Confessions of a Shopaholic

My name is Tristan and I am a shopaholic.

***

Okay, the last few days have been crazy. As many of you know, it was Thanksgiving in the States - a holiday that I did not particularly understand until recently. I was told that people were supposed to express their gratitude to anyone and everyone over anything and everything.

Following this logic, it seems, all my favorite labels thanked me - and boy, I was really so grateful to them by the end of the day.

***

I decided to say no to four Thanksgiving invites. Instead, I had leftovers on the couch and prepped myself for the long night ahead. At exactly 9pm, I received the confirmation to shop. I hurriedly placed all stuff that I needed for the night in the bag - ice cold beers, soda, granola bars, a bottle opener, earphones, an umbrella, my phone and wallet. Along with it came a big smile, an extreme desire to get the best deals and patience, lots and lots of patience. I boarded the car and my friend and I drove a good thirty minutes to the local premium outlet store. It was my first Black Friday event and I was ready to make the most out of it.

As I stepped out of the car, I felt a sudden rush of electricity go through my body - the kind that only shopaholics like myself get in these kinds of situations. I remember getting the same kind of rush during holiday sales in Megamall and even Divisoria. Our first order of business for the night - coffee. My Venti Peppermint Skimmed Mocha (No Whipped Cream) did the trick. A few sips later, I was already perky - the perfect shopping attitude.

• Lacoste went crazy. Jeans were selling at 15 dollars from 80. I got two.
• Van Heusen was giving an extra 20% on top of their already 50% discounts on everything else. I got 6 dress shirts and a couple of scarves.
• Fossil was selling watches for so much less money. I bought three.
• Banana Rep was down 40%. I got two pants, a sweatshirt and yes, another scarf.
• Kenneth Cole was giving 41% off on top of already crazy prices. I went out with two leather dress shoes and a happy face.
• I ignored Calvin Klein since I can buy them at sale prices anyway on regular days.
• No good dress shoe finds though; I simply had to walk away.
• But Nike was so grateful that they sliced prices by twenty percent over and above the lowest marked prices. I am now loving my new running shoes.
• Tommy Hilfiger equals love with an additional 40% off their extremely marked down prices. I was holding a hoody, a jock jacket and scarves on my way out.
• Diesel cut down prices by half so I bought another pair of jeans.
• Movado sold their watches at 70% off. Needless to say, I am only human.
• I also got a very stylish reading lamp for almost nothing at Pottery Barn and yes, a very wonderful and magical coffee maker that just needs on flick of a finger to brew nice coffee every single time.
• Coach had a long line of thankful shoppers outside their store as early as nine. It was fifty off and an additional twenty. My big black leather bag, wallet, leather gloves and a keychain were the testament to their unending gratitude.

We were floored by the time the frenzy subsided and we needed to eat. I checked the time and it was already freakin eight in the morning - we had already been shopping for ten hours straight! As I puffed on my Frost (I had to, it was stressful!) - I felt good.

But just when I thought everything was over, our quick stop at Best Buy revealed the greatest find - a hunky Vietnamese sales person, muscles and all, with the last two remaining sets of my new dSLR with everything on it for just... Again, I had to accept that I am only human.

Before I called it a night err.. day, I whispered a silent prayer of gratitude. It was Thanksgiving after all - it felt right. I thanked the heavens for helping me get to where I am right now; for allowing me to provide to my family; and also for providing me the chance to channel OFW stress and a whole lot of other things when I shop. I am really blessed. So, for that, I am thankful.

Thanksgiving Alone

Now this is gonna be weird.

This year is going to be the first year I'd be spending a new holiday - Thanksgiving. As if it was not enough that I am proving to be one socially inept individual in this side of the world, someone just had to put a family holiday on my calendar and make my already very limited social life even worse.

As you probably know, I am by myself abroad and I have no idea of what Thanksgiving means. So I Google.

As I typed the words in, I felt a big "loser" sign appear on my forehead. But, what the heck, I am clueless. I felt that I needed to educate myself because all I know is that Thanksgiving equals turkey - and, no matter how hard I try, I don't like turkey. I typed in "Thanksgiving Alone" which, I think, should make sense because that's what it is; I am alone on Thanksgiving, period. I was very surprised with the search results. I was not alone "alone" after all.

Thanksgiving for One - More Fun Than You Think provides suggestions on how one person can spend the night by oneself. I read through the list and found myself laughing. Bowling, right... Paintball, laser tag, right.... Haha. The "loser" sign on my forehead just got bigger. I don't care - I am doing my research.

Then there's Spending Thanksgiving Alone - How To Cope. Much like the first article, this provides tips on how to get through this holiday sane. The best advice that I got is to "think twice before you call home". And this actually made me wonder because last I checked, I am pretty sure my family back home is as oblivious to Thanksgiving as I am. Hmmm.

But what really got to me was this site: "Has Anyone Spent Thanksgiving Alone?". Someone actually had the courage to ask the question that I am now pretty sure a lot of single (and alone) people have in mind. As I read through the responses, some from years back, I felt something different. It was then when I realized, I was not like them.

Thanksgiving is not my holiday; it does not mean anything to me just yet. Some people say that it's just a day when people thank those who have been part of their lives in the last year. I guess there's nothing wrong with that, maybe I will. I am guessing that Thanksgiving is like Valentine's - a holiday that I don't really need to celebrate to survive but if I do get to celebrate it, then it should be fine.

