The New Bad Boy

I was browsing online when I found my new inspirational song. I was so moved that I had to write this post. Scroll down.

Remember the feelings, remember the day

My stone heart was breaking

My love ran away

This moment I knew I would be someone else

My love turned around and I fell

I hate the weather - it makes me think of things gone bad. But I refuse to end the month with a drama post so let me close the month by starting the search for another bad boy.

Be my bad boy, be my man

Be my week-end lover

But don't be my friend

The new bad boy is good for 12 days, period.

You can be my bad boy

But understand

That I don't need you again

No I don't need you again

But remember, no promises please. I am done with promises. 

You once made this promise

To stay by my side

But after some time you just pushed me aside

You never thought that a boy could be strong

Now I'll show you how to go on

I now know myself better - I like bad boys and I like them hot. So the search is on. 

Be my bad boy, be my man

Be my week-end lover

But don't be my friend

You can be my bad boy

But understand

That I don't need you in my life again

Won't you be my bad boy, be my man

Be my week-end lover

But don't be my friend

You can be my bad boy

But understand

That I don't need you again

No I don't need you again

If the new Bad Boy is not in Manila, I'd find him elsewhere.

Expiration Date

I recently read somewhere that relationships have lifespans. Oftentimes, the article explained, a relationship ends because it has already run its course. 

It's a really pretty straightforward statement but somehow I found myself confused (again!) after reading it. Part of me wants to agree with it since my own life experiences would be more than enough evidence to support this - I have never been friends with any of my exes, period. The other part, however, refuses to accept things for what they are. I mean, why can't relationships be more permanent? Why is there even a need for an expiration date? Isn't there a happily ever after? I would say my bias would be to believe my own fairy tale. 

I guess the reason why this fairly commonsensical statement bothered me so much is because (for whatever it's worth) I miss someone. I really don't know what happened between us but maybe there's no point in trying to figure this out now. I myself must have had a change of heart. Or maybe I just got tired of the complications. Maybe it's me. Maybe it was him. Or maybe it was just meant to end. For now, I guess it would be best to not actively think about the reasons contributing to our falling out. Instead, let me hold on to the slightest possibility that this song wants me to believe. It's much easier this way.

Sorry, my head is just so mushed up right now that I feel that I have somehow contradicted myself at some point, somewhere. Let me just sleep this through. Ugh.

A Walk to Remember

We decided to walk. 

It was a warm night and the city lights lit the otherwise gloomy streets. The wind barely blew and I was perspiring a little. There were very few people on streets - all of them had their own businesses to attend to. 

I felt happy.

You were someone I considered special. You made me laugh then, giggle even. Your smile remains magical and your eyes still hold a story of sadness - something you never admit to. I liked you since the first time we met-  I have sensed something good in you and I even made sure that you were aware of it before we parted ways. But things never turned out the way we want them to - everything then was complicated. 

If only they were not. 

The night we chose to walk home was all about us. No one else seemed to matter (at least for me). Your voice calmed me down and your presence made me feel safe. All the problems that have been bugging me slowly faded away. I felt secure.  I felt that what was important is that you were there with me, again.

I tried to stop the time.

 

I secretly hoped that we'd get ourselves lost in the city, if only to extend the time I could spend with you. With every step, I prayed that things were different. I wished that I had known you when I was not yet broken for I  know I could have loved you better than everyone else. I promised myself that I was to enjoy every minute that I get to spend with you - this was what I am being given and this was what I will gratefully take. We could have walked side by side for a long time if only you believed in love; if only you had considered what we had; if only you had given us a chance. 

If only.

I looked at you one more time and you smiled. The image that I saw was that of someone I still considered special; someone I can still see myself having long walks with in the future; someone I can still love. I took one final look at you and said goodbye. With me is the memory of our walk home - something I will always remember...

... Until the day we get to walk again.

To you, thank you for everything. See you again soon.

I Can See Clearly Now

I decided to go out today and buy some things before the big move. So, with my trusty brown leather messenger bag, I went in search of several things: new underwear, socks, contact lenses, a pair of slacks, new jeans, eye glasses and other what-have-you's. 

