Boy Du Jour Sex Tape

Ready na ba kayo?

Carino Brutal Scandal

For all of you requesting so another video of me in action, here's a short clip of what's in store for you if you really want to get my services.

Warning: This act happened, was documented, and shared with the consent of both parties involved. Safer sex was practiced. 

Disclaimer: The following video contains scenes and themes not suitable for minors, or anyone of sound mind. Proceed if prepared mentally.

In Action

Here's a video of me fucking someone.

WARNING: Very Offensive

(READ MORE for the VIDEO)

Dumb Move

Hey, gays. Sup?

I may have done something very stupid.

Well, remember how I posted my number here last year? Since then, I've been getting some calls and messages from you guys. Some of you are a waste of time coz you're calling from outside Metro Manila, and you're not really serious about getting my services, you just want to chat.

Anyway, I told Adelle about it, and she reprimanded me for being so dumb. She said attracting that much attention, and publicly declaring my 'acts of prostitution' will put me on the police watchlist. Technically, they can't file anything against me (even if I claim to be a prostitute in this medium), but the thing is they can play an entrapment on me and squeeze me for money or for my contacts or for whatever they want out of me and my network. We had a big fight over it, and she wants me to delete this blog. Only thing that pacified her is that I assured her that I posted no photographs of me, I'm writing under an assumed name, I write about real people under false names, and I can't remember posting anything here that can be traced back to me.

So, there. I'm getting a new SIM card. And, NO, I can't entertain clients from this blog because you just might be a cop.

For all other concerns, there's my formspring. http://formspring.me/boydujour

Casting Call Boy: Testimonial

Due to the number of people doubting the veracity of this blog, I have decided to finally come out with a video that will answer all your questions about how I look, how big my cock is, and how great I am in bed.

But here's the deal: I need someone else to do it for me.

I'm thinking I'll fuck one of you FOR FREE, but in return, we'll have to make a video where you answer TRUTHFULLY the questions people usually ask of me. You HAVE TO SHOW YOUR FACE in the video (and if you're game to appearing in the video with my cock in your mouth, all the better).

So there. Who's up for the role? I'm going to need someone who will look good on camera, of course. I can't just fuck anybody. If you're interested, leave me a message here (or on http://www.formspring.me/boydujour), preferably with your contact details and a recent headshot. 16-21 yo only. NO OLDIES, NO FATTIES, NO UGLIES.

Thanks! This is gonna be awesome!

Confessions 2.0

I'm taking this whole confession thing further by opening a formspring account.

In case you missed out on all the hipster fun of the past 6 months, Formspring.me enables users to receive questions (and other messages) anonymously from people all over the internet. You don't need to sign-up to ask a question.

If you have a burning question for me you're itching to ask, throw it my way at http://formspring.me/boydujour and I promise to answer them. You can ask me ANYTHING: advice on love, sex tips, personal matters, my opinion on pop culture, the basics of being a high priced male prostitute. I'll be featuring the most interesting questions here on my blog, by the way, so if you don't feel like asking anything, you can still join in the fun simply by reading.

Now, if this isn't pagpuputa, I don't know what is!

Sa Lahat ng Nagtetext at Tumatawag

I knew I was doing something stupid when I posted my number in public.

A lot of you have been calling and sending me messages, and if you have then you know I almost ALWAYS never reply (hurray for contradicting a contradiction!). Anyway, I have grouped most of your queries into a set of FAQ's--which would somehow explain as well why I don't call back or text back.

1. Are you really BDJ? Is this BDJ's number?

IF you're texting the number you got from THIS blogsite, then yes. If you're doubting me, then how can you trust me enough for a meet-up? If you're going to call or text me, then you must do so in total faith.

I don't want to waste any of my time confirming the number I gave you guys. Also, I feel insulted when I'm asked to prove it. If you're serious about closing a deal, then you must trust me.

2. How much is your rate?

I am NOT a common streetwalker. I do NOT have to fuck for the buck anymore.

