conduct) back in the day. I hate it.

What do you guys think? How do you guys do it? Do you differentiate between friends and acquaintances online? Do you have different accounts or do you provide different access levels? Is this even necessary?

From Benjamin V. Bottom, With Love

2011-07-04T03:09:00.001-04:00

I first met him over Christmas - I guess it was Christmas-time. I rememeber I was on an extended vacation leave then - or maybe it was New Year? Not quite sure now so he would just have to fill this in. Oh my God, I'm ancient. Anyway, the more important part of the story is that we met. He got to know me and I, I got a glimpse of his world.

He told me that he only had a couple of hours before his return flight. He had just spent a few days in Manila - probably canoodling with his then lover. Haha. He was one of the first few people I found interesting enough to read online. I recall asking him where he bought these lamps - something I wanted to gift to my friends. He'd later tell me that he'd just give me one. He barely knew me then. I thought he was crazy. Haha.

Anyway, he told me he was at the mall doing some last minute shopping. I really wanted to meet him up - I was very much intrigued by this guy. He was very mysterious. I quickly took a shower, got dressed and boarded a cab. A few minutes later, we finally shook hands. It was awkward at first - the boy was wearing the skinniest jeans I have ever seen. He was that skinny. I wanted to strangle him. We found ourselves talking over a very late lunch. Did he pay for lunch? I was not quite sure. But, I remember he volunteered to carry the trays.

We sat across each other at Sbarro. I forgot what I had - maybe Ziti with a meatball. I think he ordered the macaroni salad - hmmm... not sure. I focused my energies on the pasta before me and eventually on the guy sitting across the table. I noticed he smiled a lot. No, he giggled. Yes, he did. Teeny bopper giggles. Haha. Then I saw donuts. Yes, he loved donuts. Even back then. Glazed Krispy Kremes (or were they Hotloops? Haha). Damn memory.

After lunch and in between puffs of cigarettes, we talked about life, love and lamps(?). I got to know him quite well considering the time constraint. He exuded positive energy and it was quite refreshing. But, he was extremely cautious - borderline mysterious. He was a tough nut to crack. At the end of the day, I never really got to know exactly what he was thinking at that time - until I read this post.

Apparently, I am Benjamin V. Bottom.

***

To my dear friend The Closet Geek, we may be separated by oceans; our timezones may forever be reversed; and we (I) may not be able to recover from our most recent and quite shocking hotel incident - but, I am really thankful for your friendship.

Keep on giggling through life. You are golden.

Happy birthday!

Cheers, T

P.S. Scotch on the rocks, right?

Bus Ride

2011-06-20T01:13:00.001-04:00

Have you ever felt invisible? Have you ever disappeared into a crowd? Have there been days when you actually felt that the world may not even notice that you are gone?

I have. Surprising, isn't it? But, I really have. Tonight is even one of those nights. In fact, in the last couple of years and except for a handful of occasions, I have somehow managed to be invisible - and I thought I was over that in high school.

As many of you know, I now live by myself in the US. I have a handful of really close friends around - they keep me sane and I love them for that. But, it's different. Yes, I do know a few more people from work but they're just that - people from work. I also recognize a handful more from the places I frequent like the gym, the clubs, the supermarket. But, I do not know them - and they do not know me.

I never really felt this way back when I used to live in Manila. I guess I was close enough to friends and family that I never really get the chance to be alone. In the extremely rare times that I did feel by myself, I'd ride a bus going home. A few hours at home - familiar faces, home-cooked meals, family quality time - usually does the trick. I'd almost always feel better afterwards.

Back in the day, my phone would almost always ring within an hour of the last call. Text messages never stop coming my way too. There's always a flurry of stuff going on at any given time. No matter what time of the day (or night), I know I could almost always count on someone to answer the phone, send a reply or actually meet me for coffee (or more!). I almost never felt alone. Those days have long been gone.

When I moved to the US two years ago, things have never been more different. I was friendless for several months. Almost all my relationships have become online - even love. My phone just became a device I use to surf the net when I'm mobile. Sometimes, I'd get a few messages - I am lucky if it's not an SMS blast from some telemarketing firm. In a month, I guess it would ring ten times, at best and usually weekends.

For someone who's always connected 24/7, I have never felt more disconnected.

