On being spontaneous

So of all the things that I am pretentious about, being spontaneous ranks way up there. There are many reasons for this:
  1. Being spontaneous is sexy.
  2. Being spontaneous is Tao.
  3. Being spontaneous is dangerous, and
    • Dangerous is sexy.
    • Dangerous is fun.
  4. Being spontaneous is awesome, and
    • Barney is awesome.
    • Barney is sexy.
All of which leads me to conclude that being spontaneous will make me more like Barney (sans the suit): funny, HOT, charming, confident, and HOT. So Barney doesn't really have anything to do with this but Neil Patrick Harris is my ultimate man-crush and I'm random like that.

So this story is about last weekend. Friday night my friends and I are at M- to celebrate a friend's birthday. This is a wine bar and though the wine isn't that good, the wait staff iscute. As the party is winding down at around 1am, Neil asks me, "Soyou want to come with me to Tagaytay? Ella and Lee are still there." Tagaytay. Lee. More alcohol. Count me in.

2 hours, 5 calls, and several text messages later, we are in G- and both our phones are dead. No idea where Ella or Lee are. We settle for a plate of hot pancit bihon instead. Then we drive home. I spend the rest of the day sleeping. Saturday night, I am at R- with college dorm friends. It is someone else's birthday. Tonight, we are drinking beer, not wine. As the party is winding down at around 12am, John asks me, "So, you want to come with me to Malate? I'm meeting some friends later." Malate. Boys. More alcohol. Count me in.

I've never been to Malate before. I found it quite exotic. Maybe that was just the beer goggles. Nevertheless, as I stared drunkenly out of the windows of the cab, I felt - I felt awesome. John doesn't have any cash with him. He cooks up a plan where he just waltzes in while I distract whoever is at the entrance by paying. I don't argue. We walk up to the entrance and he stops to talk to someone. I walk past him. I am in. Free. The next thing I know someone is grabbing my hand and pulling me upstairs. John introduces me to his friends. I am busy staring at the go-go dancers. I can't help but feel sad for how dehumanizing their job is. They don't even bother to look at the crowd when dancing. One of them is staring straight ahead at the glass window as he slowly gyrates. Appreciating his own reflection, maybe. Trying to think he was somewhere else, maybe. Anyway, soon my ADHD kicks in and I forget all about... The next thing I know I am on the dance floor with a bottle of something, dancing like I've never danced before. Literally.

I don't remember how long this goes on for, or who I even dance with (I remember a cute foreigner in a wheelchair). And then it is 6am and suddenly O- is empty and the sun is way too bright. As I walk out someone knocks down a bottle of beer, the contents of which end up on my jeans. Thank you, I say. He doesn't look back.

Also, I leave with someone and we hook up and I feel like a slut, like a cheap cheap slut. He's not as good-looking as I thought he was. I don't particularly want to have sex but I've left with him, and I'm in Malate (i.e. I have no fucking clue where I am or how to get home) and he's from Paranaque and we're on a jeepney heading for Baclaran. Then we're having breakfast at Jollibee (hotdogs), and then we're checking in.

I take a shower and then lay on the bed. It's cold in the room and the bed is soft. I want to sleep. We kiss instead. His lips are cold and his lips are soft and his lips are wet on my nipples. Wet on my cock. I pull him up for a kiss and then up some more until his dick is level with my mouth and it's my turn. I like to suck but I'm not finding this enjoyable so I push him off of me and onto his back. It's hardness and against hardness now. I aim lower. Do you want to put it in? He puts a condom on me. For a second I'm afraid I'll go soft. I've never topped before. The last time I tried to wear a condom I couldn't get it up. But this time is okay. I'm still hard. He drips some lube on my dick and massages it up and down. I moan. Is it good? He lowers himself onto me. I don't feel anything. I don't know if I'm inside. But it's warm, and the room is cold. There is an intense look of concentration on his face. Go slow. What does it feel like? What? What do I feel like inside of you? He just moans and grinds his ass into my crotch. I start to fuck him in earnest. I feel myself sliding in and out of him. My eyes are closed and all I can see is black and me sliding in and out of him. Slow, then faster. Yeah, fuck me faster. I sit up and pull him in for a kiss. And then I can feel myself cumming and then he's cumming too. 

We fuck. We cuddle for a while. We fall asleep. We wake up and check out and say goodbye. I don't think I want to see him again. He seems like a nice guy. It's a shame we met like this. 

Then again, Tao.


  1. And another falls into the Malate hook trap.

    But, congrats! An initiation into the Malate scene is to hook-up with a random person in the club.

    Definitely, Malate is worth another try. :)

  2. if you find that spontaneity suits you to a tee, then go for it.

    everything in moderation, though ;)

  3. i love how this felt like such a roller coaster. but i have to be honest, i didn't get the HIWYM reference. at first, i thought you were talking about the gay purple dinosaur. haha

  4. Guyrony, yes I think I will be coming back. Again. And again.

    Ternie, I tried to look up that word, "moderation", but apparently it doesn't exist in my vocabulary.

    Citybuoy, I can't believe you thought that I think Barney the purple dinosaur is sexy!!!

  5. dont bash Barney like that please, hahahaha, i love him because err, he makes my little nephew fall asleep. :)

    natawa ako dito: Malate is exotic. i would have to agree drew, it reminds me of the yaya-looking filipina girls with their papa good-looking foreigner studs.

    watch out. baka maadik ka sa malate. after partying, grab a coffee @ Starbucks Adriatico, you'll see me there (studying) haha

  6. Well, I'm very child-like and my sense of wonder is easily evoked. So, orange streetlights + street vendors + Manila = exotic. Sorry na, probinsyano eh.

  7. sorry! haha it was an honest mistake.

    well if you think about it, he kinda is. hahaha