My Bloody Twisted Valentine
Is your romantic history a strange mash-up of Fatal Attraction (Meet, boink, stalk, kill rabbit, rethink big hair), Letter From An Unknown Woman (They meet, he seduces her, they meet again years later, he seduces her again. . .having forgotten than he had already seduced her), and Kill Bill (He kills her, she kills everyone)? Or maybe The Exorcist (The 360-degree head spin, projectile hurling, speaking in deep voices and all the symptoms of demon possession) and The Crying Game (She’s a dude)? Or is it in a more literary vein, like Wuthering Heights (Obsess, obsess, obsess, die) or The End Of The Affair (Obsess, obsess, die, obsess, obsess)?
Then it’s not a total catastrophe. You could write a novel, or make a movie, or join My Bloody Twisted Valentine contest and win a heart-stopping cake created by the Dessert Diva! (Picture to follow as the cake is still being invented.)
Beginning today until February 12, tell us your true Horrible/ Heinous/ Heart-rending/ Hilarious (or Horrible, Heinous, Heart-rending And Hilarious) love story in the Comments section of this entry. The Jury composed of various characters who have appeared in this blog will choose One Winner of My Bloody Twisted Valentine Cake, to be delivered within the Metro Manila area on February 13. If you live abroad, we can deliver it to your ex/crush/anyone you nominate within the Metro Manila area.
Happy endings are allowed. Pseudonyms are recommended to protect the not so innocent. No minimum or maximum word count, let it bleed.
Answers to questions you might be asking, unless you wandered onto this site purely by accident >>>
February 3rd, 2008 at 23:33
I fell for the ploy of a very depressed lad who lost his mom to cancer. I will refer to him as Woof. That he’s needing a friend during his dark time was the vortex that sucked me in his world of delusions. The comforting went on for a while until I noticed that Woof was getting more and more needy, and that he’s not making any effort to move out of depression (dropped several jobs, etc), so I told him maybe it’s not a good idea that I’m ‘keeping him company’ until he recovered from grief. I wanted out so that he can learn to stand on his own for a change. This obviously depressed him further as he threatened to kill himself because he thinks his life is worthless whenever I’d mentioned (1) the “break up” thing and (2) that his P* is too small.
Heeding several friends’ advices, I finally called it quits by telling him the most heartbreaking break up line ever uttered: “I think you have ADHD and you need professional help.” He would have thought this was heartbreaking too if he knew what it meant. He soon found out, however, and asked me for a last coffee meet-up (asking for goodbye sex would have been too much for him to bear because I might just yet again tell him the second thing that makes him suicidal).
So to the coffee shop i went. I thought it was going to be smooth as I delivered the news early on, but as soon as we got on the highway when he asked to drive me home, things went nuts. He swerved the car at full speed in the middle of EDSA, right after crossing the Taft intersection. The street division wall was to our left and other cars to our right. He managed the first and second swerves but not the third because I just went crazy and started screaming bloody murder while bashing his dashboard with my umbrella.
Maybe it was my incessant banging on the interior of his car, or my begging him to stop the car (yes, it is possible to simultaneously beg and scream expletives), but he finally did. I went out and never looked back.
I sort of realized that he will never really kill himself over me, but I wasn’t counting on him trying to murder me.
The end.
February 7th, 2008 at 04:07
Be forewarned. There is no happy ending to this tale. I’m not even sure it can be classified as a “tale” seeing as my romantic history is considered one the bigger non-events of my life. In an nutshell, all the men in my life are taken by one or a combination of the following factors:
a. Another woman
Seeing as I am deathly afraid of the Karmic lightning bolt that will zing my rear end should I decide to deliberately extinguish some poor girl’s relationship with the guy I am obssessed with, you guessed right…I’m way too honest for my own good. At the rate I’m going, I’ll fit snuggly in the “strangely single lady with gazillion cats” category. I already have a cat. Thank goodness he’s gay which will rule out uncotrollable feline reproduction.
