LUST WITH MEN

How did it all begin? I mean, my feelings toward other men?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve avoided and set aside those feelings I’ve had since before.

Wasn’t I always with a girlfriend?

Didn’t I always pray that I wouldn’t become gay?

Didn’t I even reach the point of hurting others just to defend myself against those who teased and bullied me for who I was?

But then, what am I really? Who am I without the girlfriends or flings with women? When I don’t have to ask the Creator to spare me from being that way-treated like a clown, like someone from another planet? When I don’t have to defend myself by acting tough?

What is truly inside my heart?

Let’s say I was just a child, not yet mature, when I almost couldn’t let go of the penis of our worker in the big house.

Let’s say I might have been influenced by too many stories about my identity since childhood because of that.

And let’s say I had no defense against the bullying of my masculinity, of my personhood.

But even then, I already had a mind of my own and a chance to choose where I would stand. Where I would turn. Whether I would be a man-or whether I would want men.

That is, if my mind were to prevail.

But my heart whispered something different.

All I know is that I was happy during those times when I was surrounded by my male classmates.

I enjoyed seeing what we kept hidden whenever we urinated together back in high school.

It was a privilege for me to see Gerry’s penis when he joked around with his zipper open.

I was content comparing our manhood with my childhood friend Rod. And seeing Mario’s large organ when we were circumcised together.

And most of all, my desire to be close to Zaldo.

The warmth I felt every Friday night when we slept at school. Watching Zaldo as he slept while the light was on.

I admit, the first time we introduced ourselves in first year high school, I was immediately struck by Zaldo’s handsomeness. I wanted to always be with him. So I made sure I was his first friend.

I always studied hard back then so he could copy from me-assignments, quizzes, exams. I easily won his trust.

When I still lived in that chaotic place, before sleeping I would dream of lying beside him. He filled my imagination.

I don’t know why, but my feelings were different.

Excited, happy, desiring whatever dream might come. Hoping we’d be together. That was always my last wish before I fell asleep.

This was during the time when my father wasn’t yet drinking heavily. When I could still sleep peacefully in that place. A place I never considered home.

During summer, I would find ways to borrow a bicycle just so I could still be with Zaldo.

And Gerry eventually became part of it too.

Until I finally lived at Zaldo’s house. And my dream of sleeping beside him came true.

But it seemed that every happy moment carried with it a shadow of sadness.

My chest nearly exploded with jealousy when I once caught Zaldo and Gerry pleasuring themselves. I clearly saw them holding each other’s manhood and releasing their fluids. Gerry even kissed Zaldo’s lips. And I saw there was no awkwardness between them.

So different from the awkwardness that happened between me and Zaldo.

That was when Gerry once visited our hut while I wasn’t there yet.

I didn’t let on that I saw them. They were busy, as if nothing else could disturb their sweet moment.

I quietly closed the door of the hut that I had just opened upon arriving.

I restrained myself. I went out again, without confrontation or conversation. I chose silence.

I chose to accept what Zaldo and I had agreed upon… No forcing… let it grow… or accept wherever it might lead…

For me, perhaps it was time to accept the truth-that we were not meant for each other.

They will remain close friends in my heart… Zaldo, and Gerry.

IDENTITY DOUBT

There are moments in life that never fade from memory. Even as the years pass, they remain vivid—fresh as though they happened only yesterday. They linger with us, carrying joy, pain, and sorrow. Memories that sometimes bring a smile, yet at other times summon tears. 

I wish to share the story of a close friend, an experience that left me with profound lessons. These lessons etched themselves into my heart and mind, and I believe they may offer guidance to others as well. 

He once asked: 

Have you ever been accused of being gay? Or perhaps found yourself doubting your own identity, lost in confusion? Such doubts may arise from teasing, insults, or disrespect—whether from family, friends, peers, neighbors, or colleagues. 

For a child, these accusations can be deeply unsettling. They sow confusion, frustration, and anger. Left unchecked, they may grow into resentment, eroding trust in others and in oneself. At times, they even extinguish the will to live. 

Some children, overwhelmed by this turmoil, turn their pain inward. They punish themselves, reject themselves, despise themselves. Too often, this leads to harming others—or to ending their own lives. 

We rarely grasp the depth of such suffering. 

Consider the tragic stories from the United States, where children have gone on violent rampages, taking lives on school campuses. How many of them, I wonder, wrestled with confusion about their sexuality, compounded by relentless bullying? The consequences ripple outward, touching many lives. 

This is a difficult subject, but one that must be faced. If even a single life can be spared through the lessons of this book, then its purpose has been fulfilled. 

And you—where are you in this journey? 

Perhaps you are still lost in confusion, burdened by self-hatred born of others’ judgment. Perhaps you have been bullied. 

Or perhaps you have already embraced who you are, yet remain uncertain how to navigate the challenges that come with acceptance. 

Sometimes the question becomes: how do you live authentically without causing harm to others? How do you show respect, even as you ask for respect in return? 

On the other hand, maybe someone you love is enduring this struggle. How do we help them feel cherished, despite the trials they face? How do we remind them that they are loved, no matter what? 

This is a sensitive conversation. If you feel unready, you may step away for now. 

This work is intended for adult readers, as it deals with mature themes. 

The characters, places, and events are portrayals. Any resemblance to real stories is purely coincidental. 

If you gain insight from these pages, all the better. 

Photo credits to the rightful owners. 

Let us begin.

WHOEVER DOESN’T JUMP IS GAY!

Things happened so fast. 

The motorcycle, speeding down that road, swerved to avoid an e-bike that suddenly appeared. But in trying to avoid the e-bike, the motorcycle ended up heading straight toward me. 

I regained consciousness in the hospital. 

My head and body ached. I had blacked out when I reflexively tried to dodge the motorcycle. I fell and hit my head on the door of a house by the roadside. The x-ray showed nothing serious. 

But what hurt more were the memories of the endless misfortunes I had faced in life—ones that nearly killed me. 

Looking back, I couldn’t help but remember the time I almost drowned in the river when my friends and I went swimming before graduating high school. 

“Whoever doesn’t jump is gay!” shouted a classmate who had already dived from the highest spot above the river. 

We were all boys. I wasn’t a good swimmer—dog paddle was all I could manage. I was gasping for breath, still far from the shore. 

Yet I didn’t ask for help, even though I knew I was about to drown. 

After a while, I heard someone shouting: 

“I almost drowned too!” 

It was Zaldo yelling to Gerry. By then, I was regaining my senses, though I had swallowed a lot of water. 

Zaldo had sacrificed himself to save me, but he said I kept clinging to him. He nearly drowned because I pushed down on his head just to breathe. 

To save himself, he punched me so I would let go. Then he called Gerry for help. Gerry pulled me by the hair while Zaldo pushed me by the waist from underwater. 

When I looked up, I saw many onlookers at the diving spot above. I turned my gaze away, ashamed. I lay on a huge rock by the riverbank, visible to everyone watching. 

But I was most ashamed before Zaldo—my best friend—who almost drowned because of me. My conscience weighed heavily. 

What puzzled me was why I hadn’t asked for help, even when I was about to die. 

“Am I suicidal?” I asked myself. Why didn’t I admit I wasn’t a good swimmer? Why didn’t I shout for help? Was I too shy? Or was my pride too high? 

I don’t know. Even I am confused by my reactions in life. Maybe these were just the poor decisions of youth. 

Was my dive saying, “Better to drown or die than be called gay”? 

Truthfully, it was my first time diving from such a height. I only did it because of the teasing. 

Sometimes I envy today’s youth. They casually call each other “gay” as if it’s nothing. Normal. No big deal. As the LGBT slang goes, “walang pakels” (no cares). 

Why did we grow up in a time when it was so important to protect the “macho image”? 

Back then, if you mistakenly insulted a man’s masculinity, it could cost you your life. You could be challenged to a fistfight. Be beaten up. Attacked openly or secretly. 

Now, they call each other “gay” so casually. Even straight men accept it as if it’s nothing. No insult felt. 

The mantra is: “If you are, you are. If you’re not, then you’re not.” 

No image to protect. Everything’s a joke. No offense taken. 

But what if someone calls you a “RED BUTTERFLY”? 

How deep is the pain felt by men who know they would never make themselves a laughingstock? Men who may secretly admire or desire other men. 

They may not admit to any attraction, but they surely don’t want to be called gay or grouped with those who have “given in.” 

They prefer silence. They owe the world no declaration of their confusion. 

That’s why being discreet became common. Better that than being loud like some transgender people who feel the need to shout their truth to the world. 

And worse, they want all men to come out like them. For the whole world to know. 

People love to sniff around. A small mistake, and someone is accused of being gay. 

And gossiped about, even without proof of any sexual relationship—just because of a slightly different gesture or movement of the hand or hips. 

Sometimes it’s confusing when parents declare acceptance of their child even before the child admits anything. Can’t they wait for the right time? 

A time when the person has decided who they are and is ready to confess—whether they are a man or a man who loves men. 

It’s deeply painful, especially when you’re young, to be forced to admit something you haven’t even thought about. 

Especially knowing it will lead to teasing, insults, and being looked down upon. 

It truly confuses the mind. You don’t know how to act without being laughed at. And so you make more mistakes. 

One painful childhood memory was walking past a group of loiterers with my cousin and older sister. I was the youngest, about eight or nine years old. 

We were going to visit our grandparents for Christmas, even though they lived far away. 

As we passed the loiterers, they made a remark: “Like red butterflies.” Then they whistled. 

I didn’t know what it meant. My cousin and I were both wearing red. My mother had dressed me in a red t-shirt. I just shrugged it off, innocent and unaware. 

But I asked my cousin and sister what “red butterfly” meant. 

“It means you’re gay!” my cousin quickly replied. 

I wanted to cry. I wanted to hurt someone. I wanted to lash out. 

That was it. My Christmas was ruined. I vowed never to go with that cousin again. I was angry. But what could I do? 

From then on, I always felt anxious passing that place. I developed a phobia. A mix of fear, anger, irritation, and unease whenever I walked by. 

The worst part was becoming overly self-conscious. My straight walk turned awkward. 

Nervous and self-aware, I couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t look straight ahead, couldn’t walk normally. 

So I chose to take the long way around rather than pass there. 

I didn’t realize my mental health was already affected. I had no one to confide in about my phobia. 

I carried it into adulthood. I became afraid of passing places where many eyes were on me. 

My walk would change—becoming more noticeable instead of normal. I just wanted to disappear. Some relatives noticed and gave it an even worse meaning. 

Of course, it was different when no one bullied me—in class, at work. But walking past loiterers was different. My confidence vanished. I truly had a phobia. 

So when I had the chance to move to a job in a faraway province, I saw it as a new beginning. I wanted to overcome my phobia. 

And it worked. No more bullies, no more relatives calling me gay since childhood. Now I could walk freely, with confidence. 

But one time, when I visited my grandparents’ place, I was shocked when a house helper said: “Oh, I heard you moved far away. They say you’re a woman now!” 

Honestly, I wanted to hurt someone. But I held myself back. I’m a professional now. I shouldn’t stoop to narrow-minded people. 

Yes, I moved far away—to heal my phobia. Not to become what their dirty minds imagined. And even if what they said were true, I could never forgive the bullying I endured since childhood. 

From then on, I distanced myself even more from relatives. Even when some died, I didn’t visit. The wound runs deep. And I don’t know when it will heal.

WHO REALLY?

How did we even start as close friends? It was Zaldo, Gerry, and me. 

The three of us often invited each other to go biking around the subdivisions near our barangay. 

“Come on, let’s check out our chicks,” Gerry would say. They were the closest to me in our group. Is that what you’d call “inseparable”? 

On Saturday afternoons when there were no classes, we would roam around the places where the girls we were courting lived. It was like a 3-in-1 deal: one was courting, but all three of us would visit. That way, the parents of the girl we were courting wouldn’t suspect anything. We weren’t really serious about relationships back then. Just flings. If she said yes, then you were considered a skilled guy. 

Since we were still graduating from high school, there wasn’t really any serious commitment yet. 

---

“You’re just jealous!” I heard our adviser tease when my male classmates made noise after seeing me kiss Marie. That was our JS prom night. We were in fourth year high school, just a few months away from graduation. 

“You’re such a pervert, Zeke!” shouted Efren, one of the guys in our group we called the Z-company. I was the one who came up with that name. The “Z” came from my name, and of course, from Zaldo’s too. The guys agreed to my idea. 

I was active in extra-curricular activities. I enjoyed them more than academic subjects. Aside from speech or public speaking, I also loved writing. 

And we had another commitment every Saturday morning: CAT or Citizens’ Army Training. Its counterpart in college is ROTC. Every Friday, we male classmates would sleep over at school so we’d be ready for the assembly at the school quadrangle at four in the morning. 

I don’t know what I got myself into back then, because there was another girl waiting for me in a room on the second floor of our school building. We secretly met there since the whole floor was empty that prom night. 

This was a public high school. Her name was Tessa. My girlfriend. Two months already. She believed we were officially together. It was her section’s room, and she was the one who invited me there. 

But then there was Marie, my long-time fling. By chance, I was walking toward where my group and other classmates were gathered. Our class adviser, Mrs. Inting, was also there. 

I bumped into Marie, so I kissed her that same prom night. It was rather torrid, so it didn’t escape the eyes of my group. And of Mrs. Inting. 

Before that happened, I had told Tessa, “Stay here, I’ll come back for you. I’ll just check where the guys are.” I left her on the second floor. 

My plan was to return to her right away. But I got caught up when I saw Marie. She would have wondered if I avoided her. And I couldn’t think of any excuse to do so. 

At the same time, I worried that Tessa might see us from the second floor. 

“Ah, whatever!” I whispered to myself. Then I introduced Marie as my girlfriend. First to my group. Then to Mrs. Inting. 

“Guys, this is Marie, my girlfriend,” I proudly announced to my group and male classmates. “Ma’am, this is Marie, my girlfriend,” I said respectfully to Mrs. Inting. 

Of course, my best friends Zaldo and Gerry didn’t miss the chance to tease me.

IN THE PLACE OF THUGS AND EX-CONVICTS

“Hey! What’s that?” shouted Aling Lourdes, our neighbor, in a piercing voice. 

According to her, I looked extremely pale when a muscular man suddenly tried to punch me. Luckily, he was startled when he heard Aling Lourdes and quickly backed off. 

The man left me immediately while I was still stunned by what had just happened. 

Aling Lourdes is a kind neighbor. She treats me like her own child. 

That’s why she asked, worriedly:  “Who was that? Do you owe him something? He’s huge! If he had landed that punch, oh dear…” 

“I don’t owe anyone anything,” I replied. “But I also don’t know who he is,” I added. 

I was about to turn into our barangay when it happened. It was a time when hardly anyone was passing by, so he managed to corner me. I didn’t know him. 

He was on a bike while I was just walking. That’s why he easily cornered me in a place where no one could see. He also quickly escaped from Aling Lourdes—and if not for her, from the thugs and drifters in our area. 

If Aling Lourdes hadn’t been there, I might have ended up borrowing a dog’s face, as they say, if I had been beaten up. 

But my crew in our barangay knows me well. It’s a place full of trouble and fistfights, as they say. 

If anyone had seen it, that man would have been mobbed by the gang of thugs and ex-convicts who know me. 

