my kinda guy

I’m in like again!

Just the other day I attended this thanksgiving celebration for a graduation of sorts. It was the first time I had seen the celebrant and he is, without a doubt, soooo good looking.

I've been asked a zillion times before about the type of guy I'm drawn to. I usually give a shrug of indifference and just as nonchalantly tell them I don't fall for any type of guy so long he's...well, "functional". I've gone out with and enjoyed the company of all sorts of guys - the sporty type, the silent/shy type, the sweet, romantic guy, the funny loud guy, the intellectual/witty kind, the confident-bordering-on-the-arrogant-guy. Heck, I've even gone out with a metrosexual and an x-man. I simply don't go for a specific type...at least I DIDN'T.

They say that as one gets olde... I mean wiser, one can't be picky. Well, I beg your pardon, I've just picked my type - and HE is IT. Clean cut, well-dressed, well-mannered with a quiet confidence, smart, a to-die-for voice , down-to-earth, and highly spiritual. It doesn't hurt that he's oh so good looking. And straight (at least I hope he is)!


But (yes, again, there's this ever present BUT in my non-existent love life), but, there is this tinee winee problem...his name is Father Te. Yup, he's a priest and the celebration I attended was a Mass he officiated in thanksgiving for his recent ordination (sigh!).

I think the universe conspired that our paths should not cross until such time he was unattainable. I mean, his last name is Te - can you just imagine if i ended up with someone whose last name was Te? I'd be mary ann samonte-te (go on, say it out loud). And it gets even more entertaining if you say it with a Visayan accent (no offense to the Bisayas)! The universe truly is smarter than a fifth grader!


So I guess this is the end of our story before it even began (sigh again).

not young (Miss Saigon Part 2)

How others see us and how we see ourselves are entirely worlds apart. I never thought of myself as "not young" (I deleted "old" from my vocabulary, remember?). I don't mean I see myself as "young-looking" but I think of myself as young in terms of energy, health, style, dance moves, fashion sense, memory...ok, scrap that...eyesight, ok, scrap that, too…you know what I'm getting at. But a dose of reality is like a splash of cold water on the face...and lately, I've had my share of reality one too many, it's like taking a bath instead of a mere splash on the face.

I remember going through the stalls at Ben Thanh Market in Vietnam. I was already done with my shopping in the malls in the city and was just whiling away the time browsing through curious finds in the market before I leave for the airport for my flight home. The Vietnamese typically look like the Chinese or the Korean so I stood out like a sore thumb and the tinderas could spot me, a tourist, a mile away. Since I was done with my shopping and I thought that any additional items I'd buy would not possibly fit into my luggage, I was able to hold off the temptation to shop... until I passed by these tinderas who asked, "You from Manila? Pilipino?"

Surprised, I replied, "Yes. How can you tell?"

The tinderas answered, "Cos you're very pretty, miss!"

I bought several souvenir items and bags after that. I am such a pushover! A sucker! Uto-uto to the max! But it didn't matter to me that I was such a sucker - I felt like a "pretty miss" all the way home.

Home, however, was a different story. As soon as I stepped out of the terminal looking for the airport taxi, this guy called out to me, "Ale! Ale! Dito taxi. OFW ka?"

(Sigh) From "pretty miss" to "ale". What next - "Manang?" (So long I'm not called "P're") Nothing like being called "Ale" to remind me that I'm...not young.

stalkers!

I have stalkers!

I looked around me and found myself staring at a stalker...only to realize they worked in tandem! I have not just one but two stalkers...maybe even three! They seem to have an obsession for me of a different level! They're with me everywhere, day and night, and though at times I cannot see them, I know they're there lurking behind something! (See all the exclamation points I used???)

I tried getting rid of them but they're just too good at their game. For awhile I thought i had gotten rid of them but, alas I find them right by me. They're like shadows hanging on to me at every turn. I thought that if I lose one, I'll lose the other. But nooo, I was gravely mistaken. I lost one without losing the other. And now, they're both back at it again. This is getting to be really frustrating for me. Help!!! Help me lose them...the last seven pounds off my weight and those love handles - my freakin' stalkers! Grrrr!

date questions

This is not for the faint of heart. Ok, so that may be a bit dramatic but just so you know, I'm sending this to just a handful of friends. I don't even know if I'm going to post this on my blog at all - maybe when I'm 60 and couldn't care less who reads my blog.

Anyway, I was watching the movie, The Tourist, starred by Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp. There was this line that struck me - it was sooo me and I just wondered if every other girl also feels the same as me and Elise (played by Jolie). Elise, in response to Frank (played by Depp) when he asked her if she wanted to have dinner with him, says, "Women don't like questions."

This brought flashbacks of (some) of my dates (and I''ve had more than a few). Questions are good, but not the ones that flashed before me.

It so irritates me when a guy has to ask me, "Can I ask you out to dinner?" or "Pde ba kita maaya sa labas?" I go completely blank for a full 5 or 10 seconds, just staring at him thinking what to make of his question. I ask myself, "Is he trying to be cute or pa-gentleman?" Well, unfortunately, I neither find it cute nor gentlemanly. The first dates I've had when I was younger... maybe. I don't know why but I find such a question ludicrous.

Then as the date progresses (or maybe after two dates or so), he'd ask me, "Ok ka lang? Are you having fun on our date(s)?" And I'd go think, "Dude, really?" What does he expect me to say to that? NO? Well, yes I could but I'm not that cruel.

