I'm Not a Scary Beast

But I am a Fuzzy Teddy Bear

I smile much more these days, but I am still not what one would call friendly-looking.

I am so habituated to keeping my mental pain from showing that most of the time, I am a blank canvas. I try not to let anything but a small scowl show on my face. The thing that people don’t get about me is that even though I look as though I’m angry, I‘m not.

The ones who see through my disguise are children. They can tell I’m full of shit from the moment they meet me. Parents see me and try to move to the other side of the sidewalk, where kids will come right up and start asking about my tattoos.

The kids in the Philippines are even more forthright. They are not used to seeing a bald, bearded, fat, white guy with ink. They don’t see many people my height and weight, and they are drawn to me. I walk by the gaggle of little girls filming TikTok videos on their smartphones on my way to the Sari-Sari store, and they always stop, smile, wave at “uncle,” and giggle. Always giggling. The attention used to make me uncomfortable, but I just smile and wave good-naturedly now.

I’m kind of a frightening beast, but the kids only see something they don’t understand and want to get close to me. Thankfully most of the parents around here know me and know that I’m not a threat or even a badass for that matter.

Back when I lived in the US, I would have loved to look like this, because it always seemed like we men were trying to see how many people we can intimidate daily. In the States, there is a toxic aura of masculine competition. It’s all about the biggest muscles, the most tattoos, the mirror sunglasses, the irritated frown and smirk, the monster truck, and so on, and so on, when mostly I think they are all trying to make everyone believe they don’t have a small peepee.

For many men, life is just one long measuring contest where no one ever wins, because they are afraid to just whip it out and prove everyone wrong.

I hate toxic masculinity. I hate sports, except for watching Manny Pacquiao in the boxing ring. I hate fancy cars because many use them to say something untrue about themselves. I can’t afford one anyway. I hate big, muscled guys who stare at themselves in the mirror and pose with their unnaturally big-assed girlfriends on Instagram, trying to convince us their lives are better than everyone else’s.

They don’t understand that hours of squats in the gym followed by starving themselves for the rest of the time is no life. I don’t care how big your glutes are, it’s just not worth it to be so obsessed with looks that you have to spend as much time in Photoshop as you do in the gym before you post a selfie.

I never set out to look like a badass. I didn’t buy a book on how to look like a middle-aged white man with a complex. Frankly, it pisses me off that I look like most of those goddamn Proud Boys storming the Capital.

But, I’m balding, and shaving my head is the easiest thing when you can’t get to a barber. I like my face in a beard, because without I look like a shriveled-up frog baby with baggy eyes, and I don’t want that.

I’ve always been tall and wide, and none of it is from pumping iron. This body was built by Adobo Baboy (Pork adobo) and too much white rice. Some delicious eating sessions have contributed to making me look like a Yeti.

I’ve found that I love tattoos, and I will keep getting them because they have meaning to me. My tattoos show where I came from and that I have changed into a different version of myself.

I’m not the same person I was when I was younger. I have evolved into something different than the average. I am something that few people who knew me as weak, mentally ill, and a loser, would recognize. I’m a confident person, but don’t let the gruff appearance fool you.

I am also a teddy bear.

Sad YouTube videos make me cry as does fresh air off the ocean. Something about beauty and nature fills my heart with exquisite joy and I will find my eyes filling with tears when I get a glimpse of the clear azure water.

My family is my life, and as long as you understand that I will not allow them to be hurt or walked upon, I will be your best friend, But I warn you, there is a line you should never cross. I don’t suffer racists, abusers, or child predators, and I tend to handle those interactions with my fists.

But most will never see that side of me. You will only see a smiling beast of a man, who loves his wife and is proud of his kids. I value my friends and people who go out of their way to make my life just a little bit better every day.

When I walk by people on the street, I try to smile, even though I wear a mask, and I say, “Hello!” As Billy Joel says, I am “frequently kind.”

The thing about me is, I will be your best friend or your worst nightmare, but that all depends on what kind of person you are. If you are an asshole, expect me to act like an asshole. If you are compassionate and friendly, I will be the same.

You don’t have to read the Bible to apply the message of the golden rule.

Yes, I’m an intimidating man, but only to the people who deserve it. I can be scary, but the thing you must know about me is that I have only ever been a danger to myself. Yours of mental illness in my past have made me my own enemy, and I am only now learning how to love myself unconditionally.

You? Nah, you have nothing to worry about.