I even remember one time when Zaldo came to invite me to go biking, and we were supposed to meet Gerry not far from my house. But someone picked on him and threatened him. 

With just one call from me, the gang surrounded the house of those who harassed Zaldo and waited for them to come out. They were from the neighboring barangay, right at the boundary of ours. Zaldo had passed through there on his bike to pick me up when they harassed him. 

From then on, Zaldo saw how, with just one call, it seemed like I could command the thugs on who to beat up or retaliate against if I or any of my friends were wronged. 

Especially him—because he’s my best friend. 

This was because our family was among the very first to settle in that place. We were granted the right to live there by the government. Over time, more families moved in, and that’s where I grew up. 

Even though life was hard, I was given the chance to study for free from elementary to high school. Some well-off families would occasionally help with my other school expenses. 

I became known in our area because I was always an honor student, always receiving awards in school. Back in grade one, I didn’t even know I was at the top of the class. 

My teacher even told my older sister, who studied at the same school:  “Why isn’t Zeke dressed yet? Your mother knows he’s getting a medal this afternoon.” 

My sister rushed me home, and my mother dressed me up right away. 

That happened every year. So the thugs and drifters got used to seeing me as “the kid who will go places.” 

My childhood friends teased me, calling me “genius.” But since they rarely saw me except when I was with Zaldo and Gerry during school breaks, they also called me “snob.” 

Sometimes, “nun,” because I was always buried in my studies. 

But the most painful insult I ever heard was “gay.” That was because I didn’t notice that some girls admired me. And since I had no plans of courting anyone in our chaotic neighborhood, I just let them think and call me whatever they wanted.

“BRO YOU’RE YUMMY!”

When I reached high school, during the time of adolescence, my habits changed. 

Instead of spending time with childhood friends in our neighborhood, I was more often in town with the Z crew. Included there were my best friend Zaldo, and Gerry. 

We three were handsome. We belonged to the highest section of our school. To others, we looked like models whenever they saw us in the mornings during the flag ceremony. 

Some of our admirers were female students who were also childhood friends from my place. 

That’s why we’d get surprised whenever we passed by the rooms of those who had crushes on us, and suddenly the girls would scream—like whistles—similar to how boys would catcall passing girls. 

But when it came to grades, among the boys, I ranked the highest of the three of us. At first, I was only in the top 10 of the school’s best students. Later, I rose to the top 5, until I was competing with the very best in school. 

We were called the A-1 section. Higher even than section 1. The students here were chosen from public elementary schools. Usually, they were the top 5 of different elementary schools across our town. The teaching and curriculum were patterned after Science schools, and one of the rooms we used was a laboratory room. 

This was where I blossomed and became known as a teenager because I loved joining speech contests, writing contests, and science or math quiz bees. 

If I were a girl, I’d be considered “beauty and brains.” 

Zaldo, on the other hand, was the tallest and, I’d say, the most handsome. He was the one entered in Mr. School pageants. 

He was also the fairest-skinned among us three, including Gerry. He had the complexion of the wealthy, a sharp nose, and expressive eyes. 

Gerry, meanwhile, was chinito (Chinese-looking). He had curly hair, dimples, and many attractive features. 

In terms of looks, Zaldo was the most handsome, followed by me—said to be a combination of good looks and intelligence—and then Gerry, who was extremely talented in many things. 

But Gerry wasn’t left behind when it came to girlfriends or flings. He was also the best at basketball. 

Above all, he was the most “great” in that aspect boys in high school often compared themselves with. 

I don’t even know. One time, I teased Gerry:  “Bro, you’re so yummy, hehe.”

BEST FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

Gerry loved to make people laugh. 

Even in our first days of high school, he already had antics that none of my other classmates could pull off. Not even me. I just couldn’t do it. 

We weren’t that close back then. 

He sat in the middle section of the classroom, first row beside the middle aisle. Meanwhile, Zaldo, I, and the rest of our “Tropa Z” gang stayed at the back. In front of us boys sat our female classmates. 

Even with the teacher in front, Gerry would sometimes suddenly stand up and walk toward the back of the class, pretending to be serious. His face was straight, his stride confident like a male model. But his “thing” dangled out of his open zipper. 

We couldn’t help but laugh or snicker at the back, which often surprised our teacher up front. The teacher would look at us curiously but never quite catch Gerry’s act of mischief. 

That was our little secret among the boys. We never reported Gerry. 

“You’re such an idiot, Gerry!” Zaldo whispered jokingly while we laughed in the canteen. 

“What if one of our classmates reports you?” I asked. 

“Then they got a taste,” Gerry replied with a grin, making the whole gang burst out laughing. 

I blushed when he suddenly shouted, “Zeke, do you want a taste?” teasing me in front of everyone. 

It made me wonder. “Does Gerry suspect something about my masculinity?” I asked myself. “Even some girls in our neighborhood sometimes called me gay.” 

“Idiot, I’m not interested. I’ve got one too. And it’s even thicker,” I shot back to save face. “You—want to taste this?” I teased Gerry in return. 

But he didn’t answer because the gang had already stood up. We were about to be late for the next class. 

That’s how we joked around. From then on, we became close, and more of our male classmates joined us. We became a real crew—eating together, playing basketball even under the scorching midday sun. 

When we peed behind the school, we did it together, lined up. It became a habit to compare who had the longest pee, the darkest, the biggest, the longest, the thinnest, the fattest, the quickest to get hard, and sometimes even the fastest to finish. 

By the time we reached fourth year, we were super close. Always happy. I barely went home to my own place anymore because my friends’ parents treated me like their own son.

MY BEST FRIEND PLUS

I often sleep over at other places because it’s hard for me to get proper rest in our noisy home. 

My father is also one of the reasons why I can’t sleep well. He became an alcoholic. Even before dawn, he would already be drinking Ginebra—what people call gin bilog. When drunk, he would suddenly cause a commotion even in the middle of the night. Many times, he would pass out and just lie down anywhere. 

I reached a point where I started feeling ashamed of him. I didn’t know, and I stopped trying to know, why he had become that way. Dirty. Couldn’t even close the zipper of his pants. Thin and neglectful of himself—especially of the family. 

Because of our hardship and the fact that my father no longer had any serious work after becoming a drunkard, I often lacked money. Even food. 

My teacher, who was also my speech trainer when our school was preparing me for the inter-city oratorical contest, felt pity for me. The contest was to be held at the Philamlife Auditorium in Manila. First, I won in our school. Then, against other schools in the city. 

Now, I was to compete against schools from different cities across Metro Manila. The preparation they wanted was heavy. 

My trainer, who was also one of the department heads in our school, said I could stay at their house. He noticed that my eyes were always heavy from lack of sleep, and that I was getting thinner. 

But I refused. 

Instead, I accepted Zaldo’s offer that we could stay at the small hut behind their house. He said we could “hang out” there and his parents wouldn’t mind. 

One reason Zaldo’s parents trusted me was that both of us had high grades in school. 

Another was that they knew my aunt, who worked at the barangay center near their house. Sometimes, when the center’s faucet had no water, she would fetch water from Zaldo’s family’s pump. 

Back then, brownouts and water shortages were frequent in our area. 

It was during these times that Zaldo became my best friend. 

Every afternoon, my aunt would invite us to have snacks at the center, especially when there were no classes. Zaldo’s parents were happy about this too, since having my aunt close by meant they had someone to turn to at the barangay center. 

Even though she pitied me, my aunt never invited me to live with them. She had twelve children of her own. 

Their house was noisy and chaotic too, and she knew I wouldn’t be able to study properly in that situation. I had cousins in school with me, but they weren’t good at studying. 

That’s why Aunt Rose was glad that Zaldo and I were close. And Zaldo’s parents were happy about it too. 

During this time, my mind was a bit troubled. But one thing was certain—I wanted to finish high school. After that, whatever happens, I would strive to reach college. 

I just needed to graduate. And it was near. 

“Just a little more patience, Zeke,” I whispered to myself.

THUG VS. BULLY

One time, my speech trainer called me to the clubhouse for a final rehearsal. Many people would be watching and listening to my speech. They wanted to make sure the school had a strong chance of winning, or at least bringing home a prize, at the intercity speech contest—through me. 

From the stage, as I let my eyes wander, I noticed a male schoolmate teasing me from a distance. It was Dan. He really loved to bully and mock others. 

Dan was making gestures like a flamboyant gay act, which irritated me. But I didn’t let it show. There were too many people. Everyone’s attention was on me. 

I already had a plan. “Just wait,” I whispered to myself with a sigh, then began my speech. 

Mixed tension filled me as I stepped out of the clubhouse. I didn’t even mind the applause and congratulations after my final practice. 

My mind was in chaos. Gerry’s jokes in the canteen replayed in my head, along with the teasing of girls I couldn’t give attention to, and of course, Dan’s bullying. 

It almost made me doubt myself—who I really was. But I couldn’t accept that. 

“Me, Zeke—handsome, smart, a good speaker—just end up being gay? No way!” my mind shouted. 

“I have to prove I’m not,” I muttered under my breath. 

Then a strong punch landed on Dan’s face. Our adviser saw it and was shocked. Senior staff from the principal’s office also witnessed it, since it happened right by the path leading there. 

The news spread quickly. 

I didn’t want to go back to school, so I went home—not to Zaldo’s place, but to my own. Even though things were messy, I decided not to show up at school for a while. 

That weekend, Zaldo and Gerry visited to invite me for another bike ride around the subdivisions, like we often did. That’s when I learned what had happened. 

Dan had been hospitalized because the bleeding from my punch wouldn’t stop. 

His family had planned to sue me, but changed their minds after many teachers spoke with them about both Dan’s behavior and mine—who he was, and who I was in the eyes of the teachers and school officials. 

Many pleaded on my behalf, including our adviser Mrs. Inting and the department head, who was also my speech trainer. They didn’t want me to miss the upcoming speech contest. 

“Go back to school,” Zaldo urged. 

“We’ll take care of you if that jerk Dan teases you again. He’s really an idiot!” Gerry added. 

They also convinced me to return to Zaldo’s house. Gerry even stayed over with us that night. 

We had fun—joking around. Gerry pulled out his old gag again, walking in front of us with a long, limp eggplant sticking out of his open zipper. 

“Bro, you’re delicious!” I shouted jokingly at Gerry. 

“So, Zeke, do you want to taste it now?” he teased back. 

“Don’t worry… I’ll let you know, Gerry,” I replied with a mischievous grin. We all burst into loud laughter. 

It felt like we were back to normal at school. I won a prize at the intercity speech contest—though not the highest one. Zaldo and Gerry were always by my side whenever Dan was around. 

And because of my determination to prove I was a man, I never ran out of girlfriends—or flings, if not girlfriends.

FIRST TIME

There were times in the past when I urgently needed money, so I admit that I learned to engage with gay men. 

There was one man I often noticed watching me whenever I left the school gate, especially when I was alone. He looked strong, dressed neatly, and moved with a slight softness. I thought he was in his thirties or older. I often saw him around the church and school in our town. 

One rainy day, while I was waiting at the shed for my friend Zaldo, this man—later I learned his name was Jun—approached me. Since I had no money for the jeepney fare, I was just waiting. He invited me to eat at a nearby eatery, saying he would pay. Hungry, I agreed. 

During the meal, he asked me to call him simply “Jun” instead of “Sir Jun,” so I tried to treat him more casually. I recognized him from church, where I had once been asked to do a voice-over during Christmas celebrations because of my good voice. 

After eating, he invited me to his house, and since the rain had stopped, we walked there. No one else was home. He welcomed me inside and into his room. 

That encounter became my first experience with a gay man.

WHOA, TOO BIG!

I had no awareness of issues about growing up until that summer. That was when my friends and I, as part of tradition in our neighborhood, all underwent circumcision together. I was in fifth grade then, about to enter sixth grade at the next enrollment. 

There were many of us in the group that summer. 

“Chew the guava leaves well, but don’t swallow them. They’ll be placed on the wound afterward,” reminded Mang Tonio as he prepared his knife. 

One of our neighbors, Donald, went first, followed by his twin brother Danny. Danny fainted from fear—he couldn’t stand the sight of blood. We laughed, and that helped him recover quickly. 

After them came the brothers Mario and Jun. Mario was known among us for being the most daring and confident. 

“Wow, that’s big!” exclaimed our neighbor, Aling Edith, one time when we were gathered outside her store, showing off as newly circumcised boys often did. She quickly shut the door, embarrassed, while we all burst into laughter. 

Another friend, Rod, had already gone through the ritual earlier. Like Mario, he enjoyed teasing and comparing himself with others. Sometimes he would stand next to me when we relieved ourselves, joking about who was more “grown up.” We laughed about it, never taking it too seriously. 

As we entered sixth grade, rumors began to spread in the neighborhood about me. One day, while walking with my mother, I saw a chalk drawing on a wall—an exaggerated sketch with my name written underneath. I felt so embarrassed that I hurried ahead of her, eager to get home. 

That summer, I also noticed how people in the community—neighbors, even older folks—paid attention to us boys as we went through this rite of passage. My mother kept a close watch, protective of me, reminding me that I was still very young and that my focus should be on school.

MARIETTA’S HARD TOY

Summer had just ended, the time when I underwent circumcision. By the time classes started, I was in sixth grade. It was a season of changes, when my body felt different and restless.

“Do you know I wasn’t looking?” whispered Marietta, my classmate. “Looking at what?” I asked curiously.

“When they rearranged the seats earlier-girls facing boys in one subject-we noticed something…” She stopped, blushing, unsure whether to laugh.

“What did you see?” I pressed. “Something… about you,” she blurted out, embarrassed.

I turned red, while she tried to stifle her giggles.

This conversation happened after lunch, when most students went home and only returned for afternoon classes.

“You should wear proper underwear,” Marietta suggested. I admitted sadly, “We barely have money for food, let alone for things like that.”

She felt sympathy. “Don’t worry. When I get my allowance from our class savings group on Monday, I’ll share with you!” she said brightly.

I was happy.

But then she hesitated. “Though… I also wish…” “Wish what?” I asked. “Never mind, it’s embarrassing,” she said, her face red.

“Tell me, it’s just the two of us here,” I insisted. “I just wanted to know what it feels like… I’ve never experienced anything with a boy,” she whispered.

We looked around to make sure no one else was in the classroom. We were both nervous.

I liked Marietta-she seemed part Filipino, part Chinese, fair-skinned, pretty, always with plenty of snacks.

We didn’t really know what we were doing. It felt like experimenting, the kind of curiosity that comes with puberty.

We laughed, we felt awkward, but it was like playing with a toy-except the toy was part of me.

Before long, footsteps approached the room. We quickly stopped and pretended nothing had happened.

Class went on as usual.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about what Marietta and I had shared. At night, I replayed it in my imagination until I fell asleep.

STICKY DREAM

“Didn’t you leave ahead of me at school earlier? Why does it seem like I got home first?” Zaldo said when he saw me that night. He looked like he had been drinking. 

I had no plans of telling him about my first experience with a gay man earlier. Maybe some other time. 

“It rained, then someone invited me to eat. I went along since he was treating,” I replied. 

“But how did you get home? I know you didn’t have any fare. That’s why I followed after you,” he asked calmly. 

“Our neighbor gave me a ride. I rode the jeepney with him,” I answered. 

Zaldo nodded and hugged a pillow. “It’s cold, feels so good to sleep,” he said like a child. I lay down beside him too, since that narrow bamboo bed was the only place we both had to sleep. 

