Netflix and Chill

I never want to have sex. This means that I never want anyone’s dick anywhere near me. This means that I will never be fascinated with your dick, so send that photo to someone else. This means that all attempts at flirting and getting me in the mood will be pointless. This means that “Netflix and chill” to me actually means “Netflix and chill…ing at the sofa binge watching The IT Crowd.” 

This means that pickup lines will be met with a resounding, “WHAAAAT?” This means that, “fuck me” will always be just an expression. This means that asking me to talk dirty to you means telling you the story of that one time at a bar, I drank a blue cocktail and the next day my pee was the same color. This means that if you really want me to talk dirty to you, I will tell you that one of my favorite bands is Garbage. I mean, how dirty is that, right??? 

Garbage???

I never want to have sex and I never talk about the boys I like in sexual terms. This means that I don’t care if Leslie Odom Jr. is topless or wearing a bespoke suit—he will always be beautiful to me. This means that yes I like this one boy very much but no, I don’t want to fuck him just to prove it. This means that I really just enjoy talking to him and listening to him talk about his music. This means that sexual innuendos will never come from me.

But this doesn’t mean that I don’t laugh at green jokes. This doesn’t mean I am less interested in making connections. This doesn’t mean I find beauty less appealing. This doesn’t mean I think sex is dirty. This doesn’t make me a prude, a tease, or a bore. This doesn’t make me a fucking challenge.

I don’t want to have sex. But this doesn’t mean that you can look down on my lack of experience or that I will let you “teach” me. This doesn’t mean that maybe I just need alcohol to loosen up. This doesn’t make me ignorant or incomplete or a freak.

I don’t want sex. But this doesn’t mean that I don’t want love. The holding hands, the butterfly kisses, and late-night drives. This doesn’t mean that I don’t fall in love sometimes with the slightest hint of someone’s kindness. This doesn’t make me a sexually repressed, un-feeling robot.

It just means that I never want to have sex. This doesn’t mean I don’t have anything else to offer.

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Alaala

Alaala

Naaalala mo ba? Yung unang beses na sinabi mong mahal mo ako, kinakabahan tayo pareho. Di mapakali sa pagkakaupo. Dun nagsimula ang ating kwento. Pero simula din ‘yon ng pareho nating pagkatalo.

Dahil dadating yung araw na hindi ko na malalaman ang pagkakaiba ng “mahal kita” sa “sino ka?”

Maguumpisa sa maliliit na bagay ang ating pagkasira. Yung hindi natin mamamalayan. Yung matatawa pa tayo dahil nakalimutan kong Lunes ngayon at akala ko Sabado. Yung mapapailing ka na lang sabay ngingiti kapag napagtanto mong imbes na asukal, asin ang nailagay ko sa kape mo.

Magtatawanan tayo, aakalaing ito yung tipo ng mga kwento na iniipon at ibabahagi balang araw sa ating magiging apo. Hindi mamamalayang unti-unti nang gumuguho ang mundong kay tagal natin binuo.

Bukas, hindi ko na maaalala yung huling limang paskong magkasama tayo. Sa makalawa, susunod na mawawala yung mga gabing wala tayong ginawa kundi tumawa at kumanta. Sa isang linggo, titingin ako sayo na walang bakas ng pagkilala kung anong pangalan mo.

Patawarin mo ako.

Sa iiwan kong kirot. Sa lahat ng gabing magkaaway tayo at hiwalay natulog. Yung papasok ka sa umagang walang imik dahil ayaw mong may masabing hindi maganda. Lahat ng pagbabanta natin ng hiwalayan. Mga nakaligtaan kong anibersaryo–nung sinabi mong wala akong pakialam o kaya siguro hindi lang kita ganun kamahal. Sa mga pagkakataong wala akong ibang dahilan kundi, “nakalimutan ko.”

Napakadaya ng kapalaran. Alam kong pinangako sa isa’t isa na magkasamang tatanda. Pero hindi yata kaya ng Panahong ipagkasya sa habambuhay ang pagmamahal ko sayo, kaya siguro hanggang dito na lang. Kaya baunin mo sana sa iyong pagtanda lahat ng beses na sinabi kong mahal kita.

Dahil dadating yung araw na hindi na mapipigil ng utak ko yung dapat nitong malimutan. Lahat ng taong mahal ko, magiging estranghero. At ikaw. Tayo. Magiging anino na lang ng lumilinaw na kawalan. Ng walang hanggang pagbalik sa simula.

Dadating yung panahon na para kang sinasampal tuwing tatanungin kita kung sino ka. Kung bakit mo ako tinitingnan nang ganyan. Bakit mo kailangan hawakan ang kamay ko? Sino ka ba sa buhay ko?

Dadating yung oras na hindi na kita maaalala. Lahat ng pinagsamahan natin unti-unting mawawala. Isa-isa. Mga litratong pinira-piraso ng pwersadong paglimot.

Kaya bago ko makalimutan kung sino tayo sa isa’t isa. Habang kaya ko pa, sasabihin ko paulit-ulit. Naaalala kita. Naaalala kita. Naaalala kita.

Naaalala mo ba yung unang beses na sinabi mong mahal mo ako? Nagbiro ka pang araw-araw mong ipapaalala ‘to at baka makalimutan ko.

Umaasa akong tutupad ka sa pangako. Kahit na araw-araw unang beses sa pandinig ko lahat ng sasabihin mo.