But, I think Christmas this year will be a different story - this is my holiday. It has always been my family holiday since I was a kid so yes, I am pretty sure it's gonna be tough this year. I have been told that Christmas is not as big as Thanksgiving in the States but I am sure I'm gonna be alright. I have to be. After all, I have a few more weeks to prepare.

Oh, I can just see myself on December 24th: I'll be online and typing, "Christmas Alone". Now, that should be more weird. And yes, my friends, "Christmas Alone" a different blog post altogether.

Blogger's Note: I actually have three Thanksgiving dinner invites, as I type this post. Sadly, none of them feels right. I don't know why. So, I might just end up at home prepping for the crazy shopping experience that begins when the clocks strikes 12 midnight, Black Friday. Hopefully, all the swiping that would happen would compensate for all the pity looks (and comments) I have to endure.

Un-Tristanly

I went out last night with a newfound fag hag and it's been one of the best night outs I have had since I got here. It was the closest I'll probably ever get to dating a girl in the States which is basically, never. Haha. We had planned on dancing but our night out had to be cut short - she had to leave early. I continued on by myself. I seriously wanted to dance - too much pent up stress, I guess - so off I went and after a few skips and a quick hop, I was in the club. I paid the cover, got myself a beer and started to survey the place. People were just coming in trickles - it was still quite early anyway.

A few minutes and a couple of bottles of beer later, I found myself dancing to the Latin beats. It was not really my sound but I felt that I had to make the most out of what I have paid for so I swayed my hips and did some grind on center stage. People started to dance and finally, the party went on full swing. I felt good.

But I was bored. I did not like the music. I broke away from the crowd and found myself a place by the stage with a good view of the dance floor. And then I noticed the guy beside me - he was just a little taller than me and he wore a black shirt, a vest, and a toothy smile. He looked like a twink. He started making conversation.

"It's my first time here."

"Oh ok..."

"How bout you?"

"I've been here before..."

"Do you come here often?"

"Only when I feel like it..."

"How old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?"

"Twenty five?"

"Good answer! Haha. I'm twenty nine. You?"

"Nineteen."

"Oh, so that explains why you're not holding a drink..."

He laughed. I was not prepared for the next round of questions. I was busy people watching.

"So are you a top or bottom?"

"Wow, you just had to ask..."

"Of course."

"Tell me, what do you want me to be?"

"A... bottom?"

"Haha. Sure..."

He probably thought that he had a chance. I was just actually pulling his leg.

"Where do you live?"

"Nearby. Why?"

"I was wondering if you'd want to get out of here now."

And he looked serious. I needed to change the course of the conversation. I came there to dance anyway - that was really it.

"Uhm, wait. I need to get myself another drink. Excuse me."

I flipped my long braided hair and sashayed to the bar. The gorgeous bartender handed my drink of choice and in return, I gave him a crisp bill and a quick tip. He smiled. From where I was, I looked at the boy who had the balls to approach me and make conversation - he was waiting for my return. I thanked the bartender and made my way back to the same spot.

"Can I take a sip?"

"No. You're nineteen."

"Please?"

"No. You're mom's gonna kill me."

"She won't find out."

"No. Go get yourself some soda."

He laughed. I had expected him to leave but instead he hugged me from behind. I felt something hard poking me and it was not his cellphone. He started grinding. I laughed. But the boy's got the moves. I was bent on finding out who I was gonna be up against, just in case.

"Where are you from?"

"Argentina. You?"

"Philippines."

In my mind, he was a possible check on my list. It would have been an easy lay but there just had to be something wrong. There had to be.

"Do you think I might get lucky tonight?"

"Maybe. I don't know. There are lots of guys here anyway."

"Do you think you're gonna be lucky tonight?'

"I don't really feel like hooking up. Just wanna dance."

It was so "untristanly" to refuse a hook up but I was really not into it last night. I just wanted to get to know people and probably make new friends. I shifted the conversation back to wholesome.

"So how do you find the place?"

"The internet. We got the address there and took the train."

"Oh... okay..."

At that point, I knew what I had to do. It was my chance - my perfect excuse.

I did a quick french exit.

My Happy Endings

Earlier today, I posted mush. I pulled it out. It did not feel right and it was just too much for my cynical self. I am not there yet but it's getting warm. In the meantime and before I go mush sometime soon, all over again, let me revisit the classic lines that I have heard through the years - just for fun.

It usually starts with the "We need to talk" bit - sad face, red eyes, and all (sometimes, it's just a sad smiley if there's such an animal). And then it progresses to the "I don't want to hurt you but..." line that most often comes with a few tears. And then after that, it's all bullshit. Bullshit, I tell you - the ones that have been said in countless of ways to millions of helpless lovers just before dumping begins. Nakakainit ng ulo, promise. Haha.

"It's not you, it's me." - Just the thought of hearing this line over again makes me wanna hurl. Thank you for pointing this out but of course, it's not me dumbo! It's you. It's your fault, you're the one who's never satisfied. You're as itchy as a drying wound for crying out loud! So my dear, it's definitely not me, it's you.

Oh and the funniest overused line, "I need space". Astronaut ka bang hayup ka? My head hurts, I need ed-vil... please. You effin live in a different zip code, how much space do you need? If there's anyone who should beg for space, it should be me - you are hogging my bed. Damn you, I-Need-Space.

And of course, if there is space, there is time. "I need time." Fuma Ley-ar ikaw ba yan? Time-Space Warp, ngayon din! Punyeta naman o, time for what? Time to fool around? Time to think? Bobo ka ba at kelangan mo ng time to think? Time to sort things out? Labandera ka ba, puta ka? Umiinit na naman ang ulo ko, forgive me. Haha.