I’ve been sharing a bed with my best friend for a long time. I felt guilty for hiding what really happened earlier. I wanted to chat with him, maybe ask if he’s ever had an experience with a gay man, so I could open up about mine. I just need the right timing, I thought. 

In all our years of close friendship, I’ve never heard him tell such a story. Even though the three of us—me, him, and Gerry—knew that many people were drawn to us, I never heard of any of them giving in. 

“Maybe I’m the only one,” I whispered to myself. I was startled when he moved, opened his sleepy eyes, and said, “Why did you give in to that?” 

I turned to check if he was really awake. But the next thing I heard was his snoring. 

My mind was unsettled by what happened. Did he see me with Sir Jun earlier? Does he know Sir Jun? But from exhaustion, I eventually fell asleep. 

I dreamed that I met Marietta. She looked so beautiful now. She was Reyna Elena in the Santacruzan in our town, and I was her consort. 

In the dream she whispered to me, “Can I touch it?” And I fervently answered, “Later, after this.” 

Everything in the dream happened quickly, without pause. 

Suddenly, I felt her holding my stiff manhood until liquid burst out. 

In the dream, I saw that I was still wearing the brief I bought with the money she once gave me. It was my very first brief, bought from her earnings in their savings pool with her well-off classmates. Like her. 

I saw that something had spilled inside that underwear. It felt good. In the dream. 

I woke up soaked with liquid in my underwear. And I was shocked. Inside it was Zaldo’s right hand. He had woken up too. 

We both sat up suddenly. “What’s this?” he asked in confusion. 

He smelled his hand, and when he realized what it was, he quickly rushed to the bathroom to wash. He peed too before returning to our bed, still with a puzzled look. 

“What happened? Was I just drunk?” he asked.

NOTHING FORCED, NOTHING RUSHED

“Bro, Zaldo…” I whispered softly. 

“I’m confused about what happened,” I continued. “Did you really not know you were holding me? How did your hand end up inside my briefs when I woke up?” 

My voice was gentle because I knew the people in their house were still asleep, and this hut behind it was where Zaldo and I slept. It was still dawn. 

My best friend explained tearfully. “The truth is…” he paused for a moment, “…I was really drunk.” 

“But that’s not an excuse to say it meant nothing.” He went on, while I carefully tried to understand the words of my beloved friend. 

Honestly, I didn’t feel any anger. I loved Zaldo as a friend, like a brother. 

I just wanted to hear from his own lips what was truly happening inside him—his mind, his heart. Maybe I could help. 

I wanted to be sure I knew everything about him. Because I loved Zaldo. Maybe for now as a friend. But I wasn’t closing the door of my heart to him. 

In my mind I thought, “I gave in to Sir Jun, so why not to you, with whom I share something deeper? That is, if what you need is a sexual relationship.” 

“If before I resisted the thought that I might be gay, now I probably don’t care anymore. And I care even less about what others might say.” 

“But I just want to know what you truly feel about me.” 

Breaking the silence, Zaldo said, “The truth is, I’ve admired you for a long time. I’ve had a crush on you since before.” With tears in his eyes, he added, “I was dreaming earlier… but you were in my dream.” 

“I admired you ever since those guys from the neighboring barangay picked on me. When you defended me and fought back against the bullies. When you called out the thugs and they followed your lead. From then on, I admired you.” 

“I noticed that even though you were struggling financially, you still worked hard in school,” he praised me, clearing his throat deeply. 

“I’ll admit it, you look handsome to me. Attractive. There’s no night I’m not happy when I’m with you, when I sleep beside you. I didn’t realize I was falling for you.” 

“I’m not gay in the way we usually think of gay people. It’s hard to explain. But I’ll tell you—I’m a man who learned to love another man like you.” 

“There are nights when I just watch your gentle face. I don’t know why. I think you’re like an angel beside me, watching over me. Ever since you defended me.” 

“I had nowhere to run back then. But I felt your care, your concern.” 

“I never felt jealous of your girlfriends. When I saw you with a girl, I was fine. But when I was with you, my mind was at peace. My heart felt light. My worries disappeared. That’s when I knew I truly loved you.” 

“When I followed you to the waiting shed, I saw you talking to someone. I asked around who that person was. I found out he was gay. And I strongly suspected something happened between you two. It hurt me, but I understood.” 

“Because I like you, Zeke. It would be hard for me if you weren’t by my side. I love you so much.” 

And finally, he let go of the tears he had been holding back. 

I felt pity for him. But I was there to share in his confusion. Though surprised, what happened with Sir Jun seemed to prepare me to understand Zaldo. I sat beside him, not knowing what to say or ask first. 

I gently rubbed his back. Then stroked his hair. I just wanted him to feel that I was there. Ready to share his burden. 

Zaldo hugged me tightly. I hugged him back. Our lips touched slightly, but he pulled away, feeling awkward. 

He added something that I understood completely, because I felt the same. “You know, Zeke, I’m not really gay like those flamboyant ones who, when they see a man’s genitals, want to grab them. You know that. With Gerry and the guys… don’t I feel normal when they’re exposed?” 

He continued, “It’s different with you. I want to give you every good feeling.” 

“That touch earlier, I didn’t mean it. You pressed against me like something was rubbing my back. I just wanted to help you reach what your body was calling for. I wanted you to be happy. Maybe I was bold because I was drunk.” 

I was surprised by Zaldo’s confession. 

I spoke softly, “I didn’t know you loved me not just as a friend.” 

And I continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away about Sir Jun. I was going to, but I was waiting for the right time when I’d feel comfortable telling you.” 

Zaldo stayed quiet, listening. 

“The truth is, I wanted to ask you earlier if you had any experience with the third sex,” I went on. 

“It was my first time giving in. And it was out of need…” I explained tearfully. 

“I’m confused too, so I wanted to hear your thoughts about what happened to me.” 

“You’re my best friend,” I added. “I know you can help me understand myself better. My involvement with Sir Jun.” 

Zaldo listened intently. After a while, he spoke. 

“Zeke, some things happen to us suddenly. Without much thought. Sometimes the results of our actions, our decisions, are confusing. Like…” He paused. 

“Like what?” I asked. 

“Like your decision to dive into that high river before. You almost died, didn’t you?” 

I stared at him, wanting to hear his opinion. 

He continued, “I knew you weren’t a good swimmer. So I was shocked when you gave in to the taunt that only gays wouldn’t jump.” 

He looked into my eyes and went on, “Because of that, I kept watching you. I was stunned when you suddenly dove. I was alert but waited for you to ask for help. I panicked too, because you were slow crossing to where we were.” 

“I let you be since you weren’t asking for help. But when I saw the panic in your eyes, I dove in to push you toward the shallow part of the river. You pushed against my head several times, making me run out of air and fear for myself. 

I called Gerry for help, and he quickly swam to assist us.” 

Zaldo paused and sighed. 

“We’ve been friends with Gerry for a long time. You know, there were times he asked about these things too. Experiences with the third sex. Because many people misunderstand what being gay means.” 

He continued, “What we know are the loud, effeminate ones who act feminine.” 

“But if being gay means a man loving another man, I think it’s more important to look at their love. Not the gestures of their hands or the sway of their hips.” 

He looked at me again and asked, “Do you think my feelings for you grew only because of a sudden decision?” 

I answered softly, “The truth is, I feel the same way about you. But I’m just confused if loving you would be another wrong decision. Like being with Sir Jun. Like diving into the river before. I’m afraid of drowning again.” 

Zaldo explained, “Like in the river, I’m here to support you. And I know you wouldn’t let others just pick on me. I know someone would defend me.” 

He asked again, “Are you okay if I request that this stays between us for now? We’re not really gay. But while we’re figuring out our feelings for each other, let’s keep it secret?” 

By then our emotions were calmer. 

He continued, “Let’s just allow this relationship to grow naturally. Nothing forced. Nothing rushed. Just best friends. Like…” 

“Like what?” I interrupted. 

“Like… best friends!” he said. 

I quickly added, “Best friends with benefits, or best friends PLUS?” He laughed at my reply and nodded. 

Before we knew it, we had fallen asleep again in each other’s arms. With smiles on our lips. Smiles of peace of mind. Smiles of trust in each other. Smiles of respect for the promise we made. A promise only we knew.

ZEKE, DO YOU WANT TO?

“Zeke, Do You Want To?”

Gerry often teased Zeke with the playful question, “Zeke, do you want to try?” Though it was said jokingly, Zeke felt a deeper pull behind the invitation. He noticed Gerry sometimes staring at his lips, which made him wonder what Gerry was thinking. 

Neighbors like Susie would also comment on Zeke’s appeal, especially his “kissable lips,” though Zeke brushed it off. He treated childhood friends like siblings and had already decided he wouldn’t marry someone from his hometown, fearing a life of poverty. 

Despite rumors and teasing about his sexuality, Zeke tried not to care. Yet he couldn’t ignore the moments when Gerry’s gaze lingered, or when he himself felt drawn to Gerry’s lips instead of his jokes. He remembered his first kiss with another friend, Zaldo, which was awkward but meaningful. 

During overnight stays at school for military training, Zeke often found himself admiring Zaldo while he slept, feeling a mix of attraction and longing. One night, Gerry caught Zeke glancing at Zaldo and whispered the same teasing line: “Zeke, do you want to?” This time, Gerry led him outside, and their playful teasing turned into a secret physical encounter. 

Though Zeke and Gerry repeated these secret meetings, he realized there was no real love between them—only desire and release. With Zaldo, however, the connection felt deeper, though it remained hidden.

SO, WHO’S BIGGER?

Life does not always begin in hardship. For some, childhood starts with joy, laughter, and abundance. But when circumstances change, when comfort turns into chaos, the true test of character begins. 

I grew up in a home once full of celebration. My parents worked hard — my father with his furniture business, my mother with her canteen — and our house was alive with workers, relatives, and customers. As a child, I loved to sing and dance, basking in the warmth of community. Yet when the business collapsed, everything shifted. Poverty crept in, my father drowned his frustrations in alcohol, and we moved to a neighborhood where ridicule became part of my daily life. 

Mockery followed me everywhere. Classmates teased me, siblings pushed me aside, and even my father, in his drunken anger, singled me out as the source of misfortune. I felt unloved, unwanted, and alone. Nights were filled with tears and prayers — prayers not just for escape, but for strength, for dignity, for a chance to be seen as more than the insults thrown at me. 

But pain has a way of shaping resolve. One day, I decided I would no longer be a victim. I stood up to those who mocked me, even if it meant fighting back. That moment was not about violence; it was about reclaiming my worth. It was about saying, “I am more than your labels. I am more than your cruelty.” 

And slowly, I discovered that not everyone rejected me. Some friends accepted me, trusted me, and saw qualities in me that I had forgotten to see in myself — intelligence, strength, even charm. Their presence reminded me that belonging was possible, that I was not defined by the harshness of others but by the resilience I carried within. 

Resilience is not born in comfort. It is forged in the fire of rejection, in the silence of loneliness, and in the courage to rise when no one else believes in you. My story is not one of defeat, but of transformation. From a child mocked and broken, I grew into someone who learned to fight, to endure, and to hope. 

The lesson is clear: we are not the names others call us, nor the failures of our parents, nor the shadows of our past. We are the strength we choose to build, the dignity we refuse to surrender, and the hope we carry forward.

HE’S MY GOOD-LOOKING CRUSH

I was already in college in Manila when I decided to visit the place where I grew up.  Most of my childhood friends had already married since they never reached college due to poverty. Only a few of us, including my foster sister Anne, were fortunate enough to study further. Anne was in nursing, while I was in engineering. Her parents, who were fish vendors in Malabon, supported her schooling. I also learned from my godfather how to help in the fish trade, and during summers I worked with them to help my own parents with food expenses. 

I was able to enroll in college through a scholarship from an organization that had sponsored the speech contests I joined in elementary and high school. By then, my father had stopped working on furniture projects due to illness from heavy drinking, and my mother often relied on church help. That’s why, when I told them about my scholarship, they were happy but also sad that they couldn’t support me financially. 

During one vacation, I noticed changes: my parents respected me more, and my godparents were proud of me. Their house was next to Rod’s, a childhood friend. One early morning at the market, Rod greeted me warmly, saying the old group missed me. He invited me to a drinking session later that day, which I agreed to. 

At the gathering, I reunited with my childhood friends—Mario, Jun, twins Danny and Donald, and Rod. We laughed, drank, and reminisced. As the night wore on, most of them fell asleep, leaving only Rod and me awake. 

Rod drew close, showing affection, and we shared an intimate moment. Despite my hesitation, I eventually gave in, since I had long admired him. We expressed feelings that had been hidden for years, and afterward, we fell asleep side by side.

ZALDO’S EXCITED

“Zeke is so kind. He studies hard. Even though life is difficult for them, I’m inspired by him.”

Zaldo sighs whenever he remembers the happy moments he shared with Zeke.

How did his deep feelings for his best friend begin? The one he now treasures.

It’s hard to explain, but his attraction to his friend feels like a magnet pulling him in.

He just laughs whenever he recalls Zeke’s playful nickname for their relationship: “Best Friends Plus.”

And he can’t forget the cute grin Zeke makes whenever he says those words.

“You mean… Best Friends with benefits?” Zeke once asked when they shared their first kiss.

Zaldo didn’t know what to say. But he was already completely smitten.

From the very first day of high school, when they introduced themselves, Zeke had a unique aura. 

Thick eyebrows, a sharp nose with a hint of Spanish or European—almost Turkish—features. Naturally red lips of perfect fullness, impossible not to notice. Eyes that seemed shy, speaking with a touch of sadness. Which made his smile even more captivating.

Zaldo noticed that Zeke was hesitant to talk to strangers, as if just observing. But when he spoke, it was clear he had wide knowledge of many things. His hands would gesture slightly when he wanted to emphasize something in class.

“Class, I want you to introduce yourselves in front. One by one.”

That was Mrs. Inting, their class adviser.

One by one they introduced themselves, starting from the back where the boys had rushed to sit earlier. The girls had taken the front seats. 

That became their seating arrangement for first and fourth year, under Mrs. Inting. They had different advisers in second and third year.

Efren started first—he looked smart too. 

In fact, all of them were honor students from different villages and barangays in South Metro Manila. 

That’s why they were placed in Section A-1, even higher than Section 1. Like Manila Science or Philippine Science, their curriculum was advanced. They even had a laboratory classroom. The principal once told them it was an “experimental class.”

Then it was Zeke’s turn. At first he was shy, but once he got going, he spoke so well. His voice was gentle yet firm, pleasant to listen to. 

“Maybe he’s a good singer,” Zaldo thought. “His voice is beautiful!”

Later, during a Christmas play at the town church grounds, Zaldo was surprised to hear a voice in the background. “That’s Zeke’s voice, isn’t it?” he asked Gerry. 

They had been together earlier, but Zeke had disappeared in the crowd. “He just went to pee,” Gerry said. 

Then the host thanked the background narrator—it was Zeke. 

“So that’s what ‘just peeing’ means, huh?” Zaldo teased. 

“You were the one speaking, bro?” he asked Zeke, who only answered with a mischievous smile. 

“It was nothing. Just a sideline!” Zeke said. 

And they all laughed.

Back to that first introduction in class… 

When Zeke looked at Zaldo during his turn, he smiled. 

