Easy come, easy go.

Easy was never my favorite word. I do enjoy the occasional challenge. I like it tough. I like it rough. But I concede to being easy as a strategy if I think it will bring home the bacon, beef, or the ever so rare lay. The other night I decided to get in touch with my easy side and give some lucky guy at the club an easy good time. Easy. Right. Then this guy I sort of fancy, an a acquaintance, walks in with some common friends. Great. His lucky night I thought. Easy, right? Little did I know being easy would give me a hard time.

First off, I haven't expressed to any of our common friends any interest whatsoever on this guy. I was, as how straight folk would say, keeping my cool. Second, I know he's still in this heart-broke sulking phase. Plus he's also sort of seeing other guys. Seeing, mingling, playing with other guys. Guys with an S in case you missed it. In fact, one of them was there. And in the course of the night they actually made out on the dance floor first among the group. But wait, that group doesn't go making out with other just like that okay? Just so we're clear. Just them. And then there's me.

So as not to feel the mildest guilt in attempting to connect with aforementioned guy I needed an alibi. That alibi came in the form of another friend of ours who was tipsy. I coerced him to kiss each other knowing he would prod the two of us to kiss as well. And it happened. Before you know it, we had our tongues at it, at the expense of kissing the other friend of course. Then the easiness set in. He would hold my hand in secret. He quietly felt me up from the back. He let me drink from his pitcher. I rested my back on him. Grinding. Slowly. Then he excuses himself. Bathroom break. Everyone was entitled to one. Two. Or even three. Besides, I've already given him the signals. Everything was set. And that was that.

A French exit.

Normally I would have been really frustrated. Good thing I kept my options open. But that's not the end of it. The next time I see him maybe I won't go so easy. Maybe.

In retrospect.

By the turn of the century, my blog and I were inseparable. No detail went unnoticed. No tear fell ignored. No kiss flew unwritten, in lyric or prose. By then writing had become my religion and blogging was the prayer I make after or before anything. I never got around to figuring out why I stopped blogging. Maybe I grew out of it. Safe answer. Maybe it just wasn't interesting enough. Some friends might get hurt. But somehow, somewhere along the way, blogging just lost its luster. For me at least.

Wasn't sure what exactly the reason is, but from multiple entries a day, my posts dwindled. First in number. Then in quality. I began to write less and share more. By sharing, I mean reposting, embedding, short of copying content other people have made that has in one way or another affected me. Somehow blogging for me began to evoke a certain sense of prayer that echoed pre-existing thoughts garnered by a collective consciousness that came to life online. It wasn't all about me anymore.

What used to be a very big part of my life started to take the backseat. Just as well. Everyone else seem to have caught on and the religion became a fad. At least to my understanding. Anything that becomes too popular just dies for me. And speaking of life, mine happened. Happens. And sometimes it happens so well that words can't contain it. Or sometimes what happens is just too precious to share or to make profound of for other people. Ultimately, blogging was not able contain what I thought it can help me understand. Life was getting too big to be put in words, lines, and entries. I couldn't write it all the time. Not all the time. Not all my time.

I was growing up. And it sometimes hurt.

Pilot.

I cannot bear to see an empty blog. More so if all I have right now are intentions of filling it up - of what with, I have yet to fully discern.

At this point though, I think introductions are in order. Don’t get too excited. I won’t be telling you who I really am. And if by chance in the course of this project you figure out who I am, I am already denying it. So why won’t I share my identity? Let’s face it, mystery draws curiosity. Curiosity generates interest. Interest invites desire. I want to be desired. It’s as simple as that.

Going back to the introduction, I may not be giving myself away, but I can give certain particulars about myself as ideas for you to latch on. Based on what I took up in college, my ideal job should have been a film critic. I love movies. I like writing about them too. Writing one would be nice, but it’s not a thing I must do before I die. However, starring in one is something I do hope to do in the near future. I am not an actor, but people do sense a matinée air about me. I command presence. I get my fair share of head-turning when I walk out in the wild. And I act like I don’t know it. I have a killer smile that can make you fall in love with me. Trust me. And I speak very well. Just to be clear, I don’t do calls for a living. I keep a flexible routine, mostly for exercise and family. I don’t think all of us are capable of getting over experiences. We just live on and let life pile up on top of them one after the other. We all make mistakes but if this were an answer to a beauty pageant question, I would be wearing the crown after this period.

Yes. I am gay.

So far I think I have fulfilled the basic requirement I have set out to do. This blog is no longer empty. And I have introduced myself. Sort of. That’s it for now. I know I will see you again.