Love of my Life

Today, another love story has ended in my life. In all of my relationships, I was so loved and cared for. I was always the one faltering and pushing them away in the end. Once they are gone, I am left empty and the unceasing longing begins. Undoubtedly, I have personal issues to resolve, and for now, I think, I won’t be able to sustain any relationship ever. I am slowly accepting the fact that I’m gonna stay single for life, growing old with a cat and a retriever. It’s not something I’m alarmed of. Things would just be better that way. 

Rafael’s affection towards me was no different from my previous ex’s. He was caring, patient and expressive; and among the three, he is definitely the hottest.  Rafael wrote me this letter, which he airdropped to my phone at 12:00 am of my birthday this year. Posting this in memory of all our good memories together:

Love of my life,

I love you! 

I’ve known you for 9 months and yet it feels like we just met yesterday, but at the same time it feels like I have known you all my life. You make time meaningless. In fact, you make everything else feel meaningless because the only thing that matters is you. You have brought so much light into my life. I would be lost without your torch.

I love us. We’re the cutest. I know that sounds braggy, but I mean it when I say that I think we make the perfect couple. We understand each other. We listen to each other. We inspire each other to become stronger with each passing day. 

There are things about someone that are simply stuff that you cannot shake out of your mind. For me, it’s the way that you smile, the way that you lift that fine ass to fart, the way you make fun of my double chin, the way your eyes light up when you see me, the way you close your eyes when we kiss. All these things and many more, make you so special to me. There has never been anyone who could make me feel the way you do and for that and much more I know that this is true love. Nothing and no one else compares to you my bab and I’m lucky to have you by my side. 

Now I want to see you smile because when you smile, I go crazy. I beg the Lord to always give you His blessings and to give me the opportunity to be with you at all times and in all places. Happy birthday babbi bear!

 💚 Bubbi bub

Reconnection

I've settled with a view of myself spending the rest of my life with a golden retriever, playing fetch by the sea shore. I live my life everyday to grow in my career and eventually, be able to retire, and realize this dream. I'm so drowned by my career that the thought of growing old with someone seems impractical anymore. Just think of how it could meddle with work and sometimes, tinker with your sanity. Hence, I set that thought aside, placed it in an almost forgotten corner of my mind. However, when Cupid's arrow strikes, it hits hard. Never did I realize that my work-drenched self would suddenly rethink of my outlook in life.

I've been out of relationship for more than 3 years and yes, I've forgotten how it's like to fall in love. What lingers in my mind is the stress and hassle of relationships, which keep me from actively finding one. But when the heart speaks, these negative recollections are suddenly wiped out. There's this unfathomable feeling of wanting to care and to share your life to someone. There's this unexplainable sense of contentment, when you feel the presence of that person, when he notices you and when he reciprocates the feeling... or... that's what you're making yourself believe. 

Then confusion starts to set in. Is it reciprocation, or just a friendly response? You then start to analyze every actions, every conversations, detail by detail. Your heart hopes, but your mind tells otherwise. This conflict gives that vague uneasy feeling of uncertainty that preoccupies you. What if he's just waiting for your move? What if you make that bold move and turn everything awkward which will just push him away? Suddenly, that stresses you out: the thought of snapping that thin thread that connects you. It is disturbing, consuming your thoughts and you just wish that you're back to where you were before: the time before Cupid's arrow got you. 

As you come to your senses, dismissing the hopes of the heart and listening to the reason of the mind, you feel frustration. As for me, I reinstalled my Tinder, hoping that there's someone out there who could fill the void, or better, someone who could replace him. Unfortunately, my standards are just too high right now. Yes, it's difficult. Fortunately, I have a sound mind and I decided to just deal with it.  It will take a while, but things will be better, I know. 

Talking to a friend about this frustration, she told me this, "It's not the positive outcome after the chase that matters. It is the feeling that you get out of it." She continues, "Cherish that feeling. It's what makes you feel alive. That feeling of intense belonging in the midst of uncertainty, when all odds are not in your favor...That's the feeling that gives your human heart a fuel to go on. Do not forget it."

So yes, although I am perturbed by this frustration, I also realized that I was able to reconnect to my human side. That heart, that seemed to have petrified because of my preoccupation with career, I've realized that it's still there, ready to beat, ready to feel, and ready to give love...but perhaps, next time. 

Bad at Names

I met a guy in Grindr once. A guy living just a few floors away from my unit. It was one of those nights when you know... The conversation was quick and short and we quickly arrived to an agreement. We exchanged digits and I saved his name as {insertcondoname here} Guy. A few minutes later, we met at his place, short introduction and there...

A few days later, {insertcondoname here} Guy texted again and we got it on again. And then another day... and another... until one day when I really had to call his name but my mind went blank. "Hey, uhhmm, I'm sorry, but I forgot your name," I embarrassingly asked him. "Lorenzo, you're Basti, right?" God! He remembers!

Not my first embarrassing experience when it comes to names. I have a pretty, sophisticated friend, named Sophia. We were in Palawan and just came from the beach, still wearing our sunglasses. We were rushing towards the hotel bathroom. When I came out, a medical representative who I talk to every week for months saw me and asked me if the girl I am with is Snooky Serna. Well, with the sunglasses, she does look like Snooky. When Sophia came out of the bathroom, I introduced them to one another just to prove that she's not Snooky. "Sophia, this is... uhmmm... she's from this drug company." I flushed. Well, she's not the only one. I don't remember half of the names of the medical representatives that I see every week. 

Then, there was this young intern from Unicef who goes to every office to share his advocacy for the poor children...aka...soliciting funds for Unicef. He is cute and has big arms, which is one of my weaknesses. He introduced himself as Henry and showed me his flip chart on the dire condition of poor Filipino children. It just lasted for 20 minutes. Well, I'm not really moved, but he's cute and well, okay, that 20 pesos a day will go a long way. So I gave my credit card details. Just to make sure that I understand what I am signing up to, Henry asked me some questions...

"What is the organization that you're helping?" Unicef

"How much are you willing to give to the organization?" 20 pesos a day

"How long is your commitment to help these children?" 2 years

"What is my name?" ________, "My God, Sorry, I forgot..." My face turned red again.

When Naivety Leads you to a Gay Spa

We had our old condo rented out as traffic became more annoying in the area. So, I recently moved to a new condominium nearer to my work. Everything around me is new.

