WHEN I FELL IN LOVE

My high school batch is having a reunion this December and while I was exchanging e-mails with former classmates, I couldn't help remember those years when I first fell in love. It goes back to elementary of course -- but hey some of my classmates and best friends go way back to my elementary days.

The first boy I ever laid my eyes on was Matthew Laborteaux of the TV series Little House on the Prairie. Matthew was the lead star's boyfriend. I forget her name now and do not wish to google her as I've spent two hours googling the pics you see on this post. Matthew was well mannered, cute, and so lovable. I thought we'd someday live on a prairie and build our own little house as a pair. Matthew, you were the reason I grew my hair long in elementary.

Then there was Robby Benson of Ice Castles and the basketball film whose soundtrack my sister bought an LP of; with the hit song by Paul Williams the title escapes me now -- boy, am I having a senior moment here. Happens often nowadays... (loved those basketball shorts, if they bring them back, I'll start watching the NBA again) anyway, Robby Benson appeared again in the film Ode To Billy Joe based on a true story. I saw the film on Betamax, the story was too sensitive for mainstream movie houses I guess. In this film, Robby's character, Billy Joe was molested by a priest, set in rural America in the 1950's. I stopped going to church and saying confession to commiserate with Robby after I saw the film.

Then there was Scott Baio. Oh dear Scott with the winsome smile, shaggy hair, adolescent body, but looked resplendent in period attire in the film Bugsy Malone with Jodie Foster. I stopped having a crush on Scott Baio when a cousin's cousin had said that Scott looked like her brother. NOT! And the brother was a meanie, if I may say so.

After that brief affair with Scott Baio I moved on to Christopher Atkins. Blue Lagoon was showing at First Cinema in Baguio City, and I had to bribe an older cousin to take me to watch the film. Loin cloths never looked so good and I was dreaming that one day I would get shipwrecked on an island with Christopher. I hated Brooke Shields then because she was all over my sisters' magazines. I also felt slighted that they had to dig tunnels in the sand while filming some scenes where Brooke would walk so that she wouldn't look so tall next to Christopher. I learned that trivia from poring over all the magazine articles on Christopher Atkins that I could get my hands on. In the middle of the film, I was hoping his character would just drown Brooke Shields, or feed her poisonous puffer fish, or get her trapped in a net -- all leading to her doom. Dear Christopher, it was because I saw Blue Lagoon that I wanted to become a screenwriter someday.

I stopped liking the good guys. They always got the cheesy girls in the end. So who comes along next but the quintessential beefcake of Tiger Beat... MATT DILLON! I loved him in Little Darlings opposite Tatum O'Neal and Kristy McNichol. In this film Tatum and Kristy make a bet on who gets to lose their virginity first -- this was during summer camp. And they both had their eyes set on resident-bad-boy Matt Dillon. I loathed Kristy McNichol even if she kept winning those gold medals in Battle of the Network Stars because she won the bet. Here's an unforgettable scene from the movie (as I remember it):

MATT

What's your name?

KRISTY

(acting cool and chewing gum) Angel... and don't let the name fool you... what's YOUR name?

MATT

(not acting, but being really cool) Randy... DON'T let the name fool ya... (then he winks at her)

And then I see Matt next in The Outsiders. Francis Ford Coppola's adaptation of S.E. Hinton's acclaimed book on adolescence set in the 1950s. In this film, of young beefcakes, Matt plays the older brother of doomed Ralph Macchio. The hospital scene is remarkable in its poignancy. Stevie Wonder's song Stay Gold was and will be among my favorites. Don't watch this film if you're a die-hard Tom Cruise fan. Tom sucked in this film. He also had ugly teeth back then.

In third year High School we were required to watch Clash Of The Titans and submit a movie review for English class. Our teachers had arranged a special screening at the Pines Theatre and so both sections of third year went. "Harry Hamlin... now that is a man!"... I remember thinking. While the boys in our class were busy identifying the names of the characters that we were all too familiar with in Greek Mythology ... I was trying my vainest attempts at peeking up Harry's toga and/or skirt. He was later to wed his co-star Ursula Andress, one of the original Bond girls. Ursula and Harry were my generation's Demi and Ashton. I was to see Harry on Betamax again in the film Making Love co-starring Michael Ontkean and my least favorite amongst Charlie's angels -- Kate Jackson. This was the very first film I saw with a homosexual theme being tackled. Harry plays Kate Jackson's husband's lover. How tame compared nowadays to all the gay films out there. This film tackled the gay lifestyle from a heterosexual's point of view. Yup, otherwise we'd see more of Harry's butt and pecs and abs instead of Kate Jackson's futile attempt to show her mettle in drama had the movie been written and directed by a gay man.

I stopped yearning for men twice my age so I bounced back with Kevin Bacon via Footloose.

This was the movie that got all of us dancing and wearing high-waisted denims that were too skinny even for the '60s. Kevin Bacon's character was raring to break the stifling rules of the community his family had just moved to. Sarah Jessica Parker in this film had shown her predilection to set fashion trends. I later followed Kevin's career and feel bad that he has never been nominated for an Oscar yet. Kevin, you will always have a special place in my heart and I forgive you for marrying Kyra Sedgwick even if I cried countless nights over it. I think you look happy together now. And please do something about your crow's feet.

