I (27M) never imagined I’d find myself in a situation like this. For months now, I’ve been keeping this secret because of the shame it carries. This affair has had a massive impact on my life this year.
It all started in March. I often jog around Marikina, and during one of those runs, I noticed a man going the opposite direction on the same route. After passing each other several times, I slowed down for a walk—something I always do—and noticed he did the same. We exchanged glances, then a nod, and eventually a smile.
He didn’t seem like someone who might be gay or bi. I’m bisexual, and it’s usually easy to tell when someone’s interested, but he appeared like your typical straight guy—mid-30s, tattoos, and very much giving off “tito vibes.”
We ended up stretching near the park and exchanged casual pleasantries about running routes and routines. As another jogger in a Pokémon shirt passed by, our conversation shifted to shared interests. We talked for an hour, and I felt a spark. He was smart, funny, and attractive—exactly the type to draw in a hopeless romantic like me.
I tried dropping subtle hints to gauge his interest. I asked, “Do you usually jog alone?” and “My family’s in the province. How about yours?” His answers implied he was single—he said he jogged alone because he didn’t have anyone to join him and mentioned his parents had passed away. I didn’t ask directly because I was already enamored, and I thought, “What straight man would engage with me like this for so long, let alone show genuine curiosity?”
Eventually, he asked if I lived nearby and whether he could come over. I agreed, and we went to my studio apartment. After some small talk and music, I flirted, and he reciprocated. I even asked if I’d be hurting anyone by doing this, and he assured me I wouldn’t. We kissed, and things progressed.
We became close, exchanging Viber numbers but avoiding social media since we were both in the closet. From March to May, we met occasionally—sometimes jogging together, other times just spending weekends together. I started to feel something deeper, but I wasn’t rushing to make it a routine.
Then, one evening, I invited him over for dinner. I had just learned how to make pasta and wanted to impress him. While he used the bathroom, I set the table, and his phone, which was on my bed, lit up. I glanced over out of curiosity.
The screen displayed a photo of him with his wife and two kids, who looked no older than 10.
As the screen went dark, he walked out of the bathroom and immediately grabbed his phone, realizing I had seen it. He apologized and admitted, “I was going to tell you soon.” I was stunned, unsure how to react.
I asked him why, and he said, “It’s different with guys. I love my family, but I’ve also really enjoyed my time with you.” He then asked if I was okay with the arrangement.
I told him he needed to go home. I packed up the pasta I’d made for him and handed it to him as he left. I was on autopilot—confused, hurt, and overwhelmed.
A few hours later, he sent me a long message on Viber asking me to keep this between us. I never replied.
A few days ago, he messaged me again. It was a simple “Merry Christmas.”