Rain clouds and hints of lightning and thunder could not keep them away. After a particularly vicious Miss Pintados contest (wherein the grace period for contestants to pause and think during the Q & A was apparently 1.5 seconds, and if the lady fails to answer coherently- and fast, she gets booed off the stage), all roads that night led to RTR Plaza for the Ginoong Leyte contest.
With the promise of up close sightings of rippling muscles and barely-there briefs hardly concealing raging hardons (do producers coach them or something? Bark to contestants like, “I want all schlongs up in the air by the time you boys march on stage!”), the first row was of course filled, almost exclusively, by gays.
My beau happened to be visiting me during the Tacloban fiesta. I had previously thought of a way, on how to coax him to allow me to watch the pageant with him without losing the “intellectual and poised veneer” I had worked so hard on maintaining. Turns out, there is no intellectual and poised excuse to watch a male pageant. I wanted to see men in skin-tight, thin, almost see-through speedos. There, I said it. I am as capable as the next queer to squeal when they see big muscles posing.
Being the great boyfriend that he was, he consented. Armed with my 10 megapixel, 10x optical zoom camera, we braved the crowd and wrestled for a place inches away from the stage. Lights dimmed, and dramatic music blared from the speakers…
And out came the contestants in their Tribal Wear (aka indigenous materials glued to their thongs). They danced and pranced onstage, much to the delight of the gaping audience. Eeeeeeee! One tranny dressed like Jlo on crack, was screaming her head off. One still-in-the-closet teenager recorded the number on his phone.
The contestants introduced themselves and which part of Leyte they were representing. A half-German lad (with a particularly bazooka-like bulge in the front of his bahag) stood out because of his towering height and sharp featured face. The rest were a selection of pinoy boy-next-door types, with some surprisingly handsome, artista-like candidates.
The emcees came onstage, a tired-looking gay man and a woman dressed in what appeared to be a shower curtain. They greeted the crowd, introduced the judges, and thanked a volley of sponsors. “And now! Let us meet our candidates in their futuristic wear!”
Screams. Jeers. Out came the contestants in their futuristic wear (aka tinfoils and sequins glued to their thongs). One played peekaboo using his gossamer cape- revealing a generous bulge inside his white skivvies. Click, click, click! Cameras worked overtime.
During the question and answer portion, the crowd seemed a bit more forgiving to the men. Even though the artista-looking guys were stammering and practically being fed the answers by the emcees, there wasn’t a single “boo” heard.
“Male pageants like Ginoong Leyte is a vehicle where we can showcase our culture and history of our province. It doesn’t intend to objectify men.” Said the gay emcee piously.
Hah! Objectify, schmobjectify. We all came here to see bulges, my friend. Even the women audience can attest to that. Oh well, those guys knew exactly what they were getting into, joining that contest- and I bet you showcasing Leytenean culture was the least of those reasons.
The winner? The 9 incher, I mean, the half-German guy from Ormoc.