man of the moon

“i don’t think i can be your boyfriend. but that does not mean i don’t love you.”

so said tong to mew in the last scenes of the movie ‘love of siam’.

last wednesday jp and i met in gay-teway to catch the last day of cinemanila. we wanted to catch this movie. i’ll leave the reviewing to the critics. let me just say, it proved to be a good move since it was a beautiful film.



after the movie, jp and i had dinner (he had a craving for sisig) and i told him that the line above caused me to pause because this was almost exactly the same line my now good friend j said to me when i proposed to him years ago.

why did i propose to him? the story is quite simple. we were student activists together. we became friends. we spent time together. we started being physical. not in a sexual way. just in a slightly more- -than-buddies way. i was gullible. i fell for him. i proposed the same day he committed to a relationship to a girl.

on the night i proposed, he asked me, “why now?”

i answered, “you’re with m (this girl), would it have mattered?”

he paused and quietly said, “it might have. i don’t know.” and we were silent for a long time.

but that was years ago. his girl m is now closer to me than j is. actually since then, i became their marriage counsellor. m runs to me whenever they have difficulties and so does j. they both have acted as life rafts, keeping me afloat in the many times i feel like i’m sinking. we also have celebrated life’s little victories. we are witnesses to each others’ lives.

to tell you the truth, it was m who told me that j still loves me up to now. in one drinking session with m’s lesbian friends, someone commented that it seems hard to believe that men – being what they are - can love each other. to which j replied, ‘it is not hard to believe. i love kiel. and he loves me.’ or something to that effect. the details are not clear because i was a little uncomfortable listening to a wife, telling me her husband acknowledges his love for me in front of her friends. no matter how close we are. seriously.

the happy thing is we belong to a group of friends (that includes gibo) – a gang - who are more family than friends. being a group that verges on intellectual snobbery, we joke all the time that j is only intelligent when there’s a full moon.

he may not be intelligent. but j has taught me a very important thing:

that love is not always as it is cut out to be. and because it breaks out of the mould, it doesn’t make it less of a love.

tomorrow, j is celebrating his birthday. jp and i are going.

and since i realise i don’t appreciate him enough. this post is just to thank him for the person that he is. for his friendship. for his love.

my deepest gratitude, my man of the moon.

i'm not holly

inspired by the zen bitch’s ‘love me for what i am’. read the post below for an explanation on these series of 'reaction posts'.




“i’m not holly. i’m not lulu mae, either. i don’t know who i am. i’m like cat here. we’re a couple of no-name slobs. we belong to nobody and nobody belongs to us. we don’t even belong to each other.”

so said audrey hepburn, playing holly golightly in breakfast at tiffanys.

i used to own a vhs tape of this film which is my all time favourite. and this scene, where she says these lines, i used to play over and over till the tape got all grainy and shit. but she spoke my truth, ms. hepburn:

i belong to nobody and nobody belongs to me.

this was not a statement of defeat. it was not a statement that is a perverted mutation of my communist penchant for resenting private property. it was merely a statement of how i understand human nature. and for the longest time, to believe otherwise (in the context of a relationship) was like watching a movie. it’s all about suspension of disbelief.

because i never believed, nobody else did. so it came to pass that i became an emotional slut. an ex i bumped to the other day said “you are ex with everybody.”

but you know what? growing old, maturing – well, things change.

now i want somebody to belong me almost as much as i want to belong to somebody.

my experience in the considerable array of relationships i had is that it all entails a level of compromising your individuality. and i mean this in the most positive way although i have been known to depreciate it the other way around.

now i am in a relationship that has lasted longer that i can suspend my disbelief for.

but at the end of the day, i lay my tired body in bed, my man puts his strong arms around me and scratches my back, i inhale his sweet breath and i tell myself, "i'm sure glad it's not the no-name cat."




still, i grapple with asserting my own sense of 'self' in this relationship that has been going on for 7 years. i realise that many of the so-called compromises are things that i’m starting to tire of and thinking about giving up on in the first place.

being consumed by work, free ‘love’ (like not believing in monogamy- ergo sleeping around), incessant partying to name a few – was soooo me. they were things that once defined me – made me a wild thing who cannot be caged . these are things that had a place in my personal history but does not have the same value to me now as they used to.

i’m thinking to a certain extent, outside of the requisite chemistry - it is all a matter of timing, too. a long term relationship finds you when you are ready to compromise. that’s why i keep on arguing with gibo on his phenomenal ISO standards on his relationships.

so i ask - is this selling out? relationships are hard work. but it should be. there are 2 unique individuals negotiating a common path. there will be bumps for sure. and as i constantly complain about it –

i bought a dvd of the film to replace the tired old vhs. now i play the scene but the lines that follows, spoken by george peppard playing ‘fred’ gains more resonance of things past...

“you know what’s wrong with you ms. whoever-you-are? you’re chicken. you’ve got no guts. you’re afraid to stick out your chin and say,’ok, life’s a fact’. people do fall in love. people do belong to each other. because that’s the only chance anybody has for real happiness. you call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing. and you are terrified someone is gonna stick you into a cage. well baby, you’re already in that cage – you built it yourself... because no matter where you run you just end up running into yourself.”

here’s the scene, if you’ve got the time (and the bandwidth), watch it to appreciate what i am talking about :



the conclusion: i’m not holly. i am a wild thing tamed. but i am still looking for my cat.