b. God
I remember clearly the day I was violently made aware of the existence of the opposite sex. I was 11. Sitting in church on of those tedious Sundays, I suddenly took notice of a young lad. He was standing next to the priest. In a few years, he BECAME the priest thus ending any delusions I might have had. For what it’s worth, that was the only time in my life I looked forward to standing in line for communion.
c. Another man
Why is it that I can only have intellectual conversations with gay men? With straight men, it’s a different story. It’s either I do all the talking, they do all the talking or we both quietly play with our spoons while I wishfully imagine the Hubble Space Telescope mysteriously dropping from the sky and landing on whatever restaurant we happen to be in.
d. An incurable emotional turmoil that is “the Ex”
A few years ago, I found myself getting mushy over a fellow from work. We came from the same university so I was 80% sure he was not a serial killer or a sexual predator of some sort. Plus, he seemed like a nice guy. So I agree to go out with him. To my chagrin, his idea of a “date” is to spend the evening drinking iced tea at a gasoline station convenience store and to top it all off, he would talk of nothing else but his ex-girlfiriend. On and on and on about the “fish” that got away. The fool didn’t even pay for my drink. So guys, here’s a tip: If you plan to turn one of your dates into an instant shrink session, at least be courteous enough to dish out 20 pesos for the f*@#%! iced tea.
So as president of the SSBC (Single Since Birth Club), allow me to stand on the proverbial wooden box and announce to my kindred everywhere: Membership is free and we have jackets!
February 11th, 2008 at 05:23
Almost all the guys I’ve dated have made the following (cringe-worthy) grammatical blunders:
1) „did“ with a verb in the past tense
„I did not replied yet.“
„I did noticed it.“
„I did returned your call.“
This blunder is really not easy on the eyes and ears.
2) question embedded in a sentence
„I was wondering where are you.“
„I would like to know how many are your brothers and sisters.“
„I was wondering how are you doing.“
So wrong.
3) comparative adjectives
„More cheaper mga DVDs sa Harrison.“
„Adam Sandler is more funnier than Jim Carrey.“
„You are more prettier in person.“
Aysus.
4) idioms, etc.
„I didn’t do anything wrong. My boss is barking at the wrong tree.“
„It is well taken cared of.“
„The race for the US presidency is neck-to-neck.“
Ngrrrr.
5) and the ultimate blunder: use of „me“ in SMS/chat/actual conversation
„Uwi na me.“
„Gutom na me.“
„Tulog na me.“
„Tulo-laway na me.“
Seriously. Would it really hurt to use the Tagalog word for „me“?
I am not an expert on grammar. I’ve made blunders myself but not as heinous as the ones I’ve mentioned.
Needless to say, I’ve never had a second date with those guys again.
February 11th, 2008 at 07:09
I don’t really have a love story per se. All of my experiences have been purely sexual. It’s just that I have realized long ago that I am incapable of real romantic feelings. I’ve had crushes, sure, but just from afar. The moment I learn something more intimate about that person, I lose interest.
Anywho, my twisted, bloody “love†story begins with a benign sexual encounter. There is this public restroom in my city that’s popular for tearoom sex (if you don’t know what tearoom sex is, ask your gay friends). I drop by there once in a while whenever I feel like being in contact with another horny male. Well, there was this one time when this really cute mid-twenties guy pretend-peed right beside me in that foul-smelling restroom. We gave each other quick glances and subtle smiles before going out to finally talk. He initiated the talk. He introduced himself with that boyish, engaging smile (and I totally forgot his name), and I introduced myself with my fake name Josh (actually, that is not my real fake name, but for the sake of anonymity, I will give my actual fake name a fake name). He asked if I wanted to do it, and yes, of course, I said yes. We then discussed where we were supposed to do it. I told him I do not have a place, as I still live with my parents. He said he doesn’t have a place either. I told him we could split the payment for a cheap motel room uptown. And so it was decided.
It was around 4AM.