On one Saturday afternoon, I arrived home after attending 2 hours of gym class. I just wanna lie on my bed and rest after the intense routines in my mixed martial arts and yoga class. I then realized that I left my keys inside the unit. I rang my sister and asked if she's at home; unfortunately, she is dining outside and will arrive at around 9pm. Since I just want to relax and rest, I thought of getting a massage, the perfect way to kill time and soothe my aching muscles.

I drove around the area and saw this spa which I'll just call E Therapy (the name is somewhat similar to that). E for me, is something that you would add to a name to emphasize that it is electronic, innovative or different (like e-mail, e-cigarette). Its facade has white french windows. It is also brightly lit from the inside. It looks so innocent; a place where you would want to have your nails done.

I opened the door  and was greeted by a middle-aged receptionist who handed me a menu of services that they offer. Nothing shady. Everything in the lobby and on the menu is what you would expect on a normal spa. Since it is my first time in the spa, I asked the lady if I could get the first-timer package. She called out for a name and instructed someone to get the kit for the service that I chose.  She explained to me that the package includes a shower, a 1 1/2 hour massage, and I forgot the other things that she said as her words became blah blahs when a hot guy came out with a basket of oils and towels. I can't remember, but I hope my jaw did not drop.

Scruffy guy, groomed facial hair, average height, big chest and arms. He looks like someone with a middle eastern mix. He asked me to sit down so that he can take off my shoes and  replace it with slippers. I was still clueless at this point.

He led me to a locker room where I can deposit my valuables and handed me a towel and a robe. I saw more borta buff dudes wearing the same color of muscle shirt (somewhat like a uniform) walking around and that's when it hit me... I am in a gay spa. *insert It's Raining Men music cue here*

Flashback: 
Two years ago, I heard my residency batchmates joking around with a term "spakol." I shyly asked what it is and they just answered me, "it's a spa with happy endings." That's when I also learned what's ES and those stuff. Sometimes, I could really be so naïve.

Back to present:
Since I have already paid and my muscles are longing for a massage badly, I chose to proceed with the experience. My mantra was: happy ending could be achieved with a satisfying massage alone without the "extra service." ...and ...the therapist is hot, so no more hesitations.

The therapist, who I'll call Sam, came back after I've changed and led me to the shower room. I really can't understand the room. It has a large tiled bed in the middle and a shower head on a corner. It reminded me of morgue tables which creeped me out. I guess it's what they use for body scrubs? Since the room is mostly occupied by the tiled bed, There's just a little space where you can stand and take a shower. I'm not sure if I have to take the shower lying down on the table, or if it is even okay to get the table wet. I've managed to squeeze myself in a corner. After a quick shower, I opened the door and the now half-naked Sam greeted me outside. He was just wearing boxer shorts. His proud pecs are outlined by the shadows of the dim light. *wipes drooling saliva* He smiled and led me upstairs to a massage cubicle. He is soft spoken and polite.

The still clueless and nervous me still don't know what to do. He asked me to lie prone on the table, which I did, fully clothed with my robe. Maybe he found it strange or funny. He politely asked if he could remove my robe, which he gently did. I was still wearing my boxerbriefs underneath (maybe at this point, he noticed that I am new to this thing. Pa-virg ang effect). The therapy started with the usual question, "what pressure?" I just opted for a moderate one. He started with the typical stretching and began to work with long strokes on my lower leg. In fairness, it was relaxing.

As he went further to my upper legs, he politely asked if he could remove my underwear. I was taken aback for a while but I thought, it's part of this kind of massage. It's becoming quite sensual as his fingertips touch those sensitive areas while he kneads through my upper thighs. I tried so hard to keep everything down there calm. He then proceeded with the back massage which was equally good. He used hot packs to make long strokes at my back which nearly put me to sleep. He then whispered, "just relax," and grabbed my legs, spread them apart, lifted them and placed them on his while he sat in between my legs, his crotch near my exposed but cheeks. It was indeed a compromising position. He did some strokes behind there and again, I tried to keep everything calm.

He then asked me to lie supine. Just before we started with the front-body massage, he excused himself and went to the bathroom. I lied there feeling awkward for a while with just a piece of cloth covering my nakedness.  I heard his foot steps coming back and I pretended that I am chill, relaxed and asleep with my eyes half-opened, just enough to appreciate the beauty of my therapist. Sam came back with a towel hanging around his neck. I really don't know what it's for. Did he take a quick shower?

The polite Sam thanked me for allowing him to go on a quick break and resumed with the therapy. He again started with the feet, lower legs, going up. After a while, he again whispered, "just relax" and lifted my legs, separated them again and placed them on his while kneeling in front of my nakedness. We are now in a position which resembles a "missionary" position. Again, I felt vulnerable. He did some mild ticklish strokes around the perineal area but this time, I really can't contain what's down there from going up. After that, he made strokes towards my chest while in the same position. As he repeated the strokes, his chest went nearer to my body until they eventually began touching and rubbing. And that’s not the only thing rubbing my body 😛.

That's when the question popped out. He made one last stroke from my abdomen towards my chest. His face ended up so near my neck that I can feel his warm breath. His lips are almost touching my ears. I can feel his beard and mustache tickling it. He is now completely on top of me with his arms wrapped around my body. He whispered the question, you know what...something about ES.

Very tempting... but I assured him that he doesn’t have to worry. I'll just tip him like he gave me an ES (thinking that he needs the money...and ...I did touch his pecs while telling him this. hihi.). But apparently, it was Sam who got aroused and politely asked if he could just jack off. I said okay and made him do his thing in a corner. At this point, I'm not sure if I need  to help him out. I ended up sitting on the other end of the bed,  checking out my nails, and the rest was  a dum dee dum moment while waiting for him to finish his thing.  He smiled at me and thanked me again. When I was about to leave the cubicle, he helped me put my robe back on. He tied the sash  while he is at my back, his arms almost wrapping my waist (like that Jack and Rose Titanic scene). He then put his lips near my ears and whispered, "sana makabalik po kayo." Kilig and tempting pero I know, that's the end of it.

And so, in my three decades of existence,  that is my first spakol experience. Indeed, happy endings are relative and doesn't have to end as expected. Did I enjoy it? Yes I did. The sensual things, the first experience and the thought of helping someone (char...ang sakit sa bulsa). Overall, I received the massage I needed with some sort of teasing.

Looking back, the naïve me just realized that the name of the spa is not that innocent after all. E could have stood for erotic... or extra service. *Face palm*

The Guy in the Elevator

After another date with Warren, he had to go to a party. I can't accompany him because almost everyone in that party are interns from the institution where I am working. Though a few of Warren's friends know that he's dating an anesthesiologist in the same institution, I remain to be a mystery guy for them. We don't wanna be the next talk of the hospital, so we kept our dates secret. 

