Tonight.

I think i broke down tonight. No, its not what you think. For my blog readers (yup, all 8 of them!) who's been following my stories, I'm sure they'd say that, here's another one of those sappy love stories or failed relationships or miserable stories of bitterness. i would like to happily say, that this isn't one of those.

In the past few years, whenever I admit that I am happy, there would always be that one thing that would go wrong. always. i thought it was crazy to think this way. but after a continuous and regular cycle, almost like clockwork, i thought I may be on to something. what if i deny myself of happiness. what if every single time that there is that hint of a probable happy moment, i see it as something ordinary. something that isn't worth celebrating. something that just happens on a regular day. like getting milk at the grocery store or buying soda at 7-11. then maybe it won't be taken away from me.

Tonight, everything felt so right that without any doubt or fear, I can say that I am happy. I spoke to my family back home and everything is going well. My younger brother has gotten his dream job and is being the most amazing kid brother in the whole world. My mom just celebrated her 60th birthday and still remains the vibrant, caring, sweet, woman that she's been every since I met her. My dad's is back on his game and is healthier than ever. He is taking good care of himself by sticking to a good diet, his cholesterol level is back to normal, biopsy for his prostate is benign and he is back to his old jolly self teasing me of sending him millions of dollars so he can get his dream car! I also reconnected with old friends who mean the world to me. and when you don't have family here in the US, there's nothing that can fill that void but the truest of friends.

AND, I recently met this amazing person who can light up my day with a smiley, who can make me smile with a goofy grin, who can withstand any eating competition in the entire Los Angeles county, and who can (possibly) rock my world. Although, i know its too soon to predict, coz god knows how it would end up, being able to feel this excitement again, the butterflies in my stomach again or the pain of anticipation on when we'll see each other again, is more than enough to make me feel happy.

again.

finally.

And as if on cue, my dog, Oreo jumped into my bed and snuggled next to me.

good night.

Who's the Cutest?

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Is he also "a gay?"

“Anak, is he also a gay?”

That was the one solitary question that my mom asked me when I told her that I started dating again. She didn’t ask about any personal questions, how we met, where he lives, what does he do or anything else. She just asked me, if he was also “a gay?”

I didn’t know what she meant by “a gay.”

I came out to my mom a couple of years ago. I told myself that I would come out to my family when I turn 30. I know for sure that they already know. But I wanted to formally come out to them. I didn’t have the chance to come out to them in person as I was living in New York at that time. So I called her. My mom and I are very close. We can talk about anything and everything. She can ask me about shoes, current events, latest celebrity gossip, etc. I guess that was one indication that I was different from my brother. But I couldn’t talk to her about my sexuality. So when the time came that I finally told her. It was a glorious day. I know our relationship would be so much better.

She said she knew, but she still cried. But I know, she was happy.

I asked her what she meant by “a gay.” Apparently, she has seen and heard of couples in the Philippines where one person is gay and the partner is a straight male. The gay partner usually supports the straight male financially and the relationship is based solely on this premise. It was sad. But true. And I understood why my mom wasn’t as happy as I am when I told her that I met someone and that I am finally dating again. She was more scared and worried about the possible new relationship. A direct opposite of my elation and excitement. But I completely understood her.

There are dozens of misconceptions about homosexuality, more so homosexual relationships. Even now that gay relationships are slowly getting accepted in most parts of the world, it is still a struggle to prove that a homosexual relationship is very much like any heterosexual relationship. That it is based on two people attracted to each other, wanting to be with each other and essentially loving each other.

I asked my mom about her dream wedding for my younger (straight) brother. She got excited all of sudden. She said she wanted to experience everything. From looking for venues, food tasting, designing the invitation, looking for the right paper, checking out wedding cakes and all the stress that comes with the wedding preparation. She ended with saying that it’s unfortunate that I can’t have that. I had to tell her that we can actually. But it’s just going to be a little different wherein, instead of a bride and a groom, it will be two grooms.

She was a little bit confused. Not because of the idea of two men getting married, but more of the fact that the sanctity of marriage was based on two people loving each other and committing to be with each other forever. She couldn’t see that happening with a homosexual relationship because of her prior notion on these kinds of relationships.

I can actually describe my mom as a modern mom. She thinks this way not because she’s closed minded or stupid, but it is because this is how gay relationships are presented to her in the Philippines. Both in real life and also in the mainstream media. Once again, it’s the sad truth.

I guess it is up to me to show her, tell her and make her feel that the reason why I remained single for a very long time was because I wanted to find someone who is perfect for me. Someone who I can share my life with and commit to be with. Not for any other reason, but because of true, traditional and unconditional love.

Just like any other heterosexual relationship.

Someday.

i want.

uh oh.

My Kitchen

After a year of living in the tiniest shoe box of an apartment in New York City, I vigorously searched the entire borough of Manhattan for the perfect apartment. After weeks of walking, cab fares, subway rides and just jumping from one brownstone to another, i found one. It was a traditional walk up apartment in the Upper West Side. Rent controlled, brick walls, hardwood floors and the cutest bay window overlooking central park. It was perfect. Except for the kitchen.

Mind you, all New Yorkers know that the the hardest things to find in the city are as follows, based on the degree of difficulty:

#3 - JOB
#2 - Boyfriend/Girlfriend/Relationship
#1 - A Perfect Apartment

And I turned down this apartment.

