The Guest Who Went Abroad

“Where are your regular guests?”

Whenever I ask this question to the macho dancers I’ve tabled, I usually get a “wala naman akong regular guest (I don’t have regular guests)” from them. I feel this is a quick response from them, as to not make me jealous of an invisible someone who “owns” the macho dancer I am with. Some of course may be telling the truth (kung wala naman talaga). But there are those who admit that yes, they had a regular guest before, but who has now gone abroad.

It’s always a variation of this “gone abroad” line at different gay bars, from different macho dancers. “Wala na, nasa ibang bansa na” and “Nag-migrate na sa _____ (insert country)” and “Bumalik na sa ______ (choose from the following: Korea / Japan / Taiwan)” are the most common replies.

But why is it that previous regular guests, almost always, have left the country already? Is there a constant mass migration of regular gay bar goers to various parts of the world?

My thoughts and experience on this, after the jump:

Dematisse

This past Saturday night, inside 19 East Bar along South Super Highway, I asked “Stewart” who was drinking beer beside me, where he usually went for gimmicks with friends.

This was the first time the both of us went out, outside the confines of the gay bar he’s working in. After months of unanswered text messages and mismatching schedules, I finally got to go out and hang out with him. Ironically, it was in another bar – we ordered the same light beer we’d usually get in his bar, but this time without half-naked men dancing onstage. At least, we were not in another macho dancer bar.

“Nasa bahay lang ako madalas. Nakakatamad kasi umalis pag walang pasok, (I’m usually at home. I get too lazy to go out of there’s no work)” he replied.

“Pero kung hindi sa bahay, saan kayo pumupunta ng mga kaibigan mo? (But if you don’t stay at home, where do you go with your buddies?)” I probed.

“Basketball minsan. O sa mall. Minsan naman, pagkatapos ng pasok, pumupunta kami ng mga ka-work ko sa Dematisse. (Sometimes, play basketball. Or go to the mall. Sometimes, after work, my co-workers and I go to Dematisse).”

Dematisse. That bar.

Yes, I’ve heard of that bar before. The wonderful world of Dematisse.

What happens in Dematisse, after the jump:

The Meal between 7pm and 10pm

“Stewart” and I were supposed to meet earlier for dinner. We made quick arrangements yesterday to meet up tonight before he goes to work. Between 7pm to 10pm

This time is sort of the “holy grail” if a customer would want to meet up quickly with a macho dancer or hosto outside of the bar. They are usually free at this time -- after they wake-up at 6-7 pm and before their call time of 9-10 pm. On a regular day, this is the time they take a quick shower, dress up for work, catch a glimpse of some local TV shows, and grab a quick bite at home, before they head out for a 30-minute to an hour commute to work.

But oftentimes, they would rush to go to work without having eaten anything yet. Once they arrive in their bar, they would either order a one ulam (viand) rice meal from the bar’s kitchen, or sneak outside to eat at the nearby carinderia, or eat a few pieces of pandesal / egg they brought, or suffer the entire night without having eaten anything (worse, they’d be drinking beer on an empty stomach). They’d be lucky if a customer who “tabled” them that night would order one or two plates of bar chow together with their drinks. Of course, they’d be luckier if the matakaw customer would order so much (attention: my friend, “Ringo”) that, as one macho dancer said, with this free meal, “kanin na lang ang kulang.”

So I thought an invitation to dine out – call it either my dinner or their “breakfast” – would be accepted without hesitation. I never got a refusal from any boy who was on his way to work; some of them even invite us out. What’s to lose from a free dinner treated by a customer?

I don’t know, but Stewart never replied if our dinner would push through tonight.   

GB Goer
Learn more: Lessons from Gay Bars in Manila
http://machosandhostos.blogspot.com/
email: char.affairs@gmail.com; Follow at twitter: @gbgoer

"Stewart", Part 2

(Continued from Part 1)

Two weeks passed. No communication. Break from going to “Kingdom Come” (Friends and I went to “Home Base” instead). I forgot about Stewart.

On the eve of Christmas Eve, I decided to visit the bar, with my gay friend, after a surprising text kumusta from Stewart and a lengthy sms conversation with him (despite him never even mentioning for me to pay him a visit). Upon seeing him, feelings resurfaced. Yes, I was so in-like, but I had to restrain myself because I believed I was just one of his customers. I wanted to ask him out, but had to find a way without making the invitation sound sleazy. Good thing we left the bar until it closed. The opportunity to bring him home opened. Even if the idea came from him, after I agreed, he was nahihiya at first because he lived far south. But I insisted, and assured him that I would often do this to my previous boys.

The 30-minute car ride was the closest I can get to a date with Stewart outside the bar. I was nervous, unsure. I wanted to spend more time with him, like offering to treat him for breakfast or maybe go on a booking so that he has more money to bring home for Christmas. I didn’t want to sound sleazy to him, like taking advantage of the situation.

But nothing happened. I just dropped him off at a distance from his house. He rushed to walk home, even forgetting his cellphone inside the car. So I made a u-turn, asked the neighbors where he lived. I got to his place. He rushed again to my car to retrieve my phone. Apparently, his dad and sister were already awake at 5am, and outside the house. So they saw my silhouette inside the car. What could they have thought – their boy going home nightly at that hour, but this time brought home by a guy with a car?

With that thought in mind, I was apologetic. He replied that it was perfectly okay, after a very grateful text message. No questions were asked by his folks apparently.

It’s been almost a week since that night. We greeted each other last Christmas. We sent a few messages every now and then, before I left for a post-Christmas family trip. But the entire day and even tonight, no word from him.

I texted him “I miss you”, just before starting this post.

(Names here are not their actual bar names, which are also pseudonyms to protect their real identities. All names here have been tweaked a bit – with an added little hint on their bar names).

"Stewart", Part 1

Since my split up with “Air” last October, I’ve been going to “Kingdom Come” with my trusty skemperkada. After sixteen or so boys I’ve met this past year, I noticed that I’ve been very picky with selecting boys.

I tabled “Carlos Magdangal” on my first visit in late November. I thought he was a catch – young, resembled a popular young actor, smooth-talker – until he asked me that same night to bagsak 25 drinks as points for the big event “Mr. Kingdom Come 2010” where he participated as contender. Too fast. Masyadong presko. Then came “Cole”, who was all sweet and charming, but whom I couldn’t really connect with. After those two, I thought I would never meet anyone good enough from that bar. Then jackpot, I was introduced to “Stewart”.

23, boyish, lean, tall, lanky, clean-cut hair parted sideways. He can carry a good conversation. Varied topics. Not the typical MD-guest conversations. Only a few dead air moments. Witty. Never awkward. Never pushy. Only slightly bolero. Nice innocent smile. Shares his personal photos in his phone. No regular guest (good, no competition!) Good head on his shoulders. No turn off traits so far.

Inside the bar, to loosely quote Rihanna, he could make me feel like I’m his only guest in the world. I was so in-like.

But I have a feeling though he just treats me as a guest, nothing more. I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to put much effort in reaching out to me outside the context of the bar. He rarely initiates text messages, which is so different from Hobbes, who manages to contact me often. We can go on for days without any contact. He’s the first macho dancer who didn’t send a text message during my travels abroad. Even if I am in town, I never got the invitation to meet up outside. I was resigned to the fact that, yes, I might just be a customer and nothing else.

To be continued...

(Names here are not their actual bar names, which are also pseudonyms to protect their real identities. All names here have been tweaked a bit – with an added little hint on their bar names).