I Have Problems with Proximity

I have long realized that I have a tendency to look haughty and reserved especially when I’m not talking to anyone or when nobody bothers to talk to me. I could appear aloof, snobbish, or even dowager-like at times. So I try to be my friendliest self when interacting with people for the first time (which is not saying much). Although I know I’m very bad at cracking jokes I try anyway. Even if I realize that my sense of humor is a little strange to most I still try to show it just so the people around me can see that I’m not stuck up.

Sad as it may seem, I don’t believe that I’m a naturally friendly person. I’m not the one to approach another and engage them in a conversation. Most of the time, I just sit around and wait for someone to strike up a conversation with me. If no one does so, I just sit in silence.

Being thus, I felt apprehensive with a sprinkling of nervousness when I first walked in the class room last Tuesday, especially when I realized that the people in there had already had the chance to interact with each other the day before (I didn’t make it to the Monday orientation due to reasons I could better explain in another post – it’s a long story!) while I absolutely knew no one.

I get this feeling every time I am about to mingle with a new group of people. I get scared.

Remembering the first day of preschool, I refused to enter the classroom if my aunt (who was my designated nanny during those times) did not come in with me. During the first day of first grade, having seen that my preschool classmates were not my first grade classmates, I almost ran away from the classroom. When I had to transfer to Baguio and study there during high school, it was the same situation on my first day. The same thing happened during my first day in college, my first day of training in my first, second and third jobs. I was always scared to walk into that room filled with faces I saw for the first time.

I felt scared, terrified.

Yes, I usually get over it after a few hours of mingling. I usually forget that I felt that way after having immersed myself in their company for a few days. I pay no mind to how my first day was after having spent a couple of weeks with them but the fact remains that I always fear walking into that room for the first time.

I fear many things. I fear that I won’t be welcome. I fear that I won’t fit in. I fear that they won’t like me. It’s crazy, I know, and I realize that maybe I’m just being paranoid, but that’s the feeling I get and I can’t help it.

Nevertheless, there really is nowhere to go but walk in that room and pray that things will work out fine. It usually does after some time, but it’s always just darn scary the first time.

So in I went, took a cursory glance around the classroom, and thought might as well go on all the way in. After a couple of minutes of staying silent in my seat, I finally braved to ask the girl sitting right beside me some inquiries I had regarding what I needed to do as they may have been given instructions I didn’t know about due to my absence the day before that. Eventually I found myself immersed in a friendly conversation with the rest of the group and thought this isn’t bad at all.

Maybe I just got really lucky that I was assigned to a group of friendly people. Whatever the reason, we all got along just fine and I’m actually enjoying the class. We have fun, get rowdy and crazy and really noisy sometimes, but we’re all just having fun. We’ll all stay together in class for a couple more weeks and I’m sure we’ll continue on having fun together.

Adjusting for Comfort?

Since I like to explore options for public transportation, I decided to take a bus from Diliman going to Ayala this morning. Although I was quite sure that the bus ride would surely make me arrive late for my appointment – considering how heavy the traffic could be along East Avenue and EDSA at any given time of day – I didn’t care. I just wanted to know whether a bus ride was a more convenient choice if I were to go to Makati.

Apparently, it wasn’t. Should I have taken the MRT from Quezon Avenue to Ayala, I would’ve saved both time and money. The only real convenience in taking the bus is that you don’t have to get squashed during the travel as is the case if you ride the MRT.

And, Oh! If I haven’t taken that bus this morning, I wouldn’t have thought of anything else to write about. And no, I’m not writing about the pros and cons of getting a bus ride against taking the MRT. I’m writing about the dude I sat beside in that bus.

I’m not sure if it’s just me, but lately I feel like there’s a lot of sexual tension all around and everywhere I look there seems to be something sensual or provocative or erotic. Take, for example, my last post about a guy’s fingers (insert wink here).

This time it’s not any particular body part. It’s the way the dude I sat beside kept adjusting his crotch.

