a heartbreak; and then some

what's a reunion among the gay squad (ms. puerto rico, ms. argentina and ms. philippines) without talking about the boys (past or present)?

while sharing a slice of manhattan cheese cake and the sinful chocolate cake (we are on a perennial diet. ah, the price we have to pay for being beauty queens), sipping coffee and drinking beer at four in the morning at a posh coffee shop inside the venetian in macau, the topic shifted towards love from fashion, food, politics, pacquiao.

specifically, the one we can't forget. or as ms. puerto rico had put it, the one who got away. blame it on the caffeine, the beer, or the time of the night (witching hour), or the fact that we haven't slept yet, but we all turned sentimental. all of a sudden. it's like a witch had cast a dark spell and we all turned gloomy.

the teary-eyed ms. puerto rico said she can't forget golden boy. the one who offered his body to her, but she turned him down because she was in love with him.

in a voice so soft, as if she was about to cry herself, ms. argentina asked ms. puerto rico why. without batting an eyelash, or brushing her long hair using her fingers, ms. puerto rico answered:

"nirespeto ko sya eh," she said, tears nearly falling down from her cheek down to her expensive latte. "pag mahal mo, syempre busilak ang pakiramdam mo."

we were all quiet. we understood. we all have been there. loved without expecting anything in return.

"pero sayang," she added.

until now, she said, she could still picture them sleeping together in a small bed that's fit for one person only in his dormitory (golden boy was still in college then), her head lying on his tanned, toned arms. he was naked from the waist up. a bit drunk. a bit sentimental. it was his birthday, after all. he was drunk. she was not. she was intoxicated by his nearness. by his young flesh. by the smell of his fresh breath even if he had consumed bottles of beer.

#######

of course, i remember that night too well. as if it happened only last weekend, not a decade or two ago.

it was raining. it was cold. the wind was blowing wildly, like an angry bird lashing at its prey.

i was about to sleep when my pager beeped. (yes, it was still a pager or beeper then. a small gadget that beeps when someone sent you a message. remember pocket bell? cellphones were still unheard of then. it was still in steve jobs' beautiful mind).
when i called up the number, the message handling specialist (in a visayan accent) told me that mess puertu recu was alone in our favourite hang out in malate and wanted to see me. et's orgent, she added.

hurriedly, even if it was already past midnight, i went down from my 13th floor flat without bothering to change my outfit (i slept wearing versace gown, tiara and sash) and told my angry to be awakened driver to take me to pp, the hippest bar in malate at that time. (where varsity boys from la salle, ateneo, up, san beda, used to piss the night away. where we used to pick them up once they were drunk as sailors and bring them elsewhere. chos.)

when i entered the bar, i saw ms. puerto rico right away. her back was turned against the door. her gaze was fixed on the dreary scenery outside (flooded streets, rain soaked cars, pedicabs and creatures of the dark), quite visible through the glass wall. she was smoking a cigarette. i could already tell from the way the smoke flowed out of her lips that something was wrong. (baluktot kasi ang usok na lumalabas mula sa labi nya, hindi perfect round. yes, we beauty queens are different from you mere mortals. usok pa lang ng sigarilyo eh puwede ng mood indicator.)

after saying my hello (she refused to make beso) and ordering a bottle of beer, ms. puerto rico told me that she had not seen or heard from golden boy that day. they were supposed to meet on that day because it was the young man's twentieth birthday.

"do you know the number to his dormitory?" i asked her, while i was drinking san mig light. slowly. carefully like an innocent baby just learning how to suck milk from a feeding bottle. bad metaphor.

i was on a diet at that time, trying to keep my thirty-inch figure or else madam stella marquez araneta would  be mad as hell and dethrone me if i gain even a few pounds.

she nodded her head.

"then why don't you call him?"

suddenly, she smiled. as if the idea never occurred to her before. maybe she just needed a push.

we went outside and braved the rain. we didn't have umbrellas.

across the street was a public phone. cellphones were unheard of at that time, as i have said earlier.

when she put down the heavy red phone, she was smiling like crazy.

"what happened?" i asked, though i already knew the answer.

