Wednesday Wakings

I can still vividly remember the night I had to tell a friend about you. We were in the getting-to-know-you phase, and I felt it was something in my boring, waking life. I needed to tell a close friend, and so I did. It did not sit well with her. She is high maintenance with high standards after all, or at least she seems to be. She asked me what's the status, and I said, "Text, text." "How cheap" was the reply I got. I did not expect such an offensive and straight answer. It was a really hurtful blow to my ego because I knew exactly what she meant. 

You acted like we are close friends, but you could not even ask me out. You loved texting and chatting, telling me silly sweet nothings, but you could not even ask me out.

Three years later with much realization, proof and assurance, my friend was actually right. No matter how harsh the words were, they spoke the truth. You are cheap and you get cheap girls. I am happy that I did not end up with you, or I could have been included in your cheap list. I am not cheap after all. I am way above you and your girls' levels. And I regret I wasted a lot of my time with a tasteless person like you.

The Date Chronicle

The ever-elusive, frightful date night. It can be a complete disaster. If you have been on one, you are not alone. Mine was dreadful and nerve-wracking; all butterflies, pins and needles. Anxieties and excitement all abound and aflutter. If not all, well, most first dates are.

It was that sort of spur of the moment thing. The asking was done through text messaging. Communication nowadays can be really romantic. LOL. It was fast and spontaneous. But I did not commit immediately because I was unsure and unready. If I knew of it I would not have drank ice blended coffee the night before, which made me suffer insomnia and caused me to feel lethargic on the big day. Even an afternoon beauty nap was taken in vain. Pep talks from colleagues were also forgotten. 

Nothing could beat one’s raging nerves except alcohol, I suppose. I did not have a drink though; neither was there a bottle in sight nor had I the time to think about it. My mind was filled with a gazillion of things. The what ifs. Think about mixed emotions with a running imagination. It was pretty crazy, especially when the clock is ticking and you are getting closer and closer to that distressing time.

When a certain model was asked about the perfect outfit for a great first date in a magazine article, she said, “Anything conservative. It’s the best way to find out if he likes you from the neck up or from the neck down.” Well, I took this by heart. And  unbeknownst to me of our dinner location, I was also totally clueless of what to wear. As if! I had completely forgotten about how to dress to impress and opted to dress safely instead. To embody class, comfort, identity and personality, I went for a lacy gray cardigan top, black denim, jeweled flats, some pearls, headband and my favorite scent. It was conservative alright, and if all else fails, at least I smelled really good.

And then there was the accidental faux pas of sending the incorrect text message to my date: a curse word intended to be sent to someone else. Ah, perhaps a great premonition of what was about to come. Crazy, clumsy me. I was such a klutz! Well, it only made me apologize to him numerous times.

So, we were meeting for the first time, and he picked me up on the dot. He was definitely an eye candy. He was not much of a conversationalist so there were a lot of dead airs while we were in the car and in the restaurant. I hated it. Not only was it awkward but nerve-wracking as well. I was not much of a talker myself so it was a struggle finding the right words to say or ask just to break the ice. He barely cracked jokes nor had he initiated the asking. The topics were mature, and I felt it was too much for me. I felt that I was so out of range with him and that I could not relate with whatever he was saying even though I completely understood him very well. I just felt disconnected. Too bad because I could just stare and listen to him all night or day for that matter.

He made me smile and paid some compliments though. I liked it but it made me feel uneasy. I dislike people, especially strangers, paying me compliments. I think it is insincere and unnecessary. He gave some suggestions on how to better enhance my appearance which made him appear gay. Thinking about it annoys me as it has affected me in a way that I am willing to change myself to satisfy or please him. I know that I should not change for anyone but myself, and it is not like we will ever meet again, so screw his opinions.

We had some bottles to drink. Instead of making me talkative, it made me sleepy and drunk. I just wanted to shake off the nerves and ease the tension. I never thought about the consequences not until some colleagues brought it up later on at the much-awaited post-date storytelling. So it was a really bad idea. Something unpleasant could have taken place, for instance date rape. Thanks to my naiveté it never even crossed my mind. Thanks to God and angels for the lookout. As for him, I do not know if he got drunk at the time, but the fact that he drove me home alive and in one piece, I am thankful.

What happens next? The aftermath posted a lot of questions. Luckily, there was still communication even after a week since the incident. He made his presence felt by texting messages even if they are one-liners and dead-enders. It was frustrating but even with the absence of persistence and curiosity, I still appreciate the effort. No expectations, no attachments; no disappointments, no heartaches. Second date? If I could just stare at him, yes please.

One of Those Days

I hate how everything did not seem to fall into place. Up until now, I do not know how much effort I should have put in in the first place. There were some obvious opportunities that slipped because I let them; other times were just not meant to be. I tried controlling everything that it only ended up controlling me. I really cannot get out of this slump no matter how many times I told myself that it is finally over. How can you say that it is the end when you are stricken by guilt and regret for all the things that you did not or should do? I still believe that there is hope; that we can change and amend for what was lost. But how can we really change the situation when we have no power over it? When opportunities seem evasive and few? How can you really take a chance when there are moral constrictions holding you back?

