The Power of Commercial

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Previously:
Gossip Girl: The Inglourious Basterds

"Short hair is more commercial, more sell-able. And I ... I wanted to be sold. As the locks of hair started to fall, I felt like all the heroines in all the books and films I've seen. I'm Romeo's Juliet, I'm Dante's Beatrice. I'm Serena and Blair, I'm the Devil Wearing Prada."





Arlan invited me to go with him to a birthday party and be his plus one. I haven't seen him for a while, and I was looking forward to a night of drinking and dancing. With a little flirting on the side, I hoped. I arrived at the venue first and waited for him at the lobby of the condominium.

"Oh my God honey. Ang guapo mo!" A said when he saw me. I smiled impishly and twirled around to show him my new haircut.

"You think?" I asked, and we both laughed.

"Shit! Kelan pa yan? For sure, marami kang makikilala niyan!" he told me.

"Of course," I said. "Because it's commercial. Para lang iyang Jollibee, pang masa!"



So I caved in. For years, I held off from cutting my hair and opted for a more "unpopular" style, growing it long. I loved my long hair. It allowed me to change my look every now and then. I would curl it, tease it. But there's a time and season for everything. And one day, I decided to cut it short.

Like ... really short.

The effect was instantaneous. Overnight, I became the darling of gay men as I paraded in clubs, parties, and events. I attended a play and I met a college freshman who followed to the restroom. That same day, I met another guy at the gym who wanted to take me out to dinner, mind you. My God, ano ba yan, I wanted to tell him. I'm easy. You don't have to buy me dinner.

Once, I was at a bar chatting with a friend when a guy nearby talked to me out of the blue, "Alam mo, ang guapo mo." I turned around, surprised. I was a little embarrassed.

"Ahhh ... wala lang iyan," I said, trying to downplay things. "Nakainom ka lang."

He kept on smiling. "Ang guapo mo," he repeated, nodding his head. I gave him a smile and felt my knees tremble slightly.



A couple of weeks ago, I received a text message from a guy who kind of likes me. I was partying the night before and he saw me at the club. "Hi Kane. Hanga na ako sa charm mo. Panalo! You're an epitome of what a real chicboy is."

I reread the message again and again with a small smile on my face.  Yes, I've had many compliments in my life. But each time, it still never fails to surprise me. I guess, deep down, there will always be a part of me saying "Me? You mean me?" That boy who always felt he was just ordinary.

Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But I must admit, it still feels good every time it happens. Someone once told me, "It never gets old". You know what, it really doesn't.
 

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