homo musings (very old post)

Homo musings

It’s been a year since I broke up with Justin. The relationship was getting pointless and had no direction back then. We never met. He always backed out on the times he promised he’d drop by Manila. However, he was surprisingly the best of all the guys that came to my life.

Until now, I haven’t found the guy who’d measure up to what we “had.” It’s so difficult looking for something unique and sincere. If only he didn’t live in Iloilo. We could have done things normal couples do when together, and not depending on our phones and the net for communication.

Days into the 14^th, I remember everything I felt before we split up. The feeling of having a boyfriend, getting “I love you’s” so early in the morning, etc. The next few guys who came into my life were jerks, psychos or maniacs. I don’t know why.

Maybe it’s because I am looking at the wrong places. Chat rooms and bars. But where else could I possibly find that someone? These venues are the most probable places where I can bump into him. He may be or the dude chatting with the bartender.

I think I’ve lost my strong belief in the magic of love. I’ve been praying a lot, hoping the next day, voila, Mr. Perfect would be knocking on my doorstep. But that never happened. It will never happen. Even Mr. Right Now isn’t showing up.

All my hopes of having a man to call my own are slowly fading. The clock is ticking and my ideals of love are as good as Britney’s lip-synching. We have a small world, but love is just all around it. Not among it. Love is easy for those who are lucky to catch its showers. But for us who have to hide in the dark, nah!

On Valentine’s Day, I maybe contented with watching other couples celebrate it. Most especially the heterosexual couples. Bitterness will creep in if I saw gay couples. I swear. In my head I’d be trying to guess which month they’d break up.

The things love can do to you, ugh. And the things that will happen when you believe and expect too much, sigh. Sometimes non-believing is better than waiting forever. But then, in our case, things are always weird-er and queer-er. “Normal” is not a normal word.

Whoever said being gay is always synonymous to being happy? Darn.