I was patiently waiting by the doctor's couch for my eye check up when he passed by me. He was around 5'11, tall, slim and moreno. He was probably in his mid-twenties. I looked at him from where I was sitting and tried to make contact. He was  a little snobbish. I then noticed that he was wearing a white coat - oh so he's one of the doctors. I then tried to figure out if he was indeed one of us. I have never had an eye doctor before so this should be interesting. He called my name. I stood up and proceeded to the check-up station. 

"Hi sir, just look straight at the red dot...", he instructed me.

I obliged. We then proceeded to the testing room. 

"Sir, matagal ka na ba nagko-contacts?", he asked.

"Yeah...", I replied.

"Okay sir... close your eyes...", he ordered.

I giggled inside. His voice had that soothing effect. I felt something move. 

"Okay sir.. open. Can you read the last line?", he asked.

I simply nodded as I tried to figure out how I can possibly get to know him beyond his name plate. 

"Sir, hindi mo ba kailangan ng new glasses?", he asked

"Eh pag tumaas ang grado ko, papapalitan ko na lang ang lens...", I replied.

He finally smiled. I smiled back.

"Eh doc, I can still spend a couple more thousands on a new frame... meron ka ba na mura lang?", I asked as I was paying for six pairs of contacts. 

"Ah sige sir, hanapan kita... "

As we were trying on several pairs, I found an opportunity.

"So doc, ano name mo?", I asked.

That probably caught him by surprise but still he smiled and responded.

"M..."

"Bago ka dito no?", I asked.

"Yeah, nung January lang..."

"Ah okay, fresh grad?", I asked again.

"Hindi sir, sa Manila branch po ako dati..."

"Ah okay, san ka nakatira?"

"Sa Mendiola..."

"Ikaw?", he asked.

"Dito lang sa area...", I replied.

And that started the long conversation. We fitted several pairs and when I mean we, we. The doctor was also trying on the glasses that I have chosen.

"Oi, bakit pati ikaw nakikisali?", I asked.

He laughed. 

"Bagay naman di ba?", he replied.

I smiled. 

"Yeah doc, bagay..."

"So doc, til what time ang duty mo?", I continued.

"Mall hours..."

"Eh doc, magkano naman to?", I asked while pointing at the one I have just tried on.

He took out the calculator and typed in some numbers. I did my own math and said that I'd get the pair.

"Wala man lang bang kasamang number ang salamin na to?", I asked.

He smiled and borrowed the calculator again from the saleslady. I was puzzled. I saw him type in some numbers. What he typed in made me smile. I took out my phone and copied his number from the screen. 

"Okay doc, salamat.", I finally said.

He smiled at me and excused himself.

"Sir, gawan lang kita ng medical certificate...", he said.

As he walked passed by me, I smiled. I looked at him. He smiled back and winked.

"I can see clearly now the rain is gone...", I hummed this song as I giggled.

Oh, and of course, this is my song for Dr. M, my very own eye-doctor:

Devirginized

"So how was your podcast experience?", somebody asked me.

"It was scary... stressful...", I replied.

But what I failed to tell him was that it was indeed fun even if I was extremely nervous, shaking even. It was also a dream come true, really. Parang wish ko lang ito... 

To the Fabcasters (Migs, McVie and Gibbs), thank you for giving me my first time. And much like all first times, it was painfully liberating.

Online Relationships (Part 1)

Online Relationships (Part 2)

And of course, a song: 

Bringing Tristan Back

I never saw it coming.

I decided to board the cab after a sumptuous dinner with friends last night. I took the front seat, buckled up and told the cabbie where I was headed. He looked at me and smiled. I looked the other way.

"Hay naku, busy ako.", I thought.

The cabbie did not really look bad. He was a big man in his early thirties and probably stands around 5'11. Morenong Pinoy would be an appropriate term to describe how he looked like. He was wearing a cap and the requisite white polo shirt. I,on the other hand, was in my office get up.

"Andaming sosyal dito no?", the cabbie asked me.

"Mukha ba akong sosyal?", I asked myself as I continued to ignore him.

"Sir, san ka galing?", he continued.

He was looking at me. I felt that I needed to be polite.

"Ah may pinuntahan lang... dinner.", I responded.

And that was the start of my 15-minute torture.

"Gwapo ba sir?", the cabbie asked me.

I was caught by surprise and I pretended not to hear him.

"Yung mi-neet mo sir, gwapo ba?", he repeated.

