|Image courtesy of school-clipart.com|
Uh oh! It had to happen sooner or later. No urban adventure would be complete without at least one asshole encounter. Thanks to Nelson, Manila didn’t disappoint.
Nelson and I met during my first night in Manila. I hung out with him and two of his friends in Bed, and the next day, after we’d befriended each other on Facebook, he asked if we could get together again that evening.
He came over around 9pm (tediously early — one hour before I was expecting him), and if that wasn’t annoying enough, when I went to the bathroom, I returned to find him stripping down to his underwear. Ugh!
“Is it okay if I get comfortable?” he asked.
“Knock yourself out,” I said, hoping that he wasn’t counting on gettin’ some as well. At least he kept his shirt on.
I was thoroughly turned off, wondering how someone could go from charming to charmless at the drop of a pair of trousers. But I played it cool, pretending like it was perfectly normal for this 21-year-old guy to be parading around my hotel room in his underwear and tried to focus on the TV. After about 15 minutes of channel surfing, I landed on a Cheryl Ladd TV movie from 1990 — the year Nelson was born! The movie, some non-stop non-erotic cabaret called Lisa was terrible, but it did remind me how much I used to love Ladd, who almost distracted me from the awkward situation I was in.
After Lisa ended with a pool of blood, Nelson and I decided to go out to eat. I told him that I was probably going to meet up with Robby, the friend of my Australian friend whom I hadn’t been able to contact the night before, at O Bar. Nelson, thank God, wouldn’t be able to make it. He had to report to work at the Adidas store in the mall at 9am, and since he’d only gotten two hours of sleep the previous night and had been at work all day, right up to an hour before he came over, tonight he was going to play catch up.
“Do you want to play before we leave?” he asked.
“Play?” I asked, feigning cluelessness. I knew exactly what he meant, but I felt like I’d been transported back in time and place to the swings and see-saw at Highland’s Elementary School in Kissimmee, Florida. I went limp and let him down, too — gently, of course. No games tonight, but food sounds good. Let’s get this over and done with.
We went to a restaurant close to the hotel, where the food was a lot better than the company. He’d seemed so much more interesting the night before, but then tequila makes just about everyone more appealing. After dinner, I paid the entire bill, noting that he didn’t even bother to say, “Thank you.” Then once we were outside, he did the totally expected: He asked for money for a taxi home. What was I supposed to do? Say, “Walk!”? I actually considered it, but I ended up biting my tongue and handing over 290 pesos (about $7). He hailed me a taxi and told the driver where to take me before getting one for himself.
The next day I was texting back and forth with Robby, and he asked me, “Do you have a friend named Jay? He’s texting me.”
I had no idea whom he was talking about, and neither did he. Robby didn’t know the guy, and he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten his phone number.
“Does he know me?
“Yes, he mentioned your full name,” Robby responded. “He said he’s your friend.”
In the next text, he sent me Jay’s email address, as if this was supposed to jog my memory. It did. OMG! It was Nelson. I went to Facebook to get more information, only to find that Nelson had deleted me from his list of friends.
WTF! I’m not sure whether he was offended by my refusal to “play” with him. Or if he was ashamed that he had to beg for money to take a taxi home. I also had no idea why he would refer to me as a “friend” after having dumped me from his Facebook. And how did he get Robby’s number, in the first place? Clearly, there was something shady about this guy that went far beyond disrobing in the hotel room of a near-stranger.
I wasn’t going to let this one go. I decided to send him a message: “Are you serious? You defriended me after I bought you dinner and gave you money to get home? Not cool, dude.”
Kind of psycho, too. But frankly, in the general scheme of things, Nelson will be a blip on my radar, good fodder for my blog, but not much more. And it’s not like I had any intention of seeing him again anyway. But in the words of my friend Karen, his reaction to rejection was truly “vomitous” — and so 2011. Facebook as a social weapon strikes again!
Carlos and I never got as far as becoming Facebook buddies. I’m still not sure what to make of him. Apparently, he and I met in Bed, too, my first night in Manila. He called me by name as I exited the taxi that Nelson had hailed for me. He was standing across the street from O Bar, and he said he’d been waiting for me, which confused me more than the fact that he knew my name. But he was cute, so I decided to humor him and play along — though not in the way that Nelson meant! Maybe he and Nelson were in cahoots, or perhaps that’s just how guys in Manila talk, but eventually our conversation took an expected turn: “Do you want to play?”
When did “play” become a euphemism for sex? Did I blink and miss something?
For the second time in one night, I declined an invitation to the playground — as well as Carlos’s offer to give me a message, which, he insisted would be the best I ever had. I told him that I’m not a big fan of massages, and if I wanted to be felt up by a guy, I was pretty sure I could find someone taller who would do it for free.
There’d be no happy ending that night for Carlos (though he promised me one I’d never forget), and he walked away with his cock between his legs. His balls were officially out of my court, and something told me they wouldn’t come bouncing back.
UPDATE Nelson responded to my admonishment: “I am sorry My settings here change by someone..I will deactivate my account soon.” I guess I can let this one slide, but the game is still over.