"he asked me to go to his dormitory. they were celebrating with his friends."

"go!" i said and hailed a cab.

i waved as the cab zoomed to where heaven was waiting.

only to be informed later on that ms. puerto rico hesitated to have their love affair consumated. golden boy remained a virgin. to this day, my beauty queen friend regretted it, always asking every time we were drunk what would slash could have happened if..

ah, endless what ifs. 

if we would be given a one hundred peso for every what ifs that we uttered, we would have been super rich by now that boys will chase us all the way to maldives. double chos.

^^^^^^^^^^^

what about you? ms. argentina asked. who is your greatest love?

my turn to be silent. should i answer the question or not?

can i dial a friend?

the fairies were patient. waiting for me to name the boy who once made even my gloomiest night the happiest day of my life.

"it's desert boy."

"who's desert boy?" ms. puerto rico asked.

"there is only one desert boy in my life," i said.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

who is desert boy indeed? they never met him. although i was with ms. puerto rico the night we met. we were walking around malate, still undecided which bar to go, when i saw desert boy and his friends. he was wearing an extra large white shirt that could fit two skinny boys, a cap and loose faded jeans. the hip hop look. he looked unapproachable, the way a good looking man who is aware that he is gorgeous usually carries himself, especially in public. he has that confident gait.

they were walking at the other side of the street towards i don't know where. i excused myself from ms. puerto rico and followed desert boy and friends to a bar.

inside, it was dark, crowded, noisy and smokey. full of unruly kids. i usually avoid places like this, but i made an exception. i wanted to meet him. i sat beside their table. later on, after a few beers, i finally mustered the courage to introduce myself. to my surprise, he was nice. he asked me to join them. we talked, drank some more and danced the night away.

!!!!!!!!!!!

everything happened so fast.

the next thing i knew, desert boy was leaving for another country to work.

we lost touch.

i let him go.

he was young, he should have his own adventure. he has his ambitions, his goals. i respected that.

so i left him alone.

!!!!!!!!!!!

"so wala na kayong communication?" ms. argentina asked.

"minsan, ym. facebook. pero hanggang doon lang. we never talked about getting back together."

"vakeet?!!" ms. puerto rico shouted, eyebrows raised to the eleventh floor.

"dahil hindi nya ako kayang mahalin. ayoko na ng ganoong relasyon na ako lang ang may gusto. nakakasawa na. it's better to be alone, than to feel lonely with another person."

i know, i know, i just sounded like a dramah queen at four in the morning inside a well lit, crowded macau casino full of big time gamblers. across the table from us were two women, gorgeous with big breasts wearing tiny dresses and thick make up. probably prostitutes looking for customers. sometimes they would glance at our table, then they would smile seductively. unaware that we were more beautiful than them. that we were the goddesses of mt. olympus that were banished for sleeping with mortals.

*******

"mahal mo pa ba si desert boy," ms. puerto rico asked. looking for another fool like her.

without batting an eyelash (my turn this time to do that), i said yes full of conviction.

the two faggots shouted. "winner!"

the prostitutes were shocked. they stopped looking at us. i think they were disgusted. haha. one of them suddenly pulled out her iphone from her clutched bag and dialed someone. probably another customer.

sorry, ladies. may mga matris din kami. hindi nga lang halata.

&&&&&&&&&

but what can i do? or rather, what can we do?

goddesses like us are not meant to be happy on earth. we simply could not live with mere mortals. we have to find our happiness somewhere....over the foggy sky.

**************

song for the day: lou bonnevie's "what a fool i am." (one of my break-up songs to let the tears out)

(post script: this conversation took place a year ago in macau. since then ms. puerto rico had been dethroned after it was discovered that she was no longer a virgin when she joined the contest. ms. argentina was also stripped of her crown after the organizer learned that she had been married and divorced five times prior to joining the pageant. while i, your humble ms. philippines, remained busy fulfilling her duties as a beauty queen, doing a lot of charity works, especially in the boys town. too, i am happy to report that i am no longer infatuated with desert boy. he is but a memory, a lesson that your humble beauty queen has to learn if she has to continue to be happy in this challenging but colourful world. i thank you.)