"Ha?..."

"Ah mga kaibigan ko lang yun...", I replied.

"Ok lang naman kahit hindi gwapo sir di ba? Basta malaki ang hinaharap...", he continued.

I looked at him again and checked.

"Is he?", I wondered.

It was then when I saw his right hand let go of the wheel and traverse his crotch area. He started fixing himself. I finally realized what was going on.

"Eh sir, ok lang naman to di ba?", the cabbie said as his right hand continued to play with his thing.

I felt my body shiver. His tool was actually quite impressive.

"Oh no...", I whispered.

Just when I was just about ready to give in, I looked at him again. He was now smiling like crazy probably thinking that he had just won the match. I am sorry Kuya but I am Tristan. I had to say my piece.

"Sorry Kuya, maliit."

I smiled. The cabbie laughed and zipped himself up again.

And just like that, I remembered how it felt to be Tristan again.

"It's good to be back Tristan... "

"... just feels so effin good to be back...", I whispered as I handed the cabbie a twenty peso tip for giving me the chance to break his ego last night.

One Song at a Time

I have been living a less than exciting life these days. It must be the weather or probably my continued wait for that happily ever after (or as Anonimous puts it, happily every after) which may never come.  In any case, I have been here before and I know the path a little too well. I'll get through this, yet again. Who knows, tomorrow maybe sooner than I expected. For as long as there is a boy standing in front of another boy asking him to love him, there is hope. 

So just to keep the ball(s) rolling, I need a song. Off the top of my head, I have this: 

So this is me, living life one song at a time.

The Case of the Third Wheel

Have you ever felt that you played second fiddle to someone else? Have you ever been in a situation where you were the second choice? Have you been a mistress, the other (wo)man, the spare tire?

Well I have. But never at love. 

Yes, I have been the other man, the spare tire, the mistress but I never loved anyone of them back. I was just there for the pleasures of the flesh, nothing more. These guys thought that they were (uber powerful for) using me for their own interests but I have always looked at things the other way around. I used them for my own purposes. They served a purpose and that was why I chose to stay. And whenever I found myself falling for them, I bid them goodbye. I tried to stay away from the possibility of living a very complicated life, as much as possible.

While it may be true that I have fallen for a few unavailable guys on several occasions, it must be told that I have never allowed myself to be the third party in a relationship. Again, never when I am in love. More recently, I came so close to settling for that arrangement (just because I was really madly crazy in love with him) but I stopped myself. I saved the last ounce of self-respect that I have by forcing him into making a decision. And yes, his decision almost killed me but it never did. 

Before anyone here accuses me of being ultra self-righteous, please note that I have never judged others for choosing to be the second option. In fact, some of my closest friends are actually involved (in one way or another) in this type of arrangement. And they seem happy, seem being the operational word. I am sure that at the back of their minds (and often they end up confirming this), they are not fully satisfied with what they are getting from the apple of their eye (crotch or ass) - partial attention with half-baked affection. But, in reality, can we ever be fully satisfied with what we have?

At the end of the day (and I would preach this every single time to people who are going through tough times in their own relationships), what is important is that one is happy with what he or she has regardless of the arrangement. A third-party arrangement may not be perfect (and it will never be) but the decision to be in this type of relationship, much like falling in love, is a personal choice. 

The more important thing is that as long as these people are happy with their own spare tire arrangement (and as long as it works), then I will be happy for them. But the moment that things start getting shaky and my third-party friends find themselves crying over a failed attempt at love under this arrangement, I would be the first one slap them with their chosen reality.

Blogger's Note: Someone once told me that I can never be good enough to pass as his mistress. After some thought, I realized that, so far, this is the best compliment I have ever received.

Through the Fire

Just when I thought that tonight would just be one of those nights, a phone call changed everything.

"Tristan, may sunog sa village nyo...", it was an office mate.

I felt the nerves kicking in. I had to excuse myself from the Doctor with whom I was having post-dinner drinks with. I rushed to get home.

"Sana naman hindi ko condo ang nasusunog...", I prayed.


"Kasi wallet lang at cellphone ang dala ko.", I continued.

I took the first cab I saw and asked the driver if he knew about the fire.

"Sir, sa gitna daw po ng village baka hindi na tayo makapasok..."