But Zaldo didn’t hold his gaze long, because he noticed many of the girls staring at him intently. 

He knew he was handsome—probably the most handsome in class. But to him, Zeke was even more attractive. And such a good speaker. 

Zeke’s introduction had felt like a short speech, so when it was Zaldo’s turn, he felt nervous with the whole class staring at him. 

But his looks won the girls’ attention. 

Even the boys admired his presence—like an Adonis. 

He noticed Zeke staring at him too, impressed. 

From then on, they grew closer, especially since they sat beside each other. 

And as a bonus, Zeke wasn’t stingy about letting him copy assignments, quizzes, exams—anything. 

So Zaldo made him part of his circle of friends. Thus was born the “Z and Company”—Zaldo, Zeke, and others. 

The boys even joked about adding “Z” to their names to join the group. Efren became “Zefren.” 

“It was so much fun,” Zaldo thought whenever he remembered how the barkada was formed. 

But the happiest part was meeting Zeke. Zeke supported him in school pageants, and Zaldo supported Zeke in speech contests. Mutual admiration. Which turned into sweet glances. 

At first, he would invite Zeke to bike rides and outings, pretending Gerry was the one inviting. Eventually, the three became inseparable. 

Later, Zaldo even invited Zeke to live in their backyard hut when Zeke struggled with his family situation and noisy lodging. 

One time, the group went swimming in a river in Cavite. A classmate lived there. 

But Zeke almost drowned. 

That’s when Zaldo realized he would never let his best friend down. He nearly drowned himself but fought to save Zeke. Luckily, Gerry was a strong swimmer and helped. 

They became even closer. Zaldo, Gerry, and Zeke—the school’s heartthrobs. Many girls admired them. 

But many gay classmates also hovered around them. First Gerry, then Zeke. 

Still, Zaldo’s heart was with Zeke. 

He was happiest when Zeke slept beside him. Zeke didn’t know that Zaldo often woke up at night just to watch his angelic sleeping face. 

“Ahh, Zeke. If only you were mine,” Zaldo whispered whenever he saw his friend asleep. Eventually, he learned to love him—even though they were both boys. 

Zeke was dashing in Zaldo’s eyes, especially when he defended him from bullies in his neighborhood. Even the local tough guys respected Zeke. 

Zaldo fell deeper. Sometimes he woke up wanting to kiss Zeke. Being taller and bigger, he hugged Zeke like a pillow when they slept. 

It was a sign of his love. 

At first, just as a friend. But later, desire grew—especially one drunken night when he dreamed of Zeke pressing against his back on their narrow bed. 

In the dream, they were playing basketball, on opposing teams. Zeke was guarding him closely, his body pressed against him. 

He felt Zeke’s hardness against him, and he liked it. 

The warmth of Zeke’s body in the cold dawn was intoxicating. 

In the dream, it turned into a one-on-one game. Still pressed against him. 

He tried to push Zeke away, but his hand slipped inside Zeke’s shorts and briefs. He felt him fully hard. Desire surged, his palm burning with heat. 

It seemed to grow even bigger in his hand. He squeezed harder. Was it just a dream? 

Then something spilled. He thought it was sweat. But when he woke, his hand was sticky. 

“Was I dreaming?” he asked his awakened friend. 

“Dreaming or realizing? Which is the right word for what happened?” 

That night, they spoke seriously. Zaldo confessed his feelings. He hid nothing. And Zeke admitted his own. 

“My love is truly understanding,” Zaldo whispered as he remembered. 

But what saddened him was their sudden separation. Zeke moved to Manila to study and live. 

The most painful part was that Zeke held a grudge—because he once saw Zaldo with Gerry, relieving themselves together. 

“Why did he have to see that? He should’ve just joined us. Gerry’s part of the group too,” Zaldo thought. 

“I hope we can talk at Efren’s birthday tomorrow. I’m excited to see you again, Zeke!” 

Zaldo sighed at the thought.

THE REUNITED

One of my earliest dreams came true: I graduated from high school. 

I also finished college through a scholarship, while Zaldo never went to college. 

Our meetings became less frequent when I moved to a boarding house in Manila, but there were still occasions when we gathered with Gerry and the rest of our high school crew, usually when there was something to celebrate. 

One of those was Efren’s birthday. He was part of the “Z Crew,” a group formed from the names Zeke and Zaldo. At that time, I had just started my second year in Engineering in Manila. 

By chance, I met Efren when I visited our hometown. I boarded a bus from Manila and found him already seated at the back. I hadn’t noticed him at first. 

“Hey Zeke, long time no see,” he greeted. 

Since the seat beside me was empty, Efren moved next to me. 

“How are you, Efren? You’re studying in Manila too?” I asked. 

“Yeah, I’m in my second year in Accounting,” he replied. 

“By the way, it’s my birthday. The crew will be at my house—Zaldo, Gerry, and the rest of our high school friends. Good thing we met. You should come!” he invited. 

I hesitated when I heard Zaldo and Gerry’s names. Efren noticed. 

“You don’t want to? Got other plans?” he pressed. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I said. “I just need to drop by somewhere first, but I’ll definitely follow.” 

“I’ll count on that, okay? Zaldo and the crew miss you,” Efren added. 

Of course, I already knew about the occasion. We had a group chat for events like Efren’s birthday—the Z & Company GC. Some of us were even starting small businesses, still in trial stages, but enough to practice what others were studying in business courses. We weren’t just friends anymore; we were slowly becoming business partners too. 

I wanted to change the subject. Suddenly, I felt sad. Fresh in my mind were the things I had seen between Zaldo and Gerry. 

I accepted it in thought. 

But not in my heart. I’ll admit—I was hurt. It seemed like they enjoyed kissing each other so much, while Zaldo and I only managed awkward little smacks. 

I’ll also admit Gerry was a good kisser. We enjoyed it more than once. 

“In fairness, maybe that’s why Zaldo enjoyed it with him—because Gerry carried it with confidence,” I whispered to myself. 

“Why am I jealous?” I kept thinking. 

“Oh, I know. Because I love Zaldo, and he told me he loved me too.” 

And as far as I can remember, our beginning was beautiful… from the very first meeting. 

“Handsome!” our female classmates shouted when Zaldo introduced himself to Section A-1. 

Shy but brave, Zaldo stood in front:  “I’m Zaldo. From Daniel Fajardo Elementary School. Hobby: biking. Likes: easygoing friends. I’m also into male pageantry. If given the chance, maybe I could be an actor.” Then he added, “Just kidding!” 

But honestly, it wasn’t a joke. He really looked like a celebrity—tall, handsome, smooth-skinned, fair but not too pale. 

“Wow, he’d be great to be friends with,” I thought to myself. 

Coincidentally, Zaldo sat beside me on the first day of class. 

I don’t know. It felt like there was a magnet between us. Mutual admiration. From the very start, we easily got along. 

“Sit here, it’s free,” Zaldo offered. “Thanks,” I replied without hesitation. 

As I spoke, Zaldo seemed mesmerized. He said I was pleasant to listen to—shy at first, but confident once I started talking. 

He noticed that the more I spoke, the more he enjoyed looking at me. 

“What’s this? I feel like I’m falling for your words, bro,” Zaldo teased. 

“Wow, you like me already?” I joked back. 

“Yeah, haha!” Zaldo laughed loudly. 

“Kiss! Kiss!” our male classmates teased. Gerry, who had known Zaldo since elementary, led the chant, joined by Efren, who was new to the group. 

Without shame, Zaldo kissed me on the cheek like a brother. I just laughed, while the group cheered. 

Some of the girls were clearly thrilled, while others frowned, saying they had crushes on both of us. 

“What’s this?” some girls teased. “The school crushes might end up together. Haha!” 

“We’re doomed! No chance for us!” others shouted. 

And that’s how the fun in Section A-1 began. The whole day was filled with laughter and teasing. 

Zaldo and I, along with the new crew, became inseparable—during recess, snacks at the canteen, even bathroom breaks. We quickly bonded. 

And that’s also how our love story began—on the very first day of high school. No malice, but there was a spark we tried to hide. 

It looked like simple teasing, but as days passed, the excitement grew whenever we were together. We missed each other as soon as classes ended, and we looked forward to seeing each other again the next day. 

The bus had gone far, passing Roxas Boulevard and along the sea toward South Manila. 

My thoughts had also traveled far, mixing sadness and joy. 

I was startled when Efren said goodbye as he got off the bus. I waved and said, “Okay bro, I’ll follow later. Just visiting my parents first!” 

And then he was gone from sight. 

By afternoon, I arrived at Efren’s place. The crew had already been drinking, noisy and lively. I greeted Efren first, then sat far from Zaldo and Gerry, who were side by side. 

I noticed both kept glancing at me, as if wondering why I hadn’t greeted them. 

Zaldo’s face grew sad when I joined the drinking without approaching him. He whispered to Gerry. 

Soon, Gerry came over, sat beside me, and whispered, “Zeke, are you mad?” 

“Huh? At who? No, I’m not mad at anyone. Promise,” I answered. 

Gerry replied with a hint of hurt: “You’ve changed, Zeke. Even with me and Zaldo—you don’t pay attention anymore. Weren’t the three of us inseparable?” 

I saw Zaldo looking at us, his eyes dim, as if he was about to cry. I wanted to comfort him, to go to him. My mind resisted, but my heart screamed only his name. 

“Zeke, Zaldo loves you very much,” Gerry said. I looked at him with doubt. “He said that?” I asked. 

“Yes, Zeke,” Gerry confirmed. “And me too—I love you as a friend. I’ll do everything to make you happy. You and Zaldo.” His voice trembled, almost in tears. 

“I know things happened between you two,” Gerry continued. “And between us too, right?” 

“But ours was just pleasure. Just fun. An experiment. Do you want me to help you and Zaldo—not just to reconcile, but to make your sex life better? Because Zaldo said you two still feel awkward. But with me, neither of you did.” 

“I’m just your friend. Whatever happens next is up to you.” 

“That’s fine with me, Gerry. Just friends. It just hurt seeing you and Zaldo enjoying yourselves. I got jealous,” I admitted. 

The drinking continued. Others noticed Gerry and I were having a serious talk, but they didn’t interfere. They sensed tension among the inseparable trio. Zaldo seemed to be waiting for the outcome of our conversation. 

“You have nothing to be jealous of, Zeke. Zaldo loves you deeply. And you both are my friends. I’ll do everything to make you happy,” Gerry said gently. 

Then he leaned closer to my ear: “Zeke, do you want us to try a threesome?” 

I was shocked. But it felt hypnotic, exciting. The sadness in my eyes vanished. And I noticed Zaldo’s emotions seemed to revive as he stared at me.

THREESOME

The birthday celebration had ended, and the night had stretched into the early hours of morning. Without realizing it, the three of us—Zaldo, Gerry, and I—found ourselves together in a motel room. The air was cool, the lights dim, and there was a quiet anticipation hanging between us. 

Zaldo leaned closer, his affection clear and unhesitant, as though he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. His warmth and passion stirred something in me, and I felt the sincerity of his emotions. Gerry, too, was there—not just as a companion, but as someone who seemed to guide us, ensuring that the bond between us grew stronger. His presence brought balance, making sure that what unfolded was not just about desire, but about connection. 

The night became a blur of closeness and discovery. It was a moment of trust, of shared vulnerability, and of joy that none of us would forget. When morning came, we bathed together, laughter and tenderness filling the room once more. 

Before we parted ways, Zaldo whispered words that lingered in my heart: “I love you, Zeke. I love you deeply.” I answered with the same truth, “I love you too, Zaldo.” 

That was enough. The doubts I had carried dissolved, replaced by a happiness that seemed boundless. As we returned to our lives, I held onto the memory of that night—the bond we shared, the joy we discovered, and the question that quietly echoed in my mind: When will it happen again.

WHATEVER HAPPENS, JUST DO IT!

I’ve had many ups and downs in life. But I always remember what Zaldo once revealed to me—that I should guard myself against my tendency to act impulsively… to do things without thinking. Decisions that bring “bad luck.” 

The truth is, it’s not really bad luck, but rather the consequence or result of an unthought-out decision. 

Like when I said “Whatever happens!” the night I kissed Marie at the JS Prom. Turns out, Tessa saw us. 

Tessa got jealous when she saw me kissing Marie. And she later found out that I introduced Marie as my girlfriend to my group, classmates, and even to our adviser, Mrs. Inting. 

She told her older brother, who then tried to beat me up. Luckily, Aling Lourdes saw us and saved me from his attempt to hurt me in revenge for his sister, Tessa. 

But I also had “Whatever happens” decisions that turned out good. Maybe that’s what they call “faith.” 

Like when I said “whatever happens,” I just had to finish high school. Then I would force myself to step into college. Never mind if we were poor. Never mind if it was hard to reach my dreams. 

But the “Whatever happens” that really stuck in my mind was when I jumped into a high river even though it was my first time and I wasn’t a good swimmer. Just because of the challenge: “Whoever doesn’t jump is gay.” I did it because I didn’t want to be called gay. 

I gave in to the teasing. A decision I didn’t want, but I forced myself for the amusement of others. But it almost cost me my life. And it could have cost the lives of my best friend Zaldo and Gerry too. 

That’s why Zaldo’s last words stuck with me: “Let it grow naturally… nothing forced… nothing rushed…” 

The first time Zaldo confessed his love to me, and after something happened between us, we didn’t regret it because we talked carefully about how we would face what we felt for each other. Whether it would grow, or lead somewhere else. 

When the storm of his relationship with Gerry came, I accepted that the outcome of my love for him was my free surrender to what I saw happening between them. Both of them were my closest companions. One was my dear friend. The other was someone I loved. 

In my mind, I could let go. And I accepted wholeheartedly that maybe Zaldo and I weren’t meant for each other. No fights. No noise. No confrontation. 

But in my quiet acceptance, and in treating everything as mere experiences, I admit there was still pain in my chest. A sting in my heart. I just comforted myself with the thought that maybe all of this was only temporary. 

When the three of us came together after Efren’s birthday, I realized that Zaldo—and even Gerry—would do anything just to make me happy. And I would do the same for them. 

But fate truly had other plans. As if everything happened only as a lesson in life. An experience to go through, but not to last forever.

DELIGHTFUL UPSIDE DOWN

I mentioned in the first part of this story that there are indeed things that remain through the passage of time. Things that feel as if they’re right beside you. Events that seem to always be there. 

Yet there are also things that time seems to deliberately change and shape. Events that, even if we resist, fate seems to carve out to steer the story in another direction. 

What I’m referring to is the expected ending of the story we weave in our lives. 

Sometimes, it’s far from what we long for. Sometimes, it’s the opposite of what we anticipate. 

Even if we wish for it to last longer, to stretch further, and to continue exactly as we expect, life always has its twists and turns. 

There are happy endings. There are sad conclusions. But every step through time is always exciting. 

Today it may be this way. Tomorrow, it could be entirely different. 

Just like the story of me, Zaldo, and Gerry. 

Now, Zaldo already has his own family, and I’m happy for what happened to him. 

Gerry ended up with one of our classmates back in high school. 

As for me, I ended up with Marietta. I won’t go into detail about our life together for now—perhaps another time. 

I also joined a group that teaches young people to know themselves, to accept and love who they are. So that they may also accept and love others. 

A great lesson in our story is how the wind can blow in the opposite direction of the happy ending we hope for. 

