Granma and the breakup

“ ang susunod na istasyon ay Katipunan. Next station, Katipunan station....”

kling! Arriving at Katipunan station. 

I barely heard those words from the speaker of the LRT as I hurriedly stood from my seat to leave the station; heart pounding heavily, eyes so heavy with suppressed tears and a mind so baffled with emotion already incapable of processing simple questions. Even with the crowd around me, the pounding of my heart seemed to be the only sound heard. It deafened me…It made me more depressed…It may not have been true on that depressing day but now I clearly remember that day when I know that my last days of being weak, I owe it to Grandma.

I often laugh at myself when I look back how I had this relationship with him. I would often awe my friends when I say that I am a virgin and that I and my boyfriend never went beyond holding hands. It made me think on what really are the parameters and qualifications for one to be termed as a homosexual relationship. Or maybe after all, if this kind of relationship requires kissing and having sex, then I we did not have any intimate relationship at all.

It all started as a mere friendship between us. He was a former suitor of my older sister so we are acquainted with each other. He was a 3rd class cadet of PXXXXXXXXX Academy  while I was a Junior student at the University of the Philippines when we started to have a special relationship. It is not really clear who initiated it. It came as a part of letting the friendship going deeper. We just fell comfortable with setting ourselves that way. I laugh to find myself kinikilig with the same quotes he used for my sister. He used to visit me monthly all the way from YYYYY to as he say, have a special time with me. This year’s month of August was an extra special one because aside from the fact that we haven’t seen each other since summer, it was my birth month. I was hoping to experience a more exciting event with him as he claimed to have a surprise for me. For this particular date, he did not come to fetch me at our dormitory just like what he used to do. Thinking that it was just part of the surprise, I readily agreed to join him at their house in Sta. Mesa alone.

After the harassing ride inside the LRT, I arrived at their house to find him alone and drinking an almost empty bottle of Grand Matador brandy. I am always irritated by his drinking but my longing at least lead me to just ignore it and reserve the spanking for next occasion. I was taken by the silence… I thought he was just playing around…he did not talk to me….just occasional glances. He just silently emptied the bottle and bowed his head as if in great contemplation. It was dead silence… too long for his silence.. I tried to break it and told stories of the past months…of how I missed him. of my plans to visit the arcade with him… he just sat there quietly. This state of silence alarmed me, I stopped talking and just waited for him to talk…I sensed some problem. The waiting was agonizing; I don’t know nor can guess what’s in store for us. Time seems to drag itself very slowly these moments.

Then he finally spoke. He told me of some girl he met last year at the Valentines ball. She is his friend’s sister. He told me she has been visiting him at their boarding house every week end; bringing him food and doing the households for them. I know that instant where the conversation is leading. The reality is gripping me tight that it weakens me so much. I am not myself anymore. All the courage and confidence was shed by this slowly emerging fact. It did not surprise me at all when he asked me to hug him. I am near the point of bursting into tears. When I did not do the move, he rose and hugged me tightly. Then he whispered, “please let go.” I was stunned by the words… I am speechless. After he let me go, he asked me out for a dinner. In response, I stood and hurriedly grabbed my things and left silently. It was a passive rejection but I felt the impact greater. He did not do any effort to stop me.

I went the same way I came, but not with the same enthusiasm anymore. It hurts to know that the plans you made together are just illusions to recall. It taught me the lesson of where a gay should place him self in the society.

Whenever I am on the LRT, whenever I see people sweet over a bottle of wine, whenever am surrounded by silence; I clearly remember the pain…it torments me each night. It is not just the issue on me being bitter of being dumped but rather the fact that form the start, I was never a choice. But I never blamed Grandma for maybe bringing out the courage from him to say what he wanted for after all, it was his choice. From then on, I closed my heart for him, for others and for Grandma…