“One month was interesting. Two months was numbing. Three months, I’m going out of my mind.” – Miranda, Sex and the City
I hate May.
Sounds ironic since it used to be my favorite month, with all the summer-lovin’ flowers it brings but not this year. I’m actually now thinking of replacing it with any month on the calendar, say the uber-boring-July or the lacklustre-November. Or better yet, not include it at all next year. I know you might wanna ask: why?
I’m single, sun-strained and sex-less.
And it doesn’t get worse than that. Frankly, I’m stressed out. Not just because of the indefensible hot weather but adding to that are my deliverables at work, financial crisis and receding social life. To top it up, I have this terrible itch that not even the strongest percentage of Canesten Cream can cure!
The Big Dump
It all started when I decided to reject Mr. Morayta. I’m sorry. It’s just not working. I don’t think I’m ready yet. Blah blah blah.
Please don’t judge me. The reason I did it is not because I just want to pass the most remarkable “It’s not you, it’s me” and “You deserve more” lines of all time to another human being. To be honest, it was a really long thought-out process. I think it’s not fair if I continue to give him hopes ‘cause I really don’t feel anything special for him. So what’s a girl can do, ayt?
The assuming in me thought I need not worry. That even, I, too, have a right to enjoy these precious moments of solidarity. There are lots of fishes in the sea anyway. But the stupid me, not thinking that the sea of drought was swiftly heading towards my pond.
The 3 B’s
Aside from the normal routine of Booze and BFF’s, I while away my time with a new hobby – Books.
When you have brains as big as Promil child Shaira Luna’s, boys will come hurling towards you – I think I read this from somewhere. So I read and I read a lot of books. From fictions to biographies, entertainment to politics, hard cover to soft copy, local or foreign.
Weeks have passed but still, this big brain didn’t give me sex. Instead, it brought me to a new world. A lot of unlikely places, I met varying types of people. I was transformed into different characters. Monday, I was a vampire thirsting for love, then the day after, I was a Shopaholic New Yorker who gets married. For one week, I get to be a psychopath serial killer and for the rest of the month, I was a conceiving concubine of an Aristocratic heir.
It was enjoyable, I have to agree. But it was pretty tiring, mind you. My mind’s all fuelled up, I felt I need to release this somewhere else. Someplace emancipating.
The Anawangin Escape
How metaphorical is it that a place so virginal is just what I’ve chosen to discharge my bursting emotions. Not comfortably perfect but perfectly relatable. Good thing I didn’t expect much but it was unexpectedly relaxing.
The warm breeze of the summer heat and the cool air of the beach softly blending on my dry skin. No ear-banging music, no money problems, zero toxicity. Just glorious.
I was with friends, so it was not really a retreat. But what’s surprising is I forgot to think of my dilemma while I was there. The sun, sand and the sea removed sex out of my picture temporarily. It was as if all I ever want to do is listen to the sound of the waves, stare at the night sky and let the stars twinkle at me. And all I want to be is here – right at middle of nowhere.
If there’s one thing I learned from the escape is that everything’s not permanent. So as much as it sucked, I bid goodbye to the innocent island. And as I did, rain started to pour, little by little, until all the land got soaked up.
El Nino maybe gone but the itch, still there. The weather can be pretentious but not me: I need a man. Well built, strong, whole. One who can satisfy all carnal motives I have. And I’m really hoping. Really, really hoping, that the surge approaching can fill-up my drought.
