The Stares

"A beer for me please, Edric... thanks." As I gave him my 10-pound note, a guy passing by stopped for a few milliseconds. But that millisecond was as obvious and conspicuous as a boy in a girl's toilet.

He looked at me, top to bottom (No pun intended). He then moved on.

Shrugging it off, I just waited Edric to buy the drinks at the counter.

He must've seen it as well. Groan. It would be another joke time session for the two of us.

You see, I might have been flattered if the guy was some young hot one. Instead, he was of age, wrinkled, and can't seem to put things straight, if you know what I mean.

"I wanna sit, Josh. Go look for a table," Edric said, as he waited for his turn on the drinks.

Scuttling along the tables, I finally found one on the far end.

Alas, I saw something at the corner of my eye. The guy. The old, chubby, dilapidated guy, leaning on the bar counter, his eyes on me.

Maybe during my naive years, I might think that there's a murderer in the midst. But now, it felt more offensive rather than scary.

Thank God Edric's back with my Fosters with lime. Please protect me from the beast that lurks.


After a couple of minutes, the stare finally subsided. He must have dismissed that Edric and I were a couple.

And thank heavens Edric didn't mutter a word, as he was busy with his iPad 3. The last time an old dilapidated guy looked at me from top to bottom (again, no pun), he just laughed all night, with me trying to quip a futile remark about him magnetising bears.

-----

"Here, Art, I found a socket!" (Oh please guys, enough with the randy thoughts)

We sat on a big rectangular table, as it was the only place in Starbucks that had accessible sockets.

The shuffling and uncabling of the laptop adaptors must've made this guy aware of our presence. He was sitting 2 tables away. He was of middle aged, I guess, but younger. Early 30s, mayhaps. Fairly cute. A tad tall with short blonde hair.

He was staring at our direction... but not at me.

He was staring at Art.

I stared back, trying to read what was on his mind. It's not a gay bar. It's just Starbucks, so it's harder to sense and feel the dynamics of eye contact.

A look longer than 5 seconds is considered staring. I counted 10.... no, maybe longer. It wasn't just a top-to-bottom stare... it was a lingering stare... not too intimidating, yet it showed some sort of interest.

But of course, Art was oblivious. He was busy untangling his laptop cord.

"What apps do you need Josh?" Art caught me staring at this guy who's been staring at him. Talk about weird.


"The games and the user interfaces, thanks," I sighed. I finally gave up reading their thoughts and just focused  on watching the pilot episode of The Borgias.


What might seem to be a couple of minutes after, an Asian guy sat with the cute blonde guy staring at Art earlier.

Oooh, it all made sense. I watched their dynamics for a couple of minutes (what a nosy guy I was).

I think they were sort of together, but not really together. But they're close. I guess I've proven that the guy was a rice queen or something. The Asian guy was fairly attractive, so good choice for him.

And what does it entail? That Art is more attractive than me?!

If Edric attracts kind bears, and Art attracts cute blondes, then...

Josh, you must be facing eternal damnation if that were the case.

Art's Winter Reaction

So it was just me, Art, and two guys walking around Hyde Park towards Winter Wonderland. I never knew that one simple question can turn out into a disaster.

We were there, battling the cold wind, as we had the obligation to tour a friend of a friend around who will be going back to the Philippines after a 3-year stint here.

While strolling, I just asked them, “Will you be going to Rich’s party?”

“No, I wasn’t invited,” said Ben. “How about you?”

“Well, I was invited by his best friend,” I quipped.

“Really? I wasn’t invited as well,” Art said. “I think I’ll just wait for him to invite me.”

“Oh, if ever you’ll attend, you will see his bf there,” Ben added.

Suddenly, Art’s face gone pale. He stopped for a moment, and asked, “What did u just [say]?”

Ben suddenly knew what was going on, and he just laughed, laughed and laughed some more. “Oh sorry, what did I say again? Lol.”

Art suddenly felt cross. “I really heard it. What did you say?” Well frankly, if you heard it already, why ask a second time?

“You know that I was just joking, you know how I am. Right Josh?” At the back of my mind, I can see Ben perspiring from the inside.