But… 

Even if everything changes, what matters is that we learn. 

It may come from mistakes or sudden decisions. 

Or it may come from lessons learned through the good example of others. 

But always remember: as long as we live, the wind can always change direction. The world keeps its surprises, and time keeps flowing. 

As long as we’re alive, the story of life has no real ending. 

Today you are this. Tomorrow, you don’t know—you may already be someone else, walking a different path, with another twist in your story. 

That’s why living is never truly boring. It’s all up to you. 

Just ride along. Just enjoy it. Because life is only one. And always choose to celebrate your life. Your being. Whoever you are. Whatever you are. Love yourself. 

And in time, you will also learn to love others.

TO YOU, MY LOVE

Life feels sweeter when you have someone with you, even if you’re alone. 

What I mean is, I want to accompany you on your journey, whatever path you take. 

I know what you’re feeling. You cry alone while listening to a podcast, as if the story mirrors your life. You relate to it. You remember your past, which connects to your present. 

Sometimes you sigh. Sometimes you cry by yourself. 

Sometimes you hold back your tears because there are other people around. You wish you had someone to pour your feelings out to. 

If only there were someone who truly understood what you’re going through. 

And sometimes, like now, you enjoy the excitement of the story we’re sharing here on Wattpad. You see yourself in the story. You imagine the ending you want. 

Tell me, when did it start? I mean, when did you feel attraction to the same sex? When did you find yourself thrilled by the sight of a man’s muscular body? When did you feel amused or captivated by every nakedness you saw? 

When did you feel the struggle of holding back, but deep inside, if you followed your heart’s desire, you wanted to touch the body of your friend, your officemate, or sometimes even a relative? 

Have you ever hidden your longing? That if you only admitted it to yourself, you’ve wanted it for so long. If only it were allowed. If only it were simple. If only there were no complications. If only no one would get hurt. 

If only people were free to love anyone. No age. No status. And especially no gender to block the joy you want to taste. 

Why does heaven often feel so hard to reach? 

There are others who gave in at a young age. They became the target of ridicule, and you don’t want to be like them. Sometimes, they even suffer physical abuse from their parents—especially their fathers. 

Others had many women before realizing they were more satisfied with men. Some even married. Some had families. Some grew old before discovering they truly desired men—and found more pleasure in it. 

There are many forms. Many shapes. You can never really know the true colors of each person. 

At first, it was just LGBT. Then it became LGBTQ. And now, it has a plus (+). 

Whoever you are, whatever you are—always remember, life is only one. Be free. Know who you are. Face your true colors. Your true self. No one else will ever know your real desires but you. Only you. 

Write to me so we can share together with others what you’ve learned and are still learning in your journey through life: xzql2025@gmail.com 

And I ask that you also accompany me in the path I’m about to take. Read our story with positivity and hope. 

Don’t worry, this will be our secret. We’ll use different names and places to protect you. You’ll remain private. 

Once again, you should never be alone in your sadness, joy, excitement, or grief. I am here for you. 

With love,  XzeeQ 

P.S.  CTTO (for pictures)

Episode 1: LUST

How did it all begin? I mean, my feelings toward other men?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve avoided and set aside those feelings I’ve had since before.

Wasn’t I always with a girlfriend?

Didn’t I always pray that I wouldn’t become gay?

Didn’t I even reach the point of hurting others just to defend myself against those who teased and bullied me for who I was?

But then, what am I really? Who am I without the girlfriends or flings with women? When I don’t have to ask the Creator to spare me from being that way - treated like a clown, like someone from another planet? When I don’t have to defend myself by acting tough?

What is truly inside my heart?

Let’s say I was just a child, not yet mature, when I almost couldn’t let go of the penis of our worker in the big house.

Let’s say I might have been influenced by too many stories about my identity since childhood because of that.

And let’s say I had no defense against the bullying of my masculinity, of my personhood.

But even then, I already had a mind of my own and a chance to choose where I would stand. Where I would turn. Whether I would be a man - or whether I would want men.

That is, if my mind were to prevail.

But my heart whispered something different.

All I know is that I was happy during those times when I was surrounded by my male classmates.

I enjoyed seeing what we kept hidden whenever we urinated together back in high school.

It was a privilege for me to see Gerry’s penis when he joked around with his zipper open.

I was content comparing our manhood with my childhood friend Rod. And seeing Mario’s large organ when we were circumcised together.

And most of all, my desire to be close to Zaldo.

The warmth I felt every Friday night when we slept at school. Watching Zaldo as he slept while the light was on.

I admit, the first time we introduced ourselves in first year high school, I was immediately struck by Zaldo’s handsomeness. I wanted to always be with him. So I made sure I was his first friend.

I always studied hard back then so he could copy from me - assignments, quizzes, exams. I easily won his trust.

When I still lived in that chaotic place, before sleeping I would dream of lying beside him. He filled my imagination.

I don’t know why, but my feelings were different.

Excited, happy, desiring whatever dream might come. Hoping we’d be together. That was always my last wish before I fell asleep.

This was during the time when my father wasn’t yet drinking heavily. When I could still sleep peacefully in that place. A place I never considered home.

During summer, I would find ways to borrow a bicycle just so I could still be with Zaldo.

And Gerry eventually became part of it too.

Until I finally lived at Zaldo’s house. And my dream of sleeping beside him came true.

But it seemed that every happy moment carried with it a shadow of sadness.

My chest nearly exploded with jealousy when I once caught Zaldo and Gerry pleasuring themselves. I clearly saw them holding each other’s manhood and releasing their fluids. Gerry even kissed Zaldo’s lips. And I saw there was no awkwardness between them.

So different from the awkwardness that happened between me and Zaldo.

That was when Gerry once visited our hut while I wasn’t there yet.

I didn’t let on that I saw them. They were busy, as if nothing else could disturb their sweet moment.

I quietly closed the door of the hut that I had just silently opened upon arriving.

I restrained myself. I went out again, without confrontation or conversation. I chose silence.

I chose to accept what Zaldo and I had agreed upon… No forcing… let it grow… or accept wherever it might lead…

For me, perhaps it was time to accept the truth - that we were not meant for each other.

They will remain close friends in my heart… Zaldo, and Gerry.

---

There are moments in life that never fade from memory. Even as the years pass, they remain vivid - fresh as though they happened only yesterday. They linger with us, carrying joy, pain, and sorrow. Memories that sometimes bring a smile, yet at other times summon tears.

I wish to share the story of a close friend, an experience that left me with profound lessons. These lessons etched themselves into my heart and mind, and I believe they may offer guidance to others as well.

He once asked:

Have you ever been accused of being gay? Or perhaps found yourself doubting your own identity, lost in confusion? Such doubts may arise from teasing, insults, or disrespect - whether from family, friends, peers, neighbors, or colleagues.

For a child, these accusations can be deeply unsettling. They sow confusion, frustration, and anger. Left unchecked, they may grow into resentment, eroding trust in others and in oneself. At times, they even extinguish the will to live.

Some children, overwhelmed by this turmoil, turn their pain inward. They punish themselves, reject themselves, despise themselves. Too often, this leads to harming others - or to ending their own lives.

We rarely grasp the depth of such suffering.

Consider the tragic stories from the United States, where children have gone on violent rampages, taking lives on school campuses. How many of them, I wonder, wrestled with confusion about their sexuality, compounded by relentless bullying? The consequences ripple outward, touching many lives.

This is a difficult subject, but one that must be faced. If even a single life can be spared through the lessons of this book, then its purpose has been fulfilled.

And you - where are you in this journey?

Perhaps you are still lost in confusion, burdened by self-hatred born of others’ judgment. Perhaps you have been bullied.

Or perhaps you have already embraced who you are, yet remain uncertain how to navigate the challenges that come with acceptance.

Sometimes the question becomes: how do you live authentically without causing harm to others? How do you show respect, even as you ask for respect in return?

On the other hand, maybe someone you love is enduring this struggle. How do we help them feel cherished, despite the trials they face? How do we remind them that they are loved, no matter what?

This is a sensitive conversation. If you feel unready, you may step away for now.

This work is intended for adult readers, as it deals with mature themes.

The characters, places, and events are portrayals. Any resemblance to real stories is purely coincidental.

If you gain insight from these pages, all the better.

Photo credits to the rightful owners.

Let us begin.

Things happened so fast. 

The motorcycle, speeding down that road, swerved to avoid an e-bike that suddenly appeared. But in trying to avoid the e-bike, the motorcycle ended up heading straight toward me. 

I regained consciousness in the hospital. 

My head and body ached. I had blacked out when I reflexively tried to dodge the motorcycle. I fell and hit my head on the door of a house by the roadside. The x-ray showed nothing serious. 

But what hurt more were the memories of the endless misfortunes I had faced in life—ones that nearly killed me. 

Looking back, I couldn’t help but remember the time I almost drowned in the river when my friends and I went swimming before graduating high school. 

“Whoever doesn’t jump is gay!” shouted a classmate who had already dived from the highest spot above the river. 

We were all boys. I wasn’t a good swimmer—dog paddle was all I could manage. I was gasping for breath, still far from the shore. 

Yet I didn’t ask for help, even though I knew I was about to drown. 

After a while, I heard someone shouting: 

“I almost drowned too!” 

It was Zaldo yelling to Gerry. By then, I was regaining my senses, though I had swallowed a lot of water. 

Zaldo had sacrificed himself to save me, but he said I kept clinging to him. He nearly drowned because I pushed down on his head just to breathe. 

To save himself, he punched me so I would let go. Then he called Gerry for help. Gerry pulled me by the hair while Zaldo pushed me by the waist from underwater. 

When I looked up, I saw many onlookers at the diving spot above. I turned my gaze away, ashamed. I lay on a huge rock by the riverbank, visible to everyone watching. 

But I was most ashamed before Zaldo—my best friend—who almost drowned because of me. My conscience weighed heavily. 

What puzzled me was why I hadn’t asked for help, even when I was about to die. 

“Am I suicidal?” I asked myself. Why didn’t I admit I wasn’t a good swimmer? Why didn’t I shout for help? Was I too shy? Or was my pride too high? 

I don’t know. Even I am confused by my reactions in life. Maybe these were just the poor decisions of youth. 

Was my dive saying, “Better to drown or die than be called gay”? 

Truthfully, it was my first time diving from such a height. I only did it because of the teasing. 

Sometimes I envy today’s youth. They casually call each other “gay” as if it’s nothing. Normal. No big deal. As the LGBT slang goes, “walang pakels” (no cares). 

Why did we grow up in a time when it was so important to protect the “macho image”? 

Back then, if you mistakenly insulted a man’s masculinity, it could cost you your life. You could be challenged to a fistfight. Be beaten up. Attacked openly or secretly. 

Now, they call each other “gay” so casually. Even straight men accept it as if it’s nothing. No insult felt. 

The mantra is: “If you are, you are. If you’re not, then you’re not.” 

No image to protect. Everything’s a joke. No offense taken. 

But what if someone calls you a “RED BUTTERFLY”? 

How deep is the pain felt by men who know they would never make themselves a laughingstock? Men who may secretly admire or desire other men. 

They may not admit to any attraction, but they surely don’t want to be called gay or grouped with those who have “given in.” 

They prefer silence. They owe the world no declaration of their confusion. 

That’s why being discreet became common. Better that than being loud like some transgender people who feel the need to shout their truth to the world. 

And worse, they want all men to come out like them. For the whole world to know. 

People love to sniff around. A small mistake, and someone is accused of being gay. 

And gossiped about, even without proof of any sexual relationship—just because of a slightly different gesture or movement of the hand or hips. 

Sometimes it’s confusing when parents declare acceptance of their child even before the child admits anything. Can’t they wait for the right time? 

A time when the person has decided who they are and is ready to confess—whether they are a man or a man who loves men. 

It’s deeply painful, especially when you’re young, to be forced to admit something you haven’t even thought about. 

Especially knowing it will lead to teasing, insults, and being looked down upon. 

It truly confuses the mind. You don’t know how to act without being laughed at. And so you make more mistakes. 

One painful childhood memory was walking past a group of loiterers with my cousin and older sister. I was the youngest, about eight or nine years old. 

We were going to visit our grandparents for Christmas, even though they lived far away. 

As we passed the loiterers, they made a remark: “Like red butterflies.” Then they whistled. 

I didn’t know what it meant. My cousin and I were both wearing red. My mother had dressed me in a red t-shirt. I just shrugged it off, innocent and unaware. 

But I asked my cousin and sister what “red butterfly” meant. 

“It means you’re gay!” my cousin quickly replied. 

I wanted to cry. I wanted to hurt someone. I wanted to lash out. 

That was it. My Christmas was ruined. I vowed never to go with that cousin again. I was angry. But what could I do? 

From then on, I always felt anxious passing that place. I developed a phobia. A mix of fear, anger, irritation, and unease whenever I walked by. 

The worst part was becoming overly self-conscious. My straight walk turned awkward. 

Nervous and self-aware, I couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t look straight ahead, couldn’t walk normally. 

So I chose to take the long way around rather than pass there. 

I didn’t realize my mental health was already affected. I had no one to confide in about my phobia. 

I carried it into adulthood. I became afraid of passing places where many eyes were on me. 

My walk would change—becoming more noticeable instead of normal. I just wanted to disappear. Some relatives noticed and gave it an even worse meaning. 

Of course, it was different when no one bullied me—in class, at work. But walking past loiterers was different. My confidence vanished. I truly had a phobia. 

So when I had the chance to move to a job in a faraway province, I saw it as a new beginning. I wanted to overcome my phobia. 

And it worked. No more bullies, no more relatives calling me gay since childhood. Now I could walk freely, with confidence. 

But one time, when I visited my grandparents’ place, I was shocked when a house helper said: “Oh, I heard you moved far away. They say you’re a woman now!” 

Honestly, I wanted to hurt someone. But I held myself back. I’m a professional now. I shouldn’t stoop to narrow-minded people. 

Yes, I moved far away—to heal my phobia. Not to become what their dirty minds imagined. And even if what they said were true, I could never forgive the bullying I endured since childhood. 

From then on, I distanced myself even more from relatives. Even when some died, I didn’t visit. The wound runs deep. And I don’t know when it will heal.

Episode 2: ZALDO, GERRY & ME

How did we even start as close friends? It was Zaldo, Gerry, and me.

The three of us often invited each other to go biking around the subdivisions near our barangay.

“Come on, let’s check out our chicks,” Gerry would say. They were the closest to me in our group. Is that what you’d call “inseparable”?

On Saturday afternoons when there were no classes, we would roam around the places where the girls we were courting lived. It was like a 3-in-1 deal: one was courting, but all three of us would visit. That way, the parents of the girl we were courting wouldn’t suspect anything. We weren’t really serious about relationships back then. Just flings. If she said yes, then you were considered a skilled guy.

Since we were still graduating from high school, there wasn’t really any serious commitment yet.

---

“You’re just jealous!” I heard our adviser tease when my male classmates made noise after seeing me kiss Marie. That was our JS prom night. We were in fourth year high school, just a few months away from graduation.

“You’re such a pervert, Zeke!” shouted Efren, one of the guys in our group we called the Z-company. I was the one who came up with that name. The “Z” came from my name, and of course, from Zaldo’s too. The guys agreed to my idea.

I was active in extra-curricular activities. I enjoyed them more than academic subjects. Aside from speech or public speaking, I also loved writing.

