Boracay Chronicles Day 04.This Must Already Be Heaven.
When Shakepeare wrote that parting is such sweet sorrow, I am quite sure that he has never stood on the shores of Boracay as he waited for the ferry that will take him away from the island. There is nothing sweet about leaving Boracay. It is only a sorrowful and painful experience. No one I know ever left without a heavy heart. When the time comes to catch that plane back home, no one is really prepared to leave. And because one must leave, he is only consoled by the thought that he could come back again next summer. Or even next month. Though of course he knows that it is later, rather than sooner. What makes Boracay difficult to leave behind is the exceptional experiences that one has during the brief stay. After a night and a day, realization sets in that it is not simply an island where one swims in the water or walks on the beach. In Boracay, one is transported to a place where everything is possible.
Quincy surprised me on my first morning in Boracay. He and his family took an early flight to Caticlan for a three-day vacation. He never told me about his plan to coincide their trip with mine. On my birthday, he even expressed disappointment that I was going to Boracay without him. Sometimes guys can be more mushy and corny than women. I wanted to laugh there and then but I held back. I just gave him the "are you serious?" look.
On my last night, Quincy and I went out to party. It was the only night we spent together as we each spent our times with our own set of friends who also happened to be on the island. We also booked different hotels that do not happen to stand next to or near each other.
After making a survey of the happenings along the beachfront, we settled on a very popular bar on Station 1. It was the music and volume of people chatting, dancing and drinking that swayed us. Rihanna, Neyo and Timbaland were all playing in quickly recognizable remixes. This is a happening place, we concurred. I glossed over the quality of the partygoers ---the clothes, the demographics, what they were doing--- and after spotting a handful of "possibilities", Quincy and I entered to find ourselves a spot.
It was just the two of us so we agreed to occupy two stools along the bar. Occupying a table did not make sense that night. We both wanted to stand, dance, mingle, hook up, get laid. However, we discovered to our mild disappointment that the bar stools were removed and placed along the wall near the comfort rooms. The thought of smelling stink throughout the night convinced us to just stand in front of the bar.
So we stood in front of the bar like two straight men. Quincy, holding his bottle of San Mig Light, swayed with the music. I did the same, with a shot glass of tequila on the bar table. I scanned the dance floor and surrounding tables for prospects. A lot of sexy women still in bikini tops. Most of them looked like college students taking their last break before classes resume. A lot of hot men, too. There was even a former TV veejay that I have long suspected to be gay. I was right. Dancing in front of him was a guy equally tall and handsome. He must be the boyfriend, I told myself. Gay guys usually go for reflections of their own selves.
I could go either way tonight, I told myself. Girl or guy, it doesn't matter. I just wanna get laid.
As long as he or she is hot, of course.
After three shot glasses of Don Cuervo, I was already making my way from the bar to the dance stage. I motioned for Quincy to join me, he just nodded for me to do as I wanted. I ordered a bottle of San Mig Light. For a time being, I thought, this would be my dance partner.
It was already one a.m. and the DJ was already replaying songs we have heard when we entered the bar. I was already dancing with a girl named Camille. She said she worked in a call center. I didn't care what she does back in Manila. All I cared was whether she was ready to do something dirty with me later that night. So, I danced, danced with Camille, all the while trying to get a feel. Dancing close. Some touching. Some rubbing. I could smell from her breath that she's had a bottle or three.
Still, I was like a vulture eyeing the dance floor. I scanned. I surveyed. Guy or girl, I didn't care. I caught eye of a guy who reminded me of a radiologist I flirted with two months ago. But this guy seemed straight. I looked at him intently, trying to see if he would return my gaze. He didn't.
A touch on my shoulder. It was Quincy. He was grooving with us on the stage. I introduced him to Camille. She asks, aren't you a basketball player? I wanted to ask too, aren't you my boyfriend?
I needed to go to the toilet. Alcohol does that to me all the time. I don't easily get drunk but I would always be running to the john. I needed to pee.
The urinal to my right was occupied by the veejay's boyfriend. The urinals were separated by bamboo dividers but there was a slit on the one between us. I peeped. The dick was thick and long. Lucky veejay, I told myself.
On my way out as I opened the door a young guy blocked my way. He may be a college student. He may already be 25 years old. Age is indeterminable (like mine) but he was hot. He looked like Cogie Domingo. He also looked like Renato Amoroso. He also resembled one of the foreigners in the running Pinoy Big Brother Teen Edition whose name I don't care to know. When our eyes met ---as when people who go face-to-face do--- I said wow. I said it aloud. I said it so he would hear it. I said it to let him know. After that, I followed him with my eyes as he walked from me to a urinal. He threw a glance at me too. I walked out of the bathroom with a smirk on my face and the memory of the glance Young Guy threw me.
He was straight, I easily assessed. But he is drunk. And contact has been made.
