No matter how free this country claims to be, I can't help but wonder why we are not free of our old ideologies and stereotypes. Gay relationships are still hiding under the blanket of criticism and sometimes hate. I often wonder how many unreported cases of violence against gay men have occurred. How many have died? How many survived? How many are still out there to get us?
My taste of violence is quite different though. He was also gay. Only he is one of those 'extremely-closeted ones' who would rather die than to let other people know, other than his partner, that he is gay.
I met Joseph at the gym. Now a typical story would start with either one of us crusing inside the sauna or shower area. But ours started as a trainer-gym member relationship. When he helps me stretch, he gives me a boner. When he talks to me about being healthy, I think of him as my future husband. When he rushes to help me lift weights, I feel that he's concerned for me. I really liked the guy. And I told myself that I'd get him no matter what.
It wasn't easy. I tried numerous invitations to my pad but he always turns them down. There were moments in the shower area when I thought he was already giving me signals. How can a straight guy be so comfortable in taking a bath, naked, knowing a gay guy is right beside him looking at his ass. Or maybe he didn't know I was gay?
'You have to come.'
'Sure when?' I grinned.
'This Friday. There's an exhibition. Here.'
I forgot to mention that aside from being a certified gym instructor and Physical Therapist, he is also one of the well-known masters of Mixed Martial Arts in the country. He liked the action. He liked violence. But at the end of each grueling session, where someone goes home wounded, even bleeding, beaten like a cat who snatched a food at the kitchen, he always make it a point to treat the opponent with respect.
I expected the same thing from him. So I agreed to jointhe MMA club he organized at the gym. It felt great to release all the tension from work and just bring it all out in the octagon. While I was treated as a beginner in each group session, Joe would always make me stay for at least another hour to train with him.
On a rainy Friday night, the receptionist put out the lights at the gym except in the octagon area. We were sweating and there's no sign that Joe wanted to stop training.
'I'm getting tired.'
'No, you're not.' He charged and pushed me with his broad shoulders and pinned me down.
'Oh, that one hurt.'
'No pain no gain.'
'Yeah but no back no good. You're killing me. I'm a neophyte.'
'If you train harder...'
'Hey, I didn't say I wanted to be.. ahahhah!'
He flipped me around, wrapped his legs around mine. It was like a real wrestling match.
'Okay, Joe, seriously. You gotta let me rest.'
'You want this right?'
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