Neon Yellow on Grey Hair

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Previously:
Fearless

"These things age a man, when he starts to understand the joys and sorrows of life. To find love and lose it. To meet death in its many forms. And happiness with its many faces."



I remember the day I turned thirty. I was actually thirty years, three months, and nine days old and it was when my best friend Vackie looked at what I was wearing to a party and he said, "Isn't it a little too young?"

WTF? I thought. "What do you mean?"

"The color. I mean, isn't a little too …  uhmmm, loud? I mean, honey, you are already of a certain age."

Gasp! "What? Are you saying that I'm old?" I  thundered.

"Of course not! Hahaha. But ... really, you're going to wear that?" he asked.

I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the neon yellow shirt I was wearing and realized that well, perhaps he was right. It did seem a little, uhmmm … too young. 

 

I have always loved dressing up. I like how it can accentuate or change the way you look; make you cuter or more fuckable. Wear glasses and be the intellectual geek or a romantic poet, a jersey transforms you into the hot, sporty guy, eyeliner makes you a rockstar. You can be mysterious or sweet. You can be anything you want to be ... or so I thought.

The kinds of clothes I bought when I was in my 20s have remained the kind of clothes I love. They are no longer generally the kind of clothes I wear, but when I see something of that nature on someone else or in a shop, I am drawn to it.

Bright colors used to adorn my cabinet: scarlet red, chartreuse, magenta, lime, and vermillion. I remember when the 80s made a comeback and people in Manila started wearing these hues, and the world seemed like a rainbow. My friends and I would wear layers of shirts and polos, bright colored Chucks and bandanas and it was one big delightful explosion of colors.

Colorful and bright; that is still the core of my personal vision of myself, as opposed to the version that people see, the way I actually dress and look nowadays.

Navigating the tricky path between the two is what dressing has been like in the past two years. If I feel anything about being in my 30s, it is that I look back on the last decade with fondness and nostalgia while looking ahead at the future with a certain degree of apprehension combined with a determination to enjoy it as much as I enjoyed my 20s.

This has been a crucial factor in choosing how I look. I don't want to pick a constant battle against the forces of time.You cannot win, and I am someone who picks my battles very carefully.  I choose not to compete in an area where I don't feel certain I will come out on top --- the arena of looking young and beautiful. Instead, I choose to channel  my energy into other areas of my life --- work, sex, friendship, and love.

Most people's looks do not improve as we age, and fear of the loss of physical beauty comes hand in hand with each additional year. The wrinkles start to appear, the hair turns grey, our bellies become bigger, our girth wider.  Wherein once you could lure a thousand men, you may find yourself being passed over more and more for younger, prettier things. A relic from an ancient era

Occasionally I catch myself in the mirror and see somebody I don't recognize. Especially on those days when you're tired, or lacked sleep, or well ... hung over. It is on those days time wrecks havoc with a terrifying power.

 

Though sometimes I wish I can regain all my youth back, I  have become quite content with how I look. Made peace with the lines in my face, the dark circles under my eyes. No longer am I afraid to tell people my real age.

But with clothes it is quite different. There are times I still want to wear what I want; but the question of what you can wear becomes more charged and complex as you age. And who is making that decision anyway? The fear of dressing inappropriately and landing on the pages of the worst-dressed list lurks like some ghastly specter around your closet. You ask yourself:  Do I really need another accessory? Can I still wear shorts? Can I still wear red jeans? Can I still pull it off? Is it ... too much?

I know that the vintage floral shirts I used to love now make me look like one of my least favorite English teacher when I was in school, rather than boyishly fun and appealing. Sugary pastels are definitely a no-no. More on more, I find myself choosing clothes of a darker shade. I head for block colors and checkered patterns.

Whereas once, you might have looked cute and adorable, you now try to be sophisticated and elegant. Well ... try at least, though you may not always succeed.

Still, once in a while, I indulge myself. Dress up the way I want ... just because I want to. After all, clothes should be all about fun, right? At some point, we all think we lose the person we were when we were younger and become somebody old. But we don't ... not really. And the pleasure we take from life, including clothes, reflects that.

So if one day you encounter a grumbling, grey-haired old man wearing a bright neon yellow shirt, well ... you probably know who it will be.
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Gossip Girl: The Games We Play (III)

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Previously:
The Games We Play (I)
The Games We Play (II)



Wakey wakey sleepyheads, Gossip Girl here. Grab your horses and guns, cause word is hunting season has begun. And guess who's leading the pack?

Why, none other than our favorite girl Kane who we hear has found himself a new hunting mate. One to do the dirty, the other to act as bait.



"Oh God, honey. Every time I pass the guards at home, they all have a look that seems to say, 'I know who you did last weekend!' Arghhh!"

"And what exactly happened last weekend?" V asked.



Three days ago

"Hay naku Gino, nakakainis. I can't contact Grindr boy's phone!! We were supposed to go out," I told Gino. Grindr boy and I had agreet to meet last weekend, and I was looking forward to another hot makeout session. But I haven't heard from him and his phone was turned off.

"Hayaan mo na. Si John na lang kasi," he said.

"John is out of town. Hay… my weekend plans are getting fucked up."