Oh and who would forget this, "You deserve better.". Of course I do! But, you are not in the position to tell me that. I have to find it out for myself. Besides, you barely know how my mind works. I know what I deserve. You don't. It's that simple. Ikaw na nga ang pinagtyatyagaan, nagiinarte ka pa? Punyeta ka.

And this is funny: "I need to find myself first." Are you lost? Haha. Its cousin, the "I don't know what I want." bit also makes me want just faint. Of course you do, puta ka. You want someone else and you don't want me - it's quite simple, really. Please stop sugarcoating break ups.

And speaking of sugarcoats, "Let's still be friends..." - one big "NO EFFIN WAY!!!". If you can't be my boyfriend, I can't be your friend (now repeat...). Malas mo!

And finally, "Who knows, we might still end up together in the future?" is just utmost cruelty.

Break ups are never easy but it can be quite simple. Tell it as it is. Be man enough to admit what you really think (and feel) and end it. Don't promise a future that will never be. Never hide behind sugar coated break up lines. And please, try to be a little more creative - how one handles his break ups say so much about one's character.

And if ever you'd find yourself at the receiving end of crappy break up lines, just take it as it is, get a good laugh, curse even but, face the fact that he's just not that into you. Remember, unlike in fairy tales, there is no such thing as a happy ending in real life - unless it's an orgasm.

Nang Lumandi Si Nene

Dear Anonymous -

As if on cue, during the saddest of times and almost to the point of breaking down, you came through for me again. Thank you for making me smile today - I badly needed it. And yes, I have listened to the song, thank you. Napahagalpak ako actually - feeling ko ako si Nene, pero sige na nga - it works anyway.

Until then. Take care, always.

So This Is How This Feels Like

I know disappointed well. I understand frustrated. I am familiar with lost and confused. I recognize anxious. I have felt homesick. I know sad and lonely. I have been bitter, discouraged, disheartened. I know how dismal feels like and dreary even. I recognize upset. Oh and yes, I have been blue. But, this is the probably the first time I am meeting depressed. It's amazing!

It feels a little sad and lonely with a pinch of frustrated and disappointed. A dash of helplessness also makes wonders. And yes, upset and empty guarantee that it's special. Depression is like a cocktail of negativity that's mixed perfectly. So perfect that it has the power to make you cry. I cry for no reason other than I do not really know what I am going through. Tears flow and they keep on flowing. I can feel my heart tighten, my lungs compress. It feels like I can't breathe.

And so I blog. I blog to let it all out - with the hope that words would make it all go away. But, it doesn't. At best, the words help alleviate the sadness but, like a trained stalker, depression secretly lurks, waiting for the next opportune time to strike again.

No, I do not wish to alarm anyone. I am perfectly fine, a little depressed but fine, nonetheless. It just feels good to know what the mind and heart are capable of experiencing - I now know how this demon feels like and I can take it from here.

I have already stopped crying. I cannot afford to have red eyes today - they do not go well with my purple tie. And if only for this, I know I'd have to get over this, in

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Done.

Ang Bagong Sekretong Malupit

"... I am looking forward to see you and see where this will lead us... I just hope you will not share too much details in your blog. Tell your fans that our (thing?) is sacred. LOL. I have laid all my cards so hopefully it's worth all the risk that I'm taking. Whatever happens, I hope we'll protect each other no matter what, as I have no other agenda, I am just going with the flow and enjoying whatever it is that we have! :-). Take it easy! [sic]"

Anonymous, November 16, 2009

So is it really possible to keep one's online romance offline?

My dear Anonymous, you are the living proof - remember, it took you more than a month to get on Tristan Tales. I have kept you under wraps since the day you made me feel aware of your existence. You were my own private secret that nobody else knew of. So yes, it is indeed possible to keep things offline - even if you are Tristan Tan.

You see, Tristan Tales is my own little kingdom, my ranting space, my online diary for everyone to read. This is where I spill and make chismis and those who read me are my "friends" who like to pry into my life. And yes, I may talk about my life in this site most of the time - my life that now includes you - but, this blog is not all of it. This does not even capture a tenth of who I am and it takes a very special person to figure me out. I am hoping that it's you.

So with that being said, rest assured that your secret's safe with me. I trust that mine is, too.

From time to time, there may be instances when you'd recognize certain events, discussions, conversations but trust me no names will be shared; no personal details, published - only instances and situations worthy of a quick read and some kilig. You and I will be the story behind the stories but everything else will be our little secret.

Ikaw ang aking bagong sekretong malupit, with balls. Haha.


Blogger's Note: Geek, I am taking back the title. Haha. Oh and incidentally, this is my 400th post. Woot Woot!

The Beginning

A lot has happened from the first night we established contact. We've spent a good amount of time getting to know each other. We've made good progress but, a lot has yet to be done.

By now, you must have probably noticed how careful I have been with my heart. I have played my cards close to my chest for fear of a premature reveal - and anything premature is not good, I tell you. If you have also been diligently reading me, as you have claimed, you would have known that I, and I am actually so tired of saying this, have been badly broken. I cannot bear to go through the whole drama again. My heart isn't as strong as it used to be. Or maybe it is but regardless, I still don't want the pain. I cannot afford a heartbreak on the side so please understand, I am fragile. Haha.