I froze at the thought that my place would already be engulfed in flames when I get there. I felt weak. My knees and hands were shaking. I was scared of the possibility of losing everything - everything I worked hard for in the last how many years. I got off the cab a few minutes later and I saw people on the streets. It was a party sans the fireworks. Instead, people were staring at a dark cloud of smoke and that bright orange flame that emanated from burning houses. I shivered in fear as I hastily walked home.

"Thank God.", I finally said when I reached my apartment.

From my unit window, I watched the fire burn one house after another. I felt so stressed that I had to light a Frost to calm me down. It was good that I was able to bum a stick from Doc earlier. I found myself packing some things - my laptop, expensive shirts and a few basic items. I was still in panic but I tried to calm myself down. I called home to make sure they don't get surprised when they hear the news. My phone rang several times - friends were checking if I was okay. I felt a little better.

"Wow, penthouse view... front row center...", my pathetic attempt at consoling myself.

But deep inside I was scared. I had a lot of what ifs. I had a lot of questions. But then I realized, I need to count my blessings. Not everyone was as lucky as I was last night.


I closed my eyes and took one final puff off my Frost. As I exhaled, I whispered a silent prayer for those who would now need to rise from the ashes. I also thanked the heavens for sparing my apartment building from the fire. Otherwise, I would really be starting over even before starting over.






Blogger's Note: Thanks to all the friends who called to check on me when they saw the news on TV. I've always thought I was alone in the metro but I guess with you guys around, I need not feel that way. Oh and by the way, you would never believe how many good looking guys live on my street. It's just simply amazing. There's this one guy... but wait, let me stop myself here for that's another blog entry altogether.

Virginal

Our meet up was set a week ago and we were both quite excited to finally have the chance to get to know each other, in person. I told you I'd cook. You said you'll bring dessert. I asked if we were gonna be drinking. You said you'll bring these too. It was then arranged.

"Papunta na ko...", you texted.

"Okay, I'll see you in a while.", I replied as I stirred the penne one last time.

After a few minutes, you were before me carrying a yellow bag filled from the nearby supermarket. 

"Hi...", I greeted you.

"Hi... pagod na ko ang layo!", you replied.

I smiled. You smiled back. We found ourselves walking to my place which felt quite weird. I have never brought anyone back to my place for a wholesome meet up - especially someone who knows me and my story. 

"Now how will this go?", I asked myself.

"Bahala na si Batman.", I continued.

I apologized for the uber spicy (and salty) pasta which you finished off anyway. For the first time, I felt embarrassed of my cooking skills. Of all the days that I would miss, it had to be with you. But you were too polite to say anything about the pasta. I promised myself that I'd do better next time. 

"Ask me anything...", you said as we started the conversation.

After a couple of rounds of drinks, I was already feeling free. I was still trying to figure out where all this is heading. Is sex even on the agenda? I brought up the topic and expectations were set. 

"Let me see how a sexless night is even possible...", I wondered as I fell asleep.

I woke up prematurely and found you sleeping beside me underneath the sheets. I looked at you and as if on cue, you opened your eyes and smiled. I felt embarrassed - you caught me looking at you. I chuckled. I turned to my side and continued to dream. I woke up again with your arm under my neck - I cannot really remember how it happened. All I know was that somehow it felt good. 

"Matagal-tagal na din pala to...", I whispered.

The last time someone slept over and nothing happened was like ages ago. 

"Wow, ang linis ko...", I snickered.

The day passed quickly and we later found ourselves walking to the main road. We said our goodbyes. As I was walking back home, I felt good about what happened. I realized that I had just passed my first test. Change is indeed possible.

To you, thank you. You have my utmost respect.

Where Are You, Mojo?

Something's not quite right. 

It has been a long time since I last fooled around and that, in my world, is totally uncommon. I am now scared. Am I losing my mojo? Am I losing my drive? There's really no shortage of willingness these days for, on a regular day, I would get at least three invites from my eager patrons all clamoring a repeat performance.  So what seems to be wrong? 

Maybe I'm just too busy. 

But not really. I still find time to go out with friends so why not have sex? I meet up new people including great potentials but I just can't find the right drive to follow through. Maybe I'm already being too nice for my own good. But didn't someone just tell me that it pays to be good? 

