Tristan Meets Tristan

First off, thanks to Vince of Discreet Manila (and his letter writer, Romeo Delta) for this topic. Why do people write you guys anyway? Hmpf. I never get emails like those - all I get are invites, if at all. Anyway, I liked the concept - what would a late twenties Tristan tell an 18-year old Tristan. The weather is cold enough for introspection, so here goes:

Who was the 18-year old Tristan? I can barely remember him. Cue melodramatic music please.

Tristan in 1998 was an incoming Junior in college, yes in that State U, taking up Economics. He had just passed his Sophomore year in college. At 18, he was just starting to enjoy the taste of beer and cigarettes. He was a son, a brother, a brod, a friend, and a suitor. Tristan was the epitome of a fat nerd who was struggling to fit in - and yes, he wore shorts and slippers to school and his concept of formal wear would be a pair of slacks, an ironed polo shirt, and shoes - the ugly bulldog shoes of years ago. His hair was parted in the middle (remember, Keempee - oh geez , did I even spell his name correctly?!?) and it was long, oily and generally not nice. He was promdi in all aspects. He barely went to Manila and he was fascinated by the city. At 18, Tristan had big dreams and he was overly ambitious - sometimes for his own good. But he was fun - he was funny - he was still struggling - he was happy. Tristan, at 18, appeared to be harmless and very innocent - at least that's what many people thought. He had a past.

If by some magical powers, I can meet my old self I would have these to say:

Tristan, you cannot and should not eat your feelings - this is bad for you and your future sex life. Trust me honey, you will grow fat. Tristan honey, the boys of the future are cruel and they do not like fatsos. They will judge you for how you look with your shirt off (and even on) and that's just how it works. So drop that burger and that extra cup of rice - carbs are bad for you my dear. It is evil. I cannot stress this enough.

And please, change your friends. Kidding. They are not telling you how bad you look because they too share your fashion sense. Ha ha. But you are an eighteen year-old promdi so I guess I should be more kind - fashion can be improved anyway so don't fret - you're gonna be okay. Just stay away from the camera - you will hurl when you see yourself ten years after.

And here, (hands over clay) - this is the greatest invention of all time. Get a haircut and use this product. Drop that "suave", it makes your hair and face oily. You'd get pimples and that's not good. Don't do a Keempee - he will forever be your generation's worst nightmare - much like the "aqua net and shoulder pads" of the eighties. In a few year's time, he will be fat and people will just remember him for his hair.

And who is this girl that you are courting? Stop all this foolishness! You are gay as gay can get. Stop wasting money over her - eventually she's gonna get laid by a "tibak" who rarely takes a bath and they will have a couple of kids and live happily ever after. They deserve each other and you, you my dear, are destined for greatness - divahood - stardom. You will be the ultimate pokpok of your generation. You will be fine.

And stop fooling yourself. You know you are gay. Come out of the closet and have sex - master the art of condoms. You are eighteen and you should enjoy gayness for all its worth. Don't be ashamed to admit that you're gay - you may not know it yet but the revolution has begun and in a few year's time, people will accept homosexuality as if it's a natural phenomenon. You can always blame your parents or claim that it's genetic. Don't be afraid.

And finally Tristan, when you get older you will meet the following people (whispers names) - they will break your heart and you will cry so hard and your life will change forever. But, you will love them and some of them will love you back. Trust me, it will all be worth it.

So there. Come, let me give you a hug.