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BY PETER SOLIS NERY
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Flirting / looking
MY FRIENDS are worried about me. Because I lost my husband two years ago. They think I don’t get much sex nowadays.
Oh, they don’t know! My friends don’t know. They don’t have a clue.
But it’s true. I don’t have a current boyfriend.
I am single. Available. And am I ever ready to mingle!
So, yes. I’m looking, but not desperately. Still, I have to advertise myself. If I am to be taken seriously.
I mean, how does anyone know I’m in the market if I don’t sell myself?
How does one sell one’s self?
First, the stats.
Gay men almost always ask for my age. And I hate it. Because I’m 48, but I look like 28. Okay, maybe 35 on a bad day.
Still, I look young for my age. Just ask my friends. Credit my Asian genes, healthy lifestyle, happy disposition, being comfortably retired at 45, or something.
In America, I am always placed around 28. Because most Americans really look ancient at 33. Not everybody is a Tom Cruise, you know.
And not everybody can afford “the works” on one’s face and body.
Stereotypically, Asians look younger than their age. That’s a fact. Thank God, I got my Filipino genes.
Next, interested gay men ask for my height and weight. I’m 127 lbs on 5’4”.
It’s not so bad. In fact, it’s a pretty cute size. Chart it, draw it. I swear it will turn out proportionally sexy.
I’m pretty lean at 127 lbs on 5”4”. It’s a runner’s body. Or a swimmer’s. Or a dancer’s.
In short, I’m freaking sexy. Only, because most gay men think I’m just a pup, they assume I’m a bottom.
Which is definitely not the case!
Sure, I’ll definitely bottom every now and then. But only for certain people!
I mean, if you see a god, wouldn’t you worship him?
I mean, if it’s Tom Cruise, or Ashton Kutcher, I’ll let them do whatever they want to do with me. I’m not picky!
Among gay men in the US, facial hair is the new attractive. I know. I like it, too.
And I am as smooth as a baby’s buttock. So, between a muscled bear and a twinky pup like me, I stand to lose.
Then, there’s the ethnicity factor. I’m Asian, technically. But “Asian” to most American gay men means slit eyes, yellow skin, small dick.
I’m neither of the above. And definitely, not a small dick. So, I claim my Spanish blood, and say I have mixed ethnicity. Mixed blood. Who cares if I’m only five percent Spanish? Although I think I’m about 25 or 30 percent.
Let’s see again what’s counting against me: Smoothness (or absence of heavy body and facial carpeting), twink features (at 48), age 48 (even though I look much younger), Asian ethnicity (which I really can’t deny), and the assumption that I’m a bottom (which is not really a bad thing, except that the gay landscape in America is mostly bottomlandia!).
Sure, there is a small demand for effeminates and transvestites. And I can possibly win in that category if I put my heart and ass into it.
But I’m not interested in presenting myself as a girl, or a woman!
Again, and again. This I will say: I will only take the position of a woman, if I stand to receive a diamond ring. Or, if I am going to be lavished like a princess.
Okay, okay. I did dress up like a woman several times. But only as a performer. As an actor. Because I was lavished with much attention.
But I’m not going to act like a woman with anyone less than Tom Cruise, or Ashton Kutcher. Oh, and even with Tom, I might even try to be butch. We’re almost the same age, you know. I think. (Fact checked: Tom is 55, I’m 48!)
So, if these things are working against me, what have I to offer?
Well, my strengths are best experienced in a face to face meeting.
Or, an extended chat. Of which I am not really a fan.
But if you are lucky to meet me, you’ll easily understand why. I’m drop dead smart. Exceedingly funny. And thoroughly enjoyable company.
I’m never boring. I surprise people all the time. Why, I even surprise myself often.
I’m also less bitchy and brassy compared to my writing persona.
I can actually be shy. Except in the bedroom.
Now, if you are lucky to get past first base, and get to be intimate with me, you’ll discover not only the best version of me.
As a bonus, you’ll also get a better version of yourself!
How does that work?
Well, think of gold dust. Or wet paint. You can’t touch it without being rubbed off with some kind of brilliance or color.
The only thing you can’t get from me is STD and HIV. Because I always try to keep myself clean and disease-free.
I am not a posterboy for HIV testing and AIDS awareness for nothing!
I’ll be visiting the Philippines next month. I’ll be in Iloilo starting Aug. 18. I’m staying until Sept. 8. But some of those weekends are blocked off for Koronadal (I’m giving another weekend writing workshop there); and Manila (to touch base with my friends and fans).
Will I be looking for a boyfriend? Not with the same purposiveness as in The September Project of 2015.
I mean, again: I’m looking, but not desperately.
I’m not choosy. Not at my age. If God (or Fate, for those who can’t believe God is leading my ways) gives me something, who am I to refuse it?
I’m not choosy. But it doesn’t mean I no longer have a standard.
So, what am I looking for this August?
If the guy wants to be serious, like get into a relationship with me, he’s got to have some money. Or some real talent like business savvy. I’m not giving up on my ideal of a gay power couple shining brightly under the spotlight in Iloilo.
If it’s just for fun, like NSA (for no strings attached) I like them boys young. But legal. And preferably under 25. They must be movie star gorgeous. Or hung like a horse. Or willing to eat exotic sensual delights. Or simply open to all the permutations of fun ever known in this, and the past centuries.
Again, I’m not choosy. I’m just Peter Solis Nery, flirting and looking. But not desperately. (500tinaga@gmail.com/PN)
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