Fortunately, he is sober enough to drive me home. I kissed him good night before I stepped out of the car. I gathered my things from the back of his car. I had no time to put them all in my bag so I just carried my iPad and my white smock gown with my other hand.

As I was about to enter my building, I saw a guy with a nice outfit smoking his e-cigar beside the building entrance. Since I just came from a date and you know what, I didn't bother to check him out and just walked straight ahead to the elevator. There were some announcements posted beside the elevator, and an open letter of complaint about the manner of nomination for the home owner's representatives. Since it's controversial, I was so eager to read it before I pushed the elevator button.

Finally, I finished reading the two-paged letter. I stepped inside the elevator and pushed the button for my floor. As the doors were about to close, I heard footsteps approaching, so out of politeness, I pushed the open button again. It was e-cigar smoking guy. He is kindda mestizo, average built and height. He glanced at the white smock gown that I was carrying and commented, "Wow, there's a doctor in the house." I just smiled. He pushed the 9th floor button and the elevator started to go up. "Martin, by the way," he introduced himself. "Basti," I bluntly replied. "You work at PGH?" He asked me. He probably saw the logo in the my smock gown. I just nodded. "What's your unit number?" He asked me. Grabe ha, unit number agad? "703" I mumbled in an incomprehensible way so that he won't understand. Luckily, he didn't not ask me to clarify my reply. "Will I see you tomorrow?" He asked. My shock translated to my facial expression. He kindda noticed it and said, "...in the nomination of the owner's representative?" He quickly followed up and said "I guess you're busy?"  I just said yes. Then, the door opened as the elevator reached the 7th floor. "Good night,"he said before I stepped out. I said good bye and smiled. As the doors closed, I rolled my eyes and mumbled, "Flirt!"

The Guy behind the Mask

When we first spoke to each other, I told you that you're just like my ex, Harry.

Chinese, introvert, thrifty and a doctor... well, that's what your PR profile says. After that first message, we had a long conversation. We regularly exchanged messages.You denied it at first, but eventually, I found out that we are in the same institution. You were just a clerk then, while I was your intern. I checked my FB for all the Chinese surnames in your batch, and that's how I figured out who you are.

We have already met before we first talked to each other at PR. It was several months before that. I was the outgoing post duty intern while you were the incoming duty clerk. Your co-clerk introduced us to each other, but either you're shy or snob because you just went on doing your stuff. Warren..that's your name, though it did not stick to my mind, I've always noticed you whenever we bump into each other.

I told you how we met but it seemed like that that event was so insignificant for you because you can't remember it. I could still remember every detail of it... where we were, and yes, the face mask that you were wearing because you're sick that time. But that doesn't matter, because at least, you're speaking to me now.

We have been talking to each other through PR, FB and SMS for several months and we have shared a lot of stories about ourselves. You always tell me about some significant updates in your life, like when you came out to your family. You told me a lot about your self, about how introvert you are, about how you graduated Magna cum laude and a lot more that introduced me to your character. You also never failed to update me about your dates, like your very first date with a Chinese archer, and your date with guys that I also know, like Julian...and yes... HARRY! What a small world.

Apparently, you have known each other through PR even before we met there. I was okay with you dating my ex. I was even the one who encouraged you to go out with him. (And until now, I still don't know why I did that).  I pushed you because I think that you're perfect for each other, as I have said in my very first message to you, you're just like my ex. But on the day that you met, I had mixed emotions. I don't know if I'm jealous of Harry dating someone else, or you dating someone else, who happened to be my ex. I was starting to like you that time.

Things didn't go well with you and Harry. You were so frustrated when he didn't reply to your messages. I could tell that you really liked him, and so for an unknown reason, I gathered up my courage and asked Harry what happened. He just said that he didn't feel the spark. But eventually, you got over your frustration over my ex.

to be continued...

photo from here

Hero's Welcome

It has been more than a week since the last day of the boards. Due to the monsoon rains that battered Manila and the holidays, the release of the results was significantly delayed, prolonging our agony. Normally, it only takes 3 days to release the results, but due to the disruption of government offices, 3 days became 9 days.  I was watching a movie when I received a call from Isabela. "Congrats bestie! We all passed. 100%!"

The day after the release of the results, our school invited us to come for a thanksgiving celebration. On our way to the chapel, there were several med students on both sides of the paved way, carrying balloons, banners and roses. Then, they started cheering and beating drums, throwing rose petals on our path. They handed each one of us a long-stemmed white rose. It was a hero's welcome. A gesture of gratitude for maintaining the school's prestige, making it the top performing medical school in the country, along with 3 other schools with a 100% passing rate.

The alumni association treated us with a buffet lunch after the thanksgiving mass. After eating, I sat near the main stairs of the college. I watched as med students run up and down the stairs and realized how time flies. I remember myself wearing that same white uniform and every year, there is this one day when I pass by the celebration of the new board passers. In those moments, I always wished that I would finish med school on time and pass the boards with one take. Now, that day has come. I am now one of those celebrating, and perhaps, these students, were just like me then, dreaming and hoping.

But then I also realized, it's not the end. It's just like opening a new chapter. A tougher ground, as now, I have a license number that is in constant peril. I can now feel the pressure mounting as my choices could now determine if one would live or die.

By the way, in case you are curious, Adrian also made it. I feel happy for him. 

Another Ghost from the Past

The room assignments for the board exams are out. 

All takers who registered for this year's licensure exam are arranged alphabetically according to their family names, distributed among 3 testing centers in Manila. With heart pounding (because the release of room assignments is basically telling you that the board exams are just 4 days away), I checked my name online. I was quite relieved when I found out that some of my friends (surnames starting in C and D) were assigned in the same floor and building. I wouldn't be that much of a loner during break time. As I went through the names of my classmates and friends, I came across a very familiar name, just 3 rooms away from mine. It was Adrian's.

Adrian is a graduate of a Catholic medical school under the Benedictine order and he was an intern from a private hospital in a posh district in San Juan. I dated him back then. Nothing happened between us, which is probably the reason why he never called back. He kindda made it clear that he's just after his ulterior motives (which is, in his own words, "play" with me).

So the day of the exams came, and I totally forgot about the chances of encountering Adrian again. Well, taking the board exams make you think of other more important stuff,  like PASSING the exam! Before the start of the first test, we were allowed to go to the bathroom. After taking a leak, I checked myself out on the mirror behind someone who is washing his face on the lavatory. When he raised his head, I noticed that he stared at me through the mirror. Well, it's probably normal to check out the person using the mirror behind you, so I just left, forgetting about the incident. 

