No Two Ways

by Chi Yu Rodriguez

A few hours ago there were just as much fireworks in this bedroom as there was outside, and they faded out just as our stamina did.

“I do get sucked into a Pinterest black hole a lot.” She laughed, and the bed dipped as she sat beside me again. “You? Pinterest?” I draped myself over the pillows so I could wrap my arms around her waist, nuzzling against the softness of her back. “I’m more of a Twitter kind of girl.” “Ooh, she likes drama.” J’s hand slid under the sheet around my waist to rest over my bare hip. “Are you a stan of something then?”

Traffic in Metro Manila was the kind that brought out the worst in people. Rush-hour traffic in Makati was hell on earth.

Jackie was all soft curves where I was mostly jagged edges; she exuded uniqueness where I oozed mundane. Her fair skin was a stark

contrast to my brownness, and it was a glaring difference where her fingers were holding my chin up for my face to catch the light.

For most people, the Philippines seemed accepting of the LGBTQIA+ community. But I always knew that there was a thin line between tolerance and acceptance, and my country rarely crossed it.

Kissing with no purpose other than to make out was one of the greatest things known to mankind.

It was so easy for me to accept it from other people. I thought I was this progressive person. But seeing it for myself, feeling it for myself, having to accept that I had to live with these emotions, I suddenly didn’t know how to process it. I was asking myself why I didn’t feel gay or didn’t feel straight and kept wishing things were clear-cut and easy.