So we went to this really cheap, disgusting motel uptown. On our way in, he pinched my cheeks out of nowhere, trying to get all romantic. And I think that time I almost gave in. Romantic gestures make me shudder, but that time, because he’s all chinito with an engaging smile, I almost caved. Before checking in, he told me he didn’t have any money, so I would have to pay for the full amount myself. I told him I didn’t have money, either (I lied. I had five hundred bucks, I just didn’t want to disclose it). So we were stuck again at the discussion of where we were supposed to do it. That time I really got bored that I told him we should just do it next time, when we both had money for a motel room. Then he suggested we should do it at his Aunt’s place, which was just a tricycle away. I became hesitant as I didn’t feel like doing it anymore, but at the same time I was curious about how much fun we were going to have, so in the end, I agreed to do it at his Aunt’s place.
So after one tricycle ride, we got to this really crowded neighborhood. It was already around 6AM and people were already awake doing laundry and stuff. It was a long walk from the tricycle stop to his Aunt’s place. It was like going deep into the forest where I could get lost, only it was going deep into the slums where I could get beaten to death should the person I was with yell “Theif!†at me. That moment, I knew I had made the wrong decision coming with him.
We got to his Aunt’s place anyway, where people were already awake and he was already introducing me to them. We went inside this room where a guy was just sleeping on the floor shirtless and this girl was talking about an encounter with an enkantada. I was so freaked out I was already stroking my phone through my pants, saying goodbye to it mentally, wishing that should they decide to hurt me, they should make sure I got killed, as I couldn’t bear living through an embarrassment of being beaten to death by an entire family.
Then we transferred to another room where this lady in her late fifties with thick makeup was all smiles at me. They made me sit in a rocking chair, and the lady started asking me if I felt like having beer. The guy I was with (at this point, let’s call him Michael), told the lady to stop embarrassing him in front of me. Michael then closed the wooden window so no lights could get into the room, and asked if I felt like doing “ice.†I asked him what ice was. He said meth.
I heaved and finally made a decision. I told him yes, please, I miss meth. It’s been a long time since I’ve done meth. “How much is it?†I asked Michael.
He grinned. “200 pesos.â€
I shook my head. “Damn, I told you I didn’t bring any cash,†I said.
After a long, intended silence (intended, yes, because I’d really meant to have that silence between us, to make them feel that I was doing a lot of thinking even if I’d already figured out what I was going to do).
“Is there an ATM here nearby?†I said. “I can withdraw cash.â€
Michael’s face lit up. “Yes, near .â€
“Will you accompany me?†I asked him.
He stood up and escorted me outside. He also asked his cousin (this bra-less early-twenties girl in a racer back) to accompany us.
So when we got to the school where there was an ATM, I ran as fast as I could to an approaching cab. I hailed it. But as it got near, I realized it wasn’t a cab. It was just an ordinary white car. So the next thing I did was jump into the nearest jeepney, not caring where the jeepney was headed, just so long as I could escape that world, a world with cute, boyish-smile Michaels (real name wittheld) and bra-less girls (real name forgotten) and late-fifties women with thick makeup asking for beer at six in the morning.
February 12th, 2008 at 13:11
In college, when raging hormones are at their peak, I had a giant crush on this pimply boy. We were in the same class, and sort of friends (meaning he knows my name). Until now I still don’t know if he ever had any idea, but then he started to get a little too nice.
When the object of your affection pays a little more attention to you than usual, the tendency is to start having delusions that he likes you back. These delusions were further encouraged by this boy asking my advice about Valentine gifts. (Oh, the daydreaming that ensued.) The delusions were also promptly destroyed when, on the day itself, he handed me a card with a red heart on the flap. I flipped it over and it had my friend’s name on it.
I don’t know how I got over that moment, I must have pasted on my fakest smile, took the card and slapped him with it. Maybe not.
Whenever I remember it I still feel like banging my head on a wall for being so stupid. Ironically, I now have trouble remembering his name, much more how he looked like; maybe because I killed him and he’s long dead.
(This is an excerpt from a valentine article I’ve written, edited a little. Just a heads up; it’s still a valentine story.)
February 12th, 2008 at 13:58
I am Mrs. D
It’s still sounds so odd. I’ve always liked my name. This new name still makes me sound like an extension of someone else. But because it was important to this Mister, I signed my name away. I probably signed my life away too. It’s really not so different from when we were unsigned, and living together as the Mister and the Miss. Pre-wedding, I think we were together for about a year or two. It was fun, it was painful, it was something we both enjoyed.