Then, the second day of exams came, now, people are more relaxed and are more aware of the people around them. Since there is heavy traffic in front of the testing center because of the road construction, my friends and I were dropped off somewhere near and we went on foot for the rest of the way. While we were walking, we passed by the guy who checked me out through the mirror the day before. He's buying cigarette from a takatak boy. And that's when it hit me... Adrian was a smoker. Honestly, I forgot how he looked like, or I guess, he gained a little weight. I just ignored the idea of bumping into him. So what? It wouldn't affect how I would take the exams.

The second day went by like a breeze. While I waited for my friends along the corridor, there he was on the other end. We glanced at each other but I showed no signs of recognition or anything. I quickly turned to another angle pretending that it's one of those accidental glances you make with random people. Finally, my friends came and as we went down the stairs, I saw him in my peripheral vision, following us up to the parking lot. Fortunately, our sundo was early and we were picked up right away. Then, the second week of exams came. I dunno if it's me, or it's just him try to get near me all the time. CR breaks, lunch breaks, in between breaks... papampam much! 

On the last day of exams, I accompanied my friends to a nearby church. I sat on a bleacher at the back as I waited for my friends to say their prayers. I've forgotten how grand Catholic Churches are since I became a Protestant. The last time I went inside one was during my father's burial (because his other family is Catholic) and so I just spent the rest of my time looking around, appreciating the architecture of the all-steel, gothic-inspired church. What caught my attention is a guy praying intently, his head bowed down, eyes tightly shut, his hands almost hugging the crucifix hanging near the entrance of the church. I instantly recognized that he's Adrian. Pati ba naman dito? But slowly, my bitterness turned into compassion as I could see, he might be going through a desperate situation.

Heavy rain was pouring outside the church as Maring started to devastate the metro. Our sundo took a while to come as the streets start to flood. I decided to go out of the church to wait. As I stand under the shade of the church's entrance, a guy stood just a foot away in front of me. Seriously Adrian? There's like 30 square meters of space and you decided to stand in front of me? Like a reflex, I went away, opened my umbrella and just waited under the rain. And yeah, I realized, seriously? There's 30 square meters of space under the shade and I had to stay under the rain...drama much! I guess that sent him the signal that there's no way I'm initiating a conversation. Anyway, from my position, I get to observe him more. Seems like he had no umbrella and he's figuring out a way to get to a ride. Later on, I saw him take out his hanky, put it on his head and skipped in between the puddles of water. I watched him as he made his way out of the gate and fade away from my sight. 

I watched him take the wrath of the weather, as he took the wrath of my bitterness. But then, I also remember the image of a desperate guy hugging a crucifix. Was all that papampam a call for comfort? Perhaps he needs to hear from someone that he's not the only one who finds the exam difficult, or maybe listen to some words of encouragement. Would it have been better if I offered him a ride, or shared my umbrella until he got a ride, or at least I said something nice? I guess, I should have done that, but I was short sighted, overcame by an emotional turmoil from the past. Oh well, for now, he has to endure the wrath of Maring and the wrath of Basti. Anyway, jerks need a little bit of spanking from time to time. I just wish the best for both of us. 

photo from here

Would have been Perfect

Isabela is back in Manila and we are desperately looking for a nice place that's conducive for studying. After studying at the university library, we came across a small coffee shop below a hotel along a popular Malate street. We used to bypass that cafe when going to a mainstream coffee shop nearby. The place reminds me of a french cafe, with its rustic wooden walls. It really looks cozy with its low ceiling and dim lights enough for reading. 

It was a drizzly night, setting the tropical Manila weather into a more comfortable one. I checked my phone. It's 24 degrees outside. The place, however, has no regard of the weather and had its air conditioning units in full blast.

"Ahhh! Don't you feel like we're in Paris (with a silent S)? The ambiance... the musique...the weather!" I told Isabela in a French accent. 

"I've never been to Europe. But yeah, this place is cool. I mean, literally cool," Isabela replied.

Her girlfriend, Fatima, also came over 30 minutes later. We sat on a four-seater table. Of course, they sat on the same side while I sat beside my bag. We were studying productively until we started feeling the cold air getting into us. Yeah, the cold is now killing the ambience... the musique... and those French blahs!

Since I lost a lot of pounds after internship (I am now near my pre-med school weight), I began wearing my small-sized wide-necked shirts to boast how much I lost to those I know (yes, no more belly!)... and fish for compliments. However, this time, showing too much skin is really not helpful. Isabela had a jacket, which of course, she shared with her girlfriend. And yeah, they could hug without the judging stares from others, because they are girls. 

With little clothing to cover me, less fat to insulate the heat, and a sweet couple sitting in front of me, I could feel the physical and emotional coldness creeping into me. I just hugged my bag sitting next to me to cover whatever it could cover. Then, I texted Isabela and said, "Would have been perfect if Harry were here.." 

Isabela read the SMS and pouted her lips while I looked at her with puppy dog eyes. Then, she whispered  something to Fatima.

"There! You're dying!" Isabela handed me the jacket. "You still got me. Don't worry." Then she smiled.

And that made me realize, it would have been perfect.... if the place were warm enough on a cold rainy day.

As for me... I think, being single is perfect... with a great best friend by my side. 

photo from here

The Brides Man

As medical internship ends, now comes the board review season where fresh graduates cram everything that they have learned for the past 5 years into their brains for a short period of 3 months.  Isabela (my lesbian best friend) and I are now staying in different sides of the metro since she opted to review in a far far away land called Farview QC. I chose to stay in the comforts of my dirty, old, but gay Manila. Once in a while, when we get tired of studying, or just miss each other, we would SMS each other about our random thoughts. 

This morning, after I get tired of studying bloody vaginas and wrinkled gooey babies that come out of them (read: Obstetrics), I sent her a message and had this conversation:

Basti: So now that same-sex marriage is legal in some countries, do you consider doing it with Fatima?

Isabela: Yes, we have talked about that. The problem is, who would come?

Basti: Me! Me! Me! *hands eagerly raised* Just make sure you'll do it in France. And yeah, pay for my airfare. Otherwise, your only willing guest won't be able to come. :(

Isabela: Ask your Mr. Right to pay for your plane ticket.

Basti: But I don't have one. :( So, who will stand as your maid of honor...or best man....whatever you call that...ehem....