When I returned to the dance floor, Quincy and Camille were already comfortably dancing as a pair. There was another young woman dancing and smiling with them but she wasn't my type. I stayed on the bar, deciding whether to order another bottle. A few seconds after a guy with a somewhat familiar face approached me to start a conversation. It turned out he recognized me from the gym. We exchanged the usual dialogue of how long we've been on the island, where we were staying and how long we are staying. When he asked if I had company, I pointed to Quincy and the girls. He took his cue and left me alone.
Soon, Quincy's dancing circle was bigger, five women and two guys. They must have recognized him as a pro baller or maybe he knew them from college. Camille was gyrating closer and closer to Quincy. If you only knew, I thought. Not far from where Quincy was, I eyed Young Guy. He was dancing with a group of four girls ---all young and beautiful and all with their eyes on him--- and Guy From the Gym.
But Young Guy's eyes were on me. I caught him once, twice. That was two times too many for a straight guy. So when Please Don't Stop the Music was played for about a third time, I inched my way from the bar to Young Guy's clique. Guy From the Gym proved himself useful and introduce me to the group. There were nods all around and some hellos. But all nods and hellos had a tinge of liquor in them.
I did not make a move on Young Guy. Instead, I feigned interest in the girls. But this proved inutile as they were all into him. The guy was so goodlooking he had four girls around him all hoping to end up in bed with him that night. And there was also me. And, probably, Guy From the Gym.
But the girls disappeared one by one as the minutes wore on, like petals on an aging flower. Soon, there were only Young Guy, me and another girl. When Young Guy excused himself to go to the bathroom, I likewise excused myself and followed him. In the bathroom, I started a conversation. After much ado, I asked -
You wanna go someplace, after? He was silent for a moment, looking at me with beautiful but drunken eyes trying to read what was on my mind.
To cut this long story short (I have been writing this for at least four days now), we ended up in bed. His bed. Young Guy didn't do much but lie flat on the bed as I crounched in front of him and sucked his dick. It was about six inches long and as fat as a jumbo hotdog. Not a biggie, just right. He didn't suck back but he was nice enough to masturbate and caress my dick. Straight guy experimenting, I told myself at some point during that late evening. When I wanted to put our act on another level and whispered to him that I wanted to put his cock in my ass, I was met with the same beautiful, drunken and uncertain stare. Did he hear me or is he just slow? He shook his head and I resumed licking his pale nipples, his stomach, down again to eating his balls and sucking his cock.
When I really wanted Young Guy inside me ---he was so delicious, tender and young that I couldn't just let the chance pass by--- I just reached for the condoms inside my pants and tore one open. Again, he looked at me like a deer caught in headlights. He wasn't saying no, and so I continued. I put the condom on his still hard and thick dick, slowly with my practised hands. I applied a small amount of lube on my ass, squatted over Young Guy and then slowly lowered myself as I glided his inexperienced cock inside my ass. I was sure he has never been in such situation before.
I rocked slowly at first, until we both caught our rhythm. And then after that it was a slow dance of pleasure. I became comfortable with his girth and he with me on top of him. I slowed my pace to feel the entirety of his manhood inside of me. It felt like I was going to come any moment, but I took my time. Young Guy, on the other hand, had his eyes clothes and his hands on my waist. He didn't suck my dick but he was sucking in all the pleasure.
He came after about ten minutes. When he softened, I eased the condom of his dick and swung it like a pendulum before him. He smiled in wonder. After that I sat in front of him and then jerked off and came on his stomach. His cum mixed with mine. I spread it over his tummy with little protest on his part.
We kissed lightly. At least you kiss, I told myself. I was too tired and sleepy to leave but I knew I must. And so I took a quick shower and got dressed and left. No more kiss on the lips. I kissed him on the cheeks instead.
I didn't see Young Guy the next day on the beach. But I didn't bother looking for him, though. I was busy packing and doing some last minute shopping. I also had farewell lunch with Quincy and his family at the famous Hawaiian BBQ restaurant.
I don't even know his name. He is just Young Guy. The young guy who made Boracay truly an island of dreams and possibilities. Young Guy who made me wonder that Boracay must already be heaven.
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Bringing the Booker-shortlisted novel into the big screen is quite an ambitious undertaking. The story spans a long period of time, from the pre-adolescence of protagonist-narrator Brioni until her old age. It includes a war in which both Cecilia and Robbie served. But overall I think that Joe Wright succeeded in bringing the delicate material from the page to the screen. The adaptation was able to capture the spirit and mood of the novel and all the actors were able to give life to the character that McEwan imagined, presumptively as he imagined them.
Gestures big and small made Keira give one of the best performances of the year. She did not even have to speak in most instances. She just had to watch as Robbie moved in order to show the depth and intensity of the love she was feeling. The last time this was done onscreen, it was Meryl Streep watching Clint Eastwood's truck drive away in The Bridges of Madison County.
