Last night, I really was sad when I realised may totoong jowa na ang Nate ko. Oli was asking me why super depressed ata ako, and I myself couldn't put my finger on it.
That naturally lead to some soul searching, and I realised that I didn't really love Nate. Why should I? I've only talked to him thrice in my life, and although all three discussions were intensely satisfying, it was not actually spine-tingling (at least, not yet)...
(TALAGANG AYAW TUMIGIL ANG BAKLAaaaah!)
Anyway, I realised that in the Philippines, I was confident that I could turn at least a couple of heads, whereas here in Australia, I am bound to turn less than a handful. I mean, I have height and youth on my side, although the latter is quite doubtful in definition.
But it was nice to *imagine* that someone as charming as Nate could find me attractive as well, and as one of my aging queer friends noted, as one gets older, one is allowed to harbour more delusions.
So in between meeting Nate and actually discovering his marital status, I managed to imagine what would happen if things went alright. When the rug was pulled from under me, I found myself facing the floor with my face a little bit redder from what I would assume is embarrassment.
Stupid, self-centred me, noh?
Turismo: Will add you, champ!
Ash: Le sigh... That's all I can say. :-)
Onai: Super self-indulgent blog entry next time.