“But, he’s a Christian, isn’t he?” Art said. Seriously?

The guy leaving the UK finally spoke. “Well, some say they’re Christian, but they don’t really act Christian. We just don’t think they are anyway. They just tell us that to make themselves included in society.”

This is nuts. Seriously. I’d so wanted to bang the guy’s and Art’s head on the wall.

REWIND

So all of the people involved, including your truly, belong to his church congregation situated in Tottenham Court Road. It has been almost a year since I started attending, with Art inviting me to a session of praise and worship. With the cute singers and good-looking young adults praising the Lord, I got hooked up.

I met this friend in question, Rich, in a post-church dinner event in town. So we got along well, and based from his mannerisms and everything else, you can tell he’s gay. After catching up, seeing his posts in FB and Twitter, he is definitely one of us… and he even confirmed it to me. His boyfriend, by the way, is smoking hot.

-----

Apparently, given Art’s reaction, he wasn’t told about Rich. I felt bad about Art, because he knew the person for a longer time than me. Or maybe he’s just trying to be naïve. It’s really obvious.

Given his reaction that was cold, winterish and really uncalled for, it was all the more that I think that this narrow-minded individual is no good to be my best friend. That’s why I shifted all the dynamics to Edric, my midweek drinking buddy.

There will come a time Art, where I will introduce my boyfriend (if I finally have one) to each and every one of you. How will you deal with it?

Abangan.

The Lineage of House Dubovie*

My grandfather, Brandon of House Dubovie, the First of his Name, has two sons and seven daughters.

His eldest son, is Brandon of House Dubovie, the Second of his Name… also known as… my father.

My dad has two issues, the eldest, Josh of House Dubovie, the First of his Name, which would be me, and my sister. My uncle has only one issue, and it is a girl… Monica of House Dubovie, the First of her Name.

If it were in the Middle Ages, and we rule the Seven Kingdoms, I will be the heir apparent, and will rule the Kingdoms if ever my father passes away. And one of the main agendas of the heir apparent is to continue the lineage in order to secure the future of House Dubovie.

There is just one thing amiss. I am in no reason to marry and have kids… because of my… erm… preferences.

Going back to the new millennium, it is still the same factors. In order to prevent the Dubovie family from going extinct, I have to marry and issue a son at least. My sister and cousin, if ever they get married, will renounce their Dubovie surname, and will acquire the names of their new Houses.

Of course, even though we are free to choose what we want to, throughout my life, there has been much bickering and forbiddingness.

“Lol. Be a man. Don’t be gay. You are the only hope this family has,” said my aunt. “Introduce me to this girlfriend of yours. And make lots of Dubovie babies!” my uncles quipped.

Dad and Mum were silent about me being the only heir, but I know they are expecting. Well they can expect from my sister, but I have to break their hearts if they are expecting something from me. Sure, cash and income, they can expect, as well as the debt of gratitude I have from bringing me up justly. But children? I’m so sorry, Mum and Dad.

I am not getting any younger, and sooner or later, the topic of marriage will pop out. Until how long I can use the “I’m busy with school/work, that is why I am still not looking” excuse? Surely, I can get a ‘beard,’ and marry. But aside from the dreaded notion of making love with a girl, how will I break the family then if ever I can’t handle it anymore? Will I be tied forever in my secret?

Oh well. Youth is here… best have fun… while it lasts.

*Dubovie, as you may know, sounds French, but it isn't my real surname. I hope that it was though. Hehe.

Debt for a Wingman

Sometime in July....

Edric: Hay... I don't have much left.

Me: How much do you need ba?

Edric: Around 400...

Me: Fine, I do have some spare cash.

Edric: Sure ka? It might be a hassle on your part...

Me: Nah it's fine... I only have 1000 rotting in my bank account.

Edric: Ikaw na.... Lol. But... what's the catch?

Me: Hmm... Interest of around 5%... (as what I charge to debtors before)

Edric: *lingers* Ummm... fine fine.  I will be indebted to you.

Me: *thinks for a moment* Actually, you can do another thing.

Edric: What?

