Love as a balisong.

Last night, I was supposed to have dinner with Daniel, but I cancelled because I got really upset [my temper is legendary]. So instead of going to Megamall for dinner, I went straight to Malate to drop by Bed for the anniversary of my friend’s clan. By the way, congratulations to the Bacardi family, you guys threw a great party. JR, thank you for getting me and my friends [bff Arvin, Viktor, and Archie] in.

Last night I have made the realization that the club scene is not my thing anymore. I don’t really know what happened. I used to be that major party boy, attending the chicest parties and wondering when the next one will be. My statement used to be WHERE’S THE PARTY, STELLA MCCARTNEY, but now, I don’t know. I just wasn’t feeling it anymore. Last night, what I wanted more than the tall guy I asked a light from was to go to a bar, an actual bar, and not a club, where you sit and have drinks with friends. But I must admit I still enjoyed the night, except for the part when Viktor insisted we go down and dance.

Yeah, for a few minutes I danced, but I absolutely hate dancing in crowded places. It’s hard to move, it’s unbelievably hot, and the thought of ugly and sweaty strangers getting TOO close makes me cringe to high heavens. I eventually left the trio and went upstairs. There I stayed by the bar and enjoyed a cigarette and a margarita.

An event of HUGE significance happened. I ran into J. I was seated upstairs, smoking with Arvin when somebody tapped me. I didn’t recognize him at first because he gained weight, but yeah, it was him, and I must admit, I really missed him. I actually read some of my older entries here, and it made me miss him more. I was disappointed he is committed now. Honestly, he is the only guy I regretted letting go, but I’ve made my mistake and I’ve paid the price.

Around 3, after meeting a couple of people which included a writer from the Inquirer and a cute guy who offered a cigarette, I insisted we go home. The scene was too much for me to bear, I was extremely bored, and I really wanted to leave.

After the cab dropped me and my friends [Viktor and Archie] off in our village, I walked home. While on that 20-minute walk, I contemplated about a lot of things. I thought about J, and for some reason, I thought about Paolo. I have come to the conclusion that love is best described as a balisong. Getting stabbed with it is agonizing, if not overwhelming, but getting it out is twice as painful. And even when the balisong has been taken out of your system, it still hurts. Very bad.

Just as my temper is legendary, so is my imagination. I started having thoughts about what would happen if Paolo actually was my boyfriend and he came with us. I know this is pathetic, but I came up with this faux blog entry. Let me reiterate that the following is purely fiction, okay? The following never took place.

Paolo was quiet during the cab ride home. I wanted to talk to him but I don’t think it would be ethical if we talk about our problem inside the cab with my friends, so I just leaned on his shoulder while he looked out the window.

When we were dropped off, Paolo and I opted to walk home. On that 20-minute walk, Paolo finally opened up. He said he was jealous of J. He got upset because when we were in Bed, J and I were being too close for comfort. I told Paolo that he shouldn’t be jealous because he is the one I love.

Paolo: I got upset because you weren’t talking to me. You were flirting with J the whole night.

Me: Paolo, don’t be silly. You know I was thinking of you the whole time. I kept asking you if you were all right. I kept asking if you wanted more drinks, or more cigarettes. I even offered to go outside and buy you a pack. The whole night I was doing my best to make sure you were having fun.

Despite the occasional car that would pass, Paolo holds my hand.

Paolo: Koji.

I look at him.

Paolo: I love you.

Me: I love you too.

When we got home, we had a long shower, made sweet love, cuddled, and fell asleep in each others arms.

But I knew that this was at best, a dream of a hopeless romantic. Instead of the hand holding, the romantic shower and the love-making, I found myself listening to my iPod and solving Sudoku puzzles. A part of it came true though. I fell asleep.

I know. I’m miserable.

Bff Arvin, power lunches. I’m so tired of the club scene. It’s so blasé.


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