But seriously, in my last few attempts at relationships, I have learned that there is really no easy way to love - no such thing as an overnight love marinade. So I am glad that we have both decided to take things slow not only for obvious reasons - distance, different lifestyles, your girlfriend (and just so it's clear, ayokong maging kabit) - but also because we both need to figure out if this is really what we want; if this is what is right for us. Good thing is that, soon, we will both find this out for ourselves.

I am happy that you're very persistent even though hindi naman talaga ako kailangan ligawan eh dahil hindi naman ako babae (and for the record, I never want to be one). I am happy that you manage to find the time, in between your very busy professional and social schedule, to check up on me in the strangest of ways. Kahit na pa-cute ka lang naman lagi. I am thankful that you are mature enough to accept certain realities. Uy, palakpak tenga. I am excited that, in a few week's time, we will finally meet - that you actually have the balls to buy a ticket and see me on this side of the world. And finally, I am glad to know that someone actually cares for someone as divine (and difficult) as me. Haha. I sincerely appreciate your efforts, dagdagan mo pa!

I, probably much like you, am still uncertain where all of this is leading to but, I am now allowing myself to experience life again. And if what we have now will take us somewhere even remotely close to a happily ever after, then any risk of getting hurt again may just as well still be well worth it in the end. So hold on tight, this post marks the beginning of our story.

Congratulations and welcome to Tristan Tales.

I Need a Miracle

"Tristan, I need your help with something", said one of my bosses.

"Sure...", I replied with a smile.

It was the first time he had asked me to do something for him so I felt that I had to oblige. So he took out two documents - each one a different list. He then started explaining things to me in plain English - what he expected, what we needed to do, what I needed to find. Being the smart boy that I am, I understood what he wanted.

"Okay...", I said.

"Can you do this by Friday evening?", he asked.

"I'll be out on Friday. Let me try to finish these tomorrow...", I replied.

He said thank you and left. I felt good about myself.

"This should be easy. Bibo kid ako e...", I then said to myself.

A few minutes later, I found the time to begin my little project. It looked complicated but, for someone so used to dealing with these things, it was supposed to be a walk in the park. I opened the first binder. My jaws dropped. I scratched my eyes. I was in shock. I quickly flipped through the pages. My heart started beating fast. It was candid camera without the camera. Or maybe there was.

"Naman eh...!"

I took a deep breath, dropped the binder on the desk, closed the office door and took a walk around the block. I wanted to light a stick but I stopped myself. I did not know if I was to laugh or cry or lash out. I looked out into the horizon, I felt at peace. Then reality sunk in.

"Russian?!?!?!?! Russian documents?!?!"

"Niloloko nyo ba ko?"

Blogger's Note: Until now, I am still trying to figure out how I'd be able to learn Russian tonight. Santa, I need a chip... Russian please, Russian...

Dear Stranger

Blogger's Note: Emo post. Read at your own risk.

***

Dear Stranger,

I'm having one of those days again - one of those less happy days. It sucks, really. I have been fighting this for some time now. I just have to give in to it tonight. I need to finally do this.

I looked outside and it's dark. I am sure it's also very cold. I would just have to trust my instincts; I haven't really gone out for the last three days. I have been a little under the weather - I had to stay in. But beyond being sick, the sad reality is that no one really gives a shit on what's going on. The truth I just have to deal with my sucky life by myself. It is what it is.

It doesn't really help that my brain can go on hyperdrive and I find myself asking why I feel alone when there are a million and one people online? Why I am by myself when I know at least two dozen people in this place? Why I feel... oh God, dare I say it... sad?

And then, of course, I have to deal with a lot of shit on a daily basis. I have to make sure that I eat well so that I don't gain weight and eventually die. I need to work my ass off and drag myself to the gym. Then I'd need to wake up at a certain time, get to work at this hour, do the same sucky things over and over and over again. Oh and responsibilities - I have lots of them. Shit, really. And then I try to get laid, to pass time... to take my mind off the fact that out of the billions of people in the world, no one really wants to be with me beyond two hours.

And that is where you come in. You're supposed to be here for days like this. You're supposed to tell me that I am a good person who deserves so much more; that I should hang in there in times like this. You're supposed to be a friend who would tell me senseless stories about anything and everything to take my mind off these things. You're supposed to make me feel that I matter, at least to one person - and you're supposed to tell me that I need not feel sad because you're there. You're supposed to be around and listen when I cry. You're supposed to tell me that everything's gonna be okay. You're supposed to make me feel less alone.

But you're not here. You're not there either. In fact, you're nowhere.

It sucks that I am sad. It really sucks that when I'm sad, the first person I'd think of is you. And it really, really sucks that, right now, the best I could do is blog about it.

World Sex is World Peace

Inspired by the online conversation with McVie recently and based on consultation with the Tristan Tales' editorial board, i.e. me, I have decided to change the banner yet again.

The new Tristan Tales campaign, dubbed as "World Sex is World Peace", triumphs safe promiscuous behavior in fostering peace, one bird at a time. This global campaign will feature international heart- and puson-warming stories that aim to inspire everyone to take charge of their own happiness and, while at it, do it well.

The one and only Pokpok Blogger Extraordinaire, Tristan Tan, has signed himself up for this very worthy cause. He promises to remain steadfast in performing his most important role, to date: the Philippines' Ambassador of Goodwill to the World.

Now, isn't this lovely? Haha.

The Amazing Race

In the tradition of "What's in a Name?" - an analysis of names in my Philippine black book - this analysis now focuses on races.