Me: Find me a date.

Edric: Be a wingman you mean?

Me: Yes.

Edric: Asus, kadali, It is a deal!

Sometime in August...

Edric: I think I need money again... for my training.

Me: How much do you need?

Edric: 1000, but I'll get some from others.

Me: Hmmm... *checks account* I think I can lend you the whole 1,000.

Edric: No, that's too much. I still have the one last month. Just close it at 1,000.

Me: So, 600?

Edric: Yes, hehe. And I assume there's a catch again?

Me: Yes.... But you decide what it would be.

Edric: Be your wingman for life!

Me: Whut? 'Til I die? *laughs* That's a tad harsh. Maybe until 30?

Edric: What if 30 ka na and you're still single?

Me: Gago. Fine... Until I'm not then.

Edric: Too late, you said until 30 lang. Yey!

Me: Arrgh. Come on, please! I know you are a matchmaking master!

Edric: Sige na nga, we will find him, someday... It is a deal!

To be continued...

Goodbye, Travelogue Boy?

It seems that I have to blow the dust that settled on top of this blog.

Whew. It has been what, a couple of months? Well 4 months exactly. My anniversary here in the UK just passed by without even a proper attribution or celebration for that matter.

And yeah, in celebrating my first year in a foreign place, riots erupted like mushrooms on a damp moist forest.

Anyway, I dunno what to write... Actually, to be honest, I dunno if I still have the drive to write.

Well, I still have my main blog, but I don't know. London has made me desensitised. It changed the way I see things.

Here are some things that I've learned, or I've done within the last few months:

1) I've let someone use me for his benefit, so in turn, I used him to get benefits as well. *cough Ray cough*
2) I'm getting more and more superficial it seems. A hot bloke makes me wanna go "haba haba."
3) Ideal relationships are harder to come by these days. Adam's blog has swoon me in the darkest days of winter, but as summer came and went, I just reliased that it's not always the case. Actually, it's consider lottery for a thing like that to happen.
4) Wingmen did more harm than good. Well, let's just say that the guys go for the wingmen, instead of me. Oh great.

Looking back, I almost seriously puked at my desperate stories about Art. Seriously, Art? My God. I think.... no, I really wasn't in the right mind when I started this blog.

It was cheesy. It was weird. It was forced. It was lost. It was too safe. It was WTF.

I was so tempted to close everything down. From the old Josh Dubovie, to the new Alex Saade. And seriously, did I just change my pseudonym from A to B to C in the near future? That was utterly daft. I apologise in advance for being blunt, but I think I do not need this shadow anymore. This side of me.... I don't need it buried six feet deep. It can intertwine with my main life, especially in a cosmopolitan city like London, and with some mates who can help me assert that I am a man who need not fear.

But I miss my friends, if ever I have one here. So we'll see how it goes. But for now, you lot will not see me writing cheesy heart-fluttering stuff about my interactions with other men.

Come on, it's ridiculous and stupid.

Coolness of Cambridge

“It was you who was all eyes on him.”

As soon as Art muttered those words, I felt embarrassed, to the point that my face was almost noticeably red, even though there were a lot of acne breakouts recently.

We were walking at the banks of River Cam, overlooking the King’s College Chapel. It was two days after my parents left (about April 8), so we decided to plan a day-long trip at one of the most renowned universities in the world right before the new term starts.

Cambridge.

Yes, compared to Oxford (which I’ve been to last January), there are a lot more things in store in this town that was Ironically founded by none other than residents and graduates of Oxford.

There was this sort of thing called punting, wherein you can ride on a boat that will be maneuvered by the punter by pushing against the river bed by the pole.

It has been a tradition that Cambridge university students would be the ones punting; it has been primarily their source of income and a way to boost tourism. With 10 pounds per head, it's great value for money. Plus, why not enjoy under the sun in balmy temperatures?

And mind you, most of these Cambridge lads are hot.

So the one punting our boat was not a student, which as a bit strange (he explained it at the start of the tour).

So here’s our punter, the guy called… Guy. (Whut?)

Not as hot as the other punters out there, but his innocence and good sense of humour allured most, if not all that were in the boat, including me.

