Dinner, Movie, Coffee, Sex

An acquaintance (a rather HOT one, for that matter) in Downelink posted this blog:

Dinner, Movie, Coffee, Sex...in that order. That's how some people define dating. You start out by having dinner then later on watch a movie then afterwards, coffee and if everything goes well, the next step is to have sex. And I would wonder.. what happened to the real dating?

Are we so much in a hurry these days that we have forgotten to stop and know our date well before jumping into bed? Or is it because of the fact that our world has been so competitive that we need to find out sooner than later if things would work out - sexually. If you like the person so much on your first date, would you rather end it with a kiss or with his dick in your mouth. Would you rather want to find out sexual compatability at an early stage? Should you decide to postpone having sex with your date and decides to know him better, would this mean that you are risking "sexual compatibility"? And when do you know that there is a "spark"? Is it when you know you are sexually compatible?

If sex is that important, why don't we start skipping dinner, movie and coffee?

This was my reply.

I have, at several occasions stopped at coffee. Not even a kiss. But at certain instances, it was dinner, no movie, no coffee, and then sex.

Did I feel wrong? Well, not really. For me, it's nothing moral or ideal or anything on that line. At this time and age of instant coffee and noodle soup, where everything is retrievable with a push of a button, sex proves no exception.

Right now, it is more of just taking things--in this case, a date--in stride: i.e. by letting it take its own sweet course. For me, as long as it isn't forced or maliciously premeditated (ergo, is spontaneous, and a by-product of energy, passion, and strong attraction), I say sex on the first date is actually a good thing...particularly that fleeting moment of awkwardness or self-consciousness when both are at their most vulnerable. I believe, it is at that point when you get a peek at the person's true countenance.

At the end of the day, it's all a matter of preference...and mutual agreement. After all, it takes two to tango.

Speed Dating

If there's one thing I like about being single, it's being able to have dates with as many men as I want to. And that, of course means being able to sleep with 'em, too.

After coming from a rather difficult five-month relationship with a 22-year old boy, where I was totally, totally monogamous (fuck it if you don't believe me. I really don't give a crap), it was such a breath of fresh air to be finally sucking another man's dick. Really.

First to come (no pun intended) was Joey. He's a bit older...by thirteen fuckin' years. Met him through a friend who I dated in the not-so-distant past, and who happens to be his ex, too. Hmmm. Talk about queer Melrose Place. Anyway, Joey was almost perfect: has his own house, drives a really expensive SUV, heads a division in his company, funny, alright in bed. What was missing? Ehhh....you know that "spark" thing that you think you've felt when you first had a crush back in grade- or highschool, regardless of his/her gender? That's the spark I was looking for, but never got from him. So...that's the end of Joey.

And then there's Jasper. Just right age. Professor of Law. Sexy. Not exactly GQ-handsome but oozing with sex appeal...and that's probably because of his even sexier anatomical part: his brain. Met him at Bed Bar while I was with my friend Robert. Just as I was about to make my move, with two glasses of Blue Frog in my hand, lo-and-behold, Robert and Jasper were on tongue-to-tongue action. Fuckit. I ended up gulping both Frogs in less than 2 minutes. Found out later from Jasper that he liked ME, but thought I was a player, so he opted for Robert instead, who looked virginal. Well, too bad for Jasper, Robert only LOOKS virginal. He has a boyfriend in Dubai and has been sleeping around since his boyfriend left the country. So, who's the player now, Jasper? At least *I* was fucking single. Neeext.

Met Kobe at Cena in Greenbelt. My friend saw me passing by (I was on my way home...on a Friday night! How's that for manang? Haha) , and invited me to crash their little party. Kobe's a little vixen: 24 years old, slender, almost-Geisha complexion, and a sweet-talker. He literally pleaded for me to follow him in Bed (yes, the one with the capital B), and so I did. Two hours later, I was with him in my condo. But being so wasted (both on alcohol and exhaustion from a long day with them government officials) at 4 a.m., Kobe never saw any of my cum. Needless to say, he left disappointed. That was also the last I heard of and from him. Oh well, what's a guy to do??

Kurt was another date. Met him at Guys4Men. 24 or 25 years old. Totally a cutie. Met up for dinner, and then a movie. Was holding hands with him the entire time Mr. & Mrs. Smith was showing. I thought that was pretty nice. Took him home, the sex was pretty good, considering what I missed out with Kobe, I achieved with Kurt...THRICE. Haven't seen him in a while...only to find out that he's now back with his ex again. Hmmmm....now, THAT was a potential semi-serious date...

Then came Alfred. Now wait a minute...was he Guys4Men...no, it's Connexion. That was a fast hookup. We traded numbers, started talking, and never missed a day without seeing each other for at least two hours after work. Alfred's my kind of a guy, really: older, sexy (I mean HOT-sexy), stable, cerebral, funny, and amazing in bed. Did I tell say I don't bottom just for anyone, unless this guy's special (read: only four men have bottomed me in my entire life...and these were all boyfriends)? Well, for some freak of circumstance, I let Alfred bottom me. Believe me, I was literally crying after...and that's not because it was painful or that he was big, but because that was a realization that perhaps I may have fallen for him...and that I may, after all, have a shortened singlehood.

