The Crush, The Conflict, and The Cherky Lang

“Carrie: I do not pick the wrong guys. They pick me.
Miranda: So what, you're like a flystrip for dysfunctional men?
Carrie: Yeah, but one of those really pretty floral scented ones.”

--Sex and the City

I beg to disagree Ms. Bradshaw, but I think of myself otherwise. I’m more of an ambition than a trap. Quoting the New Age lingo: I am choosy. However awful the selections are, I still set standards. Egotistic much? Ah! Who am I kidding. Maybe Carrie’s right. Maybe I am that big of a magnet who repels guys I like and attracts the rest that are... what’s the term? Dysfunctional.

The Crush

I’m not talking about Atom Araullo. Yeah, he’s been my childhood dream of a boyfriend. There’s something about his intelligence that tingles my inner senses. But no can do. He’s as straight as a disco stick. So I had to come up with a replacement on the same industry. He may be one level below of him on every aspect but the charm, oh the charm, on this guy is just so palpable. It started online, chatting for 2 straight-kilig-to-death hours. We talked about our families, about our lives, about our education. But most of the chatting was focused on news and current events. After a while it got boring, ended, with me suddenly realizing, why didn’t he get my number? Maybe he thinks it’s too fast. Maybe he got intimidated with me, after all. Then it hit me, with no denial, implicit and plain: Maybe, he’s just not that into me.

The Conflict

Situation number 1 – Would you ever fall in love with your bestfriend’s ex? Harsh, right? But what if, the tides turn and you see the waves on you? Same situation but the characters play different roles. Enter Situation number 2: You had the most awful break-up with your boyfriend. You were vulnerable, that’s understandable, needs a shoulder to cry on. Apparently, this shoulder happens to be your ex-boyfriend’s bestfriend. Why was he there, you started to wonder. Why did he care, you couldn’t help but ponder. Now, the crying has gone and he’s still there. This time to make you smile. Impervious to humane emotion, your human heart started beating. Yet you’re afraid to check it, scared to know who is it beating for. Would you be decent to follow the social norm? Stop the beating heart? Granting that Stop is one direction that’s hard to follow.

The Cherky Lang

If only there’s one fuck buddy assigned to each person, then the world would be a happy place to live in. No kidding. That’s the premise. Now the conflict is when the buddy begins to ask for something more, say, a romantic relationship. Disaster, right! How hard would it be to just get hard and lie on top of me? Strings are not supposed to be attached and the only benefit you have as friends is to satisfy cravings for both libidos. Even Love is multiples pages away from Sex in the Webster’s dictionary, for Christ’s sake. Can’t a guy like me get an amazing sex-for-the-sake-of-sex only? Am I a shouting “Please love me!” kind-of-person during orgasms? So I stopped the buddy system. I cannot bear thinking that this guy pounding me restless, is also restless thinking of me as a boyfriend. I know, it’s not so General Patronage to say but I just don’t want him to expect more, from this sex and from me. I left, as horny as ever, and instead of a lay-down, I lay-low for a while.

***

I met guys. Some I attract. Others attract attention. And the rest are just goddamn attractive! To filter them all would be challenging, god forbid I don’t even know how to start the selection. The past few days taught me a thing or two about riding. I sit on a vehicle, searching for the destination. Having flair with the dramatics, I over-emote whenever the road gets bumpy. And who cares, if I reach the goal? Because for what it’s worth, drama or not, I have enjoyed every minute of it.

A Little Too Late

“At the end of yet another failed relationship... you have to wonder, what’s it all worth?” – Carrie Bradshaw

I have to admit, I never believed something could end even before it started. A hard realization that caught me offguard, entangling my inner core of wondering. Was I wrong? Was he? It doesn’t matter. What’s more important is the story that’s left behind. A tale, I daresay, worth telling.

Happy Pepé

He found me attractive in a pack of strangers. Honestly, I don’t consider myself unique-looking. But he thought of me as a fun-loving individual, full of life and energy. And when we talked, there were sparks, I have to say. So boom! Infatuation starts. We started dating. The cliché goes on... dinner and movies. Movies then dinner. And chocolates. Endless texting. Hugs and kisses. We were not official, but it feels like we were. How happy it is to consume love in all its simplicity! Oh did I mention “love”? Yes, I did. ‘Cause it’ll be a start of something struggling.

The Popoy-Basha Remake

Things have changed since the annunciation. What’s ironic is I never regretted saying it. It’s just what I feel. Problem is, he’s not happy anymore. There was a lot of talking. We argued, not for hate, but because we love each other. Conditions were laid out, thinking that compromising may be our best friend to solve this undeniable situation. I love the chase – it excites me. Makes me separate what is valuable from those that are trashy. However, this chase is different. You hope that the sun will come out after the storm, but deep inside, you know you’re in for a long rainy season.