Is it me and my Frost?

I seem to have lost the drive even before I quit smoking (note to self: quit is used in the past tense). So I guess my Frost does not have anything to do with it. Detoxification, it seems, further aggravates the pathetic state of my bed life. Ugh.

Self-preservation?

In my mind, there's a bugging thought - is this for self-preservation? Why? And for whom? Is this who I really am? Am I sabotaging my own bed life for the littlest of chance at a happy ending? Is this even worth it? I am clueless.

Have I?

I may have turned into a wallflower or worse, an inanimate object. I may have become asexual. Am I getting old? [insert appropriate images of useless dicks here]. NOW, I am really scared.

So what now?

I am so tempted to go back to the days when talande is synonymous to Tristan. But I won't go there again, at least not just yet. I am not ready to go back. I am still trying to be good for myself and for my happy ending. 

Please bear with the more wholesome Tristan Tales until I get my mojo back.

Blogger's Note: This post is dedicated to a friend who refuses to believe that change is indeed possible. My friend is currently doing a Tristan (read: nagpapakapokpok) if only to move forward from a recent dramatic episode. I wish he comes to his senses soon. Until then, I will have to remain wholesome so that he would realize that it was him who changed me for the better. 

Frost, For You

This stick is for you my friend

For whatever it is that has been bothering you

For all the pain that love has caused

For all the anguish that you have bore

This stick is for you my friend

For the times that you've cried

For the sleepless nights

For your broken heart

This stick is for you my friend

For the rebel unleashed

For the call of the wild

For the road ahead

This stick is for you my friend

So that in bad times, you will remember

That you were never alone then

And you will never be alone again

Always and forever, a promise

The Art of Letting Go

This afternoon, I found myself in extreme panic when I saw a one-way ticket in the email. It only made things more real - I am indeed leaving soon. I hastily made a phone call to my landlord to advise him that I would not be renewing my contract beyond this month. Something I forgot to do the other day. I also called up several utility companies to settle my bills. In between calls, I was able to manage to squeeze in some calls to school to finalize stuff. 

But I am not yet ready. Twenty eight days before take off and there are still so many things to be done: driving lessons top the list. Then I would need to hit the gym to prep me for that hosting job by the end of the month. Damn I need to look good by then. Plus there are scheduled spa treatments, dental appointments, medical exams and one fantabulous trip to the salon! I also need to shop for stuff and pasalubongs and, of course, clothes. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Tonight, I started packing stuff and throwing things away. I now have a big black trash bag filled with old paper and other rubbish. But in the course of sorting through my stuff, I also found old pictures, gifts from ex-lovers and even love letters that brought me smiles in the past. I also stumbled upon goodbye letters that made me cry. I squeezed stuff toys that need a new home and cleaned up remnants of flower arrangements that I have not yet thrown away. All these memories were put in one big luggage waiting for its final destination.

I was almost done sorting another box when I heard myself humming the first lines of this song: 

Before I even had the chance to go emo, I saw somebody's picture on my phone. Looking at his gorgeous face made made me realize that there was indeed no sense in wallowing in the past - only the future matters now. I looked at his picture one more time and smiled. 

At that point, I found myself staring at the luggage-full of memories. I shook my head, took out all the stuff I had earlier sorted and threw them all in a black trash bag for disposal. One night, two big garbage bags. I think I did well.

So this is how it feels like to let go.

I Quit

I am learning to survive without you
For a better life - shiny and new.
So let me move forward from all the troubles
Will never look back; I hope I won't fumble.

I am learning to forget all the times that we shared
For, on hindsight, I don't really think you cared.
I am learning to quit you even though you're cool
I have had enough; I refuse to be your fool.

I bid you farewell again my guilty pleasure
I am doing this for myself; I hate the pressure.

Hello temporary stress but goodbye drama.
I have no more love for you. OMFG, karma?

So goodbye to you my dear Frost

Without you, in a few days, I might feel so lost.

But I know that it's the right time 

To let you go - geez, hate it that I rhyme.

Blogger's Note: I decided to quit today, cold turkey.

The Homecoming

The sound of pulsating music filled the halls. Green laser lights filled the room. Bubbles came to welcome you. Hundreds of dancing home boys arrived to see you. The night was all about you.