IF you want to get my carnal services, though, it will cost you. I do NOT have a standard rate for my clientele--not anymore. What I want is for you to TEMPT ME WITH AN OFFER, one that would excite me, one that would promise me adventure. I like being pampered, I like being showered with gifts, I like being taken into places I've never been. Take me on a yacht, let me run around in a casino, take me shopping, buy my car a new set of mags, take me to an Usher concert, get me the latest DKNY scent. I am a very easily bored boy, you have to AROUSE me.

3. Do you have a picture on the internet?

YES. In this day and age, everybody does. However, my only photos online are in my Facebook account, and I don't want to share them to strangers because that entails exposing the people on my network, people who have no idea of THIS side of my life.

However, I UNDERSTAND that sex is a very VISUALLY engaged activity. You need to SEE how attractive I am before you close the deal.

Here's the thing. I like doing it old school. If you want to check me out first, then let's meet up in person. I don't mind being rejected to my face. If you find me unsatisfactory by your standards, then you have all the right in the world to not go on with it. I am a professional, I take nothing personally when it comes to these things.

4. When are you free?

Here's the tricky part. Nowadays, I can't say when I'm free to meet up guests / clients. Most likely, I'm free Sundays, and weekdays really, really late at night (but before midnight). Sorry, if you have something in mind, please have me booked at least two nights in advance.

5. Why aren't you answering my text?

I have grown tired of answering ALL the text messages I get because NOT EVERYONE IS SERIOUS ABOUT HOOKING UP. At first, as some of you can attest, I used to be really accommodating. I'd answer all of your questions, I'd entertain you. At some point, some of you would just not stop asking questions, engaging me in conversations that I found harder and harder to walk away from without sounding rude. Then there are those who find it in their Christian duties to hate me. Hate me for being me, hate me for being confident, and hate me for offering my company for a price they find unaffordable. Fuck you, guys. I don't have time for your shit.

6. How can we get your attention?

If you're going to contact me via the mobile number I gave, make sure of the following:

(a) you TRUST that the number belongs to me.
(b) you are SERIOUS about engaging my professional services, and you're not contacting me to be my "friend". I don't need friends, I have money.
(c) you are following this format: Make an Offer to Entice Me, Tell Me WHAT Exactly You Expect Me to Do (please, I hate it when you're trying to be coy, virginal, and at 'merely experimenting'; I have no patience to be your first time), Tell Me Your Idea of Where to Meet Up and Where to Go Afterwards.

7. I Know Who You Are.

I will deny it till I die.

A Good Teacher

A good teacher is warm and forceful, like a good sodomy.

Should I Say Yes...

...to the offer of a book deal?

whatever

Sup, bitches? Fuck, I didn't know you were all that horny! Haha.

So, I contacted some of you who showed interest re: my last post. 8 out of 10 were just curious about my price and my looks, and the other 2 who were actually serious about the transaction, I'm meeting later this week.

Of the 8 annoying faggots who wasted my time, 5 offered to take me out on a date. Rule number 1: I DON'T DATE THE SAME SEX. I don't even hang out with my friends, for fuck's sakes.

Within a few days of finding out my number, some of you motherfuckers thought it would be really cool to pass it along. So now, I am beset with intrigued, lonely faggots who "just want to have a talk".

RULE NUMBER 2: I DON'T LIKE CHATTING WITH YOU GUYS. I'm anti-social, motherfuckers. Deal with it. I DON'T want to hear your coming out stories, I don't want to deal with your imagined stories of persecution. I am a professional psychologist-slash-escort; people PAY TO TALK WITH ME OR HAVE SEX WITH ME. You DON'T get to talk with me about YOUR PROBLEMS for free.

So, let me lay out some ground rules, people. If you want to have a "CHAT" with me, you're going to pay for my PROFESSIONAL CONSULTATION FEES. That's slightly higher than my escorting fees, so you might as well get on all fours and take my cock up your ass because it's cheaper.

And, oh, yeah. I changed my numbers now. STOP CALLING.

Whoring for a Cause

Ok, so here's the deal.

I'm going to drop my rates really low. For at least 500php, you can give me a blowjob for 30mins. That's an unbelievably cheap price considering who I am.