And we had another commitment every Saturday morning: CAT or Citizens’ Army Training. Its counterpart in college is ROTC. Every Friday, we male classmates would sleep over at school so we’d be ready for the assembly at the school quadrangle at four in the morning.

I don’t know what I got myself into back then, because there was another girl waiting for me in a room on the second floor of our school building. We secretly met there since the whole floor was empty that prom night.

This was a public high school. Her name was Tessa. My girlfriend. Two months already. She believed we were officially together. It was her section’s room, and she was the one who invited me there.

But then there was Marie, my long-time fling. By chance, I was walking toward where my group and other classmates were gathered. Our class adviser, Mrs. Inting, was also there.

I bumped into Marie, so I kissed her that same prom night. It was rather torrid, so it didn’t escape the eyes of my group. And of Mrs. Inting.

Before that happened, I had told Tessa, “Stay here, I’ll come back for you. I’ll just check where the guys are.” I left her on the second floor.

My plan was to return to her right away. But I got caught up when I saw Marie. She would have wondered if I avoided her. And I couldn’t think of any excuse to do so.

At the same time, I worried that Tessa might see us from the second floor.

“Ah, whatever!” I whispered to myself. Then I introduced Marie as my girlfriend. First to my group. Then to Mrs. Inting.

“Guys, this is Marie, my girlfriend,” I proudly announced to my group and male classmates. “Ma’am, this is Marie, my girlfriend,” I said respectfully to Mrs. Inting.

Of course, my best friends Zaldo and Gerry didn’t miss the chance to tease me.

---

“Hey! What’s that?” shouted Aling Lourdes, our neighbor, in a piercing voice.

According to her, I looked extremely pale when a muscular man suddenly tried to punch me. Luckily, he was startled when he heard Aling Lourdes and quickly backed off.

The man left me immediately while I was still stunned by what had just happened.

Aling Lourdes is a kind neighbor. She treats me like her own child.

That’s why she asked, worriedly:
“Who was that? Do you owe him something? He’s huge! If he had landed that punch, oh dear…”

“I don’t owe anyone anything,” I replied. “But I also don’t know who he is,” I added.

I was about to turn into our barangay when it happened. It was a time when hardly anyone was passing by, so he managed to corner me. I didn’t know him.

He was on a bike while I was just walking. That’s why he easily cornered me in a place where no one could see. He also quickly escaped from Aling Lourdes-and if not for her, from the thugs and drifters in our area.

If Aling Lourdes hadn’t been there, I might have ended up borrowing a dog’s face, as they say, if I had been beaten up.

But my crew in our barangay knows me well. It’s a place full of trouble and fistfights, as they say.

If anyone had seen it, that man would have been mobbed by the gang of thugs and ex-convicts who know me.

I even remember one time when Zaldo came to invite me to go biking, and we were supposed to meet Gerry not far from my house. But someone picked on him and threatened him.

With just one call from me, the gang surrounded the house of those who harassed Zaldo and waited for them to come out. They were from the neighboring barangay, right at the boundary of ours. Zaldo had passed through there on his bike to pick me up when they harassed him.

From then on, Zaldo saw how, with just one call, it seemed like I could command the thugs on who to beat up or retaliate against if I or any of my friends were wronged.

Especially him-because he’s my best friend.

This was because our family was among the very first to settle in that place. We were granted the right to live there by the government. Over time, more families moved in, and that’s where I grew up.

Even though life was hard, I was given the chance to study for free from elementary to high school. Some well-off families would occasionally help with my other school expenses.

I became known in our area because I was always an honor student, always receiving awards in school. Back in grade one, I didn’t even know I was at the top of the class.

My teacher even told my older sister, who studied at the same school:
“Why isn’t Zeke dressed yet? Your mother knows he’s getting a medal this afternoon.”

My sister rushed me home, and my mother dressed me up right away.

That happened every year. So the thugs and drifters got used to seeing me as “the kid who will go places.”

My childhood friends teased me, calling me “genius.” But since they rarely saw me except when I was with Zaldo and Gerry during school breaks, they also called me “snob.”

Sometimes, “nun,” because I was always buried in my studies.

But the most painful insult I ever heard was “gay.” That was because I didn’t notice that some girls admired me. And since I had no plans of courting anyone in our chaotic neighborhood, I just let them think and call me whatever they wanted.

---

When I reached high school, during the time of adolescence, my habits changed.

Instead of spending time with childhood friends in our neighborhood, I was more often in town with the Z crew. Included there were my best friend Zaldo, and Gerry.

We three were handsome. We belonged to the highest section of our school. To others, we looked like models whenever they saw us in the mornings during the flag ceremony.

Some of our admirers were female students who were also childhood friends from my place.

That’s why we’d get surprised whenever we passed by the rooms of those who had crushes on us, and suddenly the girls would scream-like whistles-similar to how boys would catcall passing girls.

But when it came to grades, among the boys, I ranked the highest of the three of us. At first, I was only in the top 10 of the school’s best students. Later, I rose to the top 5, until I was competing with the very best in school.

We were called the A-1 section. Higher even than section 1. The students here were chosen from public elementary schools. Usually, they were the top 5 of different elementary schools across our town. The teaching and curriculum were patterned after Science schools, and one of the rooms we used was a laboratory room.

This was where I blossomed and became known as a teenager because I loved joining speech contests, writing contests, and science or math quiz bees.

If I were a girl, I’d be considered “beauty and brains.”

Zaldo, on the other hand, was the tallest and, I’d say, the most handsome. He was the one entered in Mr. School pageants.

He was also the fairest-skinned among us three, including Gerry. He had the complexion of the wealthy, a sharp nose, and expressive eyes.

Gerry, meanwhile, was chinito (Chinese-looking). He had curly hair, dimples, and many attractive features.

In terms of looks, Zaldo was the most handsome, followed by me-said to be a combination of good looks and intelligence-and then Gerry, who was extremely talented in many things.

But Gerry wasn’t left behind when it came to girlfriends or flings. He was also the best at basketball.

Above all, he was the most “great” in that aspect boys in high school often compared themselves with.

I don’t even know. One time, I teased Gerry:
“Bro, you’re so yummy, hehe.”

Episode 3: FRIENDS, BENEFITS & MORE

Gerry loved to make people laugh.

Even in our first days of high school, he already had antics that none of my other classmates could pull off. Not even me. I just couldn’t do it.

We weren’t that close back then.

He sat in the middle section of the classroom, first row beside the middle aisle. Meanwhile, Zaldo, I, and the rest of our “Tropa Z” gang stayed at the back. In front of us boys sat our female classmates.

Even with the teacher in front, Gerry would sometimes suddenly stand up and walk toward the back of the class, pretending to be serious. His face was straight, his stride confident like a male model. But his “thing” dangled out of his open zipper.

We couldn’t help but laugh or snicker at the back, which often surprised our teacher up front. The teacher would look at us curiously but never quite catch Gerry’s act of mischief.

That was our little secret among the boys. We never reported Gerry.

“You’re such an idiot, Gerry!” Zaldo whispered jokingly while we laughed in the canteen.

“What if one of our classmates reports you?” I asked.

“Then they got a taste,” Gerry replied with a grin, making the whole gang burst out laughing.

I blushed when he suddenly shouted, “Zeke, do you want a taste?” teasing me in front of everyone.

It made me wonder. “Does Gerry suspect something about my masculinity?” I asked myself. “Even some girls in our neighborhood sometimes called me gay.”

“Idiot, I’m not interested. I’ve got one too. And it’s even thicker,” I shot back to save face. “You-want to taste this?” I teased Gerry in return.

But he didn’t answer because the gang had already stood up. We were about to be late for the next class.

That’s how we joked around. From then on, we became close, and more of our male classmates joined us. We became a real crew-eating together, playing basketball even under the scorching midday sun.

When we peed behind the school, we did it together, lined up. It became a habit to compare who had the longest pee, the darkest, the biggest, the longest, the thinnest, the fattest, the quickest to get hard, and sometimes even the fastest to finish.

By the time we reached fourth year, we were super close. Always happy. I barely went home to my own place anymore because my friends’ parents treated me like their own son.

---

I often sleep over at other places because it’s hard for me to get proper rest in our noisy home.

My father is also one of the reasons why I can’t sleep well. He became an alcoholic. Even before dawn, he would already be drinking Ginebra-what people call gin bilog. When drunk, he would suddenly cause a commotion even in the middle of the night. Many times, he would pass out and just lie down anywhere.

I reached a point where I started feeling ashamed of him. I didn’t know, and I stopped trying to know, why he had become that way. Dirty. Couldn’t even close the zipper of his pants. Thin and neglectful of himself-especially of the family.

Because of our hardship and the fact that my father no longer had any serious work after becoming a drunkard, I often lacked money. Even food.

My teacher, who was also my speech trainer when our school was preparing me for the inter-city oratorical contest, felt pity for me. The contest was to be held at the Philamlife Auditorium in Manila. First, I won in our school. Then, against other schools in the city.

Now, I was to compete against schools from different cities across Metro Manila. The preparation they wanted was heavy.

My trainer, who was also one of the department heads in our school, said I could stay at their house. He noticed that my eyes were always heavy from lack of sleep, and that I was getting thinner.

But I refused.

Instead, I accepted Zaldo’s offer that we could stay at the small hut behind their house. He said we could “hang out” there and his parents wouldn’t mind.

One reason Zaldo’s parents trusted me was that both of us had high grades in school.

Another was that they knew my aunt, who worked at the barangay center near their house. Sometimes, when the center’s faucet had no water, she would fetch water from Zaldo’s family’s pump.

Back then, brownouts and water shortages were frequent in our area.

It was during these times that Zaldo became my best friend.

Every afternoon, my aunt would invite us to have snacks at the center, especially when there were no classes. Zaldo’s parents were happy about this too, since having my aunt close by meant they had someone to turn to at the barangay center.

Even though she pitied me, my aunt never invited me to live with them. She had twelve children of her own.

Their house was noisy and chaotic too, and she knew I wouldn’t be able to study properly in that situation. I had cousins in school with me, but they weren’t good at studying.

That’s why Aunt Rose was glad that Zaldo and I were close. And Zaldo’s parents were happy about it too.

During this time, my mind was a bit troubled. But one thing was certain-I wanted to finish high school. After that, whatever happens, I would strive to reach college.

I just needed to graduate. And it was near.

“Just a little more patience, Zeke,” I whispered to myself.

---

One time, my speech trainer called me to the clubhouse for a final rehearsal. Many people would be watching and listening to my speech. They wanted to make sure the school had a strong chance of winning, or at least bringing home a prize, at the intercity speech contest-through me.

From the stage, as I let my eyes wander, I noticed a male schoolmate teasing me from a distance. It was Dan. He really loved to bully and mock others.

Dan was making gestures like a flamboyant gay act, which irritated me. But I didn’t let it show. There were too many people. Everyone’s attention was on me.

I already had a plan. “Just wait,” I whispered to myself with a sigh, then began my speech.

Mixed tension filled me as I stepped out of the clubhouse. I didn’t even mind the applause and congratulations after my final practice.

My mind was in chaos. Gerry’s jokes in the canteen replayed in my head, along with the teasing of girls I couldn’t give attention to, and of course, Dan’s bullying.

It almost made me doubt myself-who I really was. But I couldn’t accept that.

“Me, Zeke-handsome, smart, a good speaker-just end up being gay? No way!” my mind shouted.

“I have to prove I’m not,” I muttered under my breath.

Then a strong punch landed on Dan’s face. Our adviser saw it and was shocked. Senior staff from the principal’s office also witnessed it, since it happened right by the path leading there.

The news spread quickly.

I didn’t want to go back to school, so I went home-not to Zaldo’s place, but to my own. Even though things were messy, I decided not to show up at school for a while.

That weekend, Zaldo and Gerry visited to invite me for another bike ride around the subdivisions, like we often did. That’s when I learned what had happened.

Dan had been hospitalized because the bleeding from my punch wouldn’t stop.

His family had planned to sue me, but changed their minds after many teachers spoke with them about both Dan’s behavior and mine-who he was, and who I was in the eyes of the teachers and school officials.

Many pleaded on my behalf, including our adviser Mrs. Inting and the department head, who was also my speech trainer. They didn’t want me to miss the upcoming speech contest.

“Go back to school,” Zaldo urged.

“We’ll take care of you if that jerk Dan teases you again. He’s really an idiot!” Gerry added.

They also convinced me to return to Zaldo’s house. Gerry even stayed over with us that night.

We had fun-joking around. Gerry pulled out his old gag again, walking in front of us with a long, limp eggplant sticking out of his open zipper.

“Bro, you’re delicious!” I shouted jokingly at Gerry.

“So, Zeke, do you want to taste it now?” he teased back.

“Don’t worry… I’ll let you know, Gerry,” I replied with a mischievous grin. We all burst into loud laughter.

It felt like we were back to normal at school. I won a prize at the intercity speech contest-though not the highest one. Zaldo and Gerry were always by my side whenever Dan was around.

And because of my determination to prove I was a man, I never ran out of girlfriends-or flings, if not girlfriends.

Episode 4: FIRST TIME

One time, my speech trainer called me to the clubhouse for a final rehearsal. Many people would be watching and listening to my speech. They wanted to make sure the school had a strong chance of winning, or at least bringing home a prize, at the intercity speech contest-through me.

From the stage, as I let my eyes wander, I noticed a male schoolmate teasing me from a distance. It was Dan. He really loved to bully and mock others.

Dan was making gestures like a flamboyant gay act, which irritated me. But I didn’t let it show. There were too many people. Everyone’s attention was on me.

I already had a plan. “Just wait,” I whispered to myself with a sigh, then began my speech.

Mixed tension filled me as I stepped out of the clubhouse. I didn’t even mind the applause and congratulations after my final practice.

My mind was in chaos. Gerry’s jokes in the canteen replayed in my head, along with the teasing of girls I couldn’t give attention to, and of course, Dan’s bullying.

It almost made me doubt myself-who I really was. But I couldn’t accept that.

“Me, Zeke-handsome, smart, a good speaker-just end up being gay? No way!” my mind shouted.

“I have to prove I’m not,” I muttered under my breath.

Then a strong punch landed on Dan’s face. Our adviser saw it and was shocked. Senior staff from the principal’s office also witnessed it, since it happened right by the path leading there.

The news spread quickly.

I didn’t want to go back to school, so I went home-not to Zaldo’s place, but to my own. Even though things were messy, I decided not to show up at school for a while.

That weekend, Zaldo and Gerry visited to invite me for another bike ride around the subdivisions, like we often did. That’s when I learned what had happened.

Dan had been hospitalized because the bleeding from my punch wouldn’t stop.

His family had planned to sue me, but changed their minds after many teachers spoke with them about both Dan’s behavior and mine-who he was, and who I was in the eyes of the teachers and school officials.

Many pleaded on my behalf, including our adviser Mrs. Inting and the department head, who was also my speech trainer. They didn’t want me to miss the upcoming speech contest.

“Go back to school,” Zaldo urged.

“We’ll take care of you if that jerk Dan teases you again. He’s really an idiot!” Gerry added.

They also convinced me to return to Zaldo’s house. Gerry even stayed over with us that night.

We had fun-joking around. Gerry pulled out his old gag again, walking in front of us with a long, limp eggplant sticking out of his open zipper.

