In the Closet

There are a lot of things bloggers usually write about on Christmas Day. This probably isn’t one of those things.

I have existed in this world for 17 years now, and I still don’t know what my sexual orientation is. Since I was a boy, I’ve always been attracted to other boys. But I’ve still been attracted to girls, too. There’s this girl that I was classmates with from kindergarten until our fourth year in high school. Let’s call her Cello, like the musical instrument. And that entire time, I had a crush on Cello. Of course when we were younger and innocent, I didn’t know it was a crush. I just felt happy seeing her happy and being with her and making her laugh. In the first two years of high school, our friendship was put on the back burner because we ended up in different sections. But in third year, that spark came back. For me, at least. I’ve always known she never loved me back the way I loved her. She loved me as a friend. She looked at me and saw a tall, nerdy, funny friend who happened to be a guy. Not a boyfriend.

In second year, I developed a crush on this other girl. We’ll call her Raven. She had just transferred into our school that year, so she didn’t have any friends yet. She wasn’t exactly my type when it came to girls. She was morena (dark skinned), short, and not particularly intelligent. But she was fun. And I enjoyed being with her.

On Valentine’s Day, I got her a rose and tried to (stupidly) give it to her in front of the rest of our class. Suffice to say, she wasn’t very comfortable. So to save our friendship and minimize the awkwardness of the whole situation, I took the rose back and gave it to our teacher instead. It was what a pussy would do, but I was a pussy then. Hell, I’m still a pussy now.

Through four years of high school, I had also crushed on quite a few boys. Some of them from my batch, some of them from lower batches. But the first time I felt anything stronger or deeper than a crush for another male human being was in college. Let’s just call him Gecko. Gecko was a photographer, graphic designer, singer, and a decent dancer. More importantly, he was an all-around popular guy. I don’t know when it started or how, but I just started thinking about him more and more. Staring at him. Hoping he felt good.

I posted on his Ask.fm account once. (For those of you who are miraculously unaware of this website, you can send questions in anonymously to random people) I didn’t send a question though. I sent a confession. I told him how much I liked him, for his smile, his eyes, his voice, his charm, and his work. I told him how much better he was than most guys and how much I felt I loved him, but that he could never love me back.

You see, Gecko’s straight. A lot of people who meet him think he’s gay, but he’s always claimed he’s straight. And even if there’s still that little voice at the back of my head that tells me he’s secretly gay or bisexual, as long as he says he’s straight, there’s no point in letting him know about how I feel.

The point of this whole post is to say to someone out there that I’m bisexual. It’s not exactly coming out of the closet, but it just feels comforting putting this out in the world. And right now, I’m at a point in my life where I feel I will be accepted by most (hopefully all) of my friends and acquaintances should I come out as bisexual. Actually, I think most of them already think I’m gay. The only problem is my parents. As their only son, coming out would ruin any dreams they have of me becoming the perfect husband for the perfect wife who would raise their perfect grandchildren.

It’s an incredibly heavy burden hiding who you really are and how you really feel. Even if I’m not the kind of bisexual man who wants to talk like a girl and wear makeup, society will still judge me. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to handle that, but this long-ass blog post is a sure start.

I consider this my Christmas gift to myself. After a few (2 to be exact) posts, I now realize why some bloggers consider their blogs a refuge. A place where they can say what they want and be who they really want to be.

I hope you gave yourself a good gift today. I know I did.

Best Christmas Ever

It’s almost 9 PM on Christmas Eve. My parents and I have had dinner. My dad’s still out with his neighbor friends, and my mom’s getting ready to go to bed. She has to leave early tomorrow to visit my grandmother who’s in the hospital because of an infection.

This isn’t the Christmas I wanted or needed. I’ve always dreamed of visiting a beach or a hotel or anywhere nice. I’ve dreamed of going abroad, somewhere in Europe where there’s snow and funky smelling foreigners and out-of-this-world exotic cuisine. I’ve dreamed of a lot of things, and none of them have become a reality so far.

My family isn’t poor by Philippine standards. A lot of times, I fool myself into thinking we’re rich. I ask my parents for cash, and it’s there. I tell them the deadline for my tuition fee is next week, and it’s fine. But this Christmas, I asked for a DSLR camera. It’s cliche, I know. But I’ve always wanted to get into photography as a hobby. I wanted to capture the moments in life as they passed by, just so they won’t be as easily lost or forgotten. And I know it’s expensive. And I know my grandmother’s hospital bills continue to grow with each day she remains confined there. But I can’t help feeling bad for not getting that good old-fashioned gift under the Christmas tree, so to speak.

I’m still thankful though. For our house, our food, my parents, my grandmother, my dog, my friends, and my life. It’s not perfect, and it’s nowhere near as good as I want it to be, but it’s what I’ve got to work with.