Name Your Prize Baby...

To where I was seated, two sets of Hawk eyes  looked at me stealthily from a distance, thus making me feel uncomfortable, while waiting for the noodle soup that I ordered earlier to arrive.

"Ry, naay sigeg lantaw nemu (Ry, someone's looking at you)." A friend of mine told me, smiling, the one that has malice in it, the one that was to provoke a hearty laugh not just to me but to everyone in our group.

"Kabalo ko (I know)," was my straight reply. There were six of us, uniformly aligned in a single bench at a local fast-food store here in Dumaguete City.

"Halinon jud kag mga bayot. (These gays are hitting on you. You are a bestseller.)" They now started to tease me, and later on, started making fun of me. I didn't know how to react with their teasing. I just grinned, and rode on with the bullets of jokes that they gunned upon me. It was non-stop.

I told them to shut up because if not, those perverts would come and try to start a conversation with us. But they didn't. Instead, "Naay problema ug kwarta among kauban diri oh! Barato rani (Our friend here has financial constraints. You might wanna help him at a good deal)." They were selling me!

And all I did was to utter the word "Shit!", lowered down my head and started eating my meal as fast as I could. I looked for the exit and waited for them outside.

We wandered the deserted downtown Dumaguete, laughing out loud with some random stuff. Everything seemed so fun, but in a moment I least expected, a motorcycle stopped ahead of us, impeding our walking. With it were two gentlemen wearing not-so-guy clothes, who later on parked their motorcycle in a corner and neared us.

Their eyes were focused on me, I somehow noticed, but I looked the other way around and started to walk away. "Dong, kanang ga-yellow. Ali sa (Boy in yellow, come here)," they said. Boy in yellow was me.

Trying to be polite, I said, "Unsa man Sir?" They came closer to me, closer and closer. With that, I stepped backwards little by little, more and more, until my back landed unto a concrete surface, a dead end.

"Name your prize." they asked me. I stiffened, and all of my DotA friends whose with me a while ago were now laughing at me from a distance, they're having a good time, two of them are my publication friends, an artist and a webpage master. My forehead was filled with sweat, there was a sweat-producing faucet attached to my head.

"Name your prize baby," they asked me, again. My evil side wanted me to 'dragon fist' each of their faces. But I tried to be polite once again since both of them were respectable gentlemen. "Sorry kaayo, Sir. I'm not for sale. You must have misunderstood my friends." Then, I ran away and showed a finger to my awaiting friends.

A week after that, the incident happened again, three times. Why can't they be just girls? I would love to sell myself even for free, my pervert alter ego is telling me.