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We give writing workshops at the Ayala Museum. The workshops consist of three two-hour sessions of lectures, exercises, and group discussions held over three weeks. The next workshop, Writing Boot Camp, will start on 3 September 2015. For more information or to make a reservation, email Marj Villaflores, villaflores.md@ayalafoundation.org.

This month we are featuring, with their permission, essays by the participants in July’s Personal Essay workshop. The submissions were half-standup comedy, half-trauma ward. We encouraged everyone to get over their fear of exposure, embarrassment and “What will people think?” Here are some of the results.

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Still from Napoleon Dynamite. When we googled movies about online dating to illustrate this essay, we discovered that there are no great movies about online dating. Because people looking at screens is not exciting. Black Hat almost did it, but only because it starred Chris Hemsworth.

Almost Forty
By Mia V. Estolano

Almost 40. If I were to live until age 70, I would have lived half my life already –no husband, no kids, no house, no boyfriend, no boyfriend…yet. A pasted-on smile is my usual answer to relatives or friends who ask the squirm-inducing question. I love my work. I love to travel. Oftentimes, the person who asks the question lets go. At times, they prod more. I don’t mind answering. It can get annoying, especially when they seem to think there’s something wrong with me, or worse, that I am a sad person.

But I am happy. I love men. And I’ve tried dating, just not the usual route. I tried to get dates online. It’s quicker and cuts the preliminaries of dating. At least that’s what my cousin told me. We are similar, only she lives in the US where online dating is very common. She said that I should try it.

So I did.

I have to tell you: I tend to have an obsessive phase. What started as checking out which site works best in the Philippines resulted in me having accounts on five different dating sites. Match.com? Check. E-harmony, check. Filipino Cupid, check. Asian Dating, check. Tinder, check.

I patiently built my profile – the usual, age, vital stats, preference, ethnicity, eye color, built and capping it off with perfectly angled and heavily filtered pictures. I was packaging myself as a ‘well-traveled woman’, with a busy-and-kind-of-successful-but I’ll-find-time-for-you attitude.

When I was satisfied with my profile, I created my ideal man. Ethnicity: Asia-Pacific or Caucasian. Height: 5’10”. Age: 35-45. I ticked the following to spread out my options a bit: Never Married, Divorced, Divorced with Kids. College Graduate, yes. Masters, why not. PhD, hell yes.

You just tick on the ‘ideal’ qualities and you are supposed to get your matches. And the filtering begins. Thank you, God, for the Interne, because gone are the days of blind dating. Several matches pop up, and I start browsing through my potential dates’ profiles. Email exchanges with a few of them, you know, kind of playing the field digitally.

Just like the real dating world, I get hit on by creepy granddads pretending to be 45 and calling me ‘babe.’ I received indecent proposals, like the one who suggested a threesome with his wife when they visit the Manila. Or offering me money to show my boobs. That’s when the ‘block’ button comes in handy.

A couple of times, I felt almost lucky because I landed dates. I must tell you: I have these rules for first dates. I set a time limit so that if I don’t like him or there’s no initial attraction, I have an excuse to leave. I started setting meet-ups.

I was giddy about meeting the Italian lawyer, Paolo, for cocktails. He’s cute in a bald way, a little below 5’10 and stocky but dressed casually in a Lacoste shirt, khakis and loafers. He smiled with almost perfect pearlies and kissed both cheeks. European. He smelled clean, like hotel shower gel.

We ordered drinks and exchanged small talk about our day. I learned that his office is based in Brussels, but he spends three out of four weeks in Asia because of his client, ASEAN. Interesting. My mind was racing… I could have future dates with him since he frequented Asia. We talked about the beautiful Italian countryside and he said that I should visit his hometown next time. Promising. The conversation was very light and casual until I said I had to meet friends for dinner but went straight home.

We met a few more times whenever he was in town, but after the third date I realized that I was bored with him. It got so awkward that I would just look at him, pull a fake smile and look down on my plate again. There was just nothing to say. I think we both knew it because we never contacted each other again after the last breakfast date.

In between dates with the Italian lawyer, I met the French banker, Francois. Tanned, lean, sprawled tall at the al fresco pizzeria smoking his Marlboro Reds. I called out his name and the first thing I told him was that he looked exactly like his profile photo. I couldn’t see his perfectly-cut abs through the plaid top, though. We got to talk about how some people use photos that are throwback-worthy.

It was fun until I felt like I was being interviewed and judged. I always thought that living with three other gay guys was a blast until he said that the impression created by a woman living with gays is ‘not good.’ He went on about how I should have a place of my own by this time, that I should invest in something. He was blabbing about his Paris apartment and his investments, etc. I was so annoyed by this time that whatever he said after that just faded out. I gulped my drink and said goodbye to the abs.

See, this is when the timed dates come in handy.

I met Diego, the Spanish guy who is into foreign real estate investmentm over coffee. He did not look like his profile photo, but I liked it when he smiled. Then for some reason he started talking about the company he works for. It felt like he was selling me real estate and residency opportunities abroad. Oh my, am I a potential customer or is he my potential client?

Then he went on about how he needs a company who can help tap the Philippine market. If his voice didn’t sound so smooth, I would have left. Well, I left anyway after I said I had dinner plans. Ugh, disaster.

I got more frustrated when I checked my email inbox full of messages from different creeps. The vet who pretended to be 45 but looked 65 when we skyped. The first thing he said was that I looked like I had seen a ghost. I almost blurted out, ‘No, I saw my Lolo.’ I just pretended that I had trouble with my connection, then I blocked him.

First dates are too trying for me. After two months, I removed my profile from ALL these dating sites. No more notifications. Back to being obsessive with my job that is giving me stress levels, and a little travel here and there. Yes, I am still almost forty, and probably have lived half my life. No boyfriend, no husband, no kids. I am not a sad person. Nothing is wrong with me. I am alone and happy.