Isabela: You of course! 

Basti: I have a dilemma though. So who shall I hire on your bridal shower, a male stripper, or a female stripper? Hihihihi.

Isabela: Hmmmm. I'd still go for a male stripper.

Basti: How 'bout the cake? Shall I order a dick-shaped one or a vagina-shaped one? Hihihihi

Isabela: Grrr! You! 

(Isabela still doesn't consider herself a total lesbian and hates the label. She prefers bisexual....Okay...)

Basti: Peace! I love you! Please don't make me wear a dress!

Isabela: Sure, you'll wear a tux. Sleeveless, bow tie, shorts...and bunny ears...

Basti: @#$%^!

photo from here

My best bud's unintentional coming out

So Grindr has been in existence for quite a while now but I've been living under a rock as well. I installed the application just recently,  and got addicted instantly. Grindr is like a real, tangible gaydar, or as we call it in the medical field, an ancillary procedure that  aids us in confirming what our clinical eye is telling us. I've been hanging out in coffee shops a lot lately to review for the board exams. Being situated in Manila's gay district, any hot or metrosexual guy tinkling with his phone would call for a gaydar check. A few clicks and boom! Someone's just 20 meters away. Well, I don't have any intention of introducing myself to these guys (my profile does not have a face picture and my name is just suggestive of my career) and end up hooking up with them. It's just fun when you find out what they are hiding and there's a fulfillment when you realize that your gaydar is somehow accurate.

FYI, I haven't met anyone personally from this app... well... except for this guy....

One rainy afternoon, while I was studying in a coffee shop, a hot guy came in (Ok, this is not the guy that I met, wish ko lang). So I turned on my portable tangible gaydar, but no one is nearby. Negative. So either this guy is not online, not a Grindr user, or he's just straight. But before I turned it off, there's that small red dot in one of the profiles, meaning, I got a message. It's a nameless, faceless, wordless profile some 500 meters away from me. So he's probably not in the coffee shop. I read the message anyway. He said, "Let's fuck." Thinking that this might be one of those randy airheads, I just ignored the message.

For the following days, I came back to the coffee shop to study and as hot guys came in, I turn on my Grindr. But instead of getting positive results, I get messages from the same nameless profile which I don't reply to. "Hey" "Yo" "What's your number?" "Anong height mo?" Persistent si kuya.

One day, while I was at home studying, I got tired of reading and went online. Nameless profile messaged me again and said, "Sex?" Hmmmm. I got so curious of who this guy is. So I replied, "Got pic?" There was a lag while the picture was downloading so while waiting, I was thinking, "Siguro  mukha tong tambay na malibog." A few seconds later, I was shocked.

"Keith, would it be awkward if I'll tell you that I've known you for a long time?" I told him. "Who are you?" He replied. "It's me, Basti."....

I've known Keith since high school. We somehow look like each other, and act similarly. Silent, gentle and studious. We became classmates in our senior year when he got promoted to the first section. We were really not that close but somehow, we had more interaction with each other when we became classmates.One time, in a boy scout camping, he forgot to bring a blanket. We were in a mountain then in the middle of January, so night temperatures are really low so I willingly shared my blanket with him.... Okay, I kindda have some itsy bitsy crush on him. Nothing happened under the shared blanket, okay.

After senior year, we went to the same UP campus and took different courses in neighboring colleges, so we see each other a lot. I was hoping that we could be roomies, but since he's on a tight budget, he chose a cheaper dormitory. My feelings for him was still there, but didn't flourish since I know that hanggang friends lang kami. And besides, though I find his orientation questionable, he was courting a girl in high school (typical falling-in-love-with-best-bud dilemma). College went by swiftly. Serena (my other college bestfriend mentioned in one of my posts), Keith and I became closer. Unfortunately, Keith failed in some of his subjects and was not able to graduate on time (And being good, supportive friends that we are, Serena and I bullied him for being an irregular student.).

After college, we pursued different paths. Serena worked as a nurse, Keith eventually graduated from college, while I went to medical school. Keith then redeemed himself by topping his licensure exam (yes, number one, which I am very proud of) and got a high-paying job. We became busy with our chosen paths but still managed to see each other when time permits us. The last time I saw Keith was at the start of my internship at PGH. It was his sort of post-birthday treat. After that,  I never saw him again.

Back to the present...
Keith was so embarrassed. To make him feel better, I told him the typical comforting phrases... that's normal...there's nothing to be ashamed of...yaddah yaddah... I told him about my closet life and my past love life, and eventually, he asked me out. It was 9:30 of a rainy morning. He asked me to meet him in a coffee shop at exactly 11 am. Normally, I wouldn't raise a finger to dress up and would just make an excuse why I can't come. But it was Keith! I quickly took a bath and chose a date outfit... button-down polo, brown belt, brown boat shoes, brown leather bag.

He was ordering a cup of coffee when I arrived. He was wearing a polo shirt, brown pants and a pair of thong slippers and was carrying an ordinary back pack. I instantly thought, okay, this is not the date that I am thinking of. We sat in a corner, and he started talking about his life at present, his frustrations with his career and his frustrations with a guy classmate since college. Keith is in a phase where he feels like he's losing his youth, with his parents sick and his siblings going to college, most of his earnings go to his family and little is left for him to enjoy. That's why he wanted to break free sometimes and try new things.

After having coffee, Keith told me that he's glad that he could now tell all of these things to a friend. For him,  I am still Basti, his old high school and college bud, who now, can be trusted with his other secrets. Friend zoned. Period.

As for me, now that I know where Keith stands, I dunno, but my feelings for him kindda went back to life. But what scares me is that when I let him know what I feel, and he doesn't feel the same, it might just create an atmosphere of awkwardness between us and compromise our friendship.


P.S.
I used to tell Harry that he had a lot in common with my high school crush which made me fall in love with him. I was referring to Keith.

Another Chapter Ends

Finally, another rigorous year is done. Thank you PGH for a wonderful year! 

Now, I have to face yet another challenging hurdle...the detested board exams!

Boredom

Alone in my unit during one of my rare weekends. Penniless and bored, this is what I do. Got this idea from one of my blogger friends. Probably, one of my last Harry posts. 

Highschool Rivalry

For a science high school where one has to have something between his/her ears to get in, you don't have to be a hot cheerleader or a chiseled jock for you to be popular. You just need a lot of brains and and get every extra-curricular activities that you could crunch into your loaded schedule. I happened to be a part of the cream section since I first stepped in to high school and  I became friends with the popular group. Eventually, I became one of them, climbing and stepping on others to be on top.

