Tag Archives: sex

Past is Past (A Sexist Story about a Non-sexist Reality)

The bride walks along the red carpet covered with the most fragrant flowers you can think of. Her head is bowed because she wants to hide the enormous amount of tears flowing down her face. But she’s smiling. Yes, she’s smiling. Pretty white pearls shining between her soft pink lips. If you take a peek at her face from under her bowed head, you’d see she’s almost mad with joy.

The groom waiting for her at the end of that aisle that takes forever to walk looks like a prince out of a Disney film. Licking his lips, he shook his head a little bit at the dazzling woman gliding toward him now.

He thinks, “Not bad. Not bad at all. It took 3 years of enduring her stone-cold fanatically religious parents, but I finally bagged this one home. Great cook. Pretty expert with her mouth and tongue. I could live with that. After spending 10 hours facing a computer and reading porn spam, yeah, I can come home to that. Not bad. We can do it in the kitchen. Just pull down my pants and she’d know what to do. Yeah, not bad at all.”

And bridesmaid one thinks, “This bitch must really be better than me. I still can’t believe it. I mean, come on. I sucked the hell out of Art ’til I freakin’ choked. And for hours I choked! That asshole didn’t care that I was already as blue as his father’s cancerous mole!”

And Art’s father thinks, “What would Art think if he’d known I jacked off to this lady’s Facebook profile? Those bikini pictures were too much for me. What would mom think?”

And Art’s mother thinks, “My son is a lucky boy ever since he was young. Good choice of crowd here, too. Very lovely people. Especially that Lindsay. My buttocks were as plump as those when I was 16.”

And Lindsay thinks, “God, that bridesmaid over there is makin’ my nipples itchy and hard. But Art’s sister doesn’t look bad, either. I like her jawline.”

And bridesmaid one thinks, “What’s up with this Lindsay bitch? She thinks she’s hotter than me, eh?”

And Art’s sister thinks, “Good luck, bridey. If you only knew what Art hides under the floor of his bedroom.”

And the best man thinks, “Arty my man, we have a new subject. Those cuffs will fit her wrists juuust fine. I would’ve tapped that a** myself if you weren’t so fast with that f*cked up speed dating game. I know she used to dig me.”

And the priest thinks, “Good heavens. The plunging neckline is too revealing! Bathroom immediately after this.” Continue reading


Filed under Random Thoughts

Beyond the White Wall

It starts slowly and we know we’re gonna be
I drink
The thousand wells of your mouth;
You’ll be slithering in me — slippery, sucking, suddenly biting,
Marking me with bright red blood,
Sending me into convulsions. Teeth gnashing, I try painfully
Not to tear the soft flesh
your damp lips.
Oh, I’ll swallow you for keeps
Stick every strand of my hair into your pores
And make you itch, rubbing your back against
The bed waxy with last weekend’s sweat. Continue reading


Filed under Life, Love, Poems

The Girl on the Broken Bench (Part 3)


The morning after Gutson’s, she sent me a text message saying that I should never reveal her secrets to anyone. My heart almost leapt out of my body and hopped to wherever she was. And from that day on, this journey to chase her across the office, under the rain — guitar-swinging, on MRT platforms, in my mind, and across the world started as I smiled at the miraculous text message on my cellphone screen.

Miraculous. Maybe I wished for a miracle every day, another chance to talk to her as freely as we did back at that dark and dirty room while everyone drank their beer. After all, I needed a ton of luck to push my dreams to reality. Her boyfriend wasn’t going anywhere. Their photos on Multiply and everywhere else exclaimed happiness.

The last thing I wanna be is be an obstacle to someone else’s joy. The girl on the broken bench was clearly contented with her life. She seemed popular, outgoing, and had no problems with the world. I had problems with how my collar looked, how people spend too much money on coffee, and how everyone seems to wear cool sunglasses like the sun shined every day. She and I are too different and it would be laughable for me to barge into her well-written story. Continue reading


Filed under Uncategorized

The Girl on the Broken Bench (Part 2)


The girl on the broken bench just didn’t like me. But at the time, who could blame her? I was virtually nonexistent in the Blue Waffle building. The Cool Team used to have this award for Cool Person of the Month. Members  of the team would vote by writing notes describing who the coolest person in the team was for that month. The person who gets the most notes wins the award. I got a note that said something like, “Marvin is Cool because he goes to work and gets off without anyone noticing.” And I retrieved this one from my wallet:

“Marvin is Cool because he may be quiet, but he tries to communicate despite having difficulties translating his martian language into english. hehe… Glad you’re coming to the outing.”

