I was walking rather aimlessly in Ortigas last night, when suddenly a tall, muscular, chinky-eyed guy grabbed my left arm. His grip was tight and there was no way I was going to escape this one. No, I didn’t get raped, but come to think of it…
It was so funny running into my gym crush in the street. It’s weird because I always see him in his gym clothes – a sando that has a neckline so deep you can see his half of his pecs, and shorts that accentuate his ass. He was fully clothed this time and it was like seeing Lady Gaga in normal clothes, so weird.
Now for all intents and purposes, I want you to imagine this guy as the textbook gym rat — perfect arms and biceps, meaty boobs and yes, very lick-able abs. And he’s quite cute, too. I met him a month ago in the gym, through a former officemate who met him at the gym as well.
But a funny thing happened that night. No, we didn’t have sex. Instead, I lost all my lust for him.
When X grabbed my arm that night, he asked me to accompany him to the nearest 7-Eleven to get a pack of cigarettes. He said he was with my former officemate R who was in Starbucks, sharing all the gay porn I gave R to him.
Actually, this was our first conversation ever. All the flirting was mostly on Facebook & Twitter.
And so I decided to hangout in Starbucks, initially with them, and then I’ll move on to do stuff.
I sat there in Starbucks mildly flirting with him. I touched his knees, rubbed his legs with mine, held his hands, caressed his shoulder, squeezed his chest, okay I’m kidding. I didn’t do SOME of those things. Hahaha.
It was exciting flirting with such a hot boy. I’ve never had like a really super chiseled boy, so this was cool. We spent time messing around on each other’s tools – and by that I mean our gadgets. I played around with his iPhone, looking at his photos, as he toyed with my iPad, and looked at all my gay mags.
But after the thrill waned, I felt a certain disconnection. Yes, this is the hopeless romantic me, the one that knows when this one’s it, the one that believes and wants that instant connection. Suddenly, all his muscles didn’t seem to matter — no way this boy and I are going out on a date, and no way that this boy and I are gonna have sex. Not to assume that he’d want to go out and do stuff with me, this is purely on my end.
I don’t blame him for that lack of connection, in fact, he seems like a fun person to be with. But I just realized that I want something else when it comes to the boys I want for myself. Yes, I admit, I’m muscle obsessed. I want them brawny, huge and manly. But that night has shown me that there’s really no substitute for that well read, eloquent, charming guy – the one who I’ll just hit it off instantly, and he doesn’t even need to have pumped up muscles. Of course, those muscles are lovely, and yes, I’d love to hold them in my arms and squish them so hard, yet all that lust can fade away overnight. But that charming guy with that winning personality (parang Miss Universe lang) – I’d like to be with him, forever.