what sucks?

Why did I ever allow myself to go back in Planet Romeo with a skeleton inside my closet?

I’m back in that freaking arena of gay men looking for whatever sorts of desires they want. It never fails to impress in me that that site looks like a catalogue of briefs with snapshots of torsos.

I know I’ll be going in for a deep turmoil inside me because I may forge quite a good conversations with interesting people in there when at the back of my head, my skeleton is actually poking its finger at me.

Yes. I decided not to disclose my status in my profile because I’m not all too prepared for the backlash of stigma.

I’ve just been there for a week and there were few too good interesting people who aren’t as dickhead as they look like.

There’s this one guy whom I even actually almost “liked”—screw this, I like him—because we were in every sort of aspect compatible: height, weight, lifestyle, philosophy, career direction, and what-have-yous. For some reason, he just deleted his profile so that was it. It was a blessing in disguise that he extinguished himself from that online buffet of flesh because if things had gone more serious, I don’t know how I would take it into myself come that day that I sit before him, dating while a non-existent skeleton is poking my head’s crown.

And then there’s this college student who really can stir a great exchange of dialogue. We are still talking up until these days and only God knows how things will go. I know though that I have to keep my emotions and hormones in check. I just can’t like him that much.

Then, even if I didn’t disclose on my profile that I am a pusit, I actually had the guts to reveal my status to a fellow positive Romeo.

I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. But it’s true that I felt a bit alone for the past few months that I decided to push my luck again in PR.

I told this to a friend. The first thing she said, “Positive din ba silang lahat doon?” Obviously, Ms. Friend is clueless.

It’s an innocent question but it stabbed me to death. Her question seemed to place on my shoulder the responsibility that I have to be a part of arresting the rising HIV figure. I took her lead and now I’m wondering if I still must continue my presence there.

I wonder in the first place why I’m lonely? I’m not usually like that. I’m fine being myself but I think there really is some truth between isolation versus intimacy. Erik Erikson is right. And fuck him.

That’s the hard part of relating with someone who isn’t a fellow PLHIV. Guilt will eat you alive by the time emotions are invested and things are getting a bit sugary.

It sucks.