Once, there were four mean girls in our school. They were the only popular ones. They have been friends since primary school. I was not a part of their group because I came from another school, but I know one of them since childhood. She was Kristine. We were neighbors, playmates and childhood sweethearts back then. In the early parts of high school, we would just say hi to each other but we didn't hang out or eat lunch together. I had my own group of friends.

Then, there came a time when Kristine had a major fight with the mean girls. Finding herself alone, she turned to me for solace and eventually, we became best of friends. She also became part of my group. A year later, there was another major fight within the mean girls' circle and eventually, Paula broke away. She then turned to Kristine for comfort and eventually, became friends with our group. Now, the mean girls found another recruit, which now makes them 3 witches. Eventually, the parting of these girls developed into a rivalry between our circles which went beyond the emotional drama of the four. The fight transformed into an academic competition, with each of our circles trying to outdo the other in academic ranking. We monopolized the organizations and schemed to hold leadership in different clubs. We outnumbered the three, but they didn't just give up. They have their own tricks to kick us out of our posts, which sometimes reach to school-wide signature campaigns.

The peak of the rivalry was the student council elections. We held the leading, unbeaten party. It was so powerful that for some years, no other party dared to run for office. However, we know the capabilities of the three; so, we changed our stance and turned to diplomacy. We offered them positions in order to prevent establishment of a rival party. They accepted the proposition.

We were already convinced that we would take over the council unmatched until the day before the deadline of submission of certificates of candidacy. We realized that were not alone in the fight because they made their own party behind our backs. And so, the fight went on with the campaign period. At the end of the tally, we still emerged as the leading party, but lost one position. Anne, one of the three witches kicked out Kristine for vice presidency.

After four years of  war, we finally reached the culmination of high school...graduation. We landed in several places in the ranking, with one of us grabbing the salutatory place. However, Anne emerged as the class valedictorian; hence, she had the opportunity to bitch slap us in her valedictory address. And so, we were indirectly labeled as the "detractors" who made her stronger. Pak pak pak pak.

After graduation, we went to different universities. Most of us in the group went to UP while the rest went to UE. Anne went to Ateneo while her 2 other minions also went to UP. As years passed by, the rivalry slowly faded away. We attended home-coming parties organized by the other group, and vice versa. We give each other a hug when we see each other around the campus. When Facebook, came out, we added each other as friends and became updated with each others' lives.

This day is exactly 9 years after our high school graduation. The three witches are now married and have children. Anne now has 2. Meanwhile, most of us in our group, if not all, are single. Most of us are concentrated in our chosen career. We hold licenses and double titles in business, health and engineering. Some of my friends are beginning to build their dream houses while others (like me) are in post-graduate school.

Who succeeded? Career-wise, there's no doubt that we have left behind the three witches, but when it comes to happiness, I think the three got it. Here we are, pushing ourselves to the limit,  and toiling day and night; while the the three play with their kids and sleep beside their husbands at night satisfied. So, we have our money and titles, but the three have their security. 

So in the end, who won? Well, I really can't tell. But perhaps, in the future, my friends and I will find love to add flavor in our filthy rich lifestyle (well, hopefully, this would come true as well).  But as of this moment, the three witches still have the final laugh.Hihihihihi

photo from here

UP Naging Mahal

There used to be a joke about the big three universities: " Sa Ateneo, mahirap ang math. Sa La Salle, mahirap ang parking. Sa UP mahirap ang.... estudyante." And so, there were other campus war jokes where the humor revolves around how bright but financially disadvantaged the Iskos and Iskas are.

But things have changed.  It has been five years since I graduated from the university. Back then, I just paid 300 pesos per unit. I was a regular paying student, meaning, I don't have any scholarships or discounts. That tuition is just that small. Now, UP students pay more than thrice my tuition 5 years ago.

Lately, I took a quick meal at the College of Arts and Sciences (AS) cafeteria  of UP Manila which is just across the PGH - Out Patient Department as I took advantage of my short lunch break. It is were I used to hang out back in college while waiting for a class. It is a bit different now, with conyo as the major language of communication.Students are busy crushing candies in their iPads. iPhones are also everywhere...and parking (in AS), is as difficult as that in La Salle.

And so, I therefore conclude, that UP is not what it used to be. Well, quality-wise, education is still among the best, but sadly, it is no longer for the masses.The increasing cost of education in the university mandated to educate the financially disadvantaged has created a social shift in the student population. Hence, those campus jokes are no longer applicable, as tuition in UP can now drive a poor student to death...um...literally. (And therefore, an Atenean can no longer tell an Isko that the latter's tuition is just his stipend for a day.)

As with Kristel Tejada's suicide, I still believe that UP should not get the sole blame for her death. Coming from a medical perspective, the drive of a person to commit suicide is multifactorial. The forced leave of absence and inability to pay the tuition may be just one of them. Indeed, these might have been just  overemphasized by the militant students, but in the end, what good came out of this issue is the realization of the policies that render the poor students powerless. And I hope in the near future, the government would review its budget allocation and the UP system would create lenient policies that won't suffocate the disadvantaged students.

Well, as for the moment, UP is still UP. Too bad, you can't enjoy it when you can't afford it.

As for the present Iskos and Iskas, you are lucky enough to be endowed with brains and enough money to afford UP. But I hope you won't forget your fellow Iskos and Iskas and even those outside UP who are struggling to make ends meet but highly value education. Complacency may lead to apathy which is not how UP brought us up.

And so, I shout again what I used to shout on the streets, "Iskolar ng Bayan! Ngayon ay Lumalaban!"

photo from here

My Young Bromance

I'm one lucky intern who was privileged to have a 2-week vacation while the rest of my co-interns would probably go on duty, figuring out how to reattach or amputate mangled extremities on new' year's eve. As  day 10 of bumming around came, boredom strikes in my  isolated, enchanted kingdom where all fantasies come true (read: my room). I ventured into the depths of our mysterious dungeon, a.k.a. bodega, where I found some old photo albums. They are the albums that my late granny compiled, categorized according to families, events, travels, etc.. I took one and opened it. I saw a picture of  our new year's eve dinner in 1995. My grandmother was sitting in the middle while I was standing on her right and another boy was standing on her left. His name is...Carlito Miguel..Tadadan...*Tingin sa malayo...fade effect...black and white...piano instrumental* (Sorry, I'm in a soap opera mood today).