He had a copy of People Magazine and a Starbucks Planner resting on his lap when I took the seat beside his. I remember choosing to sit beside him because he was the one who looked the least threatening – about early to mid twenties, clean cut hair, green shirt and khaki plaid shorts.

I usually mind my own business while riding in a public transport, but with the traffic and all, I found myself looking at the magazine on his lap. Again, I’m not sure if it’s just me, but he shifted the magazine and planner a few inches towards his knees, lifted his shirt enough to reveal his pants’ waistline then, to my surprise (honestly, I was surprised), his left hand crept through the waistline, into his pants, and, I can only guess, adjusted his wiener. After about five minutes he was apparently not content with the way his crotch was positioned. He lifted his buttocks a little, then reached inside his pants, and did some adjustments... for comfort? I guess so.

The traffic was already making me uncomfortable that time. I could understand it could have made him feel so, too, but I was half fearing and half expecting to see something peeking out from the waistband of his shirts when, for the third time, he adjusted his crotch again. I can’t say if it’s good or bad, but no “thingy” peeked out, and I’d guess he finally found the most comfortable position because he fell asleep after that.

So what’s the moral of the story?

Next time, take the train… Not! Learn to take a Hint!

Fingers

He rode the jeepney and took the seat right across mine. Tall and fair; averagely built; he was exactly my type! I couldn’t help it. I stared.

Good thing luck was feeling merciful that time. I was wearing my ultra-dark sun glasses so at least he didn’t notice I was (for lack of a more descriptive term) gawking.

He wasn’t strikingly handsome, really… but I couldn’t help but trace the curve of his bushy brows, watch the sparkle in his dark brown eyes, the sunlight hitting the tip of his pert nose, and imagine how soft those pink lips would feel… no… not really handsome. Some may even consider him to be just average, but I definitely think he’s cute (otherwise I wouldn’t even bother trying to write about him).

Then he fished his phone out of his pocket. That was when I noticed his fingers, his long and tapered and soft-looking fingers.

I rarely look at a man’s fingers and I never considered fingers to be a man’s sexiest body part. I don’t know what or why but I was fixated with his. There was something oozing with sexiness in those fingers, really painfully, achingly sexy.

In the next few minutes all I could see were his fingers and I felt like nothing else existed…

Then my wiener twitched…

Snap! Back to reality, I almost missed my stop!

Then with one final glance at those sexy digits, I got off the jeepney, feeling a little weird. That was one heck of a ten-minute ride going home.

For Starters...

I said I do things at a whim. This blog is just one good example.

I'm not even really sure what this blog's gonna be about but I'm guessing (based on the title I made up and thought about for 10 seconds) that it's all about what in the world I go through in my daily life in the metro. I've got to do a little back story first, though...

I'm thinking the next couple of entries will be about how I got here; the stuff I did; the consequences; the little adventures. I'll try to post as much of my story as I can as frequently as possible, but, knowing myself, that would usually mean once a week at most.

I'll try really hard, though...

Prologue

Call me mountain boy.

Yeah, I’m from the mountains… uh… was… from a small city called Baguio, atop the mountains of Benguet, and no, I’m not a native of the mountains. I was born on flat land, but have lived most of my life in the mountains mainly because my parents decided they wanted to live the rest of their lives in that gorgeous and pine-covered city with the cool afternoon breeze and chilly night winds.

That’s where I came from.

I still don’t really know why, but it seems that, on a whim, I decided to move to the Metro almost a month ago. I know I told people I was moving because I wanted to go back to school and that the courses I wanted to take was only offered in UP Diliman and thus I needed to move to Quezon City so I can conveniently go to school. Right now, though, I’m not sure I believe that that’s really the reason.

Maybe I got tired of my life in the mountains. Maybe I wanted something different from what I’ve been accustomed to. Maybe I wanted to experience living life away from my parents and be able to do what I want whenever I want to like party all night every night and not get scolded for it. Maybe, like Belle from Beauty and the Beast who wanted “adventure in the great, wide somewhere”, I wanted to have a little adventure of my own.

Whatever the reason that brought me here, here I am… mountain boy in the metro… having an adventure.