Sixteen Candles was my all-time fave teen romance flick. Although I only watched it once. Every three months. For two years. Until my brother saw our video rental card and told my mom and sisters that I had rented the film more than a dozen times -- and I was officially baduy to their eyes. Well, my first look at Michael Schoefling and I fell in love. I didn't care which girl got him in the end. I was sure he was going to be mine someday. I memorized lines from the film, even tried to dress up like Michael Schoefling -- although I must admit the only good acting on that film belonged to the nerd Anthony Michael Hall. But we had enough nerds in campus and no hunks like Michael Schoefling at all.

Although the boys in school would try their darnedest to look good in khaki pants, checkered shirts with rolled-up sleeves, and top-siders. Michael I briefly saw again in the film Mermaids with Winona Ryder, a young Christina Ricci, and Cher. Too bad the magic had worn off...

In the late '80s I had found my real, true love in John Cusack. Say Anything was anything but the shallow teen romances of the past that, uhm, said nothing. In this film, John's character had real integrity, passion, truthfulness. Ditto John's acting. I cry every time I remember that scene with John holding his tape player out in the pouring rain, putting up the volume so that Ione Skye could hear it and come out to meet him. I love you John and will always love you not in spite of but even for your reeboks and trench coat.

Ah, to bring back those days of being in love and still in the closet... NOT! I will dedicate the last picture to my batch mates to encourage them to come in '80s attire when he have our reunion. We were in fourth year high school when Bagets was shown and I remember cutting classes with a girlfriend to catch an afternoon screening at the Pines Theatre.

"Here's to the old times and the best of new ones, here's to a song of glee... I'm growing up... la la la la..." forgot the words but the tune lingers. I remember having a secret crush on JC Bonnin and secretly tucked a photo of him in tight, yellow, short-shorts... I mean, I tucked a photo of JC Bonnin in tight, yellow shorts, into my secret compartment in my closet... yes, I was baduy just like everybody else of UP Baguio High School Batch '84.

Now this post was really a test on how I could manage multiple pictures in one blog entry. I think I've mastered it... what with all these former lovers to inspire me!

OUT, LOUD AND FAB!

Every last Saturday of June, Malate celebrates Gay Pride with a White Party. It used to be that a parade/march commences in the late afternoon before festivities in the evening. Concerts, Fashion Shows, Street Parties, and other gay frivolities abound in Nakpil Street and the peripherals notably Ma. Orosa's famous loop of bars. Sadly, organizational setbacks, personality clashes, and conflict of business interests have mired the organizers' efforts to sustain the activity. Denizens of Malate however carry on the tradition albeit on a smaller scale. Why? Because it's fun to go in drag. Even if just once a year.

It all starts with the shoes. I was in Kinder when I first tried on my mom's shoes. They were maroon stilettos in a velvety material. I remember how wonderfully tall I felt strutting in them even if my feet were only 3/4 the size of the shoe. From there it was my eldest sister's platforms with cork heels and leather uppers. I almost fell off the stairs on those.

As I grew older, I had moved on to wearing my mom's dresses. Only the formal ones. Or party dresses. I'd put on a scarf. Or pin a brooch. Wear a necklace. And how I'd twirl and twirl till I was dizzy from both the giddy delight of dressing up like a woman and from the swirling colors and patterns of the balloon skirt as I, er, twirled and twirled. All these done of course when I was left alone at home and I'd lock myself in my mom's room.

I progressed to putting on make-up. Due in part to my sisters' Seventeen Magazines where there would be illustrated articles on how to put on make-up. First I would memorize my mother's vanity, making sure I'd be able to put back in place everything I would touch in their exact position lest she catches on my weekend dragfests. Then I would open the page of the magazine and step-by-step put on make-up. Then I would dress up head to toe and check myself out in the full-length mirror.

I stopped doing my illicit drag weekends when I was in High School. Not only did I not fit into her clothes anymore, but I no longer wanted to look like Mommy. I had discovered boys. And the boys in my class wanted girly-girls not mature, sophisticated women who looked like their mothers. I became a tomboy. Playing sports with boys, drinking and smoking with them and the ultimate mark of manhood -- POKER! From one solo illicit act to illegal group activity. We stopped playing poker when a classmate had blown 2,000 pesos in one game -- this was a big amount of money in the early 80s.

Going back, I now do drag once a year. Either on June Gay Pride or Halloween. Again, it all starts with the shoes. Finding the pair that fits me will determine what dress I will wear with it. I scrounge the thrift shops for hip, retro dresses or ultra-luxe, stylish gowns. Of course, I WOULD NEVER BE CAUGHT DEAD WEARING THE SAME OUTFIT TWICE! A true drag queen never repeats her outfits. After the shoes and dress have been procured, the wig comes next. Is it Audrey Hepburn pixie cut this year? Or shall I do a Penelope Cruz long mane 'do? The drawback with wigs is that they're terribly hot for humid Manila. But why bother going in drag when you'll be confined to an airconditioned bar, no way, it's out in the streets for us Queens. The better for the commoners to see their 'royals'. I once went as Coco Chanel -- little black dress, pearls, her trademark glasses -- and they thought I went as Edna, the Costume Designer in The Incredibles! Damn this generation gap!

Being in drag turns the table around. Now, it is I being ogled at. There were times men would actually open doors for me. Or buy me drinks (Yipee! I already spent a fortune on my outfit and my nails okay!) It is nice to feel pretty, feminine and poised. Hats off to all the women who do it everyday and never tire. I think dressing up once a year is fine for me.

See you all in Malate tonight!