There were times when I felt I had to let go already. There were times when things he’s done were almost unbearable.
So it came to me as a surprise, when he presented me with a serious proposal. I felt the urge to try. But in all honesty, I felt that it was too much of a risk to take. Too much. I had thoughts of being tied down, thoughts of being stuck. I feared that I would fade away in the years to come.
But you learn to forgive and forget. You learn to cook. You learn to make things good for both of you. You learn to keep house (somehow). And you learn that loving isn’t loving until the person you love realizes how much you love him.
But I cannot get used to the name. It still sounds so funny to me. Maybe I should say it to myself everyday?
February marks the 2nd anniversary of The Cathedral (a divesite in Anilao, where he asked me to marry him). See, and that’s another thing, pre-wedding, anniversaries were non-existent. And I feel weird and uncertain each time these anniversaries come around. I never had anniversaries with any of the exes, and especially not the non-ex. After The Cathedral, March marks the second wedding anniversary. Last year it felt like it was my birthday. Is it supposed to feel like it’s my birthday? But we’re happy, so who cares right?
Post wedding so many things changed. I was sorry it hadn’t happened sooner. The Mister’s father would have been happier. This husband comes from a traditional family. And a few of them asked me why we won’t get married instead of just living together as the mister and the miss. I would always just smile. I never really felt the need for it until I realized that it was something that the Mister wanted. Pre-contract signing, I’ve always felt married. Post contract signing, was only different because of the rings and the name. But the fighting and loving and living and laughing, have always been the same.
I have never truly believed in the marriage contract. A marriage contract does not a marriage make. It’s just paper. And paper can’t keep people together. Paper can’t tide you over the terrible times. Paper can’t save a partnership destroyed. But people can. Marriage is when two people walk together through life. It doesn’t need a contract to be made real. It doesn’t need a change of name to exist. It comes from a place of faith. Faith in your partner, and yourself. At best, even broken hearts are mended.
Sometimes I think about us and the hundred faults and weaknesses we have as people, as a couple. I am almost convinced that we can only go so far together. That because we have needs and wants and frustrations someday we might fall apart and go separate ways. I think that’s what really scared me about the marriage contract- the way it just felt like a lifetime lockdown. But you know, it’s not so bad.
I am Mrs. D. And while I miss my father’s name I struggle to get used to this husband’s name. And I continue to be who I’ve always been.
February 12th, 2008 at 14:19
i often find myself lost in musings of my past. the old what ifs and what could’ve beens swim about in my head, basically rendering me useless for that certain point in time. sadly, today is one of those days. i woke up to a rather dull sensation in my chest. its not exactly something you can describe as pain. its something more along the lines of being numb, the absence of feeling. i have had this gnawing sensation for the past weeks, all thanks to some great surprise revealed to me on my mother’s natal day.
yes, i remember that fateful eve. when once, upon asking a so called nameless prick of his current relation with my former so called friend, did i only find out about their “liaison”. the news itself did not exactly come as a surprise, as i already had an inkling that something like this was bound to happen months before. a brief explanation, you ask?
i shall start then at a point where everything fell apart. the alien prick was bound to arrive at around fall of the previous year, and a mutual friend, who was so intent at setting me up, built him up to be something of a real catch. yes, granted the prick was rather good looking at that time (he hadn’t piled on the pounds yet), but he was still rather a bit domineering and yes – something was off. but with a push here, a tug there, the ever gullible me fell. and so we dated and eventually broke up. i had known that he had grown close to one of my closest friends in this small community; however, i didnt really know the extent of that relationship. i only found out recently, through a lengthy email given by this so called friend, that they had done some things after we broke up — nothing malicious and what not. they just spent time together after we broke up, simply because as my so called friend, whom we shall call noname, simply put — he needed a friend.
hmm.. much to my surprise. i was supposed to be her friend. wasn’t she supposed to stand by me and help me through that rather difficult point in my life? but really, that’s just me being selfish. so fine, they were friends, and she opted to be there for him. and he left, going back to his alien land. they apparently remained in touch. and months after, when he returned for a brief hiatus, they got together. but before that, changes in “behavioral patterns” had given rise to certain suspicions which, for my part, i chose to ignore after talking to noname.
