Coming out for me is apparently when you realized the sudden urge to hold another man’s dick. He he he. Sadly, time flew fast since the first time that right now I could not remember when was the first time I first held one man’s penis. Huwaw.
Like Venus Raj’s 30 second-moment to recall her greatest mistake, I could not recall.
Well, it seems that I did not come out. I think he came in. Yes, I think he knocked on my door and if I am not mistaken that hairy thin man from Pagadian let himself in after I opened it and he comfortably sat on my bed. He was tipsy.
We talked. Chika lang baga. I guess, I incidentally hosted the first talk show in 1978 during my freshman albeit there was the absence of lights and cameras. Later, I found him lying on my bed beside me and he asked if he could kiss me on my lips. “One second lang,” and before I could reply he kissed me and when I thought it was more than the time he asked I pushed him back and tried to wipe my wet lips.
Thinking back it was hot and soft but I so naïve, the scent and taste of the alcohol was so awful.
But his body is hot and I think he caressed my whole body and late grabbed my hand to hold his very stiff dick.
Cutting and dragging to few years later, I continue to be discreet although I keep on secretly gazing to other guys bulging groin when there are special moments during my college days.
During these college years, I also discovered the struggle to be free from campus repression and better education.
I thought writing for the campus paper would be cool to write my thoughts and what I see during those Marcos time.
The activist in me got involved in campus activism where I easily introduced myself as gay.
That remained until now but I remain prim and proper at all times except when am at home and in my own turf where I could bitch around naughty boys.
I guess was lucky to have an American gay activist to be my first flat-mate when I first worked overseas in 1991. I was introduced to gay parties where French, Brits, Americans and Arabs wait the breaking of day.
It was also here when I pity the very unique situation of local gays where they could not come out for fear of being disowned by their own family.
Last month, my officemate showed me a picture from his cellphone of his gay friend living in London.
“They prefer to suffer living away from their family just to come out and be free as gay,” my friend lamented. Obviously, he misses his “friend”
Few months back during my vacation, news spread like wild fire that Filipino gays are banned in the Kingdom.
I just shrugged off the news. The regulation has been there before. But the news that there were already more than 30 Pinoy gays deported was already slowly getting into my nerves.
A cumadre emailed me at home to be extra careful during my return to the Kingdom.
“Wag kang kumembot na baka akala mo si Jinky Pacquiao ka. At lalong wag mong gayahin si Mommy Dionesia pagkat bading na bading sya lalo na sa make-up nya. Si Manny Pacquiao ang gayahin mo at mag babad ka sa dagat para di kapansin-pansin ang flawless sa kaputian mong kutis at ganda.”
Yes, coming out is painful. And my job place is slowly contracting like delivering a new life, thus the strict measures being undertaken by the conservative authorities because gay people are obviously coming out.
