Beauty and the Feast

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Humans have always been, and I think, will always be obsessed with physical beauty. No matter how many New Age philosophies extol the virtue of inner beauty, of strong character and steadfast values, the beautiful always lords over the rest of us when it comes to a very basic human need.

Sex.

One day, Gino and I were talking about the Grindr application and how groundbreaking it is in the way it allows people to connect.

"Why don't you try it?" I told him.

"Tingin mo ba may magkakagusto sa akin? (You think they'd like me?)" he asked.

"Well, there's only one way to find out."

 
 

Gino and I chose a photo and created his profile.

The response was overwhelming. Within minutes, a flood of messages poured in and he received more than a hundred texts in less than twelve hours. Half of them within the first four hours.

"OMG! Grabe, nakakaloka!" I said to my friends. "You guys should have seen it. Nagkandarapa ang mga bading!!! It was like there was a feast and everyone wanted a piece of him."

"Eh oo naman (But of course)," Arlan said. "Yung look talaga niya yan ang bebenta talaga. (He has the look that will really sell.) He's tall and very manly. He looks like the college basketball player you always wanted to fuck but never got to."

I nodded. Gino does have that look. He's very masculine, dark skinned, lean with abs. How could gay guys resist?

"I was surprised. You know we get messages from Grindr. But, not that many. And all those guys who ignored me before… wow, they were really after him," I said. "I guess hot guys really trump cute huh."

"Well, he's got the sex appeal," Carlo said. "I mean, most people who use Grindr are looking for a hook-up. It's a different case when you're in a club or at a party, where you see the guy in person, see how he carries himself, how he dresses up, how he speaks. It all adds up to his desirability."

We were all quiet.

"Talagang dinefend ang cute no? (I had to defend cute huh?)" Carlo said, and he started to laugh.

"Tama! Hahahaha. Napaka passionate nga ng pagdefend mo eh (Uh, we noticed. Hahahaha. And you were so passionate!)," I exclaimed. "But you gotta admit, he is such a perfect addition to our group. It's like we've got something for everyone."

My friends and I were laughing but I knew implicitly that even though no one said it, we were starting to realize that Gino may be more attractive than any of us.

I think in general, my friends and I consider ourselves fairly equal in the looks department. We tend to fall into the category of the boy-next-door type; hence the usual compliments we get are cute, nice, charming, pretty boy.

But never yummy, sexy, or hot.
 

 
 
 
Days later, I was telling a friend about Gino when she suddenly said …
 

"So, nainggit ka ba? (So, did you get envious?)"

I was about to say no, of course not. But I realized that something had been bothering me about the whole experiment. The truth is; I am envious. A little perhaps.

Don't get me wrong. I am not insecure, nor unhappy about who I am and how I look. I am fairly contented. But I do wonder at times: how does it feels like to be hot?

I guess I'll never know.
-

Mercy

-

Previously:
Gossip Girl: The Gift That Keeps on Giving
When The Kingdom Falls


The bar was crowded when I got in. Europeans sporting their blonde hair, blue eyes and dark tans were laughing and dancing amid the usual Filipino tourists, a Brazilian guy who works in Hong Kong as a model, and the local boys and girls gyrating and trying to seduce the visitors. For a fee, of course.

It was hot and humid, and after a while I started to sweat so I went to the restroom to fix up when a guy suddenly started chatting with me.

"Hey, how come you weren't dancing?" he asked. He was looking at me with a crooked grin on his face. His face was red; from the heat or the alcohol I wasn't certain, but judging by the way he slurred his speech, it probably was the alcohol.

"Ahhh, I'm just a little tired I guess," I replied.

"Sa guapo mong yan, hindi bagay sa iyo ang nakaupo (With your good looks, it doesn't suit you to be just sitting in a corner)," he said. "Kanina pa kita nakita eh. Ang guapo. (I noticed you earlier. You're so cute.)"

"Ano ka ba, sus, lasing ka lang (You're just drunk)," I told him. I was getting embarrassed.

"By the way, I'm Nelson," he introduced himself. "Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked.

"Uhhhmmm… no," I replied.

"Puede mag apply?(Can I apply?)" he said.

"Uhhhh…" I stammered.

"Shit… ang corny ko."



Some guys were coming inside the restroom so I excused myself to go back to the party. After a while, we bumped into each other again just before I was about to leave.

"Ano? Mag-isa lang ako sa room ko ngayon (I have a room all by myself)," Nelson said. "Diyan lang, malapit lang (It's just near)."

"Ano ka ba (Come on)," I said. "Relax ka lang (Relax)."

"Sige na (Please?)," he pleaded. "Wala kang gagawin. Hihiga ka lang (You don't have to do anything. You just need lie down)."

And there it was, another offer for a mercy fuck. I suddenly remembered how the last time it happened, I became the most despised man in this side of the world.

I was getting stressed by the situation. I wanted to decline politely without embarrassing him.

"Ano ka ba, lasing ka lang at pagod na kasi ako (You're just drunk and I'm really tired man)," I said.

He slowly nodded, with a defeated look on his face.

"Ang hirap talaga pag pangit no? (It's really hard when you're ugly)" he suddenly blurted out. "Walang nagkakagusto sa iyo (Nobody likes you)."

I stared at him with my mouth slightly open, stunned by what he said. But Nelson was right. He was far from goodlooking, it would be a stretch to even call him plain or homely. And then I understood; he was used to this, to being rejected, undesired, unwanted. But what can I do?

"Come on, there are many other guys out there," I said, trying to lighten the mood and cheer him up.