“is something going on between you guys?” i had asked, at the same time showing an SMS message sent to me by one of my dear friends from the other side of the world
“what?!?! no, of course not!” she denied vehemently. “what the hell is she (friend in the other side of the world) talking about??” noname was mad.
“you insulted her” prick told me.
and me, being who i am, felt guilty as hell and resolved to put the doubt out of my mind. give noname the benefit of the doubt.
a few days later, as i said, on the natal day of my mother — something happened. it was magical, noname said. so magical in fact, that she couldn’t stop herself and even pause to consider the implications and the consequences of what they planned to do. she was in love. they both were. and nothing could stop them.
and so it was, other people had found out before me. and i had to resort to asking the alien prick about it. much to my chagrin, the suspicions which were so fervently denied, turned out to be true. harhar for me. hooray for them.
“so, you’re together?” i asked her a few minutes after talking to AP.
“term of endearment (mommy or bestfriend, take your pick), i wanted to tell you. but i thought you’d get mad” uh, duh. typical reaction for anyone in my position, yes?
“i wanted to tell you….” she continued, although i forgot what came after. all that i remembered were her words “i dont think what i’m doing is wrong”
one of the moys, my loyal friends, was at my side. gurl moy, who had defended noname many times and had often told me to give her the benefit of the doubt, was utterly disappointed. and we, together with another competitor in the race for noname’s heart, went for a drinking spree that night. us forsaken by those we had trusted, betrayed by how we felt.
“quit the emo. Come to el loco, we’re going to k1 later” — a message i will never delete from my SMS inbox. sent by one of those insightful individuals who knew that people weren’t exactly at a happy place at that time. so we proceeded to the karaoke bar after eating to our heart’s content.
screaming the lyrics to song after song with booze flowing continuously, that was one of those times when i actually knew i was piss drunk. i had downed shot after shot of tequila without thinking twice. i was hurt and betrayed, goddamnit, and i needed to vent. i needed to let it all out – so i did. i puked about four times that night, wobbling my way through the halls of that karaoke place i frequented with my new yet old friends.
the smell of smoke, beer and puke were stuck to my hair and clothes – and i reveled in every minute of it. yes, i said to myself — just let it all go. i slept for the later part of the evening, apparently lost my inhibitions and slumped onto competitors arms. uhuh, me aka space girl, in the arms of a pseudo stranger — some guy i had just started getting to know. but who cares. i was an idiot then, and wisdom usually comes the day after a drunken stupor when one realizes exactly what kind of fool he had turned out to be.
spent and tired out of my mind, i didn’t regret one minute of it. the moys and competitor drove me to competitor’s hotel to rest before going home. passed out on his bed, shoes on and not knowing what was going on. i heard bits and pieces of their conversation, telling me that yes, i was still there and present, yet not totally in the moment.
the sun was already out when i proceeded to go home, still somewhat drunk and still reeling from the onslaught of pain brought on by my noname’s betrayal.
still shot from the excessive amounts of tequila i had consumed, i bounded into my sister deng’s room and just cried my eyes out. yes. i did it again.
“you’re scaring me. i thought you were pregnant again” deng said. (yes, i am a single mom)
“shut your trap. im just depressed” i told her
and i went to sleep – still troubled sleep. and woke up a mere two hours later to my baby’s cries of mommy. hmmm. the life of a drunk single mom. mind you, it is sooo not pretty to look at. but that is what i have to contend with.
most of it is all a blur. that happened on a thursday, the long weekend after that, i met with gurl moy and just hung out. buying dvds and watching movies — the things we used to do with, you guessed it, noname herself. hmm. the irony of it all.
the succeeding week passed without much incident. they spent time together. and i hid myself, stayed away with the help of the moys and a friend who we shall call noname’s vindicated yet scorned and bleeding ex lover. we played dota (a game which we incidentally started playing because of noname and the alien prick himself) with competitor, and got to know him more. the week flew by and alien prick went back to his domain. he left her, yes, but they are together, happy and intent on getting married. no one can stop them — the boldness and determination to make things work is admirable.
i proceed to make something of my life, stuck with picking up the pieces of my shattered existence which, thanks to noname, got strewn about again by a reckless act of selfishness. but who cares, right? she is happy. and it should not and does not matter to either him nor her whether they steamrolled people just to get what they want. they wanted to be happy. and i do pronounce, with much conviction, that they do deserve each other. so i will let that be.
the story continues, traumatic albeit colorful.. (it was either this or the story about the prick known as sperm donor..)