You were from another planet; someone beyond my market niche but I still decided to reach out. We met early enough to squeeze dinner before going to the happy place. As we boarded the cab, I asked you.

"Ready ka na ba?"

You nodded and smiled. 

"What's there to be afraid of anyway", I asked myself. 

I really can't think of anything to be scared of except the inevitable for newbies like you - falling prey to the hundreds of predators at home. I was quite concerned for your well-being, you were after all a prime catch for the early morning snakes. But this was what you wanted and I, I promised.

I was right. The moment we stepped in, eyes looked at you sending signals of lust. You just smiled and pretended not to notice. I toured you around the place showing you how to move around. I showed the magical washroom with urinals that allowed other people to catch a glimpse of your jewels. I introduced you to some of the regulars. I presented you the performers. I told you everything you needed to know to survive. All except one.

"Welcome to Bed!", I greeted you.

You smiled. I looked at you one more time.

"This kid's got the goods...", I whispered.

I dragged you and a friend to where the party was. I felt you were already ready to mingle and I, I was ready to let go. I took the stage, my usual spot, and danced. Every beat reminded me of the last time I was in this place. I was drunk then and barely able to recall what exactly happened. Each bubble burst was dedicated to me and my reality. The laser lights could have killed me on stage if I were any weaker. But I digress.

I was gyrating to a familiar tune when I finally saw you before me. I extended my hand, smiled, and asked that you join me onstage. You hesitated for a while, smiled and then finally took the first step. As I guided you on, people began to notice. I was right again - the moment you hit the stage, you will be the object of everyone's lusts. You started to wiggle. As if on cue, the first predator approached you from behind. 

I started loosening up. I looked at you and the predator - progressing as expected. I whispered a silent prayer for you. I needed to be sure that you would have fun so I stepped off the stage and tried not to look back. 

The sound of pulsating music filled the halls. Green laser lights filled the room. Bubbles came to welcome you. From where I was now standing, I looked your way - shirt off, a public kiss and a blossoming bed romance. 

"Another promise fulfilled, mission accomplished.", I whispered.

I twisted the cap off my bottled water signaling the end of my night. As I walked out of the hallowed halls of Bed, I remembered the one thing that I failed to mention to you earlier - never fall in love in Bed. 

"Welcome home kid.", I whispered.

I then took a deep breathe and murmured another silent prayer, this time for me.

"When will I ever learn?", I snickered. 

Blogger's Note: The kid asked to be left behind. I just hope he gets home safely. 

The Evolution of Tristan

I was once a flirt with stories to tell.

And a dark past that remained hidden.

But deep inside, I was just a lonely guy looking for love.

A dreamer and a hopeless romantic wishing for his own happy ending.

But unmet expectations got to me first and I felt that I needed a break. 

Hopeful, I remained waiting.

And wishing that someday my life could be colorful once more.

I prayed that the New Year would bring cheer and romance.

But successfully single, I remained.

So I continued to dream, flirt and hope. 

Love came in time for Valentines.

And I was finally single but not available.

Happiness had to end on on my birthday.

The worst birthday of my life so far.

My whole world collapsed.

I closed Tristan Tales down.

Deep inside, the hopeless romantic in me continued to wish, hope and dream.

But the pain of a broken heart changed me for the worse.

 I felt that my life became one big joke.

And I believed that joke all the way North.

I felt I needed to go back to my happy place to search for myself.

And I came back a little jaded but still in pain.

I wished for the pain to stop but it never ceased. 

The Siam Lotus never worked its magic.

I blamed destiny and avoided my reality.

Soon, the rainbow shone again. 

My stories now bolder than ever to hide the pain that was beyond extreme.

But deep inside, I continued to hope for a happy ending.

Until the happy ending became less and less possible. 

I had to start over, again.

I came to terms with my reality recently. 

With a prayer that destiny would get me to that happy place around winter.

I tried to bring back Tristan Tales' glory.

But I remained smitten by past love and forever promises.

Now I hold to a promise.

As I start over again, alone.

As I continue my search for that elusive happy ending

There will be something old, something new.

There will be something borrowed and, of course, something blue.

This is my destiny.

This is the way it should be.

This is me and my life so far.

My name is Tristan Tan and this is Tristan Tales (dot com).