***

I was just about ready to sleep when I decided to write this post. I had planned to let it out online else I'd end up tossing and turning the whole night. There was supposed to be a totally different ending for this post. It was actually very "Britney/My Loneliness Is Killing Me" type of ending.

But, just as I was about to write the closing paragraph, I saw an update on our family's private Facebook group. Someone posted a picture of all my brothers and sisters - apparently, they all went to Enchanted Kingdom over the weekend. They all seemed happy.

Looking at their picture made me smile. I felt a couple of tears roll down my cheeks. Somehow, that made me feel better. I then whispered a silent prayer thanking the heavens for intervening on an otherwise lonely night. It was both funny and amazing how perfect their timing was. The picture they posted was the virtual equivalent of my bus ride home. Albeit for a virtual moment, I felt I was home.

Life is good again.

A Different Kind of Normal

2011-06-13T21:52:00.001-04:00

I had a weird feeling when I woke up this morning. As soon as I opened my eyes, I reached for my phone and checked my messages. I then went to take a leak, gargle and then put on my contacts. I looked outside my window - the sun was already up.

I turned on the TV. Good Morning America was on. I've gotten used to watching American shows. It has become a habit. I went to the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker. I use a single serve coffee pod machine. After a while, I made toast, scrambled some eggs and reached out for leftover whatever in the ref. I saw a yogurt cup. Perfect.

The coffee smelled nice. I took a sip. As I was eating breakfast, I still felt restless. Something's off. There's something I've been forgetting. I decided to get ready for work. It was gonna be a long day at work. It was a Monday. I got in the tub and turned on the shower. I dried myself off. Brushed my teeth, flossed, gargled, moisturized, deodorized, and looked at my face in the mirror. Yes, it takes me forever to get ready, promise. I then decided to get dressed.

I decided to go for summer casual. Khaki pants. Plaid shirt. Brown shoes. A simple white watch. It was supposed to be cooler outside. I reached for my 212. This was gonna be perfect. I smelled nice. I then packed my lunch. Yes, I bring lunch to work - somehow it makes sense. I also threw in a yogurt cup and a banana. I got everything I needed. It was time to go to work.

I walk thirty minutes to get to work. Everyday. I popped in my headphones and streamed Justin Bieber on Pandora. I tend to walk at a slower pace than the rest of the world. I just like looking at things. I check out the people rushing. I look at what they wear. I try to see what was different with the world on any given day. It helps break the monotony.

I then heard a beep. One of my fan boys. He sent a morning greeting. It was, of course, past eight in the evening in Manila. That made me smile. At least somebody cared. I then played a word on "Words with Friends" with a friend from Singapore. I also squeezed in a morning greeting to another fan boy in Texas and a quick exchange with a friend who recently got a job at ADB.

I showed my ID to the guard, had my stuff go through the X-rays before I stepped through the metal detector. Of course, I did not set it off. I took the first lift that opened up and hit the number of my floor. After two more security doors, I finally was able to put down my bag. I looked around my office, nothing's changed since I left for home last Thursday. It's still a mess.

I turned on my computer, put in my password. After a while, I logged on to my email. A notification popped up. It said I had missed an alarm. For a moment, I wondered what I had missed. Did I have a meeting scheduled earlier than nine? I clicked on the pop up. There it was - right in front of my face - the reason why I felt so restless. I knew I had forgotten something. This was it.

"Happy Anniversary, Tristan!"

Two years ago, I left the Philippines to take on a job in the US.

Life has been a little bit different since.

NSFW: Capital Pride 2012

2011-06-12T12:00:00.002-04:00

It's June. Pride month. Below are some pictures I took with my phone during the parade while screaming, drinking and waving the rainbow ribbons I got from a pre-parade Pride party. The full album can be viewed on my Facebook page, "Tristan Tales". Just follow the link above or just search for "Tristan Tales" on Facebook. Don't forget to "Like".

These are the boys of the local stripped (yes, past tense!) club, Ziegfeld's and Secrets. That small Asian guy has a really big cock, promise - and he's so charming up close.

PETA's Eat Me campaign. Convince me more.

I was so drunk that I was not able to get my camera in time for these boys. I hate myself. Haha.

I like my leather boy. What do you think?

