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!