Now, all of that--the entire 500php--will be donated to charity. I'll be giving it all to a relief ops of my choice that is involved in helping out victims of the two recent typhoons.

This promo will run for a week only. From October 19-25.

Leave your contact details in the comments section if you're interested.

A Devil's Threesome

So... I went to the mall today, and I left my car at home because it's Monday. Mostly went to check out clothes, did some grocery shopping. Really boring shit.

Aboard the FX on the way home, I sat at the middle cab. There was just me, and this girl who didn't look anything exceptional. We waited for the FX to get filled before we can leave, and I was totally lost, plugged into my iPod.

Then, the conductor opened the door, and ushered in a couple. The girl was fucking hot, and the boy was lean, lanky, and fuckable. I met the girl's gaze, and she froze. She was supposed to get inside the cab first, but I dunno, must have felt flushed when she realized she will be spending the ride next to me. So, quickly, she turned to her boyfriend and asked him to go in first instead. The boy checked me out, he grinned. Now, I have flirted and flirted back gazillions of time in my life, and that, my friends, was a flirty grin. The boyfriend held my gaze and cooed his girlfriend to get in first and sit next to me, in between us.

We spent the rest of the ride, glancing at each other, all three of us. My right arm would brush at the girl's left breast lightly, and she'd press herself back coyly. The boy toyed with the girl's fingers, biting his lower lip suggestively, watching me watching him watching. Yeah, I think he wanted to see me fuck his girl while he lick my balls, that's what.

Blowing Other Jobs

I.

Manolo's apartment was half the size of mine, but it was so sparsely furnished, it actually felt roomier.

"Hanggang next-next week lang naman," he explained apologetically.

There was the bed, the table, the kitchen sink, and the toilet. The toilet is more appropriately referred to as the water closet, actually, what with it doubling as the shower room as well. What little clothes Manolo had left in his possessions were stashed under the bed, along with his shoes, and other junk. There was a pair of 30-lb dumbbells lying under the table.

Christian was cooking instant pancit canton, so Manolo did most of the talking.

"Bakit di mo subukan? Ok naman ang sahod," he said.

II.

I met Manolo and Christian one long ago night. They were callboys, then. At that time, I wasn't exactly new to the trade, but I was going through a particularly rough patch. I borrowed some dough from a loan shark a neighbor recommended, and he wanted his money back immediately. I had nothing. I've been sending invitations through my network, but none of my former clienteles was interested that particular night.

Let me get this straight: I'm not a callboy. I'm not a streetwalker. I don't stand in the dark, displaying my ware.

I'm high-class.

That means I charge by the hour...

...and I charge a lot.

Through the course of this blog, you will learn more about this difference between me and some of my friends (among them, Manolo and Christian). All in due time, my dear readers.

So, back to the story of How I Met Manolo and Christian: I was desperate, and I was young. I was 19, then, and although I was physically fit, and streetwise, I knew I couldn't stand against an angry loanshark. He already sent someone to harass me by hanging out with me one whole day a couple of days ago, and I had to introduce the "tail" to everyone in class as my cousin. The tail literally followed me around campus, making sure everyone within hearing distance hear that I was in debted financially--and indebted heavily at that. It wasn't physical harassment, it was worse. I almost lost my patience, I shoved him back a couple of steps, and he started creating a scene about the money I owe. I promised to cough up the dough I owe them within the week just to make him stop.

With nothing but a few pesos in my pockets, I decided to swallow my pride and do something very, very pedestrian: stalk the night for customers.

III.

The Quezon City Memorial Circle is ringed by a wide highway called the Elliptical Road. The Elliptical Road is lined with various governmental buildings, including the Quezon City Hall, the Department of Agrarian Reform (a.k.a. Farmer's Squatting Place), the National Housing Authority.

Along this circular avenue revolves the lives of male prostitutes.

And it's conveniently accessible from my place within 10 minutes by walking.

The way I saw it, if I went to stand with the Circle Boys, I would be risking my reputation. Someone I know from school could pass by. I had to take my trash away from home. I had two choices. Hustle in Makati, or in Manila.