A Little Too Late – not!

The sun peaked, for sure. But just for a moment. He didn’t let me suffer long enough before he made a decision. So it ended, just like that. Funny is, these all happened in two months. Felt like riding a rollercoaster on a whirlwind of romance, only to see yourself falling after the ride, singlehandedly. Everything was clear, except for his mind. Well, I couldn’t negate on that. For eight weeks I told him if he can wait, he agreed everytime. Sometimes, I question, if I had said the 3-word-8-letter a little earlier, would we still be together? Is the rollercoaster ride going to turn to a smooth-spaceship sailing to clouds of happiness? Or will the ride be as twice more bumpy and we end up hurt and deeply wounded?

Maybe the need for companionship is strong enough to overrule any other emotion. Life seems much blacker without someone to share it with. But living continues regardless, and I abide.

Go Big Time!

“Inside some of us is a thin person struggling to get out, but they can usually be sedated with a few pieces of chocolate cake.”

Korean Ramen

I see her standing next to me in this line of crowded applicants. All 5’5”, 160 lbs of her. Easily noticeable out of this pack of hungry vultures waiting for their fate in what we call as job-hunting. It has been 6 hours and I’m craving for anything to devour my gustatory senses. But even before I start to complain dying from starvation, I couldn’t help but wonder, if I’m extremely famish, how the hell is this girl holding up?

She’s like the queen of the ramen – Korean Ramen. Bland but tangy, I suppose. I don’t know but there’s something that wants to come out from her simplicity. How it would be easier if I just ask, but I’m not the kind of person who approach.

Until she said “Do you have a light?”, her eyes pointing at me.

Potato-chip Chocolate

I don’t consider myself as the typical chain smoker. In fact, I don’t consider myself a smoker at all. But you just couldn’t prevent those thought-provoking situations where you’re all alone and a 2½ inch cigarette stick is the only thing to accompany you on your moments of solidarity. Point is, I always have a lighter with me. This time, I’m puffing smoke with somebody else.

Everyone has their own excess baggage. But nothing can compare to this girl. When she started talking, I really didn’t even notice the details. At first, all I hear is blah-blah. But she is making sense. She gossiped about how she found about the job opening, how the interview went this morning, so on and so forth. She even went far from the sale in the nearest mall, how traffic sucks in Edsa and, when was the last time she met a celebrity.

Ordinarily, one can easily get annoyed to her type. When I was about to, she seems to posses this magical aura to change your disliking. She knows how to sugar-coat a junk. Exactly like a potato-chip chocolate, she can be addictive.

Paella Valenciana

To be honest, I am not a glutton. God, I barely weigh 120 lbs. I’d like to think observing satisfying cuisine is my way of devouring to all I dreamed of eating. Haven’t we all experienced desiring for a specific food at a certain point in time? What’s unexplainable is we just crave for it on a limited amount of time and when that time passes by, we crave no more.

Just when I thought I would never be surprised, this girl is a lot to handle. It has been hardly 10 minutes that we started chatting and she is opening about her family background. Quite unusual to ordinary people, her story is very typical to teleserye audience. Her dad left them for a mistress. Her mother, scorned as ever, wasn’t able to handle her 4 kids’ basic necessities. Some were given to relatives, others stayed with their mom. And this girl I’m talking with, left for Manila.

Despite all that, she remains family-oriented, much like the all-time Filipino winner Paella Valenciana. She went on and on how much she loves her mother. How she would do everything to her siblings. How everything doesn’t matter except family.

Her eyes now somewhat teary and voice a bit raspy. I must admit, her big built conveys strength.

French Parfait

More like the must-love French Parfait, she loves with no boundaries. As exaggeratingly as it sounds, she’s no holds-barred. Hearing her love story, it almost seems that guys are so disposable. She was heartbroken by many, lived in with two and, almost got married with one.

I, for one second, wondered if she gave up on love but no, she continues to be a hopeless-romantic. She still believes there’s one man destined to be with her no matter what. She could care less if she’s already in mid-thirties. Fate hits every age.

Twenty-minutes is all we've got before the next interview so we wasted it chatting. I came to love her, err not romantically but in pure platonic essence. I realized there's more to people than judging their appearance. Yes, her weight is as enormous as her personality but so what, I call it Flabulous.

Post-script

After the one-day process application, the results were shown. She got in, I did not. After all her rowdy noise, amidst her loud-color dress and, her irritatingly boisterous laugh, maybe it’s her vulnerability that struck the HR. Or probably it’s just the fats. Then I started to ponder, the next time I order a Mcdonalds meal, maybe I should “Go Big Time”.

Bitter, much?