I Cried A Little Bit

 

 

In 2006, Brokeback Mountain was the frontrunner to win the Oscar Best Picture. Everyone expected it. Even the people who made  the other films nominated that year. Jack Nicholson announced the winner. He opens the envelope and reads… “Crash!” He gave a don’t-be-mad-at-me-I-only-read-it look. I cried a little bit.

 

Flash forward to 2009, Adam Lambert was a few moments away from being named the next American Idol. Everyone knew it was going to happen, perhaps, even Kris Allen himself knew. Seacrest opens the envelope and reads the name of the winner. It is… “Kris Allen.” I can almost hear it. 100 million drag queens ripped their gowns in despair. Gays all over the world are mourning. Homophobia is so mainstream. Mainstream is so homophobic. I cried a little bit.

 

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Sad/Horny

Recently, I read an article online about the perks of singlehood. Five things were listed as fabulous things about being single:

1. My time is my own.
2. Everything stays were I left it.
3. No one has to see my faults.
4. My money is my own.
5. I can go whenever I want, wherever I want.

If, like me, you have been single and alone for almost an entire lifetime, you know that the statements posted above are not fabulous things about being single but a defense mechanism or convenient excuses to avoid relationships (or explain why you are not in one.) It’s pathetic to mask the pangs of loneliness by putting up a pseudo-positive attitude. I am the kind of fag who wallows and swims in my despair hoping I learn something from it.

I need a person who will drag me to Church even though I never want to attend mass. I need someone to talk on the phone with until the morning even though I hate very long telephone conversations. I need someone to share my time with. I need someone who will ask me watch the latest Nicole Kidman film even though I hate her to death. I need someone who’ll tell me to pick-up clothes from the dry cleaners even though I am allergic to laundry detergent.

My life is cluttered. My room is cluttered. My mind is cluttered. I need someone who’ll pick up after me, organize me or at least someone worth organizing my life for. I place things at the wrong places and I need someone to tell me where to put them and how to arrange them.

I think I am perfect – I am conceited. Someone has to tell me that I need to lose weight, my clothes are not fashionable, I talk too much, I can’t sing, I have to shut up. Someone has to tell me that I could be wrong. I need the reminder.

I love to give the perfect present. I like to give someone a CD of my favorite band. I want someone to shop clothes for and spend time thinking what would look best for him.

I would love to have someone to jog to CCP with, to swim in the beaches of Boracay with, to visit the museums of Rome with, and to make go to Disneyland with. (Boracay, Rome, Disneyland? Ang babaw ko, dude.)

I need a man. Not a boy

Or maybe I just need sex… matagal na rin ah!

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