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BY PETER SOLIS NERY
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An axe to grind
I’M NOT a saint. I grind. I’m a grinder. I mean, I’m on Grindr, the gay geo-social app on smartphones.
Long story. My husband died, I became a widower. My gay friends in L.A. were worried about my well-being. They thought I’d be so depressed, not only over my husband’s death, but maybe more so over my disinheritance.
Longer story. I grind because I have an ax to grind. My husband of six years (we were together for eight), died without renaming the beneficiaries of his retirement accounts. The money went to the elder sister who didn’t particularly like the young Asian husband. Clue: this sister is most likely to vote Donald Trump over Hillary Clinton in November; while my husband and I are die-hard Clinton supporters, even from way back when she challenged Barack Obama in 2008.
Anyway, back to Grindr. I’m not a techie, but I’m not stupid. I knew about the app even while my husband was yet alive. A promiscuous gay co-worker showed to me how it worked, and even boasted about his conquests. But I was a faithful husband so I never really paid much attention to it. I mean, I never really paid any attention, period.
Then, poor old husband died. I mean, really poor, really old husband, really died. Really poor because he didn’t even have half a million dollars to his name when he died. Really old because although he was only 68, he freaking forgot to change the beneficiary of his accounts; he forgot he had a young husband to whom he promised a rose garden. Really dead because he never came back to correct his stupid mistake.
You know the process of grieving? DABDA as mnemonic for denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Well, I had a very short denial period. And because I’m in the medical field, I understood my husband’s death. I easily accepted it. But because my grieving for him was short, I had to grieve for some other loss.
Well, it turned out to be my loss of inheritance after his death. And guess what, I return again and again to the anger part. Oh, I had some bargaining phase, too. Like, oh, maybe the sister would shoulder the funeral expenses. Oh, maybe at 85, which is her age, she’ll consider that the young Asian husband will need the money more. Until I had some acceptance.
I mean, my husband is going to be two years dead in December. His monies have been claimed by his sister, and I never heard from her since after the funeral, and after I signed the papers for her to get the monies. No, I didn’t contest her inheritance. I could have, since I am the legal husband. But I’m a Filipino and I got my Ilonggo pride. After all, I didn’t marry my husband for his money. How can I? He has no money!
And so, let’s put this case to rest. I didn’t inherit millions. What millions I have is my own money. I saved a lot when I was a highly paid nurse, you know.
Now, let me digress, and point out my position for gay marriage in the Philippines. Of course, I am for it after all that happened to me after my husband’s death. My husband died without leaving a will. He forgot many things, the most important of which was to change, and name me, beneficiary of his monies. With a marriage certificate, I could easily contest that. I mean, it’s going to be a court battle, but I had a case.
I did mention that my husband died without leaving a will. Well, in the US, where same-sex marriage is recognized, you go to the courts and tell them that your husband died intestate, you list down all his assets, all his debts, you pay all his debts, and you get the rest. And that’s how I got the car, the house, the rose garden, the hotel, and half of the Empire State Building… if you can believe half of what I say.
Anyway, the point is, gay spouses need to be legally protected, too. That’s why I believe in Hillary Clinton. Gay rights are human rights. Precisely because I am gay, I also need to be protected by law in this sexist society.
So anyway, back to Grindr again. I’ll be honest. I had fun with Grindr. It can get boring and repetitive, but I had had great fun. When I first hooked up, I was on a sex binge. I was hooking up with 19-year-old twinks, and 20-something nerds. I realized I really prefer blue-eyed blondes. I don’t really do muscle guys, but I’ve done a few. And just because I was smart, I had a great parade of boys and men in the months after my husband’s death.
I think I even fell in love with one or two. But rebound love affairs can’t really be serious. The thing is, I’ve met some of my new best friends on Grindr. Since gay birds of the same feather flock, freak, and fluctuate together, guess who refers who to whom. I enjoy grinding in the US. If you don’t get a happy meal, at least you get a decent chat.
I don’t like grinding in the Philippines so much. I mean, you don’t know what you are getting. People have no clue about getting tested for HIV and STDs. And in Iloilo and Bacolod, grinding is even worse. The grid is populated by masseurs and escorts who doesn’t understand “all the way” service. I’m not trying to be saintlier than thou here, but I don’t like sex for money. And please, gay for pay? Where’s your pride, people? I mean, call me!/PN
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