February 12th, 2008 at 14:47
B woos girl, writes her beautiful letters. G falls in love with B .They get married, have 4 children. B is a chronic womanizer. Leaves G and 4 children. G and 4 children have no money but survives.
Afer 5 years, G asks B to come back. B is already living with another woman and has 4 children by her. B comes back to G with 2 of his children. B anf G now have 6 children.
B hasn’t changed. He’s still having an affair with countless women. Child number 2 graduates and asks B to leave. He leaves them again.
B is living with another girl. Girl changes him? She threatens to kill herself whenever they fight until one day she does. B is guilt-stricken. G and her children are worried and pray for him to find peace.
B asks his original family if he can come back. They let him. He comes back with another child and so B and G now have six children (kinuha ng nanay nya ung isa kanina, this is another story).
The family okay for now.
PS I know this entry was poorly written but please send my mother a cake. She is the most loving person person I know.
February 12th, 2008 at 15:43
Me Against The Universe: Part 1
Indecision, indecision, indecision.
Sometimes I just don’t learn.
People, if you learn anything from me, please learn to trust your instincts.
They are rarely wrong, and I was given subtle hints by the universe saying so.
Don’t believe in serendipity?
Check this out and you tell me…
I have to go to the bank.
There is an incredible teller there—stunning!
Long black wavy hair; hair that looks alive!
Incredible features, something Spanish.
Wears glasses and pulls it off; the rectangular kind that only certain women can wear.
Unbelievable figure, I see thongs under those work slacks.
Subtle Hint From Universe No. 1: She’s been there a couple of months, and I ALWAYS, without trying, get her as my teller out of six tellers there.
I want to make my move.
She apologizes for the wait on line; I make a witty remark that gets a laugh.
I have to transfer some money from one account to another, but I forgot my passbook.
Normally this would be a problem; she does it no questions asked.
The universe is on my side.
Here’s the hesitation: I got my business card in hand; I want to talk to her, get her name.
Normally I do errands looking less than beautiful; I’m hot, but I don’t care how I look when I pick up laundry or pay my bills.
But I have a little script I came up with on the fly:
“Do you like music?â€
“Yes, I do.â€
“Well, I’m in a band. Normally you don’t see me at my best (motion to my unkempt appearance), but if you want to see me in a better light, check me out at a club.â€
I would then hand her my card.
Fast-forward a few weeks later, her wavy hair flowing all over my body like a car wash.
Nope.
Once again, I let the indecision creep in and placed the card in and out of my wallet like, five times.
It would be sad if it wasn’t so funny.
Of course, no scripts, no talking, no nothing.
I say thank you and leave, she senses something is off.
The universe is now against me.
I slink out of the bank, decide to get Chinese.
Subtle Hint From Universe No. 2: Try to text Johnny to join me but the phone says: “Message sending failed.â€
Subtle Hint From Universe No. 3: Open my fortune cookie, here’s what it reads: “You lose nothing by asking, and there is a chance to gain something lasting.â€
The universe is slamming me now.
You win universe, you win!
And on top of it, I’m broke, so there’s no reason for me to go back to the bank anytime soon; it’s going to take a while to save some money.
I’m so irritated right now.
But I am going back, that’s it, I’m going back.
Can I borrow 10,000 pesos?
I need to set things right with the universe.
Me Against The Universe: Part 2
Update: THE BANK TELLER KNOWS MY NAME!
Earlier today I followed the universe’s lead and made my move.
Almost the same scenario as before: I went to bank; she’s at the window…shock!
