I have long held the record for being the only person left in my community of friends who hasn't been to Bed yet. I have enjoyed that image for too long. I'm not really sure if it was for my credit since it gave people some unclear and mixed impressions about me. For others, it was something to be celebrated --- meaning I'm really not that exposed yet which should be good since potential dates wouldn't really worry about me having hooked up with any one of their previous tricks. But for some, and sometimes including myself, it was an unpardonable mistake. It was freely giving away clues to how much I have aged in recent months.
And so on the early hours of January 1, slightly after the city finished lighting the last firecracker, a friend passed by for me. He wouldn't say it, but he probably pitied me so much having spent new year's eve alone in my place. He said he was going to bring me to some place I've never been before, some place interesting to spend the first few hours of the year. I knew right away it was going to be Bed, the most popular dance bar in Manila today. I figured, it couldn't be any church because my friend wasn't really known to be a churchgoer. Worse, it couldn't be any of their usual hangouts since most of them are closed for the holiday. The only place open that night was Bed.
When we got there, what used to be a spot brimming with energy and sweat was dead. It was virtually a ghost town. There were just a handful of people in the street. Most of them were silently talking. The strip lined with cars on both sides were absolutely clear exposing the dark areas where countless erotic liaisons either came to life or breathed its last before perishing. From the other end of the street, I saw a familiar face. It was my ex W. After the usual greetings, I was asked what got to me that I decided to be there. I said, I just wanted to show off my new red shirt. I got lucky because, courtesy of W., I was given a VIP treatment and got in without paying the entrance fee. I wondered how many visits one has to make first before being accorded that privilege.
I've been to dance clubs years, years back and somehow I pretty much have some good idea on what really happens inside. Gyrating sans shirts doesn't shock me anymore. But inside Bed, I caught my jaws dropped a bit when I saw people kissing, not in the dark corners of the room but in the more open spots where everyone's eyes merge. I remember, the last time I was out, I never chanced upon anything like that. So that must have been ages ago. Things have really changed.
Oh no, I'm not complaining. I don't have anything against people who do it. It's just that I'm amazed that I haven't been out for quite a while already. I felt lost the whole time I was inside. I didn't know anyone there except for a few friends who were gracious enough to stay with me lest I'd end up awkwardly in any vulture's claws. Although that must have been exciting. At least that will give me one more blog idea to write about.
I'm glad I went out that night. I was able to meet friends I haven't seen for several months already. It was good getting the latest news straight from horse's mouth. You should see their twinkling eyes when they talk of their blooming lovelife. You get additional juicy details if you know the right questions to ask.
And finally, I'm glad I can now share my own story of peeing while facing another guy with only a clear aquarium glass separating you. If the fishes decide to cooperate, they come flocking together in front of you to obscure the view and free you from any prying eyes. If they, however, choose to split and play with the bubbles near the rim, you're dead. Well, not really. For some people, it means hope. All imagined possibilities follow.
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