Literary Precum

This is word vomit. I’ve chosen a more prosaic existence after being bohemian for the longest time, hence the loquacity leaking out of my ears and gibberish under my eyelids trying to get the hell out. I don’t blame them; my mind can be a really strange place sometimes.

I’m no stranger to blogging but I am a stranger to getting organized. I’ve probably started around 3 or 4 blogs to document my piss of consciousness. And I forget where I piss sometimes. However, I vividly remember pissing on the poor tree in the middle of the Ateneo quadrangle one college evening but I digress. Some stuff I wrote are probably in some dusty online corner while the others I actually wrote in the lost art of cursive. Here’s a new blog to document my new shiznit in this new chapter of my life.

I am just a 25 year-old dude with a few things to say.

***

I’ve been working on being the one for some guy instead of wasting my time consciously working on finding the one. To see yourself as “single and looking” is an excellent reminder of your own perceived void that needs filling. Although there’s nothing terribly wrong with taking control and heading out to the haystack with a magnifying glass, the resulting strain and frustration is not something I would enjoy very much. So I thought to myself how nifty it would be to work on becoming some person’s the one. In this needle-in-the-haystack metaphor, I ditched my magnifying glass and began work on being the shiniest needle I could become.

The realization came about after I have ended my first relationship. I was 19, overwhelmed, suffocated and confused. The aftermath of the tumultuous combination of a relationship I walked away from, school, freelance work, band gigs and family stress left me all hollowed out. My self-esteem needed to be dug out from a pile of crap. So deep into shit, exhuming it took more than three years.

That was equal to three years of celibacy. No fornicating, no kissing, no dating, no boys. Not even the liberating company of the gay kin, only the dire straights. I relearned the uncomplicated pleasure of the company of friends and my own self. There’s a gazillion sources of happiness out there and I’m thankful to have had the time to stop and smell the roses, although that did not erase the fact that I had also fettered myself from any romantic or even sexual possibility. After 3 years, just as I was turning 24, I decided to start taking care of myself more and paid more attention to how I looked. I found myself a couple of online friends to show me the dynamics of being a 20-something gay guy. In the process I found out my own market value and where I was to be taking my wares.

My very own gay brand identity (“gay brand identity” deserves its very own dedicated write-up) was a straight-living homo-nouveau. I was just learning how to be gay after years of hiatus; I knew that this fact could potentially be charming and I banked on that too. I was aware that I was a fit, straight-acting, nice-looking, rugged and smart guy. I had my vanity but I was very careful not to be conspicuous about it. This brand identity served me well for the next couple of years. It was a hedonistic couple of years if I may add—a slew of hookups, dating, courtships, threesomes, boys, boys, boys.

I had a lot of fun and affirmation. With my growth at work, reconnection with my friends (the bunch of them straight), improvement on my home life and a thriving (but safe) sex life, I built up my self-esteem and created a healthy positive attitude. As I was slowing down into my sexual denouement and going back to my serial monogamous default, the universe has conspired to bring me to my loving partner in perfect timing.

I now have more reasons to just keep growing. This time it’s gonna be with someone I love.

I am Johnny Cursive and this is my new leaf.