Look closer. That bitch is completely naked - and yes, I was told that she's really a she.

Even dogs are openly gay! Dog Pride!!!

You gotta love, PFLAG (Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays), right?

I forgot why he was doing that. Blame my a-a-a-a-alcohol but his booty is so nice in that gold trunk! Those are my gay ribbons, by the way. Hehe.

That boy's just hot. I just had to take the shot.

I'm loving the headgear!

I melted when this boy smiled for me. Love, love, love!

The local drag performer but I was really trying to take a picture of that boy next to her.

The DC Cowboys! Yeeeehaaaaaaaa!!!

RuPaul Drag Race's Alexis Mateo. I was so starstrucked! She's so pretty.

The Latin float! I want that for Halloween!

Yes, he's not wearing anything. Zoom in. His dick has a ring on it. Beyonce's gonna be so happy.

That's all for now, folks! Happy Pride!

Bam Bam

2011-06-09T14:15:00.004-04:00

How do I begin to tell our story?

There's just a lot of things to say, really.

Like the day I finally met you. I had just finished with some boy when you sent me a message. I was already so weak - and starving. You were so surprised when I came up to you and introduced myself. You were probably even more surprised to see me - and not the guy you had probably envisioned me to be. I looked at you and I sensed your nerves. I tried to make you feel as comfortable as I could. I begged you to join me for lunch - a really really late lunch. It was already past five.

How do I tell people that you almost never looked me in the eyes over lunch. That you probably thought that I was crazy for behaving like an old friend rather than a new acquaintance. I had an idea of who you were and who you have become but I did not know you. I watched as you carefully removed pieces of vegetables on your plate. We had lunch for over an hour - you and me in a dingy chicken place somewhere in the Metro. I felt comfortable around you. It felt like I have known you for a long time.

I wish I could even begin to describe how you looked sitting on my bed. You looked awkward. But, I can tell that you wanted to be there, with me. Somehow, I felt that you wanted to find out for yourself if I, Tristan, is for real in bed. I could tell you were nervous when I kissed you on the lips. The moment our lips touched, you closed your eyes. The taste of your mouth was different - a mix of cigarette smoke and chicken. Or maybe it was mine. I did not mind. You kissed like a girl. It was different. Different but nice.

When I lifted your shirt, you tried to stop me. I knew you had issues. I could tell. When I licked your nip, you moaned. After a while, you decided to let it all go. You allowed me to do whatever I wanted. I thought it was sexy. I slipped my hands in your jeans. Those jeans were tight - and your belt - geez, please don't get me started on that belt - was just freakishly impossible to loosen. You looked at me and smiled. You loosened the belt yourself. You were hard. Really hard.

You covered your eyes as I pulled down your underwear. I played with you like I had played everyone before you. Every single touch, you'd twitch. I heard you gasp for air when I took you in my mouth. I felt the muscles in your legs tighten. Your toes curled in your socks. There were moans and deep breaths as I continued to go down on you. When I licked your balls, you had goosebumps and tried to push my head away. As I went down even further, you stopped me. I looked at you and saw you looking at me. I held your stick and licked its head. You shook your head and smiled before you eventually closed your eyes again.

There was shock on your face when I reached for the rubber on my desk. You had told me over lunch how you've barely done the deed. I smiled at you before I pulled down my brief. I promised to teach you a few tricks. I sensed nervous excitement in your face as I lubed you up. I got you ready to fill me up. I was scared. I have always found it scary to sleep with people who read me. I am afraid to disappoint.

You humped like a rabbit - bam-bam-bam-bam! The signs of a newbie, I said to myself. I taught you the basic rhythm. Up down up down rotate. Basic. You learned quickly. I felt more at ease. After a few more changes - four, if I remember it correctly, and you were done. One big creamy blast. Did you come in me?

We cuddled. At least I did - for a while. I found my head nestled on your arm - my arm wrapped across your chest. I felt safe with you. You looked at me like I was crazy. After a while you placed your other hand around me. At one point, you played with my hair.

"I did not know you cuddle?", you finally asked.

"Well... I do.", I cautiously replied.

The world may never know what happened in the days and nights that followed. I guess, I'll keep those a secret - unless, of course, you don't want me to. Haha.

Welcome to my world, Bam-Bam-Bam-Bam!