When I was a kid, i found myself seeking refuge in the kitchen. Nope, not pigging out. Well sometimes. But more of just hanging out in the kitchen. For overly depressing situations, I somewhat find comfort in the rhythmic humming of the fridge. It seems like it soothes my innermost sorrows. When I moved to the US, I spent most of my nights in the kitchen during the times when I felt so alone or when I miss my friends and family back in the Philippines. The kitchen was never a stranger to me. No matter where I go, I'd seem to find a good friend in anyone's kitchen. But not in this so called New York kitchen. And i just couldn't live there.

In my most recent move. I found it harder to get to know my current kitchen. It seems like it didn't accept me right away and vice versa. It seems unwilling to offer its usual welcome. Even the fridge didn't care to offer me it's soothing melody. It took some time.

But recently, I made peace with my new kitchen.

I cooked for the first time. I prepared breakfast. Nothing fancy, just eggs and toast and some turkey ham. But it was the most delightful breakfast. It was like finding a long lost friend. I was happy to finally reconnect.

But tonight, like all good friends, my kitchen was brutally honest with me. After a long day at work, stripped off my work clothes and slipped into my pj's, I was eating some leftovers beside my newly polished stove, my new kitchen reminded me that I wasn't home yet. That this wasn't my home. And I felt alone.

I know, its kind of melodramatic. But it did feel that way. I was looking at the dining table and remembered all the great meals that my mom and dad prepared for me and my brother. How we'd always (always!) get together every Sunday after Church to just get a recap of the week and update each other of our lives. Even when we had the simplest of all meals, it was always a an awesome time eating with the family.

It would be nice to come home to a place I can call home. Hopefully soon!

(and yes, i was totally posing in that pic!)

Magic & Meg Ryan

"it was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were suppose to be together... and I knew it. I knew it the very first time I touched her. It was like coming home... only to no home I'd ever known... I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car and I knew. It was like... magic." - sleepless in seattle (1993)

it's real. it's out there. i still believe in it. i know it still exists. i've experienced the magic once and for a very long time, i've searched and waited. amidst the jaded and bitter years, i know in my heart that it will happen again.

im cheesy.

this morning i had brunch with my best friend Jun. we've been caught in this vicious cycle called life, that we haven't really been seeing much of each other lately. but we vowed to change that. thus we had brunch.

it doesn't hurt to believe and it isn't bad to hope. jun has always been on my case whenever i tell him that it would never work out. i am destined to be single. maybe i'm not built to be in a relationship. maybe i am the exception to the rule. as we were revisiting those dark years, we stumble upon what has been happening to me the past weeks. hoping upon hope that i could once again be happy.

and then, out of all the brunch places in Los Angeles, out of all the possible celebrity sightings, out of all the things that could possibly happen, Meg Ryan sat next to me at the restaurant.

Really Francis? Really?

"Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk anything, you risk even more."

- Erica Jong
American Author

www.textsfromlastnight.com

"When he came he sounded like a flock of birds hitting puberty"

"I wish you could buy pregnancy test at the liquor store, it's the only place I feel comfortable being a disgrace because I know they understand why it happened..."

"Stripper fight on main stage. It just happened. And it was glorious."

LMAO!

"Why are you single?"

I don't think that's even a valid question. Real questions should be answerable. That question just isn't. No one really knows why they are single. Well, unless they have body odor. I'm kidding. Even those with odor problems deserve to be with someone.

- prince of magic

Sorry this post isnt about you. No really.

i noticed its easier to write when I'm depressed. it's easier to write about heartaches and pain. its easier to write about failed relationships and lost hopes. i also noticed that people comment more on tear-jerker blog postings, not those tears of joy kind of tears but those painful emotional tear jerker posts that i used to have. well that was before i had my tear ducts shut permanently.

it got me thinking, are people getting more accustomed to being hurt than being happy? why is it that people relate more to sad stories than happy ones? is it getting harder and harder to be happy these days? and this is just the search for happiness in general. what about the happiness that relates to love? most of the comments that i get from readers are usually from these sad posts about love. i concur. i am not alone in this eternal search for love and happiness. i have my legions of followers that could attest to the harshness that love and hope has brought to the world.

sometimes the universe can be cruel. yet sometimes when you just totally detest how the universe has been taunting you all these years, it, all of a sudden, throws you a bone. would it hurt to try to accept happiness? i guess not.

i received an email the other day. someone asked me why i was starting to sound happy with my posts. am i getting soft? am i warming up? friends also noticed something different. maybe it's time to change. maybe there are certain reasons to feel good about myself. maybe there's a reason to be happy. maybe the universe has conspired to jumble the alignment of the stars a bit. maybe.

wait. maybe this post might be a little bit about you then. maybe.

speaking of awesomeness...

my best friend Leo...

Awesome Pinoy Kid!

I love cheese.

"Yes, right... arguing about cheese brings the relationship to a whole new level. No longer in the realm of wine or bread, or even cologne or clothes but cheese, dammit! And when you find that perfect cheese that you both enjoy, no matter how stinky, flaky, spongy, creamy, rancid, indespicably pungent it may be, you will savor every bit of it... because good cheese, like a good man, is not about being sweet or soft or easy to slice... it's about waking your senses with intoxicating smells and filling your mouth with tastes and textures that you'd keep coming back for more..."

Damn I don't look 28!

...walang hihirit!