My First

"An unfinished story by my good friend Deep Submerge"



It's been a whole month since I've heard anything from you.

I miss you.

You, who wakes me up in the morning with your phone calls (You know I wake up at 12 noon, why call me 2 hours earlier?), and the last one to greet me goodnight (though we usually hang up the phone at 3 in the morning). You, who knows me more than anyone else. Who, even for a short while, have touched my heart so deeply. If the people around us did not know better, they'd say we're an item. If only we were not two guys who happened to be best friends.


It never occurred to me that we could be such good friends, best friends as a matter of fact. We don't have anything in common..... at all. First time I saw you, I thought you were an asshole. An asshole I would gladly lick. Clad in your designer conscious attire, flaunting your muscular physique with your fitted Girbaud tee and your Versace jeans, you entered the classroom of our Communications class with an air of confidence surrounding you. It was your tangible ego. I felt it when you walked past me and sat beside the window. I wondered if you noticed that I was staring at you. You have that ability to make heads turn and make people talk about you 3 hours after you've passed by. I guess I was challenged (You know how nuch I love challenges). I usually can flirt with any man I desired, but you were different. You hardly noticed me while I was intensely staring, first at your hazel eyes, to your sultry pinkish lips, then to your wonderfully scuplted body. I lingered my stares at your chest, which I vividly remember to this date, and the bulge between your legs begging for attention. I flashed my trademark smile, enough to win any man over. It has never failed me, until now. I hated you then. But that was one year ago. Things change.

My thoughts about you took a 180 degree turn when we started talking to each other. June 15, 2000 (Thanks to my trusty diary). I was flipping over the pages of Marie Claire (feasting on the vast array of blouses and skimpy skirts I could never wear, but what the heck), when I felt a slight touch over my left shoulder. I glanced toward the person who owns the hand, irritated a bit, until I saw who made the gesture.

"Excuse me", you said, "What is our section?"

Silence. I am a writer, words are my life. But some how those words eluded me, sinking me in a sea of embarassment, obvious in the scarlet flush on my face. After what seemed an eternity, my brain started functioning again. I finally managed an utterance.

"It's MHU 4".

Then you smiled. I turned away. I found myself absent mindedly gazing on my magazine, but I couldn't seem to focus my attention on the images I was worshipping a minute ago. I kept on thinking about your smile. What was that smile for? I asked myself. Did I look that foolish? Were the questions that tortured me throughout the 2 hour class. All my eighteen years, no man has ever made me nervous before, much more stutter. This isn't me.

At last the class is over. The room's walls were receding, slowly suffocating me. Time for a whiff of fresh air. I was getting ready to get out and forget my major embarassment when I heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, I forgot to say thanks."

It's you and your smile again. You're not making me stutter this time.
....... Silence.......
Shit, what am I doing? This time I think I've turned beet red. Then you laughed, breaking the silence.

"I'm Xavier", you said, extending your hand.
I managed to hold it, "I'm Jamie."

Then you asked me out for coffee. "I hate coffee, and I don't intend to drink any in this lifetime."

Time for a change of plans. You offered good 'ol Kenny (Rogers). No Prob. So we lazily set out to the parking area outside the building. What now? I knew my trusty smile wouldn't fail me. I'm simply irresistible, I said to my self, grinning all the way into your Rav 4.

I will never forget that lovely afternoon, however fickle the weather was. While the streets are drowned with the moisture of heavy rain, I, however, was drowned by images of myself and this beautiful creature steering the wheel. I'll get to know you more. As expected, the babyback ribs were superb. And the company? Let's just say it did change a few first impressions.

"Why are we here anyway?", I asked casually, "we just met."
"Well, if you didn't want to, you should've told me earlier, that way I could've saved 150 bucks", you replied.

Hmm... Smartass....

"Well first and foremost, you didn't answer my question, second, I dodn'y ask you to pay for anything", was my sharp reply.

Then you smiled. I laughed. There's a corn kernel stuck between your teeth. No way am I telling you that. I'll savor the moment. This one's going down my diary.

"Seriously Xavier, why?"

You looked dead serious trying to find an answer to my question.

"Easy", you said. "You looked hot and you were staring at me with lustful eyes."

You are so damn arrogant. So you did notice me staring at you. I had no choice but to validate your assumption.

"Well, you're right. I am really hot." I said, flashing my most seductive stare.

Laughter. We're lucky there was no one eating near our table. They would've had us arrested for disrupting the peace. I thought you were arrogant, well it turned out you are, only in a good way. The entire afternoon turned out great. It was worth missing my other 2 classes. You're great company. Not to mention gorgeous. You made me laugh. As far as I'm concerned, it was a great date. Two years of college, I've been constantly searching for the perfect companion, only now I think my search had ended.

After our "date", I was singing "I think I'm in love" by Jessica Simpson (I know, love makes people do the craziest things) at the MRT. Another first. Me, singing an unsophisticated pop song, this is insane! But I was too happy to care.

"Hmmm..... Another one huh?", said Mark, my soulmate and bestfriend, in his usual sarcastic tone, after I told him about the new man in my life. "Just like Paul, Stephen, Marcus...."

"Okay Mark, I get the message, but this one's different", was my reply.

"If I remember accurately, which I'm sure I do, that's the exact thing you said about Henry, John, and David, or was it Jeremy?" At this point, I was ready to tape Mark's mouth shut.

"This is serious! I really think he's the one. So quit it!"

Well, he had a point, but this is the present, and I learned from my past relationships, if you can call it that. I did establish a dating pattern, tall guys, good looks, fast cars. All those men Mark mentioned (and a few more) in a span of 2 years, averaging of about a guy every 2 months. I know what you're thinking, I'm a bitch in briefs. Maybe I'm just afraid of committment, or maybe I haven't found THE ONE. So untili I do, I have to settle with hot men and wild parties. Well, you can also blame men that go for guys. They think of us as flirts and only after those things between their legs, which we also happen to have. Frankly, I think I've lost all hope that a guy to guy re;ationship would work. Especially in this country. Although I have heard of a few, me experience tells me that's next to impossible. I do have my finger crossed for this one though.