8 Reasons Why a Future Without Today x Future Is Gonna Be Lonely
Jun 19, 2020 • Dan Ramos
Jun 19, 2020 • Dan Ramos
On any given pre-pandemic weekend, you would have found me and about 200 other people crammed in a corner along General Malvar street in Cubao. There, tucked in between two pawnshops, was a tiny dive bar called Today x Future. For a lot of us, it was refuge. It was family. It was home.
Yesterday, we learned that our home is permanently closing its red door that we were lucky enough to have been invited to enter, and inside, discovering a whole new different world once the clock struck midnight.
Here are 8 reasons why we will miss Today x Future, as told by some of our home’s regulars:
It wasn’t just about packed weekends, Halloween parties, and anniversaries. It was also about the quieter weeknights when Future was the place for long conversations and just enough buzz to get through the following workday. “Future tonight?” is a phrase I’ve sent and received, plans set in stone in just two words. Future tonight, for a toast to that birthday he quietly celebrated. Future tonight, for a hug for her recent heartbreak. Future tonight, for the group to brainstorm ideas for the next fundraiser. Future tonight, just to forget the day that passed and greet tomorrow with quiet company.
-Anj Pessumal
So you decide to escape and find yourself in a corner at Future. You settle into it. Future becomes your corner of the world, like how corners tend to be: a repository of displaced objects. You’re irregular, and you ease into being regularly…irregular. Corners cradle misfits, the curious, those falling from the middle. Corners comfort. Corners catch. In my corners at Future: Janylin, Cebuana, the gutters, I found belonging and acceptance. Future will tie all friends together in the many corners it created, even after the paint is stripped, songs are stopped, and lights turn off. Future is forever and will forever be our corner.
-Albert Saspa
The thing I will miss most about Future is the sense of belongingness that you feel whenever you are there. I never felt out of place and unaccepted whenever I was in that space. On a biased note, I will miss mine and Karla’s Bad Girls event because it was just pure fun. Seeing people enjoy the night was truly heart-warming. The best nights I’ve been out for from the recent years were Bad Girls Nights talaga. And of course, I will miss playing my favorite song, “One Last Time” by Ariana Grande.
-Julianna Force
In 2011, as a 16-year-old queer girl, Future became a safe haven where I didn’t have to hide who I was. There, I discovered indie music, along with other genres I didn’t even know existed. That led to bonding with countless strangers and new friends through sharing music with each other. Co-owner Leah and her brother Austin even taught me how to spin. Through the years, I have never found another place that made me feel as safe and as at-home. I’m going to miss the community, the music, the food and drinks. But mostly, I’ll miss the feeling of belonging.
-Mersi Carballo
The first of its welcoming rituals was most often a hug from Christine, manager extraordinaire. Then, the music—Japanese pop, 80s new wave, some Kate Bush. At Future, I discovered the potent meditative qualities of completely letting go, one that can only resemble teenage hunger. With beer on hand, the dance floor was anyone’s stage, soaked with the glaring red lights that imbued its derelict furniture with a kind of alchemy rare to this age. More than home, it was communion for weirdos and oddballs. A ragtag assemblage soundtracked by the synth of Robyn’s music. Now, Future exists only in the past. And as the song goes, “I keep dancing on my own”.
-Alfonso Manalastas
In 2015, I sent out a tweet: “I’m going on a date tonight (read HELP)” That was Valentine’s Day. I was eighteen and had never been on a date with anyone, much less a girl. Early in my phase of self-discovery, I hadn’t come out to my family yet. I was what they called a “baby gay” But there I was, barely legal, on my way to a small dive bar in I looked up on Google. Today x Future, the sign outside said. In the years to come, when I was no longer a baby gay, Future became a refuge for many women like me, loving outside the norm. For much of my late teens and early twenties, I drank many a beergarita, squeezed myself onto its dancefloor to catch a Robyn tune, and within its narrow halls, loved whoever I loved. I will miss my home.
-Maria Grant
There is a lot to miss from Future, I’m sure a lot will tell you just that in a most insular, personal, and heart-wrenching way, but for me, I already feel the gaping void of that moment watching as the rest of the sweat-drenched and out-of-breath crowd files out of the dance floor after the last call has been sent out with nothing but euphoria plastered on their faces. From my watchful gaze at the far end, it is this singular fleeting moment of unadulterated bliss we all have at point enjoyed and lived out that makes me most glad I didn’t just stay for that one last beer I swore hours ahead, because really, no one just comes for a drink and dance at Today x Future, they come home.
-Angelo de Cartagena
In 2014, I was a closeted gay 18-year-old in high school, afraid to be seen. Future was the first place that made me feel safe and proud of who I was. It’s where I first held a boy’s hand in public with no fear, and it became my home for six years. No other place has done that for me and no place will ever come close. I’ll miss the community most, who inspired and paved the way for me to be who I am today—strong, unafraid, proud of who I am and what I can achieve.
-Regis Andanar
What did Today x Future mean to you? Tell us all about it in the comments.
Dan Ramos is a copywriter in an ad agency. He's met Pedro Pascal once.
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