Blogger's Note: After nine months, so much has happened. All of you have been a witness to the transformation. Now brace yourselves, the best is yet to come.

Finally

You were wearing a white long sleeved shirt tucked under your faded jeans. I saw you sitting by the window waiting. You looked scared and worried. You looked like someone I know, only better.

I was wearing a white long sleeved shirt tucked under my faded jeans. You saw me walking from where you sat. I looked scared and worried. I have changed since the last time you saw me.

I slowly approached you. You stood up and fixed yourself. I smiled. You extended your hand.

"Hi Tristan...", you finally said.

"Hi...", I replied.

"Kamusta?"

"I'm good. So happy to see you.", I replied.

"Ako din.. pero..."

I felt the world stop. You looked at me and hugged me tight.

"Tristan, I have something to tell you.", you whispered to my ear.

I felt tears form in the corner of my eyes. 

"Shit."

You let me loose. I was already sobbing. You were too. I rubbed your back.

"Iyakin ka talaga...", I tried to lighten up the mood.

You looked at me and hugged me tight one last time. I felt your strong arms surround my soul. I did not want you to let go but it was time. You waved goodbye as you turned around. I remained still. The whole experience was numbing. I felt cold and my knees felt weak.

I found myself on the curb crying as you boarded the bus. I looked at you. You finally looked back and our eyes met. Just when you were about to say something, I woke up.

Blogger's Note: I tried to go back to sleep but I was already wide awake. Maybe tomorrow, maybe soon, my dream will finally have a happy ending. In the meantime, I will sleep and continue dreaming. 

And here's a song:

A Few Good Months

A few months from now, things would have changed. I would have already settled in, in a place far away where oats are considered staple and sandwiches are lunch. I would have already furnished my own apartment, hopefully, with a fireplace and a balcony. It would be cold where I am by then and I would probably be gearing up for the holidays. A few months from now, things would be different. And I, I would still be Tristan, only better.

A few months from now, I would have probably acquired a different taste in food, recreation and even men. I would have already changed my hairstyle, my clothes and my accent. I would have changed my life so much that I would not even recognize how much I have changed. I might also have a new set of friends by then and my values would have probably evolved into something less conservative. By that time, my determination to succeed would be much greater for I would have already found out that life could only get better. But I, I would still be Tristan, only happier.

A few months from now, things would already be different and our recent choices would have already defined who we are. A few months from now, I would still be Tristan, only better and you, you will remember...

"Forever and always, a promise."

Crush

Your smile got to me
Those eyes, perfect
The person, interesting
The possibilities, exciting

With thirty eight days till take off

I'm still hoping for a dream

So I found myself thinking of you tonight

And boy, I may have a crush on you, so it seems

Who knows if this will ever work out
But for now, let me be stubborn and not doubt
So tell me, what's a boy got to do
Would getting your number be too much to ask from you?

The Matriarch

You were the family matriarch - tough but emphatic, passionate but sometimes snotty, serious but loving. The last time I saw you was Christmas last year. It had already been three years since you were diagnosed and you were already undergoing weekly treatments. I saw your transformation - you were struggling to survive for love. Unfortunately, it was your time to move on. 

I am supposedly the favorite grandson (?) so a cameo was expected at the wake. I never liked family gatherings - I am not really a strong family person. I hate the way they regarded me as the bright young boy who is destined to be successful. I hate the charade for nobody in my family knows me and my story. They have no idea how broken this young boy has been and what I have gone through. If only they had a clue.

At the wake, I secretly grieved for my lola's demise - the tough lady who would bring me to school whenever my mom would have her usual tantrums; the strong woman who scolded everyone but me; the admirable mother to her eleven children and dozens of grandchildren. I secretly cried at the sight of my lolo who remained strong amidst the tragedy. He is a strong man, quite impressive for someone who has almost lost control of his knees and hearing. I secretly weeped at the sight of grieving family, all pretending to be stronger than who they really are. If only showing emotions is not taboo in our family, I would have wept at the sight of the box. If only.

Today, I saw how much my lolo loved my lola. I saw how my family can be a whole unit during times of crisis. I saw how my own immediate family could be there for each other, even without publicly displaying emotions. I was witness to firsthand love no other person in this world could offer - no one but family.

