It started with that Lady Gaga song. Rainy Thursday night, traffic along Quezon Avenue and endless happy songs on the FM radio. The three of us were not supposed to go out since we spent some fortune for good food last week and an out of the country trip for October was planned. But nevertheless, we met without any plan in mind.
So there we were, Nikki, Joy and I, stuck in our seats when the repetitive Gaga song played. We went crazy. While typhoon Kabayan was busy hitting Luzon, we were hitting wrong notes and misplaced lyrics.
Only after all the hype of singing out loud has faded and the rain has slowly waltzed its way out did we realize the common denominator that connected us that night. Within our inner circle, we were the only ones without romantic commitments.
But then who cares, we thought. There's Lady Gaga to sing with, Papa Jack to listen to late at night to release our inner jologs, and there's the time and money to spend without any restraint from someone not your parent.
"At least mine's a personal choice," I said.
The thing is, coming out is not as glorified for me like how other people treats it. I perceive the darkness inside the closet as incomparable to the darkness waiting for me outside. Most close people have the ideas and hints, but that's it. No confirmation.
We did not delve into our personal cynicism and angst anymore. It was a good night to be wasted. So Lady Gaga was back on track.
It was not until the clock reached 12, with our bellies full of Chinese food and tea, did we decide to fill up some blanks left that night. We just dropped off Joy in Katipunan. Nikki was to drop me somewhere in Quezon City.
Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the annoying callers asking for pesky love advice on the radio. Or maybe it was just the spur of the moment. But I actually thought of coming out.
Maybe because we started talking about serious stuffs. The idea of leaving the country. The idealism of actually making a difference in this world. Commitments dilemmas we always had. It was unclear. It was one of those few moment when you actually think of doing something you have always feared.
The red lights along Quezon Avenue were fading so fast. The jeepneys and buses were busy making noise in the middle of the highway.
Inside, there was a green light blinking, actually encouraging me to go and say those words I've always dreaded. It was too loud for me not to notice.
But before I knew it, I was almost thrown out of my seat. The car in front of us collided with a motorcycle while beating the red light.