Let's start with the working disclaimers:

• Much like all studies, the conclusions that will be made in this study are general observations based on the sample that has been available to the researcher;
• Exceptions to the observations are always possible;
• The data I used is based on my very limited (haha) experience in the last few months;
• Observations, especially those related to race preferences, were formed based on observations in social/sexual networking sites.
• The researcher did not necessarily have sex with the entire world, at least not just yet.
• This post should not, in any way, be an indication of the researcher's appetite for sex or his real interest in pursuing a long term relationship with anyone. And yes, anyone, this disclaimer is especially here for you. Haha;
• The study is purely academic and is being posted to provide readers with first hand observations from a known source (plus the fact that I have seem to have run out of topics);
• Some of the data (experiences) used in this analysis have already been posted in this site - the operative word is some; and
• I urge you to trust the statistical significance of the data used in this analysis.

Let me now categorize boys based on the color of their skin. Based on the research conducted, there are four major skin colors in the world: white, black, brown and yellow. However, I have also loosely subcategorized the browns into four major levels so as to differentiate them further from each other. These categories do not in any way reflect the correct or politically accepted way of categorizing people and is only being done for the sake of analysis.

• Whites - Americans, Europeans and everyone pale.
• Blacks - African Americans, non-white Africans and those with dark skin.
• Brown A - Latinos and American Indians.
• Brown B - South Asians (India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, etc.)
• Brown C - Pacific Islanders, Filipinos included.
• Brown D - Middle Easterners
• Yellows - Chinese, Koreans, Japanese, Mongolians

Let's start the ball rolling:

• Whites generally have long (7ish up) dicks. Many of them are cut. Very few have been observed with the curved dicks. Majority of whites trim their pubes, at the minimum; some shave it all off. Balls generally hang low and yes, they are usually pink. Legend has it that they are softies but, I think this is generally a function of age, i.e. the older one is, the softer it gets. Research has shown that boys below thirty have hard ons that are somehow comparable to Pinoys and yes, two is the batting average in an hour. Whites are not assholes in bed - they make sure that their partners are well taken care of. Some can get quite hairy but this study has limited itself to the relatively smooth whites, i.e. bears (and cubs) were not identified for this purpose. Many whites are bottoms. White generally go for whites and very few of them are rice eaters, i.e. whites who go for Asians.

• Blacks. There is truth to the rumor that blacks have big dicks, generally speaking. They are not just long (at least 7ish) but they are also thick. Yes, it can get pretty scary. Many are cut. Balls, just like the whites, are generally long hangers. They have big balls. Pubes are extremely curly and are often shaved; some maintain a very thin growth of hair. Blacks are softies compared to their Filipino counterparts. They have been observed to be very aggressive in bed but are only often good for one round - it takes them a while to recover. Many blacks are tops. Blacks generally go for their brothas' (blacks) and Asians.

• Brown A: Latinos. This has been the researcher's personal favorite since they are comparable to the stance of their Filipino counterparts. Latinos have decent-sized dicks (6ish) but some have been identified to possess monster cocks too. Many are cut. Balls are middle hangers. Pubes are often trimmed. They can be very romantic in bed but can be quite aggressive when provoked. Many are versatiles. They really sound good in bed. Latinos usually go for whites and blacks. Asians are not generally their priority.

• Brown B: South Asians. Yes, they are spicy. Imagine curry and all those nutty spices rubbed on their generally hairy skin. Dicks are surprisingly big (at around 6ish up) and are sturdy enough for the purpose. Many are uncut and have really different shapes; generally pointy. Pubes are everywhere and are often allowed to grow without much concern for their partners. They are generally outspoken in bed and will tell you what they want. They have very high regard of themselves and sincerely believe that they are extremely good in bed. South Asians are mostly tops and they don't really have a distinct race preference in bed.

• Brown C: Pacific Islanders. Now, this is fun. As expected, participants from this subgroup have delivered all of the time. Dick sizes are generally not as monstrous as their white or black counterparts (averaging 5ish) but they have managed to out-harden anyone in the world. Particular focus has been given to Filipinos who have been born or raised in the States - it's amazing how their size has been influenced by their environment; i.e. they are big and hard. Balls can be generally found hanging close to the body (as compared to the white and black low hangers). Many are cut. Pubes are trimmed. Everyone is generally smooth. It has been observed that Brown C's outperform their closest competitors, the Latinos. Many are versatiles. Sadly, many of them are also passive. This subcategory would usually go for Whites, Yellows and Latinos. Very few of them go for Blacks.

• Brown D: Middle Easterners. For a lack of a better subcategory and for the purposes of this study, they have been identified as browns. But, they are actually a good mix of browns, blacks, whites and yellows. They have the monster dick size of the blacks (length and girth), the hair of the South Asians, the (general) softness of the Whites. Balls are big and hang low. Many are tops. They know what they want and they often like to be in control. They are very outspoken which is good if you are into S/M (sadomasochism). Much like the South Asians, they do not have any particular race preference although I have always believed that they like the smooth races, e.g. brown C's and yellows.

• Yellows. Now, now rubypurple, don't feel bad because it's really not that sad. Yellows are generally short and slim, much like their body type. This shortcoming is almost often eclipsed by their cute faces and very slim physique. Balls are generally close to their smooth (almost hairless) bodies. Pubes are allowed to grow like bean sprouts which makes it quite annoying for their partners, at times. Many are uncut. They are surprisingly hard but not as hard as the Brown C's. Many are bottoms who would generally go for Whites. They rarely go for Brown C's. I have no idea why.

Now wasn't that fun? Haha.