To my lola, may you rest in peace. You have done well and you have raised wonderful kids and successful grandchildren. You will most definitely be missed but you are free now. You are finally home. 

Sexy Back

It was already quarter past three when I got to the bus terminal. With me, an overnight bag filled with a couple of shirts and personal effects, and an obligation. I hurriedly paid my cabbie and got on the bus - it was almost ready to leave. Inside, I saw strangers sitting side by side, some anxiously waiting for the bus to depart while others already dozing off. On the third row on my right, I saw you.

You wore a red tight-fitted polo shirt which showed off your tanned and sculptured body. Perfect biceps and triceps - really strong-looking arms, my personal weakness. You looked at me as I struggled to get pass the lady selling water and the guy with a basket of oranges. You had deep dark set eyes and a nose that was perfectly pointed. You looked like an Indian if I think about it but your built was so Filipino. Lalaking lalaki. I looked at you back and smiled. But there was one problem, someone was sitting beside you.

I accepted my fate; I was resigned to the fact that I would not get to know you today. I sighed and made my way to a vacant seat several rows behind you. You moved closer to the window making enough space for one more person in between. I decided to squeeze in and take the seat next to you.

"Sakto...", I thought.

From where I was sitting, I could feel your strong arms rubbing against mine. I tried to casually look to my left to check you out. I saw you looking at me. I looked away in panic. I decided to distract myself by checking my phone. When I looked you again, our eyes finally met. All I could muster was a shy, "hi...". You responded with a nod and a smile.

"Mark, pare...", you introduced yourself.

"Uhuh... another one...", I thought.

"Tristan..", I replied.

Silence. We were both waiting for the next question. You asked me where I am going. I told you I was going home. You asked me where I lived. I replied. You told me you live close. I fell silent once more. On regular days, I would be more than willing to engage in situations such as this but today I was really not in the mood to flirt anyone. Then I realized, I am only human. I knew what was going to happen next: I saw you fix your things and take out your phone.

"See, tama ako...", I whispered.

"Number mo?", you asked.

I gave it to you. You saved my number and typed in a message. I felt my phone vibrate. I nodded. You understood. It was the start of a series of Q&As that we discreetly phrased. We did not really want people to think that we just met on the bus (even if we did). Before we hit the expressway, you asked:

"Ano gimik mo last night?"

I smiled for I knew where the convesation was going. I replied, quite virginally, that I just stayed home. You refused to believe me. I laughed. You then told me that you had a long night followed by a naughty smile. I smiled back and whispered something in your ear. You laughed and whispered something back. I shook my head and typed in a message which you read on your phone. You replied. We both found ourselves laughing. So what were the messages?

Me (whispering): Kaya matulog ka na!

You (whispering): Ikaw din.

Me (on text): I rarely sleep with someone on the first date.

You (on text): There's always an exception.

Blogger's Note: Mark and I slept together on our first date. His head leaning forward, mine against the bus seat. It felt weird that we found comfort in sleeping together this early. Now, I feel so dirty (imagine shower scene of a rape victim). We agreed to sleep together again soon, probably tomorrow on our way back.

Oh and of course, a song:

SexyBack - Justin Timberlake

The Promise

The promise of friendship awaits

Those who remain true to themselves

It may not be soon

But a promise, nonetheless

The promise of secrecy will be kept

For you are beyond this lifetime

It may not be easy

But a promise, nonetheless

The promise of winter will prosper

In a land far away, happily ever after

It may not be tomorrow

But a promise, nonetheless

The promise of happiness will be wished

For you, for me, for him just the same

It may be painful

But a promise, nonetheless

Let me hold on to the promises

Of friendship and forever secrets

Of winters and happily ever afters

From you to me and me to you

Forever and always, a promise

The Airport

"Calling the attention of the last remaining passengers of Tristan Tan flight TT69 bound for happiness. All remaining passengers are requested to board at Gate T2. All aboard please."

Sometimes I feel like an airport. People find me interesting enough to go to but never good enough to stay in. I am the terminal that they would need to get through to get to that happy place. It may sound self-deprecating but the pattern supports this contention: I find someone. I fall in love. He falls too. He treats me badly. I cry. He leaves. He finds someone new. They make it work. Damn.

So what seems to be wrong? Maybe it's just me. Until I find the right reasons, the airport is closed.