Since I had no money for gas then, I decided not to take my car. Both Makati and Manila are accessible via bus. I could get better paying clients in Makati; I also had a higher risk of getting beaten up in Makati (there were some gangs going around at that time, according to the talk). Manila was cheaper in terms of fare. I also considered the psyche of potential clients. Knowing the old adage of not bringing your trash home, I was thinking QC-based potential clients would probably be cruising around in Makati. Manila was still risky in that aspect, but substantially less so.

Manila it was, then.

I took an FX to Taft Avenue, and asked to be dropped at the Pedro Gil Stn. of the LRT. From there, it was a short walk towards the Philippine Women's University, a popular hang-out for callboys.

Have you ever wondered why callboys and hookers always flock to the same place? How come you don't see them scattered all over the city? The answer's rooted in animal psychology. In order to survive the desert, animals had to "remember" watering holes. This data is passed on through several generations, until it becomes almost instinctual for them to follow the road towards the nearest watering holes. Watering holes in deserts and jungles are popular congregation spots for animals of different species. Animal brain developed until it wasn't exactly a thinking process, but an instinctive process to equate "Hungry = Go to Water". As predators notice the correlation between watering holes and various animals (or to them reads as "various preys"), they processed a new knowledge which they then passed on through their offsprings: "Watering Hole = Many Animals = Many Food = Profit!". Until, eventually, humankind ruled the world, and the oldest profession in history was born: prostitution. Prostitutes--like most cunning business adventurists--frequented established spots together because that's where clients would "most likely" be looking for a trick. You can perhaps stand by EDSA or Commonwealth or Katipunan waiting for a customer, and YES, you can get one, but standing in established spots (like Quezon Ave for hoookers, QC Circle for callboys) multiplies that chance a lot. More clients looking for your service means the better you can bargain for it (although, you would have to contrast that bargaining with the fact that you're in competition with other 'service professionals').

Anyway, that's how I met Manolo and Christian. They're callboys, regulars of the PWU. The first time I saw them, they were eyeing someone driving a car. They were caressing each other's well-developed chests to entice the customer. The customer passed them by after some consideration, stopped in front of a much younger callboy nearby, picked the kid up.

I walked towards them. There was no need to pretend with these boys. They knew I was there for the very same reason they were. We each got booked later that night. I came back to the spot a few hours later for a 2nd booking, and found them both there as well.

We traded numbers. Like most industry, it's better to keep a network of peers than not. We promised each other to pass around bookings that we couldn't handle or couldn't commit to. Manolo said he was expecting a Japanese "guest" in a few days, and he'd invite Christian and me over if his guest was to have any other Japanese friends with him. I said, sure, yeah, and gave my name as "Aldwin."

The next day, Christian sent me a message. He asked if I had notice the kid who was picked up shortly before I arrived. The kid was being hunted by the police; his customer was found stabbed several times in the neck, the face, and the gut.

IV.

To "fit in" Manolo and Christian's world, I had to inhabit the persona I had created as "Aldwin." I have told you about Aldwin before. I told them I was from Kalookan, and used to hang-out in the Circle, but I left a customer angry when I punched him in the nose for not giving me the amount we agreed on. Fearing repercussion, I was lying low from the Circle. "Until things cool down a bit," I told them.

Manolo, Christian, and the other callboys I know assumed I had the same sob story they do. I don't bother correcting them. What good would it be, telling them I'm educated, I drive my own car, and our family business in the province is doing well enough to give me a substantial monthly allowance? Would they have believed me?

V.

"Bakit di mo subukan?" Manolo asked me. "Ok naman ang sahod."

Christian was done with the pancit canton. He served it on a plate, and brought some pan de sal with it to the table. He took the litro of Coke from the grocery bag under the table, and twisted the cap off. "Tsaka, OK buhay dun, di tulad sa Saudi. Kala lang ng mga tao dito, muslim-muslim kasi Dubai. Pero, hindi. Cosmopolitan na rin sila."

