The past few entries have triggered a FLOOD of memories of affairs past, some crazy, some unbelievable, all true.
I once had a fling with a guy who looked so much like Paolo Montalban (thus, his name will be Paolo from hereon in). I swear he could have been his twin. Paolo (mine, that is, not the real one) was tall (6’1” if memory serves me), moreno (coffee mixed with a dollop of cream) and fucking handsome as. When I met him at Rex’s party (hi, Lola Rex, wherever you are), I was immediately infatuated (read: libog).
Seriously, who wouldn’t?
ANYway, turns out that we had a common ex (hi, Martin. Wherever you are, screw you), and we spent the night delightfully bitching about him. Of course, I had little to bitch because (hehe) truth be told, we had a one-night stand and a few phone conversations after that (yes, in that order), but he was never a serious dip in my book. For me, his name on my date book is like achuete – it’s there, but no one really bothers to look at it and it’s NEVER taken seriously.
(Hindi rin bitter, folks. Honest!)
ANYway, Paolo and I spent more time with each other. He spent more nights over at my place and it was sweet, in a way. He let me enter him (virgin daw siya oh!) but it didn’t take. I think I was too thick to begin with, and yeah, maybe he was a virgin. IN fairness though, he was well hung – easily 7 inches and fairly thick himself. Buti na lang talagang umubra ang Ms. Talent 2004! Lagok, taas, baba, lahat kinaya! He was awesome in bed and we would fuck relentlessly until the wee hours of the morning. It’s a good thing that my job allowed me the luxury of waking up whenever.
We spent a lot of time together. Our favourite haunt was Elephant Bar or whatever name it has now. It's on 6750 and has a reputation for a mixed crowd. Whenever I see society pages talk about a certain actor (with initials P.M.) flirting with a guy in that bar, I would giggle uncontrollably as I knew this was the closest I could ever get to being in the society pages. :-)
But one night, he admitted to me that he was still fucking around. Now, believe it or not, I didn’t mind it. Care ko – honest! I mean, I wanted to fuck around myself but with him and my two part-time jobs, I really didn’t have the time. What irked me was the fact that he was sleeping around in order to get modelling jobs. He was fucking certain fashion designers and participating in their orgies in order to get ramp gigs. He would elaborate how he would fuck guy after guy, sometimes three at a time for a total of a dozen men in a night. He would suck dicks, big and small, and have every crevice in his body licked and touched and idolised – but not fucked. Daw. Anyway, the end result of this was me, in dignified shock, but still attentive and caring – as any Ms. Universe contestant would do, of course.
But by the end of the night, the veil was lifted, and I realised: he was a whore.
I mean, there is nothing wrong about that, in a sense. Let’s face it: I consider myself a whore of sorts. But I never really had sex in order to advance in life, and just because I don’t doesn’t mean that every guy in the world has that luxury.
That is I realised what I had become in his life. His driver, a source of free food, free sex, accommodation at times, free beer at bars and more importantly, a shoulder to cry on when memories of his ex came rushing back. Yes, folks, madrasta ang role ko. He was still hung up over Martin – and to be honest, I seriously don’t know why. Martin was sooooo NOT a catch.
ANYway, after a while, I kinda sensed that this was not what I wanted in life, and so I let him go. Slowly at first, para hindi niya mahalata and then deus ex machina! He was sent to Japang to work as whatever chuva. So yun. That tragic love story ended. Last I heard, he was married to some Japanese woman in order for him to stay in the country for good.
A few months ago, he SMSed me in Australia – he got my number from my last email to him which (damn email signatures!) had my contact details, and he asked me quite bluntly if I could sponsor him to live in Australia. He was having marital problems and he missed my company daw.
HELL-ER! Ano ako? Tanga?
I honestly said that I didn’t have the power to do that, as, at that time, I still didn’t have permanent residence in Australia. After that, aba. Dedma. He never bothered to know what’s going on in my life, and I did not care to know what was on with his.
Ok lang. Achuete – it demands your attention but at the end of the day, you don’t touch it and some dog eats it instead.
NEXT IN THE SERIES: Japan Series 2: The one that got away