I was told by him that the feeling was reciprocated...so everything was coming up roses. After some time, the roses started wilting, so to speak. After a certain point, my being saccharine was taken against me. He actually told me that I was "too nice", "too good to be true", and that my "constant sweetness, the 'Iloveyou's' and 'Imissyou's' were 'nauseating'". Bang! With those words, I felt all my energy, love and affection drained. Nothing worse than being scorned out of love. Fuck fuck fuck.

So I gave him his space and time and UNsweetness. I went back to dating. While he marinates in his space and time and acid.

Then came Jack. 27 years old, perfect set of pearly whites, masculine-hunk, sweet, smart, funny, touchy, hopeless romantic. AND CONVENIENTLY ATTACHED. His boyfriend's this psycho guy that practically chains Jack to the apartment so he could have him to himself...and that's including banning Jack from FAMILY affairs. What a fucking jerk. I'm still semi-seeing Jack. I swear, I'm going to take him away from his ape boyfriend...whether or not he ends up with me. Dammit.

Last night, I saw my last date...or at least, the "last" to date. He's that La Salle boy from QC I mentioned in my previous blog. Indeed, he wanted more than just my voice. Heh..heh... Did I say how we met??? Hmmm...wait. I was on a friendly pseudo-date with my friend Kristoffer at Kitchen in Greenbelt 3, when I saw him blatantly staring at me. I'd stare back just for fun, but he'd blush and turn his gaze away. After their meal (he was with a group of friends, all fags), he lingered outside the resto and stood at a spot where I'd have a vantage point of him and all his yumminess. I couldn't resist it. I smiled and winked at him. I was actually surprised to see him go to the toilet. I followed, with my "go-get-me" calling card (I give a different set to tricks, and another set to business colleagues, ya see), and a simple smile and "Give me a buzz, you cute little piece of heaven." Saw him the next day on my bed. God, these kids get more and more hung these days! Where do they get those eight inches???

Am I still seeing this boy (named Jhon)? I dunno. But after he jacked off and came and fell asleep almost instantaneously last night (our second night together), I'm having second thoughts...

Goddamn. Too many men, too little time.

Salacious Voice Box

I swear I'm in the wrong profession.

Telling people how to observe proper decorum, what to wear (and not to), what to say (and not to), and how to white lie, may be what pays my bills (a whole fucking lot of them). But actually using my voice....now THAT is a different story.

I was born with a rather squeaky, guttural, always on the verge of adolescence kind of voice: sometimes high-pitched, sometimes flat, sometimes bellowing, sometimes thin. You get the picture: it's nothing sexy...or cute. If you still fail to paint a picture, keep this thought: I was always a soprano in the chorale. I rest my case.

Two nights earlier, however, I seem to have realized that, yeah, those days of bein' squeaky are REALLY gone. Because last Sunday night, I was on the phone with some guy from Quezon City. He called me up on my mobile phone (which I really, really need to trade in for something with a stupid camera) and started yakking away. Conversation was fine, and nice, and all that...until about thirty five minutes into it, he starts jacking off to my voice. I didn't even need to say a fucking thing save for the occasional "Yeah" and "Uh-uh" or "You naughty, naughty little boy...". There. Got off on my voice. How au fait.

In retrospect, I realized I've made at least FOUR men get off on my voice. And to think I didn't even dig phone sex. What the fuck????

Rhys was guy number 1. It wasn't even a local call! Called me up from Honolulu, started talking "regular"...and then, with matching headseat and webcam, started whacking his nice little Oahu tool...and came to my "Oohh, baby you're so hot" script.

Erick was guy number 2. Based in Davao, he saw my profile in...wait a minute...was that Downelink or Guys4Men? Naah. I don't even remember. Anyhow, we started texting. He was nice, I was funny, he was witty, I was amusing. Called me up two hours later in my mobile phone, and we talked for almost two hours. We talked about his Welsh corgi, his job as a hotelier, and the children's book he's drawing for. I swear, these were like the MOST wholesome topics ever...only for him to end up saying, "Erick, I need to get off. Your voice is so fucking sexy, I have to masturbate as we speak." And masturbated he did. And actually came twice...or so he claimed. I was like, what the.....???

Justin was guy number 3. Studying in La Salle. God, now that I think about it, there ARE a hell of a lot of gay guys from this school. Must be in the curriculum or something... This guy was different. He was straightforward. Major, major forthright. Talk about straight-shootin' (pun intended) "I'm horny, and your voice is making me even hornier. I'm glad you don't sound gay." (Duh). Masturbate...Ooohhh...Masturbate.....Yeah....Cum. End of conversation.

Guy number 4 was that Quezon City boy. 20 year old fresh grad...from La Salle. I'm seeing him tonight. I think he wants more than just my voice. ;-)

Manny, a guy I dated in the recent past, once told me he could just cum looking at my brown eyes.

Oh God. I am just a pair of eyes and a vocal chord. I so want to ACTUALLY fucking use my dick, you know.

Blog Virgin

Aaaahhh. So this is what blogging is like. Not half as good as giving head to a moaning and head-doing-a-Linda-Blair supposedly-virginal twink fresh from the university, or getting rimmed by a 40-year old vice president of a multi-national manufacturing company....but still good.

Happy Independence Day...and I wasn't referring to Gay Pride, you moron.

My name is Heinrich. This is my blog.