Eating Out 2

To say that I was ekskayted about meeting Ayel in person was an understatement. I was ecstatic. Please give it to me as I give it to him: I have never dated someone like him--with, yes, thank you u-know-me, the presupposed disposition that the date was a potential lover--in my life.

Many years ago, I dated a nurse and found myself romantically involved with her for more than four years, excluding the painful many months of recovering from the painful separation. After her came several encounters most of which were easily forgotten for their insignificance until came Athan, the 18-year old Ateneo boy who, okay--let's forget about it.

Not that the nurse and Athan were smaller than Ayel because of his profession (for one, Athan is yet to get one) but the thrill of dating someone whose job must be kept in a safe was something bigger than the news about the Moros getting their own state in Mindanao or the Mindanao lumads, frustrated over their miserable state now, delivering their own address.

I had to assure Ayel that his secret would be safe with me. To which, he replied: "I want it to be safer." I sensed a little problem there. For me, his statement was loaded. Or perhaps I was just overthinking things. That I was just taking matters seriously as seriously as I rush in to feed my desires--both carnal and not-so-carnal.

And he was not. I mean, he was not really taking things seriously. The same way that he hates serious talks about politics and all that.

Just like how he managed to ask me who is better between Britney and Christina. It turned out that he's a Britney fan but concurred to the contention that Christina has the better voice. He said Britney, compared to Christina, is sexier and all that. Mostly during this time, I was just laughing.

And he also made me choose between Nora and Vilma. I had to think hard. I wanted to pick Vilma but I ended up not picking a name right away because while I am not a Nora fan, I don't like Vilma either. Ayel's a Nora fan.

Thanks to his mother who influenced his taste. As we were sharing the flat rice noodles of that Vietnamese restaurant--the one that he did not like at all--he said: "Once, I blamed my mom for feeding me mostly meat."