just under construction.
that night. that Mafia experience.
the place was crowded. with gays ranging from a very few (there were just 2, i guess) crossdressers to those who tried but failed to be discreet to those whom you won't really suspect. with share of lanky ones to a majority of hot gorgeous kind. that visit had an underlying greater purpose of learning. practice what i was taught, and strip what's left to discover.
of all the very few tricks a friend told me before, it was the brushing that i was really able to muster and master. instead of squeezing yourself avoiding to get in physical contact with passing by people, do otherwise. intend to rub your arms on the guy/s chest/s you are coming across with and you are doing the basic. until, you'd start feeling comfartable with brushing your every inch with anybody's every inch. since, it is a given tactic, i also had guys doing the same thing on me. this got me bothered as i am flat-chested. and we are talking about pectoral muscles here. with their developed tri and biceps forcibly rubbing on my chest, it felt like they could already get a hint of the structure of my rib cage. my mom surely doesn't understand the need for me to hit the gym.
being able to go up the VIP lounge, i had the entire view of the dancefloor and the business that was going on. i was too busy doing my observations that i didn't even notice Aiko and this Joanne Quintas roughly a meter away. i was so fixated admiring the hotness oozing on the dancefloor and reconciling the presence of some unfortunate creatures strutting their asses amongst the needble-impermeable flock of the third sex.
it was actually amazing how these extreme types get along. flirting and dancing with just anybody was like picking the pink one among pink cotton candies. they give out and ask for contact numbers as if calling cards were just raining on them and all they had to do was to grab each of everyone's. just the same. at the end of it all, they won't be able to place the names and numbers on a specific face. other than a fully-charged phone, another basic necessity (not including those things one'd need when leaving the bar with a partner) is mint. observing people engaging into casual torrid kissing was an affirmation.
generally, that night, i knew that i was far from getting laid. even though there were instances where i already felt someone else's breath on my cheeks, still, the closeness we had was only proximity-wise. i admit, i lusted and desired some guys that night. i was even envious with how they did what they'd wanted without hesitations. i don't know if it is the fear of rejection that's stopping me or the simplest reason that i am still not finding that person of stronger personality that i'd need for making me weak on my knees.
even i have decided that having a boyfriend from that crowd is a big NO-NO, i'd still go back to that place as i know i'd be missing that solace i found from being there. that would be my second visit. but, who knows, my first on some other things.
d` boyish. sleepless at 3/19/2008 12:27:00 PM 0 bitchings and comments
about me. about boyish.
i am Rhye and not a professional blogger. writing is not a passion. it is an expression. it is personal. and this is not something that i can say i do best. i struggle finding the right words. i am lost with style. i lose to my emotions. when that happens, i'd just stare blankly into the blinking cursor in front of me. or hit the backspace key and watch as every letter disappears to a word. to a sentence. to a line. to my fancies.
i am 23. a graduate of Materials Engineering from the prestigious University of the
Boyish is a character you'll learn to like or get bored with. and i won't care. the attitude is random. to the point of being erratic. i don't cater anybody's interest in here. it is me. it is either you can relate with me. or be indifferent with whatever i bitch about.
for whatever it is, there is my shoutbox. just shout it out and am sure to hear you. and thanks for dropping by. thanks to the search engines that link to my blog.
ain't needing any umbrella
sometimes, i prefer wearing a white shirt under my orange jacket with a rolled-up pants while making splashes with my overly-used brown flip-flops.
but, i never ran to cover when it rains.