The Rubdown

Walking home to my jeepney stop after my post-game dinner, I notice this person at the other side of the street raise his shirt up and rub his stomach.  Clad in walking shorts and basketball jersey, I surmised that he is probably from around the area; maybe from one of the houses near the bridge.  I cross the street and do not make eye contact.


After a while, I see him leave the street corner; probably to go home or maybe to find a better spot.  A moment later, my jeep arrives and I enjoy a peaceful, albeit noisy ride going to my street.  Probably to keep himself awake along the road, the driver was playing 90s alternative band music to the speakers' maximum capacity.


I alight the jeep to walk the short distance going home when I see someone going the opposite direction.  More than 6 feet tall and with considerable built, I grew weary of his presence and proceeded to walk with a steadier gait.  When he was just a couple of meters from me, he raised his shirt to reveal his abdomen and low-rise jeans that promises to leave little to the imagination.  Or maybe it was designed to further spark it, I don't know.


And as if on cue, he started to rub his stomach while attempting to make eye contact.  I studied my feet until I passed him.  But the footsteps behind me told me that he was now following me.  He was still attempting eye contact as I reached home and clicked the gate locked.


This wasn't the first time I encountered people attempting a hookup.  What perplexes me is their manner.  Since when did rubbing one's bare stomach become the universal code for "I'm horny, let's have sex"?  And the number of occurrences!  Two instances in just 30 minutes.  That's got to be a record, or something!