For you . . . .

OVER-THE-COUNTER-REMEDIES

An old friend, whom I used to love before, came to me one night and exhausted his worn out emotions from his recently broken relatioship; A new love, he says, that comes at the tail-end of a failed relationship can be any of three things: a band-aid (otherwise known as panakip-butas), ointment (think Tiger Balm, Omega, or Ben Gay), or a painkiller (Alaxan, Aaaaadvil, or Midol. Take your pick).

Flings, One-night-stands, FUBUs - are all short-term or short-lived so - called solutions to the problem at hand, otherwise known as band-aids. As you already know band-aids cover up a wound, keeping the bloody mess from plain view. And like they say; out of sight, out of mind. But if you really think about it, band-aids don't really take away the pain. Of course they do keep the thing all neat and tidy on the surface while the wound continues to fester underneath.

Next thing you know, you're lying on your back in the dark, staring at the ceiling, and the pain starts creeping in. Through the ache you wonder what the hell you are doing in some strange bed, who the hell you're with, and why the heck you do it. Then you remember why and you groan inwardly. But what's the point of it all if not to keep from hurting, right? Still there you are . . . in the dark. Hurting just as much (or perhaps even more) before you hooked up with the one snoring next to you.

Then there are those who are so great to be with, you simply forget about the pain. Let's face it. The world is full of wonderful, lovable people who could be the next best thing that could happen to you, only you won't let it because you're too tangled up in your own hang-ups to notice. But in the event that you do allow yourself to have a bit of fun every now and then, they're there, ready to wrestle a smile out of your gloomy disposition, fill your ears with phrases of encouragement, and inflate your ego with unadulterated adoration. Fortunately for you they don't ask for much save for your being happy. They're the bosom buddy, no. 1 fan, on-call lover rolled into one.

They're the balm to your wounded soul - if only for a few hours to a couple of months or until you finally get yourself together and let yourself love again... though not necessarily with them.

Lastly we come to the human versions of ibuprofen paracetamol. People proven to stop the pain before it stops you. And you go to great lengths to find them. It doesn't matter that it's only been a week since the break-up, all you know is that you've hit rock bottom and there's no other way to go but up, right? Through sheer determination you might even be lucky enough to find someone. Suddenly life is beautiful once again. You're overwhelmed, overjoyed, head-over-feet for someone again. You're so happy, you can hardly remember whats-her-name or whats-his-face and why the heck you were so miserable in the first place. But then, every beginning has an ending. Yes, for a moment there he or she definitely took the pain away but then the effects wear off and you're back to hurting all over again. What happens next? Should you go on another fervent hunt for "The One?" Take down the numbers of a prospect or two and call them in the morning?

Then again I'm just talking about if you manage to find someone to address your aches and pains.

But what if you don't? What if, despite your efforts, there's noone there?

What then?

* * *

I've learned that in the end you need three things to remedy a broken heart, ego, and soul. Time, distance, and yourself. As words come, those three aren't so difficult to pronounce but it's a hell of a lot to really apply. But anyone who's had his or her heart broken before can tell you that if there are tried and tested elements into getting over someone, those would be it. It may sound a bit sanctimonious but if you even start looking to others for happiness and healing, then you will always do so. Old habits die hard. Believe me, I know.

How will you know when you're finally okay? I can only speak from experience - when the titles of self-help books, particularly those that sound like "How to handle hurt" or "Love conquers all - even broken hearts" won't catch your eye in a bookstore. When you can do things you used to do together and feel nostalgia and not nausea. When you can hear certain songs played on the radio you won't feel even a slight twinge. Basically if your can go through your every day without sparing a thought to the pain you used to harbor because of the past and if you can honestly wonder about the person without plotting elaborate schemes of revenge or without having your vision suddenly going blurry with tears, then you're on your way to recovery, if not already.

My unsolicited advice to those still in the process of getting over? Live. Just live. And when I say live, don't just drift through the days like a ghost of your former self. Really live; and if you can, live it up - with friends, family members, loved ones, your dog, etc. Obviously his or her life didn't stop for you, why then should you let yours?

And it always helps if you have a sense of humor.

G. E . B in CRAME

It was lonely Saturday night for me. I am supposed to have a date with the love of my life and unfortunately, a "field trip" of his came on our way. He said that it is his prelim, so he couldn’t afford not to join the "field trip". I have no choice but to cancel our date and pray that fate could provide me an alternative.

Early afternoon, I started to fish out people from Bi-Manila and of course, I had no luck. Most people I talked with are either too horny to talk sense or too horny to think.

I just slept the whole afternoon, got up at around 10 in the evening. Ate dinner and went to Malate. Alone. I don't know why in the hell I dragged myself alone there but I did.

At around two, I'm drinking Vodka Tonic and beer in BATH, watching guys/gays/or wutever they want to call themselves, dance their souls out. I've been in that bar for a couple of times already but most of the time I went there with my gayfriends and we'd just drink and drink 'til somebody blows his mind off. I dunno, but I just feel more comfortable with its crowd compared to BED or wherever.

Then, the music faded at around three, the DJ is mumbling something about a second set. Then I realized, that BATH do have special shows for Saturdays, immediately, people flocked towards the small platfrom in the middle of the bar, which serves to be the stage, and a guy wearing only a black thong and boots went and danced in the most seductive way he could. Teasing the flock around him.

On the other hand, I was left on the bar, gulping every drop of the Vodka Tonic and chasing it with San Mig light. Thinking things, which mostly come to me, when I am alone and slightly intoxicated. The first dancer got his queue and left the stage, I heard a handful amount of comments of how stiff, large, or whatever they are referring to. After a couple of seconds, the second dancer sashayed his way to the platform.

