I was single when I met Allan on the dance floor of a popular bar in Malate. I was in the middle of my law studies then, and he was an agent in a call center. I noticed him immediately; he was tall, with long hair pulled back into a ponytail and eyes that reminded me of an anime character. I positioned myself beside him, and after introductions and some playful bantering, we exchanged numbers.
I saw him again later that night (or morning actually, I left around 3). The friend I had with me already went home. He walked up to me and we talked. One thing led to another, and I found myself inviting him to my apartment.
He was a great kisser, that part I remember. The rest I don't. That's because I fell asleep while we were making out apparently.
(I was a law student cramming 300-400 pages of text everyday. I was tired. Don't judge me.)
So anyway, I woke up, soft morning light coming through my thin gauzy curtains, and saw him sitting on my red sofa a couple of feet away from my bed. I immediately realized what happened, and apologized profusely. He smiled, and said he didn't mind. He liked watching me sleep.
With any other guy I would have laughed because the line was so cheesy, but he managed to pull it off. I fell a little bit in love with him already.
I asked him if he wanted to have breakfast. He said it was already lunchtime. I looked at my watch and saw that he was right. My face reddened. The whole situation was mortifying.
So we went down to my car, and headed to Shangri-la Mall to grab lunch in one of the restaurants there. He was very charming and easygoing that the whole date passed by in a relaxed and comfortable manner. It was already mid-afternoon when I realized how much time had already passed. I told him I needed to start studying for my classes tomorrow, and he said he understood. I walked with him to the nearest taxi station.
He asked me, quite bluntly, if what just happened (or not happened) between us is a one-time deal, or if I wanted to see if we can take our date further. I didn't know how to answer. I didn't know how to explain to him that, marvelous as he was, I didn't feel like I wanted to pursue anything more. He was lovely, but at the time, I wasn't ready. And after getting to know him, I didn't want him to become just a one-night stand, which was all I could offer.
And for some strange reason, I decided to tell him all that. And he said he understood.
I saw him again on the same dance floor a year later. We were both still single, and he was still as handsome as ever. I asked him how he was, and he said that his parents have asked him to move to New York with them. He thought about it, and decided to say yes. I said I was happy for him, and I was. He deserved to be happy. We spoke some more, as if we were friends who haven't seen each other in a long time, rather than strangers who had one date and an (almost) one night stand.
He asked me if I came to the bar with anyone. I said I came with a friend, but he left already. He met someone he liked and they went somewhere else. I told Allan I was alone in a dark, gay bar, which was kind of pathetic. And he said "Of course not. You're not alone. You're with me."
And I smiled and punched him playfully on the shoulder. How he can pull off those cheesy lines, I'll never know.
I never saw him again. But in my head he is always that boy who reminded me I was not alone.
Photo taken here.