“Bro, you’re delicious!” I shouted jokingly at Gerry.

“So, Zeke, do you want to taste it now?” he teased back.

“Don’t worry… I’ll let you know, Gerry,” I replied with a mischievous grin. We all burst into loud laughter.

It felt like we were back to normal at school. I won a prize at the intercity speech contest-though not the highest one. Zaldo and Gerry were always by my side whenever Dan was around.

And because of my determination to prove I was a man, I never ran out of girlfriends-or flings, if not girlfriends.

---

I had no awareness of issues about growing up until that summer. That was when my friends and I, as part of tradition in our neighborhood, all underwent circumcision together. I was in fifth grade then, about to enter sixth grade at the next enrollment.

There were many of us in the group that summer.

“Chew the guava leaves well, but don’t swallow them. They’ll be placed on the wound afterward,” reminded Mang Tonio as he prepared his knife.

One of our neighbors, Donald, went first, followed by his twin brother Danny. Danny fainted from fear-he couldn’t stand the sight of blood. We laughed, and that helped him recover quickly.

After them came the brothers Mario and Jun. Mario was known among us for being the most daring and confident.

“Wow, that’s big!” exclaimed our neighbor, Aling Edith, one time when we were gathered outside her store, showing off as newly circumcised boys often did. She quickly shut the door, embarrassed, while we all burst into laughter.

Another friend, Rod, had already gone through the ritual earlier. Like Mario, he enjoyed teasing and comparing himself with others. Sometimes he would stand next to me when we relieved ourselves, joking about who was more “grown up.” We laughed about it, never taking it too seriously.

As we entered sixth grade, rumors began to spread in the neighborhood about me. One day, while walking with my mother, I saw a chalk drawing on a wall-an exaggerated sketch with my name written underneath. I felt so embarrassed that I hurried ahead of her, eager to get home.

That summer, I also noticed how people in the community-neighbors, even older folks-paid attention to us boys as we went through this rite of passage. My mother kept a close watch, protective of me, reminding me that I was still very young and that my focus should be on school.

---

Summer had just ended, the time when I underwent circumcision. By the time classes started, I was in sixth grade. It was a season of changes, when my body felt different and restless.

“Do you know I wasn’t looking?” whispered Marietta, my classmate. “Looking at what?” I asked curiously.

“When they rearranged the seats earlier-girls facing boys in one subject-we noticed something…” She stopped, blushing, unsure whether to laugh.

“What did you see?” I pressed. “Something… about you,” she blurted out, embarrassed.

I turned red, while she tried to stifle her giggles.

This conversation happened after lunch, when most students went home and only returned for afternoon classes.

“You should wear proper underwear,” Marietta suggested. I admitted sadly, “We barely have money for food, let alone for things like that.”

She felt sympathy. “Don’t worry. When I get my allowance from our class savings group on Monday, I’ll share with you!” she said brightly.

I was happy.

But then she hesitated. “Though… I also wish…” “Wish what?” I asked. “Never mind, it’s embarrassing,” she said, her face red.

“Tell me, it’s just the two of us here,” I insisted. “I just wanted to know what it feels like… I’ve never experienced anything with a boy,” she whispered.

We looked around to make sure no one else was in the classroom. We were both nervous.

I liked Marietta-she seemed part Filipino, part Chinese, fair-skinned, pretty, always with plenty of snacks.

We didn’t really know what we were doing. It felt like experimenting, the kind of curiosity that comes with puberty.

We laughed, we felt awkward, but it was like playing with a toy-except the toy was part of me.

Before long, footsteps approached the room. We quickly stopped and pretended nothing had happened.

Class went on as usual.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about what Marietta and I had shared. At night, I replayed it in my imagination until I fell asleep.

---

“Didn’t you leave ahead of me at school earlier? Why does it seem like I got home first?” Zaldo said when he saw me that night. He looked like he had been drinking.

I had no plans of telling him about my first experience with a gay man earlier. Maybe some other time.

“It rained, then someone invited me to eat. I went along since he was treating,” I replied.

“But how did you get home? I know you didn’t have any fare. That’s why I followed after you,” he asked calmly.

“Our neighbor gave me a ride. I rode the jeepney with him,” I answered.

Zaldo nodded and hugged a pillow. “It’s cold, feels so good to sleep,” he said like a child. I lay down beside him too, since that narrow bamboo bed was the only place we both had to sleep.

I’ve been sharing a bed with my best friend for a long time. I felt guilty for hiding what really happened earlier. I wanted to chat with him, maybe ask if he’s ever had an experience with a gay man, so I could open up about mine. I just need the right timing, I thought.

In all our years of close friendship, I’ve never heard him tell such a story. Even though the three of us-me, him, and Gerry-knew that many people were drawn to us, I never heard of any of them giving in.

“Maybe I’m the only one,” I whispered to myself. I was startled when he moved, opened his sleepy eyes, and said, “Why did you give in to that?”

I turned to check if he was really awake. But the next thing I heard was his snoring.

My mind was unsettled by what happened. Did he see me with Sir Jun earlier? Does he know Sir Jun? But from exhaustion, I eventually fell asleep.

I dreamed that I met Marietta. She looked so beautiful now. She was Reyna Elena in the Santacruzan in our town, and I was her consort.

In the dream she whispered to me, “Can I touch it?” And I fervently answered, “Later, after this.”

Everything in the dream happened quickly, without pause.

Suddenly, I felt her holding my stiff manhood until liquid burst out.

In the dream, I saw that I was still wearing the brief I bought with the money she once gave me. It was my very first brief, bought from her earnings in their savings pool with her well-off classmates. Like her.

I saw that something had spilled inside that underwear. It felt good. In the dream.

I woke up soaked with liquid in my underwear. And I was shocked. Inside it was Zaldo’s right hand. He had woken up too.

We both sat up suddenly. “What’s this?” he asked in confusion.

He smelled his hand, and when he realized what it was, he quickly rushed to the bathroom to wash. He peed too before returning to our bed, still with a puzzled look.

“What happened? Was I just drunk?” he asked.

Episode 5: ZEKE, DO YOU WANT TO?

“Zeke, Do You Want To?”

Gerry often teased Zeke with the playful question, “Zeke, do you want to try?” Though it was said jokingly, Zeke felt a deeper pull behind the invitation. He noticed Gerry sometimes staring at his lips, which made him wonder what Gerry was thinking.

Neighbors like Susie would also comment on Zeke’s appeal, especially his “kissable lips,” though Zeke brushed it off. He treated childhood friends like siblings and had already decided he wouldn’t marry someone from his hometown, fearing a life of poverty.

Despite rumors and teasing about his sexuality, Zeke tried not to care. Yet he couldn’t ignore the moments when Gerry’s gaze lingered, or when he himself felt drawn to Gerry’s lips instead of his jokes. He remembered his first kiss with another friend, Zaldo, which was awkward but meaningful.

During overnight stays at school for military training, Zeke often found himself admiring Zaldo while he slept, feeling a mix of attraction and longing. One night, Gerry caught Zeke glancing at Zaldo and whispered the same teasing line: “Zeke, do you want to?” This time, Gerry led him outside, and their playful teasing turned into a secret physical encounter.

Though Zeke and Gerry repeated these secret meetings, he realized there was no real love between them-only desire and release. With Zaldo, however, the connection felt deeper, though it remained hidden.

---

Life does not always begin in hardship. For some, childhood starts with joy, laughter, and abundance. But when circumstances change, when comfort turns into chaos, the true test of character begins.

I grew up in a home once full of celebration. My parents worked hard - my father with his furniture business, my mother with her canteen - and our house was alive with workers, relatives, and customers. As a child, I loved to sing and dance, basking in the warmth of community. Yet when the business collapsed, everything shifted. Poverty crept in, my father drowned his frustrations in alcohol, and we moved to a neighborhood where ridicule became part of my daily life.

Mockery followed me everywhere. Classmates teased me, siblings pushed me aside, and even my father, in his drunken anger, singled me out as the source of misfortune. I felt unloved, unwanted, and alone. Nights were filled with tears and prayers - prayers not just for escape, but for strength, for dignity, for a chance to be seen as more than the insults thrown at me.

But pain has a way of shaping resolve. One day, I decided I would no longer be a victim. I stood up to those who mocked me, even if it meant fighting back. That moment was not about violence; it was about reclaiming my worth. It was about saying, “I am more than your labels. I am more than your cruelty.”

And slowly, I discovered that not everyone rejected me. Some friends accepted me, trusted me, and saw qualities in me that I had forgotten to see in myself - intelligence, strength, even charm. Their presence reminded me that belonging was possible, that I was not defined by the harshness of others but by the resilience I carried within.

Resilience is not born in comfort. It is forged in the fire of rejection, in the silence of loneliness, and in the courage to rise when no one else believes in you. My story is not one of defeat, but of transformation. From a child mocked and broken, I grew into someone who learned to fight, to endure, and to hope.

The lesson is clear: we are not the names others call us, nor the failures of our parents, nor the shadows of our past. We are the strength we choose to build, the dignity we refuse to surrender, and the hope we carry forward.

---

I was already in college in Manila when I decided to visit the place where I grew up.
Most of my childhood friends had already married since they never reached college due to poverty. Only a few of us, including my foster sister Anne, were fortunate enough to study further. Anne was in nursing, while I was in engineering. Her parents, who were fish vendors in Malabon, supported her schooling. I also learned from my godfather how to help in the fish trade, and during summers I worked with them to help my own parents with food expenses.

I was able to enroll in college through a scholarship from an organization that had sponsored the speech contests I joined in elementary and high school. By then, my father had stopped working on furniture projects due to illness from heavy drinking, and my mother often relied on church help. That’s why, when I told them about my scholarship, they were happy but also sad that they couldn’t support me financially.

During one vacation, I noticed changes: my parents respected me more, and my godparents were proud of me. Their house was next to Rod’s, a childhood friend. One early morning at the market, Rod greeted me warmly, saying the old group missed me. He invited me to a drinking session later that day, which I agreed to.

At the gathering, I reunited with my childhood friends-Mario, Jun, twins Danny and Donald, and Rod. We laughed, drank, and reminisced. As the night wore on, most of them fell asleep, leaving only Rod and me awake.

Rod drew close, showing affection, and we shared an intimate moment. Despite my hesitation, I eventually gave in, since I had long admired him. We expressed feelings that had been hidden for years, and afterward, we fell asleep side by side.

---

Episode 6: ZALDO’S EXCITED

“Zeke is so kind. He studies hard. Even though life is difficult for them, I’m inspired by him.”

Zaldo sighs whenever he remembers the happy moments he shared with Zeke.

How did his deep feelings for his best friend begin? The one he now treasures.

It’s hard to explain, but his attraction to his friend feels like a magnet pulling him in.

He just laughs whenever he recalls Zeke’s playful nickname for their relationship: “Best Friends Plus.”

And he can’t forget the cute grin Zeke makes whenever he says those words.

“You mean… Best Friends with benefits?” Zeke once asked when they shared their first kiss.

Zaldo didn’t know what to say. But he was already completely smitten.

From the very first day of high school, when they introduced themselves, Zeke had a unique aura.

Thick eyebrows, a sharp nose with a hint of Spanish or European-almost Turkish-features. Naturally red lips of perfect fullness, impossible not to notice. Eyes that seemed shy, speaking with a touch of sadness. Which made his smile even more captivating.

Zaldo noticed that Zeke was hesitant to talk to strangers, as if just observing. But when he spoke, it was clear he had wide knowledge of many things. His hands would gesture slightly when he wanted to emphasize something in class.

“Class, I want you to introduce yourselves in front. One by one.”

That was Mrs. Inting, their class adviser.

One by one they introduced themselves, starting from the back where the boys had rushed to sit earlier. The girls had taken the front seats.

That became their seating arrangement for first and fourth year, under Mrs. Inting. They had different advisers in second and third year.

Efren started first-he looked smart too.

In fact, all of them were honor students from different villages and barangays in South Metro Manila.

That’s why they were placed in Section A-1, even higher than Section 1. Like Manila Science or Philippine Science, their curriculum was advanced. They even had a laboratory classroom. The principal once told them it was an “experimental class.”

Then it was Zeke’s turn. At first he was shy, but once he got going, he spoke so well. His voice was gentle yet firm, pleasant to listen to.

“Maybe he’s a good singer,” Zaldo thought. “His voice is beautiful!”

Later, during a Christmas play at the town church grounds, Zaldo was surprised to hear a voice in the background. “That’s Zeke’s voice, isn’t it?” he asked Gerry.

They had been together earlier, but Zeke had disappeared in the crowd. “He just went to pee,” Gerry said.

Then the host thanked the background narrator-it was Zeke.

“So that’s what ‘just peeing’ means, huh?” Zaldo teased.

“You were the one speaking, bro?” he asked Zeke, who only answered with a mischievous smile.

“It was nothing. Just a sideline!” Zeke said.

And they all laughed.

Back to that first introduction in class…

When Zeke looked at Zaldo during his turn, he smiled.

But Zaldo didn’t hold his gaze long, because he noticed many of the girls staring at him intently.

He knew he was handsome-probably the most handsome in class. But to him, Zeke was even more attractive. And such a good speaker.

Zeke’s introduction had felt like a short speech, so when it was Zaldo’s turn, he felt nervous with the whole class staring at him.

But his looks won the girls’ attention.

Even the boys admired his presence-like an Adonis.

He noticed Zeke staring at him too, impressed.

From then on, they grew closer, especially since they sat beside each other.

And as a bonus, Zeke wasn’t stingy about letting him copy assignments, quizzes, exams-anything.

So Zaldo made him part of his circle of friends. Thus was born the “Z and Company”-Zaldo, Zeke, and others.

The boys even joked about adding “Z” to their names to join the group. Efren became “Zefren.”

“It was so much fun,” Zaldo thought whenever he remembered how the barkada was formed.

But the happiest part was meeting Zeke. Zeke supported him in school pageants, and Zaldo supported Zeke in speech contests. Mutual admiration. Which turned into sweet glances.

At first, he would invite Zeke to bike rides and outings, pretending Gerry was the one inviting. Eventually, the three became inseparable.

Later, Zaldo even invited Zeke to live in their backyard hut when Zeke struggled with his family situation and noisy lodging.

One time, the group went swimming in a river in Cavite. A classmate lived there.

But Zeke almost drowned.

That’s when Zaldo realized he would never let his best friend down. He nearly drowned himself but fought to save Zeke. Luckily, Gerry was a strong swimmer and helped.

They became even closer. Zaldo, Gerry, and Zeke-the school’s heartthrobs. Many girls admired them.

But many gay classmates also hovered around them. First Gerry, then Zeke.

Still, Zaldo’s heart was with Zeke.

He was happiest when Zeke slept beside him. Zeke didn’t know that Zaldo often woke up at night just to watch his angelic sleeping face.

“Ahh, Zeke. If only you were mine,” Zaldo whispered whenever he saw his friend asleep. Eventually, he learned to love him-even though they were both boys.

Zeke was dashing in Zaldo’s eyes, especially when he defended him from bullies in his neighborhood. Even the local tough guys respected Zeke.

Zaldo fell deeper. Sometimes he woke up wanting to kiss Zeke. Being taller and bigger, he hugged Zeke like a pillow when they slept.

It was a sign of his love.

At first, just as a friend. But later, desire grew-especially one drunken night when he dreamed of Zeke pressing against his back on their narrow bed.

