Fratman

I'm not cut out to be a fratman. If you've seen me, you won't ever associated me with any organization named with Greek letters. I simply don't have the look nor the attitude nor the coolness or hotness, whichever way you look at it.

In undergrad, never once was I recruited for any fraternity. It was a relief, in a way, because I would've turned down the offer anyway. It would be risky for my part and theirs: during the notorious initiations, I would die at the first blow of the wooden paddle, and they wouldn't want that—given the extremely hyped media coverage that would follow and all that jazz.

Over at lunch today, Carlo De Guzman bumped into a college friend who ate at the same place where we were.

Looking at me and Casti Castillo, the friend asked, "Are they your brods?"

People have compared me to Boy Abunda, Aiza Seguerra, or Mahatma Gandhi—but a fratman? This day will forever be bookmarked in my personal history.