I popped another piece of fried meat into my mouth as I spoke. "Yeah, I saw that one too. Oh and by the way, I'm gay."

The look on my friends' faces would have been comical if I hadn't been scared shitless. One guy very carefully picked up his glass and downed the contents entirely. Another one choked on his beer. And the last guy at the table turned to me with a stunned expression on his face. Not because I was gay - he'd known for a long time, because we used to fool around in high school - but he hadn't expected me to ever come clean.

Of course, I completely forgot about the waiter who was clearing the table, who discreetly left with an embarrassed, although somewhat speculative look on his face. I made a mental note.

I turned back to my friends, grinned wickedly and asked: "More beer?" Under the table, I squeezed my knees together to control their shaking. I hadn't been sure if I'd really be able to do it.

When we could speak, I told them how I'd been thinking of things. We'd been friends for almost 18 years, practically since before puberty. And I felt, at this time, age and place, that I was tired of hiding who I was. I laid all my cards on the table (well, almost all of them). I'd always been closer to friends than to family, so I felt that the first step had to begin here.

My next words were: "I'm sure you knew anyway, but I think it's best if the truth came from me." And as I spoke, the iron bands around my chest slowly loosened.

It's funny. Five years ago, I would never even have entertained the thought of coming out to this bunch of straight friends. Today, I didn't want to go on lying to them. Of course, they're not my only friends, and I don't foresee myself telling the rest. But, I guess, it boiled down to who the important people in your life are. Not everyone deserves to know. And not everyone can handle it.

I hadn't been quite sure what to expect. Part of me had been hopeful that they'd be able to accept. But a part of me had also been braced for the worst. These were all married guys, with kids, wives, and women on the side. They are typical of the straight Filipino - proud of their manhood, arrogant in their masculinity.

I've always known their views and mild contempt for the GLBT community, and their inability to truly understand it. Like most men, they see it as perversion, and like many men, they secretly fear any associations for fear of their own straightness being cast into doubt.

It's not really entirely their fault. As we grew up, everyone's perception of gays had been tacky, effeminate and embarrassingly loud drag queens or transvestites who worked primarily as hairdressers. They were given little respect, because their own attitudes and behaviour did not demand respect.

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The perception that gays were "men wanting to be women" and lesbians were "women who want to be men" was the common view. It's only now, when gay men and women of taste, intelligence and decorum (at least in public) are coming out and quietly, but proudly going on with their lives, that the common people begin to see the gay lifestyle. Perhaps not really understand, but at least see.

Despite the fact that Manila has always been open about gays and lesbians, it's still different from the full acceptance you would find in more advanced countries. More and more people here are growing up aware of homosexuality and homosexuals, true. But many still prefer to hide behind the shadows of prejudice. And in a place where the ideal of "being a Man" is so firmly inculcated in every corner of everyday culture, it may take generations before people truly, deeply accept that the alternative lifestyle is just as valid, right and meaningful as their own. And more colourful, too.

A lady friend of mine commented on the whole thing: "They've always suspected, but they weren't sure. And that 1% doubt was enough for them to be comfortable." But to my surprise, my straight friends just shrugged it off and we went on to talk of other things.

As weeks passed, I didn't feel shunned or treated differently. They even asked me probing questions about what I did, what it felt like, where did it start, how was sex different, etc. I was amazed, in truth. These were MY straight, beer-guzzling, womanising, borderline homophobic friends? Maybe I'd been unfair to them in my own mind. Perhaps I'd been projecting my own fears and doubts on them, not giving them credit for being rational, mature adults.

Now, all I have to do is find the fortitude to do the same with my parents. Maybe when they grow up to become rational, mature adults.

Glenn Chua has been writing for the last 11 years, 7 of which he spent in the advertising arena in Singapore. So far no one's caught on to him yet. He claims a natural affinity for dogs, which is why his best friends are bitches.