To say that I expected the girl to even pay attention to me was absurd. First, the Tagaytay Incident was only possible due to alcohol. Second, I was trained to go to work and come home on time five days a week. I had no time to do something “risky.” Third, I just didn’t have the guts to walk up to her and say that I liked her.

Continue reading


Filed under Life, Love

The Girl on the Broken Bench (Part 1)


Let me relive now how I came to know the girl who made me chase her, guitar-swinging, in the rain.

Love may come to us when we’re half asleep and about to hit the ground snoring. I know, because in my case, it lightly sat beside me on a broken bench one drunken night in Tagaytay.

April 5, 2008. I’ve been with the Blue Waffle Company for only about two months. I was my usual dark and shy self, still quite fresh from my recent stint as a broadcast transcriptionist in a cold, square building in Makati. I was so grateful for the friendliness of the people and the nature of my job as a writer however, that I agreed to go with the Cool Team to Tagaytay. I considered the trip as just part of my work (even though the purpose of the trip was precisely for everyone to forget about work for two days).

The reason I went was because I didn’t want my officemates to think that I was a loser. At the very least, I wanted them to know my name and remember my face ‘cause I think many of them still weren’t aware of my existence at the time. I think they knew someone named “Marvin” who sat in the office somewhere, who worked with them, helped them accomplish goals and stuff, but they really didn’t know his face – like what his nose looked like or if his voice was shrill or deep. But by going on this trip, I could establish a more solid professional connection with my colleagues. They won’t be surprised, for example, if I suddenly send a message to them over YM saying that I needed help for an article. I thought to myself, “I’m gonna go, talk a little, eat a little, sleep a little, and be back home then back to the office in a jiffy.”

Continue reading


Filed under Life, Love

Material Possessions in Love

What do we love when we love a person? Is it her body or something else — the “soul,” perhaps?

I had an argument with a good friend of mine a long time ago about the difference between love and lust. The conversation revolved around the topic of why can’t men stick to having sex with one girl, the girl that he loves, that is. I wrote about it in my first blog on Friendster:


Reading that entry, I realized how silly my points were at that time. They came from a man who was so detached from the subject. I had no real feelings for the matter so it was easy for me to say that sex for lust is very different from sex for love. I was so confused I even called my self a conservative (“konserbatibo”).

I was, at that time, a victim of Cartesian dualism, the belief that the mind and body are separate entities. The mind is separate from the body, so what is done to the body doesn’t necessarily affect the mind. Bodily pleasure doesn’t equate to the satisfaction of the mind or of the “soul” (both refer to that intangible entity that we like to imagine we have).

My point back then was that even if a man sleeps with a woman he lusts for, that doesn’t necessarily affect his love for the woman who’s his real partner. I was thinking, “Love’s object is not only the body anyway, so letting a man have sex with another woman whom he doesn’t love is just like letting a man drive another person’s car.”

Needless to say, my points were bullshit. They smell of naivety and the deliberate attempt to rise above common opinions. They weren’t hypocritical, but simply cold, detached, and strategic.

Now, I realize that so much of love is anchored on the body. Also, if there is such an intangible thing as the “mind” or the “soul,” the body is inextricable from it.

In fact, whatever this intangible thing is, we only have an idea of it through what’s physical. What is the soul of a person? If the soul consists of ideas and emotions, then both of those are expressed by words and gestures. We listen to words spoken by a physical mouth; we interpret emotions through facial expressions of joy, laughter, or disappointment.

And if we love these supposedly deeper characteristics of a person, then aren’t we loving her body ultimately? For how could she have expressed her soul but through her body?

Now I understand why it hurts so much to have someone else touch that body, derive joy from that body. It tears you to shreds, rends your heart, puts seemingly permanent scars all over your body and her body. Infidelity is a real threat to love because it makes use of the body.

We value the other person’s body like greedy men value money. It sounds revolting at times but the kernel of truth in it is unmistakable. It’s base and vulgar and disenchanting but how could anyone deny that with a straight face? In a way, we treat each other like material possessions — and maybe we are material possessions when in love.

Maybe there is a soul in every one of us. Maybe we do love a person’s soul. All I know now is that without the body, it’s not possible to love the soul.


Filed under Love