When I was young, my grandmother used to live in our house in the province. Every vacation, my parents would take me there to spend quality time with my granny. But being a stranger to that place, I didn't know anyone of my age. I had no  friends. The house helpers were my playmates and at night, my granny and I would play sungka. When the household is busy, I would play alone with my robots, my manly robots and guns.

Dear granny thought that cute little Basti is bored and lonely. She didn't know that I'm introvert by nature. So my ever kind and loving granny called all her tauhans and said, "Ipaghanap ng kalaro ang aking mahal na apo. Kung hindi, walang kakain ng hapunan!" *evil laugh* 

And that's how I met...Carlito Miguel, or let's just call him Carlo. He is the nephew of my uncle's driver. Carlo is unlike other paslit kids in town. He is actually cute, with mestizo features. He has light brown eyes with long eyelashes and pointed nose. He had Stefano Mori-ish hair, the popular hairstyle back then. He is 4 years older. When we were first introduced to each other, I felt something that I have felt with girls that I admire before. Oh dear, I had my first guy crush.

Carlo and I became good friends. Everyday, he would come over to our place. We would wait for the morning Japanese cartoons and then play family computer after. After lunch, we would either play hide and seek around the house or stroll around the town plaza, then afterwards, take a bath together in my granny's bath tub. Yes, we took a bath together naked. We were inseparable.

New Year's eve came. My mom invited him to sleep over and celebrate new year with us. While the household was busy preparing for new year's eve dinner, my mom sent me and Carlo to the bedroom to sleep and she told us that she would just wake us up when the clock strikes 12. So, we obediently followed, changed in our pajamas and headed to bed. It was a cold December night. We covered ourselves in blanket, then fell into a deep slumber.

In the middle of my sleep, I was woken up by something. It felt so warm and comforting. I realized that Carlo was cuddling me. I gently removed his arms but my movements woke him up. "Why?" he asked me. "My mom might see us." I replied. "So? We're both boys. What's wrong with that?" he justified. Hmmm... That's what's wrong. We're both boys and we're cuddling.  I guess Carlo had no concept of homosexuality back then. But I just let him do it, perhaps, because it feels good. Sorry to disappoint you, but this post is not about a pre-teen homosexual sex. Nothing further happened that night. First of all, I had no idea of homosexual sex (and even heterosexual sex because I still believe that torrid kissing makes a girl pregnant) and yeah, there were no feelings of lust back then.

Days after, the two-week Christmas break has to end, and so as our play dates. Carlo was there when we were loading our baggage to the car to say good bye. No, there were no teary good byes or promises of unending friendship said. He just asked me to sing. (Ang weird diba? Perhaps he wants a memory of my voice). So there, in front of him, I sang a song about missing someone on Christmas day. We just said simple good byes after. I told him that I'll be back on summer break. Then I sat on the backseat of the car, looked back through the rear shield and waved as the driver started the car. As the car took off, I just watched as the house became smaller from my view (No, Carlo did not chase the car crying until he can no longer catch his breath while I am helplessly looking back from the backseat, though it might make me cry if he did that.)

Back to the present...
One day, my mom went to the community health clinic to have her blood pressure checked. He approached a male nurse and asked him to take her blood pressure. As he was wrapping the cuff around my mom's arm, the nurse asked my mom, "Tita, how's Basti?" My mom was shocked and looked at his face. That's when she recognized him. He was Carlo.

When my mom visited me recently, he told me about the encounter. She was laughing as she recounted how noisy we were back then and when she saw us cuddling in the bedroom (Sabi ko na nga ba! Nakita niya!). I was a bit embarrassed when my mom reminded me of the latter. I wanted to ask my mom if he still looks good as before but she might wonder why I'm asking. Anyway, she told told me that Carlo has a girlfriend (toink!) and that he wants to see me next time I'm home.

Well, it would be nice to see an old friend again and relive the past (I mean every bit of the past...including the baths and cuddling...hehehe)

Eating Alone

   

   The consultant told us to go back at 3pm for the consultation regarding our community diagnosis. It's just 12pm, but going home means spending most of my time traveling than resting because of all the traffic. I decided to eat lunch in a mall nearby and stay there while waiting for our consultation time. Whenever I dine alone, I always go to a Chinese restaurant which used to be Harry's favorite. Aside from being able to reminisce my moments with ex, it's in a hidden quarter of the mall with few people passing by. Therefore, there's a smaller audience of your pathetic isolation.

   One by one, the people in the restaurant  left as the clock strikes 1. As for me, I have to stay for 2 more hours. I was left alone, in a corner of the restaurant, watching the crew sweep and mop the floor. Then, a familiar lady came. We briefly exchanged glances and gave that I-know-you-you-know-me-let's-pretend-we-don't-know-each-other look. She is a consultant in another department. She also came alone and sat in a corner. As I observe her, I realized that I might be looking at myself years from now--- Successful, respected, but alone. Am I worried? No. Not actually. Why? My phone beeped.

"Hello Basti. How's your day? Dinner later?" It's from Johannes. Hmmm...I think, that alone part is still questionable. ;)

Well, I still don't know if there will be a "to be continued" link here. Just wait for that Johannes word to get "clickable".  hahaha.

photo from here

Christmas Greeting

It is the 25th of the month. For most people, the only significant event on the 25th of December is Christmas. For me and Harry, it used to be our monthsary. As I was going through my phonebook, sending personalized messages to my dearest friends, I came across his name. Dr. Harry Chan.
I promised him that I won't bother him again. But it's christmas. I guess that's an excuse. So I sent him a message. "Merry christmas harry!" A few minutes later he replied. "Merry christmas!" Then it seemed like my thumbs had a mind of their own. They began typing... "Glad you replied. Can't help but feel sad. It used to be merry christmas and happy monthsary. Anyway, I'm just starting to move on. I don't want to spoil your christmas. Enjoy your time with your family."
"Ok. Thanks," he replied
It was plain, straightforward and insincere. Harry still despises me. The Harry who used to put me in the center of his life now wants nothing but to put me out of his life.
I don't know what's wrong with me. I was the one who broke up with Harry. But I am the one who is still in pain. As I placed myself in his shoe, I realized where I went wrong.
Everytime I look back, I remember lots of sweet and happy memories. Those times he left me surprises whenever I wake up, the fancy dates in Manila's uptown districts, the macaroons he kept in his pocket to take home to me because he wanted me to have a taste of one of the best macaroons, the time he secretly placed the diaphragm of his stethoscope to my stethoscope because I lost mine and the cheesecake hunting we used to do.
If Harry does look back, what would he remember? The time I said that sometimes, I simply don't care, the moment when I ignored him when he was crying on the floor, the time I just kept on playing a computer game while he was doing everything just to get my attention, the monthsaries that I kept on forgetting, the guessing game that he was so excited about but instead, I chose to sleep or that turning point in our relationship when I asked him to wait for me but after raising his hopes, I turned him down again.
Now, I understand him better. He was right. I am a spineless wimp who keeps on hurting him again and again.
I told myself that I'm moving on. But everytime I see my future, I only see Harry by my side. The person sitting next to the driver's seat holding my hand when I drive. The guy I'm cooking christmas dinner with. The face that I first see in the morning whenever I wake up. That old man I'll grow old with.
So now, another confusion begins...

