Post-Modern Men

I have a new hobby. Due to the scarcity of cute PLUs in town, I have resorted to the next best thing: straight men-watching. I set down my drink beside me on my usual bench near the Study Hall (a hall rarely used for studying, by the way). I had a few more minutes before a class and I was enjoying the peace and quiet, later on, a throng of loud adolescents will completely fill my consciousness.

My eyes sweep the area, like a falcon looking for prey. A group of girls were chatting a few meters away, some students were playing the guitar, a car is pulling up in the parking area, and a group of guys were walking some distance away. Krrrr! My retinas focus precisely, like a pair of high-tech SLR binoculars. Target identified: a couple of alpha males. I continue to observe as they chatted distractedly, with their books in tow.

I pick up a notebook and start scribbling. “Characteristics of Post-Modern Men”, I wrote, and below it:

1. They don’t like being corrected. Maybe it’s an ego thing; if you correct a guy’s grammar, critique his clothing style, or perhaps simply disagree with his opinion, he immediately gets defensive. He gives you the “back off look” in his eyes.

2. The Pogi Syndrome. A straight guy, no matter how homely the face, is always confident that he’s pogi. Kinda cute actually, but could get annoying.

3. Competitive. They’ll try to lift the heaviest weights, drink the most beer, throw the farthest stone, and do other menial things in the spirit of competition. In fairness, this can be constructive if directed properly; otherwise they would just waste their time trying to see who can pee the farthest.

4. Ma “L”. But not as much as gay men. Hahaha! I remember a line from QAF: if straight men think about sex every 20 minutes, a gay man thinks about sex every five minutes!

I was shook out of my reverie as a bell rings from inside the building. 1:00 pm classes are about to start, so I hurriedly collected my things and rushed towards the stairs. Upon reaching the classroom, I realized I hadn’t finished the exercises due that day. Great, I thought, I was able to fathom the mysteries of the male psyche, at the price of one requirement. I sat down, turn to my seatmate and ask, “Are you guys done with the Chapter 3 exercises? Pa-kopya naman!.”

The Return (Part 1)

Jokla! Pupunta ako manila 27,28 , & 29, make sure off ka! Labas tayo!

Yes sat mon off namin nila jojo rakel. Yes! Kaka excite. Cya!

Sure!! Missya!

28 ako sure, sat yan diba?

Just text me.

Hi thad! Is this 4 real? Cge, off kmi ng 28 para mit tau!

Vake! Am not sure f am off d entire 3 days, coz I jst strd with production. Bt of corz u cn stay w me! Yey!

Cno to?
(Oops, probably forgot to inform her when I changed my number)

My reply: Si Dorina, and bituing walang ningning!!

My thumb was numb from pressing the tiny keypad of my cell. It was almost 10pm when the task was done. My plane ticket is on the night stand and my clothes neatly pressed on top of my backpack. Ready to depart in about … 21 days! I know, I know, but I’m just that obsessive.

It’s almost been a year and a half since my shift in career, and I doubt if Makati changed at all. I certainly have. I’m going back to do one last task before I completely close this chapter- I’ll have my tattoos removed. I considered what people close to me have said- some say it should remain, and some, its time to for it to go.

It was almost dawn, and the incandescent glow of the streetlight filtered through my curtains. I was lying on my back, rationalizing and thinking a mile a minute. And finally it came to me: what makes me, is not on the outside; and although this ink on my skin was indeed an expression of my personality, erasing it won’t mean I’d be erasing my past. Finally content, I drifted off to sleep.

My cell buzzed all morning as I made plans with my old friends, my former team, and old dates. Just thinking about them brought a flood of memories, especially of my twin sister aka hag. Tatat and I, we have been room mates way back in the days. She was one of my favorite Galera companions (remember the Look of Love?), and always a hoot to be with. It was a weekly ritual for us to buy something outrageous from YRYS, and as I fold my shirts I pick up my pasalubong for her and slid it inside the bag.

With a mixture of anticipation and nostalgia, I wait.