LUKE@ME is a clever name for an account, Valentine thought. Although it’s really more for Grindr or Blued. Valentine knows because he had been on those sites. Been there, and done everything. From coffee and cuddles, to vanilla and 69, to BDSM and back! And back! That’s how far he has gone.
All those geosocial apps, those location-based social networking and online dating apps for gay, bi, trans, and queer people were all A.M., of course. (The naughty gay hookup apps helped him overcome grief and depression after Martin’s death.)
A.M. — After Martin. That is his time reference now, not a.m. for ante meridiem. Everything seems to him now all B.M. — Before Martin, and A.M. — After Martin.
Luke Paclibar a.k.a. Luke@Me is definitely Year 5 A.M.
Luke came via Facebook Messenger’s message request on Oct. 2, 6:34 a.m. Eastern Standard Time, the American time zone where Valentine resides; which makes it 6:34 p.m. of Friday, Philippine Standard Time, in the country where Luke lives.
The message seemed like an innocent request to be friends on Facebook. And with the general quarantine guidelines and policies in place everywhere on the planet, maybe virtual friendships and social networking for any sense of personal connection is a good thing.
Valentine didn’t even bother to check Luke’s Facebook timeline. He was completely taken by the fuck boy charm on the profile pic — those luscious lips, those piercing eyes, no doubt carefully curated by Camera 360 or BeautyPlus apps, but who doesn’t these days? — so he excitedly just proceeded to test the waters, swam like a merman, and flirted with the boy from Talisay, Cebu.
(Correction, courtesy of Luke: Talisay City in the Metro Cebu area. Thank you.)
Everything went well in the first three-hour marathon of their back and forth messaging. I’m 33 years old. You understand I’m 51, right? I’m just a poor boy. My family is poor. I’m gay, and comfortable. Perhaps rich by Philippine standard. I’ve been five years single, after a 10-year relationship. My partner cheated on me. I’ve been five years widowed, after an eight-year monogamous relationship, six years of it married. Sorry about that. Nah, I’m fine, and I’ve moved on so it’s not like you are just going to be a rebound if We happen, and become Us. Heart on the “you won’t be a rebound.” Wait, back up. Partner is a curious term. That ten-year relationship, was that with a girl or a gay man? Luke? Luke@Me? Hello, are you still there? Luke?!!!
Luke the fluke, Valentine thought. He felt there was something there, but was he trying too hard again? Was he pushing too much, coming on too strong, going too fast?
Valentine is a complex creature. Positively hopeful for love and happiness, flippantly joyful in general disposition, unceasingly prayerful, deeply spiritual, and devoted to Jesus and Mary (not necessarily to the Roman Catholic religion, although he could defend his faith-at-baptism very well if he had to, and especially against the Protestants on his mother’s side of the family), he had subscribed to SunSigns.com (formerly AstroCenter.com), a free horoscope service that he reads weekly for fun and precaution.
Because in Valentine’s smart and widely open way of thinking, why even test the dependability of his eleven-year old iMac on a Wednesday, when his horoscope predicts possible technical glitches in the middle of the week? The computer had given up on him twice before in the last three years, and the repair costs were getting more expensive because the defective parts have become very hard to come by. “Obsolete,” as the repair technician called it. (And to think this is Apple!)
Maybe Valentine is a little superstitious. When his Facebook friends reached 4,567, he took a screen shot of it. Because he liked how the consecutive numbers looked. When he received 555 votes and got 555 stars on his first Wattpad post, he also took a photo of it because of the familiar Philippine canned sardines brand.
Was he prepared for Luke Paclibar?
Valentine had read his horoscope’s love forecast on the Monday of September 28, but he didn’t think much of it because he was almost tired of looking. “Tired, but not giving up” has become his motto in the last three years. But he remembered the horoscope saying something about meeting someone new, and maybe having a virtual coffee date. Yeah, right!, he thought, and went on living the best life he could on that last week of September as he has lived since the start of the pandemic lockdowns in March.
He attended to his friends online. His high school classmates in a special group chat that conferenced on Messenger almost daily. His batch mates in college in a weekly Zoom reunion. Friends of friends who have gossips and axes to grind, and who would FaceTime and Viber him at all hours of the day. Depressed teenagers and suicidals who chat him up only because he promised to listen and not be a Mr. Know-all. And recently, those who were greatly stressed with the reopening of classes by the ill-prepared Department of Education in the Philippines.
Valentine wants to embrace the world. To be the arms of a loving Christ, a loving God. And that’s what made him write his blogs on finding happiness and meaningfulness in life. That’s why he is active on social media as an influencer. And he wants to help define the who, and the what, of being Filipino in the age of Facebook, Google, and fake news.
But he also knows that he wants some kind of human love that is tangible — physical, sexual, instinctual. He wants someone to sleep with, and wake up to. Someone to fuck mercilessly, and make love to slavishly, when the right mood feels like it. He wants to be in a relationship where they can do anything and everything they want with each other’s body, with consent and permission, with invitation and welcome.
Luke has ignored his last frantic messages. What can a lovesick Valentine do? He knew that if he messed up by being too forward, it wasn’t all his fault. Luke encouraged him. (For three hours!) Or, at least, that’s how he read his messages.
And, again, he reassured himself, he’s 51, he can’t change what he has become. He cannot be falsely humble, and lamely fake some modesty. It took him a great while, a long arduous journey, and plenty of sacrifices, to get to the confidence and bravado he now exhibits as a powerful, smart, and self-actualized gay man. Growing up being bullied in the 70s and 80s because he was gay (although ‘bullying’ was not even a word in those days) was not easy, to say the least.
These millennials and snowflakes — the Gen Y and Gen Z, got it so easy, Valentine thought. But he thought of these gender fluid and gender confused generations (too many letters in that all-sex-inclusive acronym that one can hardly keep up) with love and affection. He was happy and genuinely glad for them.
He was happy that these younger generations didn’t have to suffer growing up like he did just because they were gay. That they didn’t have to leave the Philippines, come to America, live in exile and in constant agony of homesickness, just to escape persecution, ridicule, and humiliation.
A month after his initial contact with Luke Paclibar, Valentine was determined to write their story, or whatever little of it there is in their brief online affair. And since the novel-in-installments was being published on Wattpad on a daily basis, he was hopeful that Luke would read it, realize his errors, amend his ways, and come back to him on bended knees.
Or, optimistic as ever, Valentine thought that he may find new prospects, new lovers, new suitors, also on bended knees (take that, Luke Paclibar!), via Wattpad.
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(You may also follow this story on Wattpad under the account of @PeterSolisNery.)/PN