Her hair is straight, and no glasses, but still as hot as ever.
I conference call my team of writers-slash-drinking buddies to form a strategy.
“Talk about her hair,†Sid said. “They love it, and it probably took a while for her to do it. She’ll love the attention.â€
I amend my script to include discussion of follicles.
The security guard is eyeing me with suspicion as I let customer after customer pass to go to inferior tellers, waiting for my gift from the universe to be available.
Suddenly my goddess says the magic words: “Next on line.â€
A woman is nearly trampled as she assumes I will let her be next; I spring to action and push her back in line, throwing her off balance and into the other clientele.
Her previous customer is still there; an eccentric old lady who is dressed way too warm for the 32 degree day.
I notice my teller looks exasperated.
I make my move and the old lady leaves as I give her a dirty look.
“That could very well be my future,†I say.
I get a laugh.
“Yeah, she’s okay. But she’s here everyday with one problem or another.â€
Time for action…
“Wow, I love the straight hair,†I say.
Instant laugh and smile on her face (I make a note to give my writers a raise).
“Really? Thank you.â€
“How long did it take to do it?†I ask her.
“About four hours. I just watched TV while doing it,†she says. “It was annoying but I got through it.â€
“It was TOTALLY worth it.â€
Smile number three.
I go into my script that I had prepared last time: The craziness of the lines, how I’m always at the bank withdrawing money…hemorrhaging cash; I wish you didn’t see me like this, I don’t get dressed up for errands, etc.
It’s going well.
I’m on a roll.
I talk about my band.
“So if you want to see me in a better light, check me out at a show. Do you like live music?â€
“I went once, it was better than I thought it would be. Where do you perform?â€
“All over (we’ve got to get booked more). Here’s my card,†I say. “Maybe you can come out, my guest.â€
“That would be great,†she says, and I leave on my final smile.
I feel godly.
So far the universe seems to be on my side.
I double-check my bedside companion “Zen & The Art Of Picking Up Chicks.â€
I seem to be okay.
As long as she doesn’t read this, I have a chance.
Updates to follow.
Stay tuned for Part Three where I ask the dreaded question: “Do you have a boyfriend?â€
Me Against The Universe: Part 3
Damn you, foul universe!
You have yet again thwarted my plans for global domination!
I curse you, and with my last breath, I spit at thee!
Or something like that.
She’s gone.
She is no longer in my life.
My lovely bank teller, the one I wooed with my comedic timing and simple eloquence, no longer works there.
Not even a chance to be rejected by her.
I would’ve accepted a simple, “I’m seeing somebody right now,†but no, she disappeared!
I wonder if she read earlier postings.
Yes, she left because of me!
That’s it!
It has happened before; I’ve left many a stripper in my wake, trembling and unemployed.
I totally know my “Stalkee of the Month†posts will be successful when one of the ladies I profile serves me with a restraining order!
That’s the goal.
I’m not that delusional with the bank princess, I know the truth.
I didn’t even register.
She’s moved on without me.
No matter, there are other girls out there who wear glasses with thick rectangular frames who work in banks, right?
Hey it’s MY fantasy.
Also, I lost my MP3 player.
My ugly, disgusting, hatred-inducing MP10 portable music player, the one I hated so much after my Sony Discman succumbed to years of loyal service.
My MP10 was the red-headed stepchild, and I was an awful parent.
It found the opportunity to run away one rainy night, after flooding in the city and a two-hour cab ride from Cubao to Makati.
I had it on my belt.
Tight fit.
No way could it get loose.
That’s when it made its move.
I got into a cab, exhausted, hating life even more than my MP10.
It slipped off; knowing it I was so tired I wouldn’t notice it coming undone from my belt loop.
Perfect timing.
I must say, well done.
It slinked to the floor of the cab, and blended in with the floor mats.
Don’t blame me MP10, blame your birth parents.
Well, I still have my iPod Nano, and I will cradle it in my arms and love it, and care for it, and purchase insurance for it, and mock people with it.
Also, I think I have a date with my MySpace stalker next week, so come on universe, I’m putting out good vibes, give me what you got!