Odd choice of word: Cosmopolitan. A friend of mine, a flight crew (not The Pilot, trust me) used the same word to describe the same place: Dubai, Cosmopolitan. (Yes, my friend does get indecent proposals, and he accepts them, but only when they fly Business Class)

(I suspect Dubai has some sort of tourism campaign going on, and they're using "cosmopolitan" to push their agenda. That's the subtle psychological manipulation of advertising at work, people. You can't help but appreciate how words have tremendous impact on people's subconscious. If any of you are from Dubai, or had recently come from that country, can you verify this? Do they have a tourism campaign (Like the DOT's "Byahe Tayo!") anchored by the concept of being "cosmopolitan"?)

Christian had been working in Dubai for some months now as a busboy for one branch of a popular chain of restaurants. "Kulang na lang i-table ka," he said about the tip. Manolo will join him "next-next week" (which was he put it last week, and the week before that).

"Tiga-balat ng patatas," Manolo joked when I asked him what he will do there. I don't think he actually knows what he will be doing there.

Why don't you try it there? they asked me.

I know it's a question most people are wondering about. Someone even left a comment here in my blog about it. So, why am I in this business? What is a good, decently raised Catholic boy doing in an indecent industry?

I wish I can tell you I enjoy it. I don't The sex part is disgusting, really. I have had STD's for a grand total of 3 TIMES by the time I was 24 years old.

VI.

I do it for the power. I do it for the worship.

As I keep repeating in this blog, I have long diagnosed myself to have malignant narcissism. Us malignant narcissists are fixated on getting worshipped, being adored, being constantly affirmed of our vital role in history.

I was watching a documentary on The Unabomber the other day, and was impressed when the FBI claimed they established a "new criminal profile" based on The Unabomber: The Lone Wolf. When the forensic psychologist explained the features of The Lone Wolf as a criminal profile, I compared myself to it, and found myself oddly proud that I fit the bill.

I do it because I see in people's eyes how much they want me. How much they want to bathe themselves in my glow. It's in their eyes, the longing, the wanting, the craving.

The worship.

VII.

An old friend of mine, one from school, actually, contacted me. He's setting up a new venture.

"Power Wellness Center," he said. "It's going to cater to people living power-driven, power-hungry lives. It's a place people go to for their wellness." He sounded positively excited. "It's like going to the hospital before you need to go there. My wife, she's a nutritionist, she'll do 'nutrional consultation' and device diet programs. You and I can be 'emotional and psychological health councellors'."

"Sounds like a fancy way of calling a shrink," I said.

"Exactly!" he said. "I took some training in Eastern health practices, that's my specialty. You can do that pop psychology you do, and sleep with the desperate housewives to jump start their sex lives," he said. My heart skipped a beat, but then I realized he was just kidding, and had no idea of my other life. "I know a girl who does all this yoga thing, and she's a registered nurse, so she'll also offer botox and gluta injections."

"I'm not sure, bro. It sounds exciting, yeah..."

"Think about it."

VIII.

Then, there was also that job interview I went to last month.

"Mr. Du Jour," The Editor said. "What exactly can you contribute to our publication?"

I slid a list across her desk towards her. It was on a plain bond paper torn crosswise.

"What's this?" she asked.

"That's a list of local male celebrities suspected to be homosexuals," I told her.

She shrugged and slid the list back. "You got this from the internet. Big deal," she said. Clearly, she was unimpressed.

I took a ballpen out, and encircled three names.

I slid the list back to her.

"I slept with these," I said. I was bluffing. I only had sex with one of the three names I encircled, and only because his cousin--a politician--was drunk, and forced both of us to do it while the politician watched. But the two other names, well, I know someone (or someone who knows someone) who had sex with them.

She glanced at the names I encircled. She wasn't amused. "Old rumors," she said. She didn't even touch the list.

I took the list back.

I added 2 more names to the list.

Two male showbiz personalities I have personal knowledge of preferring the company of men over women.

2 names that have managed to remain squeaky clean despite the internet's persistent information dissemination.