In the dream, they were playing basketball, on opposing teams. Zeke was guarding him closely, his body pressed against him.

He felt Zeke’s hardness against him, and he liked it.

The warmth of Zeke’s body in the cold dawn was intoxicating.

In the dream, it turned into a one-on-one game. Still pressed against him.

He tried to push Zeke away, but his hand slipped inside Zeke’s shorts and briefs. He felt him fully hard. Desire surged, his palm burning with heat.

It seemed to grow even bigger in his hand. He squeezed harder. Was it just a dream?

Then something spilled. He thought it was sweat. But when he woke, his hand was sticky.

“Was I dreaming?” he asked his awakened friend.

“Dreaming or realizing? Which is the right word for what happened?”

That night, they spoke seriously. Zaldo confessed his feelings. He hid nothing. And Zeke admitted his own.

“My love is truly understanding,” Zaldo whispered as he remembered.

But what saddened him was their sudden separation. Zeke moved to Manila to study and live.

The most painful part was that Zeke held a grudge-because he once saw Zaldo with Gerry, relieving themselves together.

“Why did he have to see that? He should’ve just joined us. Gerry’s part of the group too,” Zaldo thought.

“I hope we can talk at Efren’s birthday tomorrow. I’m excited to see you again, Zeke!”

Zaldo sighed at the thought.

Episode 7: REUNITED

One of my earliest dreams came true: I graduated from high school.

I also finished college through a scholarship, while Zaldo never went to college.

Our meetings became less frequent when I moved to a boarding house in Manila, but there were still occasions when we gathered with Gerry and the rest of our high school crew, usually when there was something to celebrate.

One of those was Efren’s birthday. He was part of the “Z Crew,” a group formed from the names Zeke and Zaldo. At that time, I had just started my second year in Engineering in Manila.

By chance, I met Efren when I visited our hometown. I boarded a bus from Manila and found him already seated at the back. I hadn’t noticed him at first.

“Hey Zeke, long time no see,” he greeted.

Since the seat beside me was empty, Efren moved next to me.

“How are you, Efren? You’re studying in Manila too?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m in my second year in Accounting,” he replied.

“By the way, it’s my birthday. The crew will be at my house-Zaldo, Gerry, and the rest of our high school friends. Good thing we met. You should come!” he invited.

I hesitated when I heard Zaldo and Gerry’s names. Efren noticed.

“You don’t want to? Got other plans?” he pressed.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I said. “I just need to drop by somewhere first, but I’ll definitely follow.”

“I’ll count on that, okay? Zaldo and the crew miss you,” Efren added.

Of course, I already knew about the occasion. We had a group chat for events like Efren’s birthday-the Z & Company GC. Some of us were even starting small businesses, still in trial stages, but enough to practice what others were studying in business courses. We weren’t just friends anymore; we were slowly becoming business partners too.

I wanted to change the subject. Suddenly, I felt sad. Fresh in my mind were the things I had seen between Zaldo and Gerry.

I accepted it in thought.

But not in my heart. I’ll admit-I was hurt. It seemed like they enjoyed kissing each other so much, while Zaldo and I only managed awkward little smacks.

I’ll also admit Gerry was a good kisser. We enjoyed it more than once.

“In fairness, maybe that’s why Zaldo enjoyed it with him-because Gerry carried it with confidence,” I whispered to myself.

“Why am I jealous?” I kept thinking.

“Oh, I know. Because I love Zaldo, and he told me he loved me too.”

And as far as I can remember, our beginning was beautiful… from the very first meeting.

“Handsome!” our female classmates shouted when Zaldo introduced himself to Section A-1.

Shy but brave, Zaldo stood in front:
“I’m Zaldo. From Daniel Fajardo Elementary School. Hobby: biking. Likes: easygoing friends. I’m also into male pageantry. If given the chance, maybe I could be an actor.” Then he added, “Just kidding!”

But honestly, it wasn’t a joke. He really looked like a celebrity-tall, handsome, smooth-skinned, fair but not too pale.

“Wow, he’d be great to be friends with,” I thought to myself.

Coincidentally, Zaldo sat beside me on the first day of class.

I don’t know. It felt like there was a magnet between us. Mutual admiration. From the very start, we easily got along.

“Sit here, it’s free,” Zaldo offered. “Thanks,” I replied without hesitation.

As I spoke, Zaldo seemed mesmerized. He said I was pleasant to listen to-shy at first, but confident once I started talking.

He noticed that the more I spoke, the more he enjoyed looking at me.

“What’s this? I feel like I’m falling for your words, bro,” Zaldo teased.

“Wow, you like me already?” I joked back.

“Yeah, haha!” Zaldo laughed loudly.

“Kiss! Kiss!” our male classmates teased. Gerry, who had known Zaldo since elementary, led the chant, joined by Efren, who was new to the group.

Without shame, Zaldo kissed me on the cheek like a brother. I just laughed, while the group cheered.

Some of the girls were clearly thrilled, while others frowned, saying they had crushes on both of us.

“What’s this?” some girls teased. “The school crushes might end up together. Haha!”

“We’re doomed! No chance for us!” others shouted.

And that’s how the fun in Section A-1 began. The whole day was filled with laughter and teasing.

Zaldo and I, along with the new crew, became inseparable-during recess, snacks at the canteen, even bathroom breaks. We quickly bonded.

And that’s also how our love story began-on the very first day of high school. No malice, but there was a spark we tried to hide.

It looked like simple teasing, but as days passed, the excitement grew whenever we were together. We missed each other as soon as classes ended, and we looked forward to seeing each other again the next day.

The bus had gone far, passing Roxas Boulevard and along the sea toward South Manila.

My thoughts had also traveled far, mixing sadness and joy.

I was startled when Efren said goodbye as he got off the bus. I waved and said, “Okay bro, I’ll follow later. Just visiting my parents first!”

And then he was gone from sight.

By afternoon, I arrived at Efren’s place. The crew had already been drinking, noisy and lively. I greeted Efren first, then sat far from Zaldo and Gerry, who were side by side.

I noticed both kept glancing at me, as if wondering why I hadn’t greeted them.

Zaldo’s face grew sad when I joined the drinking without approaching him. He whispered to Gerry.

Soon, Gerry came over, sat beside me, and whispered, “Zeke, are you mad?”

“Huh? At who? No, I’m not mad at anyone. Promise,” I answered.

Gerry replied with a hint of hurt: “You’ve changed, Zeke. Even with me and Zaldo-you don’t pay attention anymore. Weren’t the three of us inseparable?”

I saw Zaldo looking at us, his eyes dim, as if he was about to cry. I wanted to comfort him, to go to him. My mind resisted, but my heart screamed only his name.

“Zeke, Zaldo loves you very much,” Gerry said. I looked at him with doubt. “He said that?” I asked.

“Yes, Zeke,” Gerry confirmed. “And me too-I love you as a friend. I’ll do everything to make you happy. You and Zaldo.” His voice trembled, almost in tears.

“I know things happened between you two,” Gerry continued. “And between us too, right?”

“But ours was just pleasure. Just fun. An experiment. Do you want me to help you and Zaldo-not just to reconcile, but to make your sex life better? Because Zaldo said you two still feel awkward. But with me, neither of you did.”

“I’m just your friend. Whatever happens next is up to you.”

“That’s fine with me, Gerry. Just friends. It just hurt seeing you and Zaldo enjoying yourselves. I got jealous,” I admitted.

The drinking continued. Others noticed Gerry and I were having a serious talk, but they didn’t interfere. They sensed tension among the inseparable trio. Zaldo seemed to be waiting for the outcome of our conversation.

“You have nothing to be jealous of, Zeke. Zaldo loves you deeply. And you both are my friends. I’ll do everything to make you happy,” Gerry said gently.

Then he leaned closer to my ear: “Zeke, do you want us to try a threesome?”

I was shocked. But it felt hypnotic, exciting. The sadness in my eyes vanished. And I noticed Zaldo’s emotions seemed to revive as he stared at me.

Episode 8: THREESOME

The birthday celebration had ended, and the night had stretched into the early hours of morning. Without realizing it, the three of us-Zaldo, Gerry, and I-found ourselves together in a motel room. The air was cool, the lights dim, and there was a quiet anticipation hanging between us.

Zaldo leaned closer, his affection clear and unhesitant, as though he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. His warmth and passion stirred something in me, and I felt the sincerity of his emotions. Gerry, too, was there-not just as a companion, but as someone who seemed to guide us, ensuring that the bond between us grew stronger. His presence brought balance, making sure that what unfolded was not just about desire, but about connection.

The night became a blur of closeness and discovery. It was a moment of trust, of shared vulnerability, and of joy that none of us would forget. When morning came, we bathed together, laughter and tenderness filling the room once more.

Before we parted ways, Zaldo whispered words that lingered in my heart: “I love you, Zeke. I love you deeply.” I answered with the same truth, “I love you too, Zaldo.”

That was enough. The doubts I had carried dissolved, replaced by a happiness that seemed boundless. As we returned to our lives, I held onto the memory of that night-the bond we shared, the joy we discovered, and the question that quietly echoed in my mind: When will it happen again.

---

I’ve had many ups and downs in life. But I always remember what Zaldo once revealed to me-that I should guard myself against my tendency to act impulsively… to do things without thinking. Decisions that bring “bad luck.”

The truth is, it’s not really bad luck, but rather the consequence or result of an unthought-out decision.

Like when I said “Whatever happens!” the night I kissed Marie at the JS Prom. Turns out, Tessa saw us.

Tessa got jealous when she saw me kissing Marie. And she later found out that I introduced Marie as my girlfriend to my group, classmates, and even to our adviser, Mrs. Inting.

She told her older brother, who then tried to beat me up. Luckily, Aling Lourdes saw us and saved me from his attempt to hurt me in revenge for his sister, Tessa.

But I also had “Whatever happens” decisions that turned out good. Maybe that’s what they call “faith.”

Like when I said “whatever happens,” I just had to finish high school. Then I would force myself to step into college. Never mind if we were poor. Never mind if it was hard to reach my dreams.

But the “Whatever happens” that really stuck in my mind was when I jumped into a high river even though it was my first time and I wasn’t a good swimmer. Just because of the challenge: “Whoever doesn’t jump is gay.” I did it because I didn’t want to be called gay.

I gave in to the teasing. A decision I didn’t want, but I forced myself for the amusement of others. But it almost cost me my life. And it could have cost the lives of my best friend Zaldo and Gerry too.

That’s why Zaldo’s last words stuck with me: “Let it grow naturally… nothing forced… nothing rushed…”

The first time Zaldo confessed his love to me, and after something happened between us, we didn’t regret it because we talked carefully about how we would face what we felt for each other. Whether it would grow, or lead somewhere else.

When the storm of his relationship with Gerry came, I accepted that the outcome of my love for him was my free surrender to what I saw happening between them. Both of them were my closest companions. One was my dear friend. The other was someone I loved.

In my mind, I could let go. And I accepted wholeheartedly that maybe Zaldo and I weren’t meant for each other. No fights. No noise. No confrontation.

But in my quiet acceptance, and in treating everything as mere experiences, I admit there was still pain in my chest. A sting in my heart. I just comforted myself with the thought that maybe all of this was only temporary.

When the three of us came together after Efren’s birthday, I realized that Zaldo-and even Gerry-would do anything just to make me happy. And I would do the same for them.

But fate truly had other plans. As if everything happened only as a lesson in life. An experience to go through, but not to last forever.

---

I mentioned in the first part of this story that there are indeed things that remain through the passage of time. Things that feel as if they’re right beside you. Events that seem to always be there.

Yet there are also things that time seems to deliberately change and shape. Events that, even if we resist, fate seems to carve out to steer the story in another direction.

What I’m referring to is the expected ending of the story we weave in our lives.

Sometimes, it’s far from what we long for. Sometimes, it’s the opposite of what we anticipate.

Even if we wish for it to last longer, to stretch further, and to continue exactly as we expect, life always has its twists and turns.

There are happy endings. There are sad conclusions. But every step through time is always exciting.

Today it may be this way. Tomorrow, it could be entirely different.

Just like the story of me, Zaldo, and Gerry.

Now, Zaldo already has his own family, and I’m happy for what happened to him.

Gerry ended up with one of our classmates back in high school.

As for me, I ended up with Marietta. I won’t go into detail about our life together for now-perhaps another time.

I also joined a group that teaches young people to know themselves, to accept and love who they are. So that they may also accept and love others.

A great lesson in our story is how the wind can blow in the opposite direction of the happy ending we hope for.

But…

Even if everything changes, what matters is that we learn.

It may come from mistakes or sudden decisions.

Or it may come from lessons learned through the good example of others.

But always remember: as long as we live, the wind can always change direction. The world keeps its surprises, and time keeps flowing.

As long as we’re alive, the story of life has no real ending.

Today you are this. Tomorrow, you don’t know-you may already be someone else, walking a different path, with another twist in your story.

That’s why living is never truly boring. It’s all up to you.

Just ride along. Just enjoy it. Because life is only one. And always choose to celebrate your life. Your being. Whoever you are. Whatever you are. Love yourself.

And in time, you will also learn to love others.

---

Life feels sweeter when you have someone with you, even if you’re alone.

What I mean is, I want to accompany you on your journey, whatever path you take.

I know what you’re feeling. You cry alone while listening to a podcast, as if the story mirrors your life. You relate to it. You remember your past, which connects to your present.

Sometimes you sigh. Sometimes you cry by yourself.

Sometimes you hold back your tears because there are other people around. You wish you had someone to pour your feelings out to.

If only there were someone who truly understood what you’re going through.

And sometimes, like now, you enjoy the excitement of the story we’re sharing here on Wattpad. You see yourself in the story. You imagine the ending you want.

Tell me, when did it start? I mean, when did you feel attraction to the same sex? When did you find yourself thrilled by the sight of a man’s muscular body? When did you feel amused or captivated by every nakedness you saw?

When did you feel the struggle of holding back, but deep inside, if you followed your heart’s desire, you wanted to touch the body of your friend, your officemate, or sometimes even a relative?

Have you ever hidden your longing? That if you only admitted it to yourself, you’ve wanted it for so long. If only it were allowed. If only it were simple. If only there were no complications. If only no one would get hurt.

If only people were free to love anyone. No age. No status. And especially no gender to block the joy you want to taste.

Why does heaven often feel so hard to reach?

There are others who gave in at a young age. They became the target of ridicule, and you don’t want to be like them. Sometimes, they even suffer physical abuse from their parents-especially their fathers.

Others had many women before realizing they were more satisfied with men. Some even married. Some had families. Some grew old before discovering they truly desired men-and found more pleasure in it.

There are many forms. Many shapes. You can never really know the true colors of each person.

At first, it was just LGBT. Then it became LGBTQ. And now, it has a plus (+).

Whoever you are, whatever you are-always remember, life is only one. Be free. Know who you are. Face your true colors. Your true self. No one else will ever know your real desires but you. Only you.

Write to me so we can share together with others what you’ve learned and are still learning in your journey through life: xzql2025@gmail.com

And I ask that you also accompany me in the path I’m about to take. Read our story with positivity and hope.

Don’t worry, this will be our secret. We’ll use different names and places to protect you. You’ll remain private.

Once again, you should never be alone in your sadness, joy, excitement, or grief. I am here for you.

With love,
XzeeQ

P.S.
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