There are cases when I would just say that I should go for it; fight and just do it. But that sort of positive energy did not last for shame and embarrassment consumed me momentarily. I do not understand why I was torn, why I could not take the risk, why I sometimes think it was boring and lethargic. Maybe it was not worth it. I could not really feel it on the other end after all. Perhaps what I needed was assurance. Maybe that is what we all need – the assurance that everything will be worth it and everything will be okay. But am I worth it enough for that other end to even take the leap? That is another question. And I definitely believe so. If only they would just try.

The Weekender

Anxious and restless, curious and wondering. Impulse says yes, pride says no. I have already talked myself out of this but to no avail. I have tried to condition and shake myself off of this nonsense but only in vain. The wretchedly irrational fondness seems to be lingering far more than I can imagine. I am battling with myself everyday, and for the life of me I cannot fathom how I have even gotten to this point.

I need a serious reality check; a hard kick to wake me up and smell the black coffee. As far as reality goes, it is as platonic as it is ever going to get, so why the fucking hell am I still hoping for something greater?

I seem to be running against time. I want a bond; to be a part of something to someone of which only time may allow. I find myself looking forward to weekends as those are the only days when time seems to slow down, feeling your presence, neglecting the days that have gone by. 

Bits of expectations and disappointments, absence, nonchalance and oblivion, but hope is never lost. In spite of helplessness and hopelessness, a streak of positivity and possibility is always peeking in. Maybe we can be together again one of these days. Someday.

Once upon a time in the twelfth month, we met. I hope that is not the end. I miss the crazy conversations, subtle suggestions, pretentious promises and guessing games. I know it is not yet over because there is so much more than this. I will be forever hoping until that wish turns into a reality.

Waiting In Vain

Out of sight, still in mind. I am thinking way too much.

You are drawing me near and I don't know how to evade your silly captivation. Your personality, vague; deeds, erratic. You are leaving me confused and fazed.

I am taken by surprise.

Just because you text me out of the blue and exchange nonsensical messages with me on one cold and stormy Friday afternoon may not mean anything; just because you give me the purse as a present when it was supposed to be paid may not mean anything; just because you make unnecessary noises for me to notice you and utter my name for no apparent reason may not mean anything; and just because you take me with you when you went to the mall and had brief bonding may not mean anything.

But some just think otherwise. Then again, never expect nor assume. And I feel embarrassed to expect and assume even just a little bit, and make a big deal out of all of this.

I admire the kindness and generosity; your maturity, experience and wisdom. I admire how you say things as my mother says things. I admire how you gain control over a malice-inducing situation and turn it into a harmless, less awkward one. But your genuineness is unknown.

I like the feeling though and I don't want it to go away just yet. I want it to linger -- the feeling of catching someone's attention. It makes me feel special. It makes me shudder and ecstatic. Best of all, it makes my day.

But you're the top dog and in all sense of professionalism, this is all wrong and can go sour and ugly. In the meantime, I just have to go with the flow, be sensitive and wait for what's bound to happen. Wait in vain, to say the least.

A Letter To Stranger

I have been pondering and I feel that you have been really, totally, and completely unfair to me.

I still can't figure out why you seized every means of communication with me. It's just so bizaare because you're the one who befriended me.

Your excuse of busy won’t suffice. That is just so lame and trite. Heard it too many times before.

Honestly, with all the information you squeezed out of me, not to mention your pretentious show, at least you could have been mindful of your manners and thanked me for being that naïve and gullible in laying all my cards out so easily to a total stranger before vanishing into thin air, right? I just can't believe that I easily succumbed to every whimsical query of yours. I guess I was just too trusting. My bad.

If I turned you off after fishing info from so many unreliable third parties that it caused you cerebral dysfunction, be the aged man that you are and bluntly say it to my face. I’m a grown-up. I can handle harshness. And we can stop being friends.

I just felt humiliated and violated, you know.

Goodbye and thanks for nothing.

Copycat

 

Bakit ba may mga taong nabubuhay, sa kamalas-malasan, na sadyang ayaw magpahuli o magpatalo? Yung tipong pilit na nanggagaya o nakikipagkompitensiya para lang masabi na meron din siya o kaya rin niya? Ang pinakamasaklap pa ay yung nakikita mo ang makapal na pagmumukha ng salot na ito sa araw-araw na lang na ginawa ng Diyos. Pasensiya, nasaan ka?

Oo, siguro nga pareho tayo ng taste. Kaya lang, nauunahan kasi kita. Palagi. As the famous line goes, "You're nothing but a second rate, trying hard copycat." I should be flattered, really. But no, I am not. I am extremely irritated. And you are just freakingly annoying. You should get a real, fucking life. Seriously.