Still Not Straight
Dating a man after a decade of dating women does not make me “unqueer”
I was in kindergarten when I met Leila, with her wild, curly brown hair and large, doll-like eyes. We each had our best friends, but we often hung out at the playground together. One day, she and I fought for reasons I don’t remember (why do kindergarten kids fight anyway?), and she offered me my favorite candy while saying sweetly, “Bati na tayo?” (Truce?). Even now, the surest way to get me to accept an apology is to offer me cheap sweets, say those words, and remind me of Leila’s eyes.
In sixth grade, I convinced a good friend of mine to ask Carla for a wallet-sized picture. Carla always seemed unreal to me whenever she passed by in the hallways, with her slim, athletic figure, her sleek black hair, and glowing olive skin. I carried her picture in my wallet until high school when I misplaced it together with my 1,000-peso savings (a fortune back then). I was devastated, and it wasn’t about the money.
Emily was the captain of my high school’s dance troupe. She walked with her chin and chest upturned, light on her feet, the flowery detergent smell of her uniform wafting around her. Whenever I caught that smell, my friend had to snap her fingers in front of my face to get me back to reality and to continue listening to her boy stories.