"Ano ba yan. Hayaan mo sila. Ako bahala sa iyo. We'll have a weekend you'll never forget."

I didn't realize how prophetic those words would be.

 
 
The club was already filled with people when we arrived past three a.m. I saw some of my friends including Glenn who was visiting from Malaysia. We were having a lot of fun dancing to our current favorite anthem "Till The World Ends" and flirting with boys.
 
I was tired but happy when we left. I even forgot about John and Grindr boy, when suddenly …

"Ano. May gustong sumama sa atin," Gino said.

I was caught off guard. "Huh? Sino?"

"Basta. Okay ito. Ano?"

I was a little confused. I was a little drunk and things weren't sinking in my brain quickly. "He's alone?"

"Yeah. Kung gusto mo, we can have a threesome."






A threesome. I've never done a threesome; I mean, I've never done it with a friend. Besides, I'm not really a group fun kind of girl. I like things simple. Contrary to what some people may think, I'm not as adventurous in sex as others. Group sex can be so messy, you don't know what to do or who to do first.

I tried it twice. The first was a massive success and the second was an epic failure. The first happened when I went to the island of Boracay alone for three days; and ended up staying there for two weeks.

I was 21, and I imagined I must have been beautiful then. They were older than I was, strong handsome men with girl friends. I remember calling my best friend then to ask her if I should go ahead with it. And she said, "Go! Just try it out!"

So I did and it was one of the most unforgettable experiences I've had. It probably was the first time I learned the body can be quite … what's the word … malleable? And how two kisses can be better than one.

The second was two years ago with a couple. I was fucking one of them (he requested) when suddenly, I smelled something funny … and let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that was when the Great Tower of Babel fell down in a single swipe.

I hurriedly left and that was the end of that. God!!! Shouldn't everyone by now know the cardinal rule of being a bottom?

CLEAN! CLEAN! CLEAN! Motherfucker. What a way to end a tryst.





"So ano? Gusto mo ba?" Gino asked me. I was jolted back from my reverie.
 
 
 
So what will it be K? Party-pooper or go-getter?
 
 
 
"Uhhhhm … Okay lang."

 
 
Jonathan was pleasantly cute; lean, chinito, tall and really young. Fucker, the energy these kids have, I actually came twice even though I was intoxicated and exhausted.
 
Yes, ladies, he was that good.

I guess Gino wasn't satisfied because the next night, we went out again and hooked up with … (drumroll) Jonathan's friends. I know, I know … slutty much?

And what was so exciting about it was that his friends didn't know we hooked up with Jonathan the night before. We could tell he was upset that we were flirting with his friends ... but well, boys will be boys. His friends were both also good looking; one was an artist and the other a model. Gino fucked one of them on the kitchen floor while the other wanted me to cum on his face. Shit, ang sarap.

I was spent, drained, but I suppose it still wasn't enough because the next day, Gino asked another guy to come over.


 
 
 
"Abusada ka naman masyado!" V exclaimed. "Threesomes are for special occasions; you know … for your birthday, when you get a promotion, something to treat yourself with. Not three times in one weekend!"
 
"What can I do?" I protested. "I didn't have to do anything. Gino did all the work; and since it was already there I couldn't say no."

"Ayan ka na naman! Kunwari wala ka na lang magawa!" V said, laughing. "But seriously, did you like it?"

The question caught me by surprise. I thought hard before answering.

"Honestly … I did. Sigh. Is that bad? That I liked it?"



Sometimes in life we hit a crossroad and are forced to choose which path we want to take. And there's no way of knowing if our journey will lead us to pleasure or pain.

Careful K. If you step in those shoes, there's no telling where you just might end up.





XOXO-

Come Into My World

I am breaking my rule on writing; which is to write like no one is reading.

For the very first time, I am writing to someone. I am writing to YOU, my fellow blogger, reader. (I dislike the word follower; makes you feel like you're some kind of Messiah, doesn't it?)

I started writing as a way to make sense of my break-up last year. I didn't write to make new friends, I didn't write because I wanted to be heard. I wrote for me.

Writing helped me create some sort of structure; a way to step back and look at things from a different perspective. The experience was cathartic and I learned many things about myself in the process.

Over time, I met other Filipino bloggers and made friends with a few. But I have always considered myself mostly unknown in the blogger world.

Recently, I noticed more and more people are reading my blog. It is not as many as the thousands of people who read other writers but I was surprised that there were at least 160 people who read what I wrote yesterday.

I probably know around 20 of those people so I am wondering who the rest are. Who are you?

And since this is a year of crossing boundaries, I am celebrating my birthday this July and I would love for you to come. Yes, you.

I am informing you early so you can prepare a mask for the ball. You can wear whatever you want; shorts, sando, t-shirt, it doesn't matter.

The important thing is you MUST wear a mask.

Yes, it will be outrageous. No, it won't be uptight. Yes, it will be exciting as you get to meet all of my friends, the boys and girls of the Upper Eastside. No, it won't be scary, well, maybe a little.

It would be an honor to meet you, especially those who have shared their thoughts on some of my stories. You know who you are.

If you say yes to a fun, crazy night, to new friendships: please email me at kanesulfur@gmail.com so I can inform you the details of the event.

Go on... Be brave... Take that step and open the door...