He smiled. "Yeah, but they don't want me," he said, shaking his head. "Don't you see Kane? Everybody wants someone like you."

No, not everyone, I wanted to tell him. Everybody feel this way, sometimes.

He turned around, about  to leave when he suddenly turned back to face me. "Can I have a kiss on the cheek?" he asked.

I nodded. He gave me a tight hug and a quick peck. I hugged him back. I hoped it would be enough. I could still feel how sad and lonely he was and I wanted to say something, anything to comfort him. I felt helpless against his hopelessness. "Hey Nelson, you know..."

"It's okay Kane. Don't worry. Sanay na ako," he said. "I'm used to this."

Then he was gone.
-

Under Renovation

---

Last week, I chanced upon these status messages while scrolling through my friends' updates in Facebook.

"Z is under renovation."
"J is under renovation."

Hmmmmm. Okay. Under renovation. It sounded so cryptic.

Days later, I was with my friend Fernando and I told him what I discovered.

"Grabe, Z and J had their noses done," I announced. "Nakakaloka!"

"Ay. Charice much?" he replied.

"I know. Next week daw ang soft launch sa Malate."

We both laughed.

"Hindi ba maganda naman ilong nila?" Fernando asked me.

"Exactly. Ganoon na ba ka grabe ang competition?"

"Ang hirap pala kung ganoon. Ikaw ba, may ipapabago?"



His question got me into thinking. I have always regarded plastic surgery as something I may consider far, far into the future. What I haven't realized was that the future could be now.

That night, I stared at the reflection in the mirror hanging in my bathroom. I looked at myself long and hard.

Not bad for 30. Still…

I have few wrinkles, but I have wrinkles. Six lines on my forehead to be exact.

My eyes crinkle a bit when I smile and laugh too hard.

My nose can look more pointed

I can always use one more dimple. Or two.



As the years pass, I am certain I will lose whatever good looks that remain. My skin will sag, my tummy will become bigger. I will look, heaven forbid, old.


Will I survive this harsh, unforgiving gay world armed only with an eyeliner? Or should I succumb to the knife and the youth and beauty that it brings?

Surely, Botox can't be that bad, right? Or a nose job can't hurt. But where does it end?

There is a fine, fine line between beauty and a lie.



Most people are afraid to grow old alone. So to prevent that from happening, some decided if they cannot grow old, they cannot grow old alone.

It's like buying time. One more year, one more chance at love.

Others fear the loss of beauty.

"Age hits the beautiful hardest of all, because some homely people tend to grow into their looks, and consequently look better at 40 than they did at 20," Rudeboy told me while we were discussing plastic surgery.

My friends J and Z are both good looking and popular. They go to the gym regularly and they sport lean fit bodies.

They get more than their fair share of men. The lucky ones, as we would say. But we can always be more beautiful, apparently. It is never enough.

After all, every year, a new crop of gay guys land on the streets of Malate. They stand there, young and beautiful.

And no matter what you say, they will always be competition. And, youth possesses such an advantage.



As I stared at myself more in the mirror, I realized I like myself at 30. And that, looking back, I have always been content with how I look like.

I can only hope that each year, as I look at myself in the mirror, that same reflection looks back at me.

A happy man is what I see. Older yes, and hopefully, happier.

B and the Eyeliner

"Beauty is about perception, not about make-up. I think the beginning of all beauty is knowing and liking oneself. You can`t put on make-up, or dress yourself, or do you hair with any sort of fun or joy if you`re doing it from a position of correction."
---Kevyn Aucoin

B and I were going to watch a movie with some friends. It was our fourth date. We were talking about artistas and films when he suddenly said, "Did you put something in your eyes?"

My whole body went rigid and I thought to myself, "Oh no! What do I say? Is he ready?"

"Well, yeah. I put on eyeliner," I said.

He studied me closely and said "You're so cute."



You see, every little girl, at some point in time, learns to hide her flaws and accentuate her beauty using rouge, mascara, and eyeliner. But I wasn't that little girl.

In fact, I wasn't a little girl at all. I was a little boy who dreamt of marrying a girl, have children, and live happily ever after. But one day, I realized and accepted I was gay and promptly chucked that dream away.



It was 2003 and I was going out with Nico. I noticed Nico's cheeks were always flushed.

"You know, you always have rosy cheeks," I mentioned to him once.

"Errr. Hahaha. Kane, come on. It's not natural. I use cheek stain of Body Shop," Nico explained.

"Cheek what???," I asked him.

"Here. Let me show you," Nico said and took out this long, slender tube that would forever change my life.

"There. Look at yourself," Nico said. "Here, let me put some eyeliner."

I slowly turned to face the mirror and that's when it happened. Gasp! Was that me? I felt like a prince(ss). My eyes were full, my cheeks glowed softly, my face looked like those faces splashed in magazines.

I wanted that moment to last forever. That was the effect of trying on make-up. You suddenly, shockingly, become that girl.

So as the years passed, I learned the tricks of using the eyeliner. How to make your eyes pop, how to get that rockstar look. And it is in those moments of transformation that I can pretend to be someone else, even if just for a night.

A hooker, a rockstar. An artist, a freak. It's a wonder how a little make-up goes a long way.



But at the end of the day, after you've showered and removed everything; the eyeliner, the perfume, the clothes, it feels good to have someone look at you and still think you're that prince(ss). Flaws and all.

 
 
 
 
"People say sometimes that beauty is only superficial. That may be so, but at least it is not so superficial as thought is. To me, beauty is the wonder of wonders. It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible."
---Oscar Wilde, "The Picture of Dorian Gray"