IF THERE is a chance for me to recast myself as a less sexual person, I will not do it.
I am a very sexual person.
At least, for now.
In my youth, I tried to deny my sexuality.
I was celibate for more than half my years.
I was a virgin until I was thirty.
***
In a country where gay men are notorious for initiating the modern teenagers into manhood, I dare you to name five teens that I have had sex that were under 18.
I dare you to name three.
I dare you to name one.
I dare you to name anyone at all.
***
It is truer to say that I relate to people sexually more than emotionally.
At least, initially.
At the beginning of friendships and relationships, I deal with people based on their f*ckability rather than their trustworthiness.
It doesn’t matter that they’re male, female, trans, or queer.
Would I sleep with this person if he/she/it/they are the last other person in the world?—that is the question.
***
I am meant to write about my balete tree, but my thoughts are occupied by the boy I love.
Loved—past tense?
But was sleeping next to him enough?
Was holding him like a pillow for a night enough?
I felt that I could have sex with him, so I trusted him.
I dealt with him longer than I would a delightful dog.
I think that’s why we are friends.
But we are separated right now.
***
The boy went to explore the big city for the first time.
He’s a scholar, and his scholarship has taken him outside of Panay Island.
We still talk.
Chat online, anyway.
But that doesn’t stop us from meeting other people.
Duh! What ‘us’? Haha.
***
So, the other day, I met someone online.
He was DTF.
I met him, and we kissed.
For two hours! Haha.
But no penetrative sex.
***
Later that evening, my gay friends pimped me, and I slept with a 20 year old.
He is a jackpot!
Physically my type, and humongous.
Two days later, and I’m still feeling his…
Hand. Haha!
What 20 year old would sleep with me, and hold my hand until the morning?
Was he holding it to guide me where to touch?
Or was he holding it to stop me from touching certain parts of him?
There’s something comforting in that touch.
I fell soundly asleep. Haha.
***
Back to my balete.
The first time I really saw it, after the surrounding shrubbery was cleared, I hugged it, and kissed it.
Talked to it, and prayed that it would be kind to allow, bless, and protect the treehouse I meant to build atop it.
If the tree felt my erection, the tree would understand that I desired it so much that I could go into a relationship with it if it delivers.
I love my balete tree because I need it.
But I have always loved balete trees.
What’s wrong with that?
***
The other night, I visited my treehouse location atop my hill after sundown.
It was cool there.
The moon was starting to wax.
I took some photos.
I zoomed in on the captured image.
And I saw a figure of a smiling girl.
Optical illusion? Maybe.
***
But a friend, who claims to have a third eye, said that it is the spirit protector of the tree.
I’ve always been protected by spirits.
Even in my earliest childhood home.
That particular childhood spirit lived on a star apple tree.
***
When we moved to our new big house across the municipal hall, another spirit would protect me.
This one lived in the land/building.
Like ‘lumon’, as the spiritualists and seers would say.
But who cares if it lives on the small creeping balete growing on the side of our building?
How did it get there?
That’s your problem to ask and answer.
I did not plant a balete tree on the side of the second story of our building!/PN