2 names that have never before been accused of being gay.

I knew I hit gold when she tried to force her smile out of her face. She stared at me, straight and challenging.

She tapped one long fingernail over one of the names.

I named his condo building in Makati.

She kept tapping.

I gave her which floor.

She kept tapping.

"There's a portable DVD player in his RAV4. He watches himself jacking off when stuck in traffic," I told her.

She leaned closer, and smiled at me in a way that told me she was going to let me in on a secret. "His studio--" and by that, she meant the TV network holding an exclusive contract with the model-actor I just named. "--gives me good money to keep his shit out of my magazine. He pulls big bucks for them, you know?"

"I suppose I can go on top of a mountain and scream his dirt out in the open, and they'd come to the rescue and launch a massive PR campaign to clean up, eh?"

"Even if you go to their rival TV network, no one would air that out. The rival TV network would only use that information to weasel a guesting from him," she said. "But I like you, boy. I like your spunk. How soon can you start?"

"I have to file a resignation. 30-ish days?" I said.

Welcome to day 20.

IX.

Manolo and Christian ate instant pancit canton sandwiched in pan de sal. It wasn't how I usually enjoy instant pancit canton, but I have put worse things in my mouth to survive.

"Bahala na," I told them. "Pag naka-ipon ng pang-visa."

Christian wolfed the remaining pancit canton on his saucer. "Tumatanda ka na, brad," he told me. "Umiba ka na nang linya."

How to Manipulate Your Gay

Everybody has a gay. Be it a lover, a friend, a professor, or a new acquaintance. A gay can be very beneficial to a boy, a young man, or someone who looks like either a boy or a young man.

With my expertise as a master mindgamer, manipulator, and damn fucking hot sex machine, I am now arguably the definitive go-to guy when it comes to training hustler wannabes into the art of manipulating a gay for benefits. I am now sharing them with you through the goodness of my heart. Listen well, my young padawans, and listen good.

The key to successfully manipulating a gay for benefits is confidence. You must gain your mark's confidence through careful suggestions, hints, and behavior. It's not how good you look, how well built you are, or how big your dick is. It's all about how well you play the con game. I have long diagnosed myself to have malignant narcissism, and unless you can admit to having one as well, then you can not pull a successful con.

If you have worked in a call center long enough, or if you have experience working for Famly First, then you'll find this relatively easy.

First, some clarifications: at the heart of any confidence trick is the victim's (or "the mark", sometimes "the target") own greed. A good conman doesn't play with people's TRUST, he plays with their CONFIDENCE. There's a difference. People get tricked into scams not because they're trusting, but because they are confident that they will gain something great by engaging with the con artist.

Thus, one should not feel sorry to con a gay. You can NEVER trick an honest gay, only the greedy ones, the ones with hidden motives, the ones with the secret desires, can be truly corrupted.

Moving on... here are some pointers on how to successfully manipulate your gay for benefits.

I. Treat him like a man.

Gays enjoy the cursory illusion of being treated like "one of the boys". Call them "pare" as much as you can, they'd like that. EVEN IF they admit they're gay, you have to keep on ignoring that and pretend that you "don't believe" he is gay.

Say things like: "Pare, sumama ka lang lagi sa kin, gagawin kitang tunay na lalake." And "Pare, sayang ka, eh. Siguro, kung susubok ka lang ng chicks, makakabuo ka kaagad."

Invite them to play basketball. Don't worry. They will never play basketball. Gays don't play basketball, they play volleyball. If your mark's a tall gay, then you can say things like "Pare, sayag, dapat nagbabasketball ka, dami mo siguro chicks." They will love that.

Pretend IGNORANCE. Even if your gay is starting to hint interest in you, IGNORE HIS ADVANCES in order to challenge him more. Gays are biologically male, and as such, are tied to the psychology of being excited when facing challenges.

BEWARE BEWARE BEWARE: Never ever treat your gay like a woman. Treating a gay like a woman will make him believe you are interested in something romantic. He will start behaving like a girl, and like a true female, will start MAKING DEMANDS. You DON'T want that. You don't want your gay to send you messages like "Bakit di ka nagtetext?" or "Hmph." or asking you questions about the friends you're keeping.

