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[av_heading heading=’Also, Love (Part 2)’ tag=’h3′ style=’blockquote modern-quote’ size=” subheading_active=’subheading_below’ subheading_size=’15’ padding=’10’ color=” custom_font=” av-medium-font-size-title=” av-small-font-size-title=” av-mini-font-size-title=” av-medium-font-size=” av-small-font-size=” av-mini-font-size=” admin_preview_bg=”]
BY PETER SOLIS NERY
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January 31, 2018
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WHEN I was admitted to the Nursing school, I looked for the teacher who interviewed me, and I told him, “In truth, I wanted to study Nursing because I want to go to America, and Nursing is the easiest way; the passport, so to speak. In America,” I told him, “I want to have a comfortable life. I want to be compensated accordingly — in dollars — for my time and effort. (There is no money in writing, especially in the Philippines!) I want to find a boyfriend who will not take advantage of me financially just because I am gay. I want to live where the neighbors do not mind — do not even care — who is in my bed, or what we do inside my bedroom. Just because I am gay, I do not want to be teased, jeered at, or humiliated by ignorant Filipino words — bakla, bayot, binabae, bading, pusong mamon. I want to be seen by my fellow human beings as a good and decent person—loving, generous, caring, and without any intention of doing something that would hurt or wound anyone.”
The consul was amused by my I-want-to-see-autumn response. “You made my day!” he smiled as he granted me my tourist visa.
Immediately, I borrowed money from friends and family, made a few loans, and flew to California. Hello, Hollywood! Hello, Disneyland!
I became a Registered Nurse in Los Angeles. And while working on my immigration papers, I discovered the power of the Internet.
I created an account with AOL, which gave me, not just an email address so I could continue to communicate with my friends and relatives in the Philippines; but also access to chatrooms (remember this is 2006, and Facebook wasn’t as big as it is today), which, in turn, allowed me to talk to other people who were also logged on to their computers.
In the beginning, I visited the chatrooms of writers and cinephiles like me. But on the third day, I got bored with all those chatroom braggarts and know-it-alls, who talked and made comments as if they were more knowledgeable and talented than most, even if I have probably written more stories, or watched more movies, than they have.
So, blame boredom and idleness, but it happened that, even if I was nervous and apprehensive, I ventured into the gay chatrooms. I virtually went through all the AOL gay chatrooms except AOL Gay Teens because I don’t really fancy twinks and minors.
In AOL Gay 20s, the chatroom was always full. I could barely join the group. And if I could, nobody really talked to me in the room. But many would private message me.
I often thought these twenty-somethings were itching seriously; and wanting badly to copulate. They are in a rush to find someone who can scratch their lust and horniness.
To seduce and tempt me, they would send their naked photos. Photographs of their genitals! At first, I was so repulsed. But after a few days of culture shock, I realized I was no longer in Dumangas, no longer in Iloilo! (To be continued/PN)
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