The pendulum is swinging back the other way.
Help a guy out!
February 12th, 2008 at 17:15
We are into the sixth year of our relationship.
IT STARTED WITH J.D. SALINGER…
…or Ernest Hemingway. I bumped into this classmate in the University library while returning a copy of The Old Man and the Sea which I borrowed for my sister. Both of us had read it before, and we talked about how we felt about the book. The next thing we discussed was J.D. Salinger. And Holden Caulfied and the Glass Family and how, like Holden, he’d rather buy a horse because it’s at least human. Then High Fidelity and Pulp Fiction. Then U2 or Sheryl Crow, most probably – I am not so sure about this part. But certainly, the birth of the friendship proved the socializing power of books, movies, music and caffeine. And I found out soon enough that this was (and still is) the coolest geek alive – I can talk to him about anything and everything. Between exchanged reading lists and DVDs…between jillions of mix CDs… between everything we’ve discussed, dissed and cussed, I brought up the issue that what I felt about this “friendship†was beyond neutral, though I wasn’t sure what it really was. So I told him that, but he said he just wasn’t ready. So I accepted that. And business went on as usual. A few years later something happened, and this time, it was sort of bilateral. So for a few months, we traveled along a different path, along “those†lines…but not quite. It ended when he confessed that he felt “something†for this girl whom both he and I admired (which, I hated because I just couldn’t hate her even if I wanted to). The most stupid thing I’ve ever said in my entire life is “I’m happy for you.†It was stupid because it’s true. I could be happy for him, and I really was – after all, he’s my friend. I even advised him not to f*ck it up, the thing between him and this girl…because he owed it to me and the friendship that he risked. I would be lying if I said I was happy for myself. But such is life. It had to go on, and it goes without saying that life going on required that I accept that fact that in the context of me and him, friendship is the most important thing. And I’m guessing it’s a gift because I’m so good at it. (Meanwhile, I don’t know what he did or didn’t do, but they’re not together so I guess it didn’t work out.)
Our path and direction can be described as an occasionally punctuated equilibrium. It’s probably because my/the wanting is gone but the feeling never went away, and I am (most of the time) confused because it’s difficult to get rid of the feeling when the person is just there. But he can’t not be there, because I want him there. And he’s just right where he’s needed.
IT ALMOST DIED WITH HEATH LEDGER.
The weekend of Heath Ledger’s death, I invited him and another friend over for our/the Movie Club’s Heath Ledger Tribute – only because we believe that he is one of the better actors of this generation. Out grand finale was of course, Brokeback Mountain. Last scene made me cry, and it was a first. It was painful because of Jack Twist’s death. And because of the depth of the love and pain of Ennis Del Mar. And because of all the hatred in this world. And because Heath Ledger will always be remembered for this role. It was painful because I don’t know if I was crying because of all of these or because of something else. Needless to say, that something else involved someone (guess who) realizing that for the longest time, she’s been carrying around an excess baggage of pent-up drama, emotions and all that jazz. So after the Tribute, I finally mustered the courage to tell myself that I have options. The first is to go back, because we’re friends and we should always be, no matter what. The second is to go away, because the friendship factor is probably just a front or cover-up for something that he and I are afraid, unable, or don’t want to address: I’m here. You know I am. And he’s there with his “special feelings,†and special feelings – as they are – are never enough when you feel and know they’re never enough.
BUT IT DIDN’T.
As I said, we ARE into our sixth year, so you know what happened with me and my options. Is it a happy ending? Of course. We made it through, right? But as happy endings go, it has its twists. What is dreadful is that while I’ve always told everyone I believe in peace process and the power of communication, there are still times in the middle of killer conversations when the speech balloons above my head (containing things I want to say but can’t) won’t go away. What is funny is that everyone around us knows (‘believes’ is a more appropriate verb, I suppose) that we make – with all our idiosyncrasies and geekness – a very good couple…when the truth is I am traumatized and he is oblivious. What is twisted is that confrontations end up as a two-sentence exchange consisting of an echoed “I’m sorry I’m wired this way.â€
I’m sorry I’m wired this way…and for this, the story doesn’t end.