AM- boy!

About two months ago, naturally just a day or two before my scheduled first date with someone who we won't name here, I had a run in with someone I called "JPMC". I was waiting for the 5 Am shuttle when a tall, stocky like a football player, very handsome Filipino guy saunters up to the crowd and starts asking questions in English, to a very frosty reception by everyone but me.

Everyone else; "FUQQQQ- UUUU, stranger, who do you think you ARE with that Filipino speaking English to ME?!"

Me: "Hellooooo beautiful!"

So I helped him figure out the shuttle schedule, giving him FAR more advice on where to find an ATM, etc, than strictly necessary, trying not to seem like someone who's found a Dior dress at a Salvation Army. He was "Dean Cain" hot, the kind of handsome that makes you feel like a giggly schoolgirl based on principle alone.

Something about the way he held himself, his perfect English, and most especially the two poker chips he was turning around and around in his hand, Iceman-style while he talked made me think "he's either Fil-AM or balikabayan (went away for a job and came back to the 'hood made good)".

I groaned to my friends: "I just met the HOTTEST guy who speaks perfect English, and of COURSE I'm already starting somethin' else! Damn, could the world have WORSE timing?"

On a technical level, this guy was not really my type- all American- football- players- with- tons- of- swagga really aren't my bag, but you know what? I'll make an exception once in a while.

Anyway, I would see this guy EVERYWHERE for the next few weeks, while I was getting more and more serious (or should I say "snowed"?) by the guy I was seeing, and he (JPMC- called that after the initals of the program he works on at my job) would always go out of his way to say hi, making me feel so cool.

He even told me (awesome quote i ) "I was gonna ask you to borrow the money I needed but I didn't really know you, ya know?"

I told Ant later that I was like mentally "And I would have TOTALLY loaned it to, you big lug of hot."

He has a sleepy sensuality about him (as well he should- more on that later), the kind of guy who slouches on your couch, just diffusing attraction around him as a matter of nature, not really trying hard, just being his idolic self.

ANYWAY, cut to the now, where I'm single and walking out of McDo on MacArthur and I run into him on the street.

"JPMC!" (he has a name and I know it but those initials just trip off the tongue) I hail him and we walk to the corner, where he says he's getting some clothes from one of his two crash pads.

The first of many *awesome* quotes comes out: "I don't know how to do my own laundry. Someone always does it for me." There was no twinkle when he said this, he was Stash freakin' Obileski. Just pure swag. God's favored child. I immediately thought: "Note to self: this guy is *friends ONLY* material." Knowing your enemy is half the battle, children.

So I invite him to Holiday Inn pool with me, he cleverly slips in a reference to the wife and kid (that's fine, I'm not on the market, he's not for me, and I wasn't trying to flirt anyway) and we exchange numbers so we can meet up later. And, furthering my feeling that he was balikabayan, he actually texted ME "are we still going?" about a hour later. Wow, someone who said yes and meant it! One for the record books.

A side note is that he's actually runner up for the post of "Mr. [Company Name]"! His pleasantly bland, slightly spacey face was on a banner for about two weeks, causing me to think "is that JPMC or am I losing my mind?" It was him.

Quote two: "I really choked on the question and answer section. I really did. Just choked OUT."

Anyway, one stifling cab ride later we're there. I, having learned my lesson, am quizzing him like a district attorney, and he's leaning all over the back of the car taking up so much space I was momentarily put off until he told me he moved to the states (Utah!!) when he was 11 and is now back after 20 years to take care of his ailing grandmother. Gotcha. So he's ethnically a Pinoy, mentally and culturally an American.

As we decided what beer to order at the cabana bar, I was wearing a bikini with no coverup or anything, and just draping myself over the bar, elbows on the counter, with my weight on one leg, dark caramel and feeling totally comfortable, and when we agreed on a Corona, something you can't get anywhere else, the army dude next to us changed his order to one as well.

He was from Hawaii and briefly engaged us in a conversation about how different things were here and how he couldn't wait to get home.
Later on his way out he asked me "where you from?" I told him, and he said "really? Not Hawaii? You make it look so natural, I would have guessed you live there." I think what he meant was my relaxed, loose body as I waited for a beer knowing or feeling like I knew exactly what to expect from the person I was with, feeling at home even far from home.

Talking with an American was like drinking the best Gin Rickey you've ever had followed by chocolate laced with chili, and a massage. In other words, heaven. Even if he was no Einstein, and he was NOT, it was so nice to be able to understand what his body and mouth were both saying.

The next two hours are spent with me asking him everything I can think about and him stretched out like a lion in the veldt, lazy and half awake, but bringing the scandal, me getting darker, him shading himself so he stays the color he is now. "I'm dark enough, thanks."

Some choice bits of conversation:

He used to be in a gang, as a teenager. In Utah. An Asian gang. "It was mixed Asians. There weren't enough of one kind to go around, you know?"

He's running a little side operation loaning money and *charging a vig* of 10%, making 2000p a week on this. When asked how he collects on people who don't pay "I don't worry about that. I mean, I know where they work, I have their number. I mean, I don't loan money to people who don't have a job. That would be madness. I mean I didn't go to B school for nothing!"

He doesn't need a job because his baby mama supports him "I treat her good. I mean, if I think about it, I do keep meeting these women who want to take care of me, though."

He doesn't get the whole Field Avenue thing: "Americans just love Filipinas, don't they? That's not for me, though. Not for me. Can't see it." (He was married to "a white chick" and is now shacked up with baby-mama two, an American born Honduran)

You may be asking yourself: From what planet did this guy fall?

Answer: He's one of two or three people I know besides myself who've read the books of Robert Greene. Get your mitts on them *immediately* people. You will learn how to harness your natural self to great advantage, as this guy, who's peers (he's really peerless, but who's contemporaries) call "Amboy".

Proof that hybrids can be among the most powerful of any creature.