No. 18 | Kissing Boys

Come February, following a year of having casual sex, dating three guys in two days, and exclusively dating one for six months, I couldn’t help but wonder how, two weeks before Valentine’s Day, I was single and dateless. Truthfully, I knew the answer, and it was pretty obvious—I was single and dateless two weeks before Valentine’s because I broke up with Walt, who had promised that he’d take me out on Valentine’s Day, what would have been my first one with a guy, when we were still happy and had each other in our futures. But our breakup isn’t what this is about. This is about Cody.

Continue reading

No. 17 | Shortcomings

There are some things about my past that keep me in there, and they’re mostly mistakes that have consequences that I need to face. One of those consequences sent me back to my hometown, which is so small that I have more fingers on one hand than I have decent guys to date. It’s been difficult, especially since I’m trying to find a real boyfriend in the only way I can (online, duh), and Tinder doesn’t even work in my parents’ house. The nearest guy on Growlr is a 30-minute drive away, and the guys on Grindr are not only pickier than the ones in Manila, they’re uglier, too.

Continue reading

No. 16 | Hello Again

Hello, it’s me again, the closeted gay guy from the Philippines who tries to live a gay life from the closet. I’ve been gone for a while because things didn’t turn out so well with me and Walt, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t come up with a better explanation for it. Truthfully, I can’t find the right words to correctly explain how hurt I am, especially since finding out three months after our break-up that he was cheating on me the whole time we were together. Silly rabbit, now I’ve said too much.

Continue reading

No. 15 | Tick-tock

“Time is a funny thing. A decade can flash by in an uneventful second, and then, in just two years, monumental things can happen… things you couldn’t imagine happening in a million years.” – Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City 2

I don’t think time is a funny thing at all; I feel enslaved by it. Two years guilted me out of going for whatever might have made me happy. 48 days made me regret letting go of a six-month fling, despite its toxicity. 20 years (21 in February) made me rush myself into a relationship that obviously imploded; it also made me unsure of how I feel about being single.

Continue reading

One for the Road

As the year comes to a close, it’s always nice to look back and reflect on what had been. I’m definitely not the same person as I was at the start of 2016, both for good and for bad reasons, but the same reasons have allowed me to grow.

Whether or not I am to be believed, I was optimistic at the start of the year, and I had every reason to be: I still had a valid excuse to be on vacation until June; I had a weekend abroad planned; I had a handful of opportunities waiting to be grabbed. But a few days in, the overwhelming weight of reality set in: I had nothing figured out’ that weekend abroad flew by; the opportunities seem to have with a hefty price tag that I simply could not afford. On top of that, I was turning 20, running out of hope and money, and single. I surprised myself by coming up with a Birthday wishlist that had no material things at all, and I eventually got everything I wanted… until I let self-doubt get the best of me and take everything back.

When that kind of thing happens to you, it usually takes you to a bad place. I voluntarily put a blot on my academic track record. I gave myself seemingly valid excuses for my bad behavior. I destroyed two relationships, of which one was destined to fail, and the other I failed to fight for. I went through two suicide attempts because I no longer wanted to try. I’m broken in places, but I’m still alive.

Happy New Year, everyone!

No. 14 | Enchanted

Recommended reading:

No. 4 | Hola, Amor

Before everything went to shit, I was the ultimate single boy. Unlike most of the people in my university, I had never wanted to be in a relationship, and for good reason. I had Latin honors to chase, and virtually no time for any social life beyond what I could have with classmates that I had projects with. I was willing to sacrifice everything to get good grades, my health, even, but a relationship wasn’t one of them. For the most part, it felt a lot like I didn’t need one. I found it to be such a waste of time and money, and I learned early on that I was almost always happier when I did things with myself. A lot of it also came from the awareness of my physical attributes. I’m not handsome. I’m morbidly obese because of my conscious decision to neglect a healthy diet and daily exercise in favor of doing schoolwork. I accepted that I was a specific type, that it would take an extremely special boy to see past my size, or at least one with a weird fetish for big bellies.

Continue reading

No. 13 | Home Wrecker

Recommended reading:

No. 9 | Bottoms Up!

No. 12 | Hello,

I really needed to cry. I ran out of the rec center to get some fresh air. Once I got outside, I looked at my surroundings to see what I could do next. I spotted a supermarket across the street. Determined to get revenge, I stormed in, my face red from holding back the tears I refused to shed for Connor.

I didn’t get too much—just a box of Trojans and two bottles of lube. Even though I was fuming with anger, I couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous and immature I was being. Before the cashier gave me my receipt, she told me, “it’s best to be safe even when you’re heart-broken.”

That last part I made up. The cashier didn’t care. Being gay in Canada was as commonplace as having a tattoo; nobody cared. But at that moment, I wish that somebody did because I needed a hug, a really warm hug, preferably from a burly man with a lot of body hair and natural musk.

Continue reading