Day Sixteen: The story behind the last text I sent.
Last week, my friend and previous housemate Lio sent me a message asking if I was available this weekend. He said he has a friend who wanted to have her cards read. We agreed that I will drop by his place near Cash and Carry on Friday afternoon (yesterday) for the tarot reading.
I met Lio through a gay forum website which I admin. We met in person when he, I, and a few other members decided to meet up and exchange porn movies. Some time after that, when I was desperately looking for a housemate for my old apartment, Lio volunteered and we started living together.
Lio was, at that time, a slightly spoiled single child who had little concept of housework. He didn’t cook and his main contribution to the apartment was mostly bottles of alcohol in the fridge. He did mature over the years.
He is now living on his own in Makati. He fetched me outside Cash and Carry; when we arrived at his place, his boyfriend Drew has just finished cooking dinner: an unusual combo of plain pasta, spicy laing, and garlicky longganisa.
A frequent joke I threw at Lio was how he was one of the few Bicolano I know who has a low tolerance for piquant dishes. The Bicol peninsula is known for adding chili in nearly every dish. Some Bicolano even pride themselves on snacking on raw chili. Except Lio (and my mom, coincidentally).
Dinner was good. It was not the first time I tried pasta with pesto-like laing. At some point, Lio learned to tolerate and like spicy food. While we were eating, Lio told Drew of how I love mismatched plates and how he got that habit from me.
Over the weekend in Bataan, I spent time with another former housemate, Markee. Markee was for a time Lio’s roomate and the former hated the later because Lio would let several alarms go off before waking up. It infuriated Markee, who was a very light sleeper. It’s been years since I last saw Markee and Lio and seeing both of them recently made me miss my old apartment.
Lio seemed to have missed it too as we reminisced about the parties we used to throw for friends, telling Drew about the time we threw a party where we had guests prepare their own sandwiches, or that other party where we cooked many made-up types of turon.
It is looking through memories like this which makes me realize that my life is not completely boring.