I THINK of sex when I think of a relationship.
Even when relating professionally, I answer to the internal question: Is this person someone I would make love to?
I work well with people I don’t plan to sleep with.
But I work even better around people with whom I have lusty, if hidden, desires.
*
I am trying to be a sex positive person, if I am not already.
I try not to be judgmental.
Not because I don’t want to be judged, but because we shouldn’t really judge our neighbors.
Especially regarding what they do in bed, on the dance floor, or in the kitchen sink.
*
But this is how I know that I don’t want to be in an open relationship─
A gay friend of mine has three boyfriends.
(Okay, boylet friends.)
Boy A is a nighttime lover.
He is available anytime my friend calls after 7 p.m.
But best to call him after midnight, I heard.
That is, if my friend doesn’t have stray boys over.
*
The two are daytime lovers.
Boy B reports on duty on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
Boy C reports on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
They see my friend at lunch time.
When they eat lunch with him.
And they are eaten by him: sometimes as dessert, sometimes as appetizers.
After which the boys get their school allowance.
*
I do not believe that my friend is generous even if the allowance is P150.
I think he is just street smart.
Some will call him a user, but I won’t.
Because the boys are using him, too.
*
Besides, no one is filing charges for acts of lasciviousness against children.
His boylets are under 18, but older than 12.
I don’t think it is statutory rape.
Even if my friend blows them as he would blow a Pissing Boy of Brussels statue.
And in my mind, if a boy moans, he’s not a statue anymore!
*
So, anyway, I go around town.
And I would see the boys with their girlfriends from school.
They’d buy their girlfriends fish balls and watered down pineapple juice, which I’m pretty sure is paid from the allowance they got from my gay friend.
And I would hate myself for knowing the boys’ dirty little secrets.
Especially when they smile knowingly at me.
*
I sometimes feel betrayed for my gay friend.
But not for long.
Because I know that while his boylets are dating their girl sweethearts, my friend is also on a predatory prowl hunting for his next new preys.
I know that the boylets are only boylets for a season.
*
I do not admire this gay friend.
I do not envy him.
But I will tell this story just to let you know.
It is not for me to judge people.
I am a storyteller.
*
I may be a good moralist.
But I do not pretend to be most moral.
In fact, I delude myself to be amoral.
To be above, and beyond, morals.
I tell myself, Mostly, I am only after telling a good story.
*
But I am also a conscientious person.
I am against rape.
(Even if I have rape fantasies myself.)
I am against statutory rape.
And other crimes against children.
So maybe, I cry inside a little every so often.
*
Again, I am writing this piece for my peace and sanity.
For my expiation.
For my absolution.
I don’t want to be told, You knew something, and you didn’t do anything about it.
Well, I’m writing about it now.
Let the true moral crusaders do their job.
I’m just a storyteller.
*
Do I really see the boys as victims here?
No, because they know what they are doing.
They really do.
Granted, money is involved.
But nobody is forcing them to have sex for money.
*
There is sadness in sex for money.
It’s a tragedy, yes; but it’s not all bad.
Sex is sex.
And as far as I’m concerned, sex is often pleasurable.
Now, do I want to pay for sex?
*
I really want a boyfriend.
Maybe another husband, if I get lucky.
But if not, I wouldn’t mind paying for sex in the long run.
I mean, For what is my money if I can’t buy me pleasure?
I just want to be happy, and live my life. (500tinaga@gmail.com/PN)