Idiot's Guide to Coming Out

Isabela texted me and asked for a favor. She needed help in finding a gift for her monito, or should I say... "monitey!" *jazz hands*.  She did not identify the person but she just described him as her gay blockmate in denial. I instantly knew that her monito is Jack. "It's Jack, right?" I asked her. "How did you know...Oh well, wala namang iba sa block namin," she replied.  

Well, Jack is utterly and overtly gay, but he just doesn't admit it...or he lacks insight of it? Everybody knows that he's gay but him. What kind of straight man craves for a facial when he's stressed, "I'm so toxic, I need some facial!" (Jack, 2012). (My naughty mind can't help but think of another kind of facial). BB cream? Ask details from him because he's a living proof of how it makes his skin blemish-free. And the walk...he could embarrass the sorority girls with his swinging hips. Yet, when he was in a comedy bar, he walked out when a gay comedian labeled him as "kalahi."

Then Isabela texted again.

Isabela: "So what should I give him? Our theme is something dangerous. I want something witty, worth 200 pesos" 

Basti: "Give him a box of condoms with holes punched out of it. It's dangerous, "

Isabela: "You're not the first person to suggest that, "

Basti: "How about a male prostitute?"

Isabela: "Are they that cheap today? Will they go for 200 pesos?"

Basti: "The cheaper, the more dangerous. They have a higher chance of harboring the virus....God! I can't believe you're really considering that. Baka mag walk-out nanaman yun."

Isabela: "So, ano nga?"

Basti: "How about a self-help book? Idiot's guide to coming out or Stepping out of the closet for dummies. Hehehe"

Isabela: "I guess, we need a copy of those too." 

Toink....A dose of your own medicine. 

photo from here

You Taught me how to Love

Continued...

"Indeed, there's a reason why people come to our lives. We were not meant to be together, but I guess, you came to teach me how to love."

Back to reality....

The progress of my moving on phase suddenly went back to 0. But I have to be strong. I have to go on. I finally opened the storage box where I kept our album of memoirs to dispose it. I could smell Harry's Bvlgari Soir when I found it (He sprayed Bvlgari Soir on his first letter to me). I opened the album and read some of his letters. And there...my moving on progress was pushed back further to negative 50. I was already sobbing. 

Some excerpts from Harry's letters:

June 25, 2011:

."..and so I continue to dream, to hope, to live and to love. But this time, I just can't help it. I just can't ignore what my gut feeling is telling me...And so from now on, in all my dreams, hopes and plans, you are in the center. My world revolves around you. And there's no denying it, there's no doubt in my mind... I truly am in LOVE with you BASTI...."

August 25, 2011:

"...it was on that day that I realized how much you really, truly, deeply love me. You may be apathetic, not expressive, unable to text me all the time, or unable to accommodate my urges for us to meet up, but I know that you have my best interests at heart. And with this, I have learned to just simply trust. No more buts. No more what ifs. No more envy. No more doubts. It's not about making up my mind to trust in you for the sake of the relationship. Now my heart truly trusts in you and your love. Thank you, my boyfie Basti, for loving me so much! It has changed me to a better man. Thank you for making me a believer of a love as pure and as true as yours..."

November 19, 2011....our relationship began to fall apart

"...I miss the way you...

...treat me like I'm your most important person in the world...to plan what we'll be doing for the day together...or simply tell me of your plans for the day...

...used to feel like my brother, my bestfriend, my confidante, my partner, my soulmate...and I'm afraid that you're losing interest...and I am trying my best to make you open up...but I'm sad that I'm missing all the things I mentioned above, and I hope you can go back to the way you were. I miss the Basti I used to know from the first few months that we met up. I just hope that you can tell me what's on your mind...because I cannot imagine how I can be with someone who doesn't even talk with me about his life and about his plans about our future together..."

November 20, 2011:

"....please do your best. I really need this from you. I want what we have to last a lifetime... with heartaches and love...Boyfie M.D."

And so, at the time, I realized where I went wrong. After that letter in November 19, 2011, we were like fighting and making-up almost every week. He complains of my lack of emotional input and how I began to lose interest on him. Well, looking back, with the way I acted, it really seemed like I was drifting away from him. From November up to our last months together, he was just overlooking past my mistakes, and he was even the one making an effort to save the relationship. Then, in March 2011, I had the nerve to break up with him. 

Indeed, Harry was right. On the last night we talked, he told me that if he chose not to overlook past my faults before, we would have been over longer. Looking back, what I did to him was really unfair and he has all the right not to entrust his heart to me again. I really still love Harry, but I now, I realized that it's someone's turn to  take good care of his heart...someone better than me. And so, after all the drama this afternoon, I decided to move on again and set him free. I won't bother you again Harry. 

As I was holding our album of memoirs, I thought of how I would get rid of it. I looked over my window and saw the river. There's no better way to end a year-long drama but with a drama...Throw it to the water, like what Rose did to the Heart of the Ocean.... But the river patrol might catch me and arrest me for littering... How about setting it into flames?...which could set the fire alarm of the whole condominium...Or tear it apart...hopefully I could get through the hard cover...Well, my creative imagination just went playful again. I just placed it back to the storage box and sealed it. I don't need all that symbolic disposal of memories. I just need a night of booze and party!!

But seriously, after getting drunk, I need to rely on my own emotional strength in order to move on. I may be surrounded by his memories but I guess, all the lessons I learned from this relationship will help me get through this and make me a better boyfriend in the future. The physical representation of him will eventually be just a reminder of what I should be. It would be a challenge to stick around his memoirs, but I need it to conquer the pain and have the will to go on.

Thank you Harry for everything. Indeed, there's a reason why people come to our lives. We were not meant to be together, but I guess, you came to teach me how to love. 

I hope I could find someone like you and I hope you'll find someone better than me. I won't forget you. 

Part 1