He even pointed out that for 200 pounds a month, one can get a whole one bedroom flat (with a private toilet and kitchen) in Cambridge, if your brain is worthy enough for the uber-reasonably priced accommodation. Most roomshare single rooms in London are about 250-300 a month.

And to that, Art must’ve noticed that I kept on staring at our punter… erm I mean listening to what he was saying, instead of taking breathtaking pictures of the medieval colleges situated by the banks.

Was I too obvious? Maybe.

The punting session was over, it was time for some quality moments with this town that houses some of the oldest academic traditions in the country, If not the world.

Walking outside the greens of King’s College Chapel, one can think of numerous possibilities and outcomes.

Cambridge students consider themselves lucky, for they can sit beside the River Cam to read on their latest law or marketing book.

There I was, contemplating on the Bridge of Sighs.

What if I studied in Cambridge instead? Life would have been totally different. Studying in a quiet town full of students alike will be a lot more enjoyable, that’s what I am sure of. Aside from the fact that I get to see handsome guys every day, it will be an assured spot in the workforce come graduation. My life would have been the stereotypical ‘student life,’ which is to study hard, and party harder.

Now, if only I can address the £20,000 issue.

New Persona

It has been, almost a year.

The day wherein I embraced my real identity…. It was just another normal day, a few days right after watching Eurovision 2010. I’ve decided to use Josh as my screen name in signing up in this gay website since I was still in the hype and everything. Then poof, someone instantly recognised its eccentric origin.

So there it was, I’ve found my first ever PLU chatmate, thanks to this show called Eurovision.

Oh, just a quick description about this contest. It is a singing competition held every May, as 40 or so members of the European Broadcasting Union battle it out to see who has the most popular song in the competition. Each country would submit an original song to be performed on live telly, and then the members of the jury, together with the European public, would cast votes. Inaugurated in 1956, it is one of the longest-running singing contests in the world, and with annual audiences of about 250 million. It is one of the most watched non-sporting events in the world.

Thus, I vowed to myself, I will watch this singing competition every single year if it’s the last thing I do. It’s an ode to my, erm… shall we say, acceptance.

Now, it has been almost a year. And yea, Josh Dubovie was so 2010. It might be time for change, once again.

A new year, a new persona.

Of course, as a tradition, hopefully for the years to come, I would take my persona from someone in Eurovision, and it has to be well thought of.

But before that, I would just like to point out the cutest/hottest guys in this year’s contest that was held in Düsseldorf, Germany.

6) Paradise Oskar - Finland

Real name: Axel Ehnström. Represented Finland with song “Da Da Dam.” Cute boyish Caucasian… one of my types.

5) Two guys in Switzerland entry

Anna Rossinelli and her band represented Switzerland with the song “In Love for a While.” How did this song get the last spot with two very cute guys strumming with her?

4) Loukas Giorkas

Represented Greece with “Watch my Dance.” Cute Greek. Outstanding opera-ish vocals. Great control of his voice.

3) Lee Ryan and Duncan James from Blue

Represented the United Kingdom with the song “I Can.” Lee, aside from his high vocal range, is oozing with sexiness. Duncan James as well, especially since he’s reportedly bi. Oooh.

2) Eric Saade

This Lebanese-Swedish lad represented Sweden with the song “Popular”. And indeed, this cute mixed Scand proved to be popular indeed as it garnered third place in the contest.

Ohh... and I just found this.

1) Alexej Vorobjov

Reported the hottest bloke in this year’s competition, he (English translation: Alex Sparrow) represented Russia with the song “Get You,” which was dubbed as a “rapist song” by many fans and haters alike. Yea, he looks like a douche, but we can’t do anything about it. He was born with overflowing sex appeal.

Like last year, I fancy taking the name of someone cute and handsome (like last year’s Josh)… However,  Vorobjov is just too hard to pronounce. Saade just sounds so European (Germanic, in fact).

So, there you go. It's still fine by me to be called Josh, especially by my old buds back home. Alex Saade, fly high, and may you have a blessed year under this new persona. Cheers.