And the ultimate question that really sets me off: "Is it OK if I kiss you?" I'd be silently screaming at the back of my mind, "GET ON WITH IT ALREADYYYY!" Another bad question: "Pa-kiss naman dyan?" Oh please! No can do after THAT. If he was trying to be funny, well he succeeded. This isn't to say I want to be manhandled, but... seriously?

I know, I know, some of you'd be thinking, "Ohhh! So that's why!" (I'm single). But I don't think I'm being picky or fussy here...am I? Or is this "age" seeping in?

So...is it just us (me and Elise, I mean) who don't like questions? Were there "date questions" in your past that you find just as amusing?

This is fun. Maybe I'll go post this on my blog after all.

another take on perspective

My BFFeee and I were talking one time and she asked how the construction of my sister and bro-in-law's house was coming along (the house is just 2 blocks away from my house and a house away from Ricky's parents) Our conversation went like this:

BFFeee: "Musta bahay nina Ricky?"

Me : "'k naman. Matatapos na"

BFFeee: "Nabibisita mo?"

Me : "Pag nagru-running ako. One time nga I went running at night.
Mga trabahador were outside the house...nagku-kuwentuhan.
I thought to myself, "Isang beses nyo lang ako sipulan o pansinin, isusumbong ko kya kina Tita.

Aba! Nakaka-limang ikot at daan na ako sa kanila, e ang mga walang 'ya, di man lang ako tingnan!"

There goes my perspective!

matter of choice... matter of perspective

I've heard it said that with age comes a certain perspective. I couldn't agree more.

This realization - that "OMG! I must be getting...wiser!" - dawned on me while in a meeting in the office. The meeting was unexpectedly turning to be a long one and everybody was getting restless and a bit hungry. So coffee and some snacks were ordered from the in-house resto/cafe.

When the waiter arrived and served food, I leaned over and made quiet small talk with him. He gave one big generous smile as he chatted a bit. I noticed him sneaking glances at me as he served the others.

He has been a waiter a long time and has served us countless times in meetings. I wondered what those "glances" were all about. I had thought that maybe he was noticing my cuteness for the first time (yeah right!). It was only when I looked down on my notes that I realized that the front of my blouse gaped wide and a bit of flesh shown when I leaned over to chat with the waiter. So that's what the generous smile and the glances were all about. Hah!

Had this happened, say 10 years ago, I would've shrieked in horror and would have felt embarrassed and indignant as hell. I would have been insulted at somehow being visually molested.

As it is, I found the whole thing quite amusing. In fact, I would've felt insulted had he NOT taken at least a second look. See? Perspective.

Last week, I found zit growing on my face. It's a telltale sign of changing hormones (or whatever) and that I'm about to have my period. In years past, I would've given a frantic cry of panic at having pimples on my face. Now, as I look at myself in the mirror and find zit just waiting to pop, I tell myself with a smile, "Uyyy! Nagdalaga ka na!"

I could've let that scene with the waiter bother me. I could've let the pimples (or a stained shirt or the heavy traffic or ...whatever really) ruin my day. But in such instances, I remember what my sister always tells me, "Will this thing that you're upset about matter years from now? If not, then just let it go." And I did - I let them go and let them be.

This "growing ol...I mean, wiser" thing could be something to dread and fear. But I will...I am choosing to welcome it with excitement. I choose to let go and let God take me where His road leads me. Instead of flinching at the thought, I choose to smile and look forward to the changes that come with getting "wiser". And I choose to delete the word "old" from my vocabulary.

Everything IS, after all, just a matter of choice...a matter of perspective.

conversion vs. amnesia

I'm at my rope's end. I'm about to give up! My prayer for "conversion of x-men" nor my plan to "join their club" doesn't seem to be working (or maybe i'm being too rash about it).

It may be recalled that I had prayed...nay, begged for the "conversion of a certain x-man" out of "panghihnayang". When that didn't work, I decided, albeit temporarily, to join their club. It didn't work out either. It felt funny saying "Ano ba itech?" or "San ka ba fly, girlalu?" or "It's about time para chumerva" or "Ang exciting ng mga eksena sa aking lyf ever...promise!"

It's exhausting! Sa true! Di ko keri!

It would be a regretful state of affairs, however, if such "papableness" is not spread across generations. In Tagalog, "Sayang ang lahi!" (let me clarify...his lahi, not mine). So, now that push has come to shove, I've decided to raise yet another plea...I'm praying that, barring any injuries whatsoever, my x-man be hit with amnesia - only where his...uhh, preference is concerned, though! Wouldn't it just be grand if, one day, he woke up, did his morning stretches, pounded on his chest and said, "Aaaaa-haaa, aahahahahahaaaa! Me Tarzan, you Jane"

Ngyeee!

Will amnesia even work? I wonder.

on crushes and first loves

Ahhhh! All these talks about high school crushes and first loves rekindled memories of my own “first love” while in high school.

It was the summer before my senior year when we first met - the time when “Telephone” by Sheena Easton and Spandau Ballet’s “Gold” were staple dance songs at parties and Bonnie Tyler’s "Total Eclipse of the Heart" was a constant at radio stations all over. He was a freshman in college and had just come out of the seminary to try out the “world” when I met him. His name was Alfred.

He was tall and lanky and wore eyeglasses that reminded me of Clark Kent. He was sweet and gentle and was quite a looker. We were pushed together at every opportunity by common friends and soon, I gave him my sweet “yes” (in Tagalog, “ang matamis kong ‘OO’”- Yehee!). I come from a conservative family and my mom and dad never knew him as a boyfriