RenRen... a change of heart

I think by now, I have made my utter disdain for the MP circuit well-known to the public. I still shudder when recalling the experiences from this apocalyptic wasteland. So why am I now dipping into the cesspool of tears I have once shed because of them?

Why indeed? Hahaha

Polo's tongue twister

*This story dates back to early 2012, when I was deeply infatuated with a certain masked individual.

Lately, I seem to have lost my interest in other masseurs. Every time I glance through the assortment of men in LP, I find myself gravitating back to a single profile. Flashbacks of his soft kisses and warm embrace kept looming each time I close my eyes… What in the world has this person done to me!

Doctor X, still stumped by my stubborn case of RX-itis, was continually worried by my deteriorating state. This illness was slowly wearing down my defenses and eating away at my sanity. So in a move of desperation, he has decided to forego with the practice of conservative medicine, and has settled to bombard me with a strong intravenous antibiotic. Hopefully, this aggressive move could finally get rid of the love bug… once and for all. 

Second course of antimicrobial, Vancomycin: Polo

How does one prove happiness?

Evil Mamasan

The search for Allen has been taxing. I have followed many leads only to discover its dead end. So every day, I make my little phone call to Eaglenest Spa for the off-chance of finally catching this big fish. Then one day…

Kakayanin ko ba ito?

Miguel... into the lion's den

When choosing a masseur, we often immerse ourselves in the wealth of information blogs and forums have to offer. We read the experiences of brave souls who were courageous enough to take the first leap, and we start to imagine ourselves walking in the very shoes of the writer.  We feel the same joy they felt, laugh when they laugh, and resent those they have come to resent. Soon, our decisions are slowly molded by the opinions of others, and we find ourselves conforming to their thoughts and contemplations. Truly, the written word holds a strong sway on our subconscious psyche. Rizal was right on the mark when he said “The pen is mightier than the sword.” I myself am no exception to this rule. My choices are the summation of filtered conjectures and sentiments. My decisions - the results of the views from the collective. But there are times when a person transcends all good and bad reviews, because from the moment you first laid eyes on him, cognition and good judgment are cast off, and you find yourself rendered utterly helpless.

One drunken evening...

Sabi ko wholesome ang magiging peg ko kagabi. 

Pero nagdala pa din akong toolbox... just in case. 

Honorary girl scout ata ito... 

Hehehe.

So sumama ako in one of Mamu O's infamous girl's night out with my chastity belt secured and locked at nilunon ang susing gumuhit sa aking esophagus.

Char!

The Silence of Jhoross

Errata: Lucky Charm is still open for business. 

Once upon a time, in the not too distant past, there existed a photograph that sprinkled me with enough lust dust and sent me flying back to MP-neverneverland. Though I may have flown to this land to be with Peter “John” Pan, my attention was surreptitiously caught by one of the lesser known protagonist. This Lost Boy was actually more dashing than Peter Pan. He is indeed so handsome that I have almost forgotten one crucial fact: only Peter Pan could fly or in other words - my ONLY ride home, so I decided to stick by his green flying ass. Hehehe. Now, though I am back in the reality we call Earth, I still dream of my journey to this far away land and to finally be with the handsome Lost Boy, who goes by the name of Jhoross.

Sa gitna ng ulan...

Lately, I have been so engrossed in reading Miss Chuniverse’s blog. The writing style, humor and dedication he/she puts… simply unparalleled. So in the spirit of how he/she tells the story of his/her life, I have decided to try and articulate my latest composition ‘Sa gitna ng ulan’ in his/her panache. 

Being John

John was actually one of the nicest I’ve encountered in the MP business (and yes, I have looked around), so when less than flattering reviews of him kept popping one after the other, I was taken aback. At first, I read in disbelief as line after line, discontented naysayers expounded on his supposed mischiefs. But after reading through an ample amount of reviews with a common animosity towards him, I began to wonder “What the hell is happening to the one who I once considered to be the glimmer of hope from the vast wasteland that is massage parlors?”

Keithly... brings back memories

Haaaayyyyy!!! Still too busy with work... Can't make a decent FR... Puro hada na lang ang nagagawa ko... Why am I complaining? Hahahahaha

To those expecting my usual composition, I apologize. 

So presenting the latest conquest in my string of exploits.

and here's another picture of him exhausted... hehehehe

And the screen shakes once more...

I am at my wits end. This person has remained elusive even after an extensive search of his whereabouts.

He used to work at the now defunct lightness spa. I think he goes by the name Allen. I got wind that he now works at Eaglenest spa and have been calling them everyday. But alas, he has been missing in action for 2 weeks.

I think mamasan already knows my voice. Haha! Here's how our typical conversation goes nowadays.

manilaspanatic: Hello! Magandang gabi po... Nandiyan ba s...

Mamasan: Ah... wala pa si Allen. 

Perfect ang voice recognition ni mamasan! hehehe

Seismic John

I have steered clear of the massage parlor circuit for quite some time now. My experiences with online procurement have been so splendid, that the thought of going through the usual torture that comes with the MP experience once more seemed preposterous. The torment begins with a dose of anxiety from the chance that someone might recognize you as you enter the unholy doors. Then you are made to sit through an uncomfortable ceremony where the models parade in front of you and you find yourself pressured to choose one in haste. Finally, after making a half-baked decision, and when you are still convincing yourself that you have made the right choice, you are forced to contend with the time constraints set by the establishment. As if passion could be timed with the ticking of the clock. Tick tock! 45 minutes into the session. Please climax now! And after all the bullshit one has to put up with, the worst is yet to come. Yes! I am referring to the event in the world of MPs that is so devastating, it would be a constant fear gnawing at your back even as you are trying to enjoy what supposedly should have been a pleasurable evening: The Raid. 

So there, I have laid out my arguments on the demerits of patronizing massage parlors. Now, hear me out as I sing a different tune.

For me to even begin to fathom the thought of subjecting myself through that arduous process again, I was going to need an earth-shattering reason. Something that could convince me that all the hassles and bustles would be worthwhile. Then, just as how unpredictable earthquakes occur, a picture flashed on the screen, and the Richter scale started going off the charts. Meet the earth-shaker: John