Pedro used to wake up at dawn to jog.
That seems too far away and too long
ago now but he used to jog and swim and work-out when he had all
the free time in world...
And he always had lots of free time
in Manila.
Now in his mid-life, Pedro frequently
stops to remember. Certain things make him remember...there seems to be
so much to remember...
For instance, when he sees a gumamela
flower abloom, he remembers the leaves that fenced Plaza Lawton, that thick
canopy that hid the mysteries of gay nights in Plaza Lawton during the
eighties, a canopy that got thinned in some spots and when he pushed his
way through those spots, a different world opened, a world of nightly
men shadows, sometimes sparse, sometimes swarming all over the place, new
and dark and sinister and risque, and oh so beautiful...one man's
silhouette was leaning against a tree, a slim body was reclining on a bench,
displayed like a mannequin... called the night Cleopatras of this
tropical city, they remained unmoving, always waiting.
Pedro stopped beside
the reclining figure, to check him out under the moonlight, (if he were
the One, that'd be cool, and their body language would begin exchanging
fantasies, interests, desires, always playing straight men, there were
no efffeminates in Lawton. Because cruising Manila style had only one rationale
- one must have sex with a straight or straight-acting guy.) But this one
was both effeminate, make-up and all, and well...too old for the then twenty-one
year old Pedro.
Pedro met Paulo, Paulo was a gay man
in his mid thirties.
Paulo: Say, you young gays of the eighties
are soooo lousy. You are nothing compared to my generation in the seventies.
In the seventies, men, very, very straight men came to this place with
only one object in mind: to experiment sex with another man.
Pedro: And?
The mid-thirties and balding Paulo switched
his position, now full of passion in his eyes: Of course men of different
stripes, looks and build came here for that reason alone.
Pedro: So they said...
Paulo: They were strollers that came
from all directions: from Quiapo, from Luneta, from Manila Bay, from Intramuros,
as if lost.
Pedro: Yeah sure...
Paulo: Next thing you knew, they were
descending down the underpass of City Hall, emerging here in the Lawton
bushes, or beside the trees of Freedom Park right in front of the Post
Office, or behind the Old Congress, standing with their pants down, moaning,
with some gay like me kneeling in front of them...Until one day...oh
I don't mind re-telling this to you, you...you Young Queen of the eighties!
One day, getting tired from walking down this lane, I sat on this same
bench where we are sitting now. Out of the blue came six young boys, you
know, fresh from the nearby Lyceum University; they just finished a basketball
game, they lost the game...and they said they wanted to release their frustration
in Lawton...I immediately understood what they were trying to tell me.
I stared at the tallest and the best looking, he was one I'd be willing
to work on. When I got near him, he said, "Whoa, wait a minute! If you'd
work on me, you must work on the rest of the team also! I don't want nobody
telling me I spent time with you faggot all by mysself. All for one, one
for all - like the three fucking Musketters." Working with the first
two was fine, by the fourth my lips were numb, by the sixth, I was about
to collapse.I was in full lock-jaw! I was counting on some other gays to
help me out. But no one did come.The after-effect was not fun at all, I
felt I did mere work, not sex. And these boys, let me tell you, when
they're done releaving themselves of libido, started having
this guilt-complex, a guilt projected to me, an easy excuse for the
sin they committed...After I serviced them, the tone of their voices rose
up, suddenly sounding mad. I ran, they ran after me, calling me names...they
quickly lost me.
Pedro: Wow, you're wild, man.
Paulo: What's amazing about it all is
this: despite all the danger, I keep on returning to the same spot where
I met them... Especially now, when I am beginning to lose my appeal. That
event, no matter how traumatic it was to me at that time, keeps haunting
my fantasy and imagination. And the more I remember it, the more I get
aroused. That's why I sit here on this bench, re-living that night. I
walk along this lane night after night before I retire to sleep. Ah the
seventies, what a great decade!
Pedro was convinced Paulo was sick in his mind. He came up with a snappy excuse and left.
But today, as he sees the gumamela flower and he himself is in mid-thirties, he wonders why he envies Paulo so much. Why he too starts imagining six men coming his way.
Ah Lawton - it was pulsating, passionate,
exciting - a place for fantasy and anticipation.
home