My original plan is to get drunk with someone, have a sensible conversation while the alcohol is slowly numbing my neurons and go home satisfied. But something beyond my expectations happened. While, the second Macho Dancer is riding the stage, a commotion suddenly erupted from upstairs and then there were a couple of shrieks and sounds of beer bottles being smashed. At first, I thought that there were just a couple of war-mongers fighting over a guy or something. Then, suddenly somebody screamed "Raid! Raid!". I felt my eyeballs turned to the back of my head.

"This night couldn’t be any more worse," I mused to myself.

I couldn't do anything, as far as going out of the bar, I knew that there is no way to get through the raid team, so I just sat there calmly in the bar, still drinking what was left of my beer.

In a flash, there were comments, shouts and violent reactions from all around and I just felt bodies pushing me to the edge of the bar. I couldn't breathe, people massed around me in the bar area.

"This couldn’t be happening," one person said.

Others are holding one another, embraced tightly. Almost crying.

I heard one guy said to the guy he was with, "Sabihin mo sa 'kin hindi tayo dadalhin ng pulis sa presinto. Hindi ako pwedeng dalhin sa presinto."

Then another guy at my side said, "Hindi pwedeng malaman ng parents ko na nahuli ako sa isang gay bar."

I just stood there, barely breathing, succumbing every drop of beer I had because I knew that would be my last beer for the night.

"Hay naku! Heto na naman po kami," one guy said. That comment made me smile. I realized that somebody is not new in this kind of stuff.

I felt the tension grew in every second, people are holding their cell phones, calling and texting incessantly, as if that would free them from what was about to happen. I don't know if it is the mild intoxication or my sheer hunger for something different that had made me calm and a bit happy about the situation.

The lights finally went on, I could not see beyond the crowd around me, aside from the back of the heads and hair worn-out by gel. Somebody, who I knew is a police, said that we would be asked to join them in the precint. These cause a lot of reaction from the people. It did nothing. Everyone was loaded into three jeepneys. Outside BATH, a crowd had also assembled to witness the uneventful.

I suddenly found the situation funny . . . . that reminded me of the Police Reports that I used to watch from TV Patrol.

We were hauled into the jeepneys, every person is accounted for and after almost half an hour or so we were inside CAMP CRAME. I knew there’s nothing to be done.

85 gays all in all were gathered inside the CIDG offices plus the staff and crew of BATH, and of course, including the 2 macho dancers. For the first hours, everyone never left their phone, calling or texting whoever could help them. The scene is gloomy. There are people who are talking, making friends, some just found a place to recline and rest their tiring bodies. Some just found a spot on the floor.

We have no way of knowing if we are to be released soon.

Early in the morning, we heard the news that we are going to be charged of a crime. This stirred a mixed emotion from us. The police said something about violating Article 201 of the Revised Penal Code of the Philippines:

Art. 201. Immoral doctrines, obscene publications and exhibitions and indecent shows. — The penalty of prision mayor or a fine ranging from six thousand to twelve thousand pesos, or both such imprisonment and fine, shall be imposed upon:

(1) Those who shall publicly expound or proclaim doctrines openly contrary to public morals;

(2) (a) the authors of obscene literature, published with their knowledge in any form; the editors publishing such literature; and the owners/operators of the establishment selling the same;

(b) Those who, in theaters, fairs, cinematographs or any other place, exhibit, indecent or immoral plays, scenes, acts or shows, whether live or in film, which are prescribed by virtue hereof, shall include those which (1) glorify criminals or condone crimes;

(2) serve no other purpose but to satisfy the market for violence, lust or pornography; (3) offend any race or religion; (4) tend to abet traffic in and use of prohibited drugs; and (5) are contrary to law, public order, morals, and good customs, established policies, lawful orders, decrees and edicts;

(3) Those who shall sell, give away or exhibit films, prints, engravings, sculpture or literature which are offensive to morals. (As amended by PD Nos. 960 and 969).

As far as I know, this law is only applicable to the owners who operate an establishment and anybody who is caught in the act performing “immoral” or “obscene” exhibition. But our reasoning didn’t appeal to the police officers, they refused to hear our side and continued to ignore our qualms of being detained for the whole day.

Without any immediate resolution coming our way, we stayed there in the CIDG office. But the happy thing is, we are GAYS! And there are 85 gays hauled in one area at a time.

This is what I’m proud of for myself and my peers. We always tend to find a way to be happy and joyful amidst any crises or dilemma. There are singings, jokes being thrown in and out and there had been a beauty pageant for crying out loud.

No matter what they do to us. Nobody could keep us from talking and laughing.

From the fears of not going home . . . . from the fears of being exposed to the media . . . . .from the fears of family being notified about the incident . . . . . something more than what we expected has been brought from that event – camaraderie was developed. From mere strangers who were on the grab for a quick trip in response to the calling of the flesh – a different calling has been answered – there has been friendship.

Time flies so fast when you are in a Police Office doing nothing but “makipagbaklaan sa mga bakla”. Early in the afternoon, Danton Remoto arrived together with some lawyers who guaranteed us that we are not to be charged with any crime and be released earlier before 8 pm.

After the negotiation, a police officer came out with a sheet of paper and made us gather around a small table. Danton read what the paper contains; as it is, we are not to be charged with any crime as we are the customers of the bar and we were not hurt, molested nor pressured by anyone during the time that we were detained in the office. We are to sign the paper and be released immediately.

There was applause when Danton finished reading the one page document. After almost 12 hours of no sleep – we are to be released.

It’s a worthwhile experience for me. Not because that I was in a bar, which has been raid. Not because I was detained in a Police Office in Crame for almost a day but because now I appreciate more the gayness in me as I was submerged in a sea of homosexuality. And I became more proud of myself.