II. Invest in Your Gay

Every peso you invest in your gay will have a profit margin of 10x ROI. Part of gaining a gay's confidence is making him believe that you are financially independent (You ARE financially independent; you just enjoy spending his money instead of yours) and are not interested in his money. This will also CHALLENGE him into OUT DOING the amount you have spent on him.

Treat a gay into a frappucino in the ballpark of 100-php and you can expect to be treated to a movie and dinner amounting to 1000-php. Wear a 500-php shirt, and he might give you a pair of 5,000-php shoes. This is mathematics.

III. Always Smell Strong

It doesn't matter if you smell good or you smell bad as long as your body scent is STRONG AND OVERWHELMING. Bathe in cheap Afficionado perfume (that is, if you can't afford original, expensive perfumes like I can) or don't shower for 3 days. This is an either-or tip.

Gays are big on smells. They want to smell you a lot. A person's scent is a subconscious reminder to his significant others of his presence when out of the line of vision. You must establish your presence with your scent.

When playing rough with your "pare", make sure he gets a health dose of your armpits. Pretend you're not conscious of how you smell.

IV. Show Some Skin

Show some skin--BUT NOT A LOT, AND NOT OFTEN.

The technique is to give them a bit to stir their phantom wombs, but not enough to satisfy them, and not often enough that they get accustomed to your body. Never let a gay get familiarized with your physique, or you will lose the whole con altogether.

V: Profit

Finally, when it comes to reaping the rewards of your hard work, do so subtly.

Make your mark think IT'S HIS IDEA to "help" you out. Never suggest a solution, but present "your problem" in such a way that the solution is clear, and he would make the leaps of logic easily without your help.

Sample dialogue: "So, yun. Di ko nga alam kung saan ako kukuha ng pang-tuition eh. Kung may mahihiraman lang ako, makakapag-bayad naman ako sa susunod na padala ni mama."

Always put up a token resistance. "Ano ba, nakakahiya naman. Baka sabihin nila, ano." is a classic reply to ANY AND ALL OFFER OF ASSISTANCE.

Do not ask for anything; always pretend you're just "borrowing".

When going around the mall with your gay, it would be helpful if you make your tastes clear in order to help him pick out a birthday/graduation/special occassion gift for you next time that he's alone. "Fuck, sayang, mahal pala tong bagong Nike Zoom Le Bron VI! Gustong gusto ko pa naman."

Not all benefits are financial. You can ask your gay for help on matters concerning your studies, or for other opportunities:

"Shit, ambobo ko talaga. Babagsak na naman ako sa class kasi di ko magawa ng tama tong project ko."

"Kung makakahanap lang ako trabaho, di makakatulong na ako kina mama."

"Buti ka nga may auto, eh. Ako, pa-commute-commute lang. Kailangan ko pa naman pumunta ng Subic para pick-upin yung padala ni Mama sa tita ko dun."

Bonus Tip: One of the best scam to pull on a gay once you've gained his confidence is the Multilevel Marketing Scam Gay Version: "Pare, ayos yung in-ooffer sa akin nung kaibigan ko. 14,500 lang ang fee, tapos kada-2 downline, may 500 ako, plus automatic, 10,000 pesos na GC's sa Jennelyn Shoes at Play and Display. Sulit di ba? Yun nga lang, san naman ako kukuha ng 14,500. Sayang. Kayang-kaya ko mag-sali ng mga tao sa downline ko eh."

This is an easy con to pull because your gay will be interested in the profit as well. He will see this as a joint venture.

But of course, you're not really putting that money into any multilevel marketing scheme, are you? Not when you can afford a new cellphone with that money.

So, after a few weeks, you need to put on another act: "Putang... Ulol talaga yung Jhong na yun! Tinakbo pera ko! Uupakan ko yun pagnakita ko eh!"


There. I hope that helps. If you have any questions or clarifications, feel free to leave them in the comments section.

Yours,
Boy De Jour