I Want To Know What Love Is

My most recent post started with a declaration - that I have fallen in love twice in the last year. Reading it several times over and getting overwhelmed by the reactions that I have gathered from some of you (Blogger's Note: Thank you very much!) got me thinking - have I really ever fallen in love? Am I just confusing the feelings I have experienced so far with love? And yes, the basic question, what is love?

I guess to answer the fairly basic questions above, I felt that it was but appropriate to do some introspection. Since I had decided to ditch the clubs tonight and just stay in, I had the time and the energy to do a quick soul search. I tried to recall some of my failed attempts at love and I analyzed each one based on how they had impacted me.

In order for me to know what love is, I needed to answer this question - what have I confused love to be so far?

I have had crushes in the past - the ones that you feel that you actually love them but in reality, you just like seeing them. Gay as I am, I am still as visual as any other straight guy in this world. So yes, most of the time, my crushes are often just those people who are appealing to the eyes err... senses. So I guess "attraction" does not equal love.

And then someone told me that he loved me - for all my imperfections, someone said that he actually loved me, wow. I felt weak in the knees and I suddenly had this warm and fuzzy feeling inside me and no, it was not orgasm, at least not yet. The relationship did not last and now, looking back, I had probably felt "acceptance" and not love.

And then there was this guy who had professed his "love" in such a grand way that I felt really important. I had somehow charmed my way to his heart so he and I became quite the celebrity couple back then. This guy treated me like a king - and yes, I gladly returned the favor. In the end, I must have mistaken "importance" for love because, much like acceptance, it did not last.

And then there was this boy who still remains as one of my best fucks in the world. We'd fuck like crazy every single time - and then we dated. And yes, it felt really good. He treated me like a slut but showered me with "love" just the same. I felt loved or so I thought I did. But now, looking back, it was just "lust". And yes, lust was not love.

And then there was this guy who made my life hell for some time. He was unattainable - someone I thought was beyond me. But, because I was innately persistent, I had managed to break through his defenses. He became "love". This boy helped me become a "better man" or so I believed. I aspired to be the man he wanted me to be under the guise of "love". But in reality, I just wanted to be prove myself worthy of his time. He was just a "challenge" and now, looking back, it was not love.

And then there was another guy who had "loved" me for who I was and who I was not. Needless to say, he was madly attracted to me. He also made me feel very important. Lust was never an issue and yes, I was his daily challenge. Our relationship was a losing battle - there were so many levels of incompatibility - but we continued trying. We had confused love with something else, pride. We did not want to fail ourselves - but we did, eventually.

And then there was this boy who I thought I had fallen in love with. He was actually quite a charmer - eloquent, fun and fairly decent looking. He was someone I could have seen myself grow old with (Blogger's Note: Now this makes me want to throw up...)- give or take a few minor adjustments. He was just like me, only different. It never worked out - what I had thought as love was something else - it was friendship. And yes, friendship does not equal romantic love.

And then finally this guy - very elusive and an untamed creature. Someone so many people desired. He was a challenge. I was attracted to him- and yes, I lusted after him. He made me feel important and he was a friend too, or so I thought. Of course, it never worked out - now it seems, that desire, even with all its permutations, is not love.

So now, I am stuck. After so many years of being in and out of "love", I am now at a loss. I now need a clearer definition of love - something beyond textbook, love notes and emo blogs.

I want to know what love is. I want you to show me.

Love, Lust and Life Lessons

In the last year or so, I have fallen in love twice. Yes, twice and the world knows about it. Both instances, I have learned things that I sort of knew before but just refused to acknowledge. I am acknowledging them now.

I am slowly getting my groove back and someone's actually making me smile again. Pretty soon, I know I'd write love letters again and pine over romance, true love and happily ever after. But before I go crazy once more, I need to remind myself what I have learned so far (in no particular order of importance). These will, hopefully, spare me (and whoever) unnecessary heartaches in the future.

1. Never start with your best foot forward. Just be yourself. It's up to the other person if he can live with you and your flaws. If he can't, then it was not a good match to begin with. You may be better off as fuck buddies.

2. Disappointment is inevitable especially when dating.

3. Not everyone is built to date. Some people just have no sweet bone in their body. Learn to live with this or move on.

4. Lower expectations. If you can actually come with no expectations (as if that's ever possible!) then it's better.

5. Never force yourself to fall in love. That's why it's called falling, you have no control. You cannot throw yourself off the cliff and enjoy the fall at the same time, right? Unless of course you are bungee jumping.

6. Rebounds never work.

7. Never fall in love with a stranger. Needless to say, it is important to get to know the person well - get to know them first.

8. Take the other person seriously. Jokes are always half-meant.

9. Accept the fact that both of you have a past.

10. Never ever take someone's past against him.

11. Labels are necessary. I need to know who I am in your life. I will let you know who you are in mine. We then take it from there.

12. People have feelings - even the greatest of sluts.

13. If you need to end it with someone, grow some balls and tell them personally. Don't just disappear - this shows a lot about how weak you are as a person.

14. Communication is essential. Men are not mind-readers. Speak up or forever hold your peace.

15. Love is overrated. Sex is overrated. Commitment is underrated - it is really very tough.

16. It is never a good idea to fall in love when you still believe that you are confused. Deal with your confusion first - I am not a shrink.

17. Long distance relationships do not work. Lack of sex is almost always the problem. Constant physical intimacy is necessary.

18. Never promise forever. In the same vein, "best, most, and worst" should never be used in a sentence referring to your partner. You just never know if you'd need to use them to describe someone else.

19. Sex is a give and take activity. If you can't make the other person happy in bed, he will most definitely seek happiness elsewhere.

20. Finally, remember to never say thank you for sex - it is not a favor to you or to anybody.

So there. Tandaan mo. Wag matigas ang ulo.

The Dance of the Virgin (Last)

That night, even if I had skipped Mexico, I never went home a zero.

"Hello? Ako pa, ang ganda ko!"

And so I slowly eased my way out of Mexico's sight. I found myself hanging by the bar. After a couple more bottles of beer, I was almost wasted. Almost, but not quite. I decided to call it a night.

Upon seeing me make my way out of the dance floor, the Mexican burrito quickly made his move. I did not realize that he was watching me. Haha.

"Tristan..."
"Yeah..."
"Are you leaving?"
"Yeah... I'm meeting some friends over at the coffee shop..."

I lied. He looked disappointed - at least that's what I'd like to think. But seriously, I wanted to bring him home but, I was too scared. I was scared that I might end up in stitches when I wake up.

I started walking home. It was drizzling outside and the temperature is in the mid-forties - it was cold. The moment I felt the cold shower hit my face, I somehow realized that I have walked away from a good lay. I called Doctor McFitch.

"Hello..."
"O bakit? Ba't gising ka pa?"

I remember talking continuously and ranting how I never got to bring home this guy blah blah blah.

"Oh so you're clubbing na in the States..."
"How was it?"
"It was uhmm... good."

I lied again, it was spectacular.

"I kissed Captain America."

Of course I did. I laughed. It was the height of Fil-Am relations. Kissing Captain America was like kissing the heart of the American people. And then I continued.

"And then there was this black guy..."
"And another one..."
"And another one..."
"And another one..."

But I did not even bother to go into details. I knew I was drunk. Then I started to count.

"I think I had ten. Yeah, must have had ten bottles."
"Where are you now?"
"Walking. Wait, I need to take a cab. Hold on."

I told the cabbie where to go.

"Bakit slang ka?"
"Shempre ganun talaga..."

I laughed. I took a good look at the cabbie and I knew what I had to do next.

"I think I may have to call you back."
"Gwapo yung nagmamaneho..."

I laughed again. The moment Doc hung up, I started talking to the cabbie.

"So where are you from?"
"Pakistan."
"How old are you?"
"28."
"Where are you from?"
"Philippines."
"How was the party?"
"It was good. I had fun."
"Where's your girl?"

I laughed.

"What girl?"
"Didn't you meet girls in the club?"
"Well, there were a few but I don't go for girls."
"Why not?"
"I'm gay. I like boys."
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"Nope."

Then there was silence. I looked outside the car. It was still drizzling and we were heading for the highway. He stopped. I panicked. Did he want me out of his car because I told him I was gay? Shit. Baka may holdaper dito? My brain was on hyperdrive.

"Why don't you transfer here?"
"Ha?"

He wanted me to move to the passenger seat, beside him. I did as told.

"So why don't you have a boyfriend?"
"I just don't have one."
"How long have you lived here?"
"A few months."
"You're beautiful... boys would definitely like you."

I laughed. This guy's crazy. Up close, he looked even more interesting. He had very strong features and those eyes - his were the ones that pierced through my soul.

"How long have you lived here?"
"Since I was fifteen."
"Long enough."
"Are you married?"
"No."
"Kids?"
"No."

I was really drunk but, I know when I was being lured into sex - that night I felt it - the moment he had asked me to transfer to the front seat.

"So how do you like your boys?"
"Hard."
"I think I'm hard. Touch it."

I stopped overanalyzing. My hands moved freely. He was indeed hard.

"Now, why do you have this?"
"I don't know. He probably likes you."

I laughed again. Boy, was I really happy that night. I unzipped his pants. I wanted to take a peek. It looked marvelous - magical even.

"You like it?"
"Hey, we'll take the next exit, okay?"

As if on cue, we turned right on to the next exit. He parked the cab a few meters from my apartment's gates. He turned off the engine.

"So what's your name?"
"Tristan."

I never bothered to get his name. Haha. That night, inside a car parked by the street near my apartment complex, my intentional zero turned into one.

Pakistan, check. Taxi Tales: International Edition, check.

Happy virgin, check.

The Dance of the Virgin (2)

In between dirty dancing with horny strangers (male and female), bottles of beer and totally unpublishable behavior on the dance floor, I had made a meaningful connection with a gorgeous twenty-three year-old Mexican burrito, Alex.

Alex was around 5'8ish, lean built, and moreno. He had a chiseled nose and a perfect set of teeth. His eyes, black. His hair, cropped and messed up. He wore a white plain shirt underneath his loose black hoodie, jeans and a pair of old sneakers. I first saw him as I was downing my fourth bottle of Bud Light - I was standing by the bar. He passed by me, took a quick glance and smiled. From that moment, I knew that smile would get us somewhere. I took a swig.

I saw him make his way through the dance floor by himself. He started swaying to the beat of the music. I saw his arms move and then his thighs groove. I watched his every single step. He looked my way and smiled again but, this time, he signalled me to come over and dance with him. With the bottle of beer in my right hand, I took a few quick steps to where he was at.

"Hi..."
"Who are you with?"
"No one... and yourself?"
"No one."
"Alex..."
"Tristan."

The next thing I knew his hands were on my ass - pulling me closer. He really smelled nice - something that turned me on instantly. Until now, I am still trying to figure out his perfume. I felt my dickie move.

We started to dance to the music - his hands all over my very sexy body. Haha. I pulled away - I was still not-too-keen on dirty dancing with total strangers. Fact is, I was just a tease. He pulled me back. He turned me around and danced behind me, his hands slowly making their way to my crotch. I felt warm all over. He started pumping. I felt something hard poking me from behind. I giggled.

"Hey..."
"Why?"
"Oooh, you're so bad..."
"You like it?"

I pulled away to face him and smiled. He took my hand and guided it on top of whatever it was that was poking my behind. I felt a quick jolt of electricity run through my entire body. The next thing I knew, my hand was being guided inside his pants. I felt my hand slip through a garter. Beyond that was his throbbing cock - and boy, was it throbbing! I let out a nervous-oh-my-gawd-I'm-so-dirty-kind-of-laugh. I felt so dirty.

"So you like it?"

I was unable to answer. He laughed. I pulled out my hand and we danced again - him behind me - our bodies moving as one on the dance floor. He took the bottle of beer from my hand and took a gulp from it.

"Puta, feeling close..."
"Hey, you wanna get out of here?"
"Crazy... it's too early!"

But truth was, there was something bothering me.

"You wanna get something to drink?"
"Sure. Let's go."

Yes, we drank a few more rounds and danced the night away. He was most definitely my night's perfect dancing partner - hot, sweaty and horny. He was a good catch but something Alex had bothered me so much that it actually made me uncomfortable.

He was a ten-ish and it scared the shit out of me. Who would have thought, right?

That night, even if I had skipped Mexico, I never went home a zero.

"Hello? Ako pa, ang ganda ko!"


to be continued.

The Dance of the Virgin

Yes, I danced - and I danced like crazy... drunk crazy... like there was no tomorrow. I danced again. I danced like I did the first time I stepped on the hallowed dance floors of Malate. It was intimidating but nonetheless very liberating - something I have held off for the longest time since I got here. Finally, I was ready - and so I danced the night away - like I used to - just like before - front and center.

It was my first club night err... gay club night in DC. I have been in other clubs before but usually with someone - a friend, a friend in hiding, and other what-have-yous - straight clubs and the "drink-chat-and-be-merry" type of clubs - where I never danced. I was already convinced that I was with the wrong crowd and I, I was not ready. Until recently.

I finally got tired of waiting for the right crowd and the right person who would take me out to dance in the hippest gay club in the city. Most of the time, I would find myself hanging out with guys who'd prefer to snuggle at home or maybe catch a drink or two at a local bar - they all refused to club. Did I say, wrong crowd? So I took matters into my own hands err... dancing shoes and took to the clubs by myself. And I was so glad I did.

I did not know what to expect. Google did not have much information on how one should dress, behave and mingle in DC gay night clubs. I have mastered the Manila night scene. I have transcended language barriers in Bangkok but I am a newbie in the States. I was a club virgin - again. And I, for the first time since I arrived here, I was intimidated by something. But Tristan refuses to be intimidated. I did what any self-respecting pokpok would do - look for a sign. Hehe. I found it in an inspiration lecture on YouTube - where this dying guy tells people to have fun. When you have time, watch it. But I digress.

And so I dressed up for the occasion - in my most "no-I-did-not-prepare-for-tonight" clubbing outfit, I braved the cold weather. I knew where I was to go. I have seen the building's facade on the net and have memorized the address by heart. I knew how much the cover charge was but beyond that, I was clueless as to what lies beyond the door.

"We're here...", said the cabbie.

"Thanks.", I said as I handed him my cab fare.

"Here goes...", I whispered to myself.

I took a deep breath and pretended to be cool, calm and collected. I started walking to the entrance where, outside, a line was starting to form. It was a good sign. I was finally ushered in. They asked for my ID - something that also took some time for me to acquire - I now have one, of course. I looked at the bouncer and took out my ID from my wallet. He looked at me and strapped a band on my right wrist - I would later find out that this magical band would enable me to get some drinks at the bar. It was proof that I was above twenty one and I could get wasted as much as I want - and I did. Haha.

Inside the club, the music pounded my soul. The green laser lights calmed my nerves. I was being reenergized. It felt like Bed, only better - with better looking people of various shapes, sizes, race and undress. I was delighted to see barely-clothed twinks by the bar. I was in gay heaven. I was home.

"What are you having?", the butch bartender asked me.

"Bud Light please.", I replied as I handed him/er a crisp twenty.

"Five for a beer.", I made a quick note.

I took a quick gulp. It was so damn good. I had to check - it was beer but never has it tasted any better than that night. The music continued to pulsate - it was mesmerizing. I was being brought to a new dimension. I took my bottle and tried to squeeze my way to the other end of the dance floor. I needed to know where I was - badly needed to familiarize myself with my new Bed. There were countless of hunky boys around me - I tried to be cool. I had to - I was not there for gay suicide - I refused to be a dork. Besides, I know my stuff - I can dance. How different can this scene be?

But it was different. Haha. Well, the expectations were different. The moment I saw three guys kissing before me, I had figured that I was in a different ball game. I had to learn quick. I had to adjust fast. It was pokpok extravaganza - I needed to be me, only better. Besides, that night, I was beyond myself - I was representing my country. Haha. And so, I turned my game face on - the "hey-I-can-show-you-some-lovin" kind of look. I almost threw up. Sa totoo, natatawa ako sa sarili ko. But I came here for a reason - I needed to have fun.

In between dirty dancing with horny strangers (male and female), bottles of beer and totally unpublishable behavior on the dance floor, I had made a meaningful connection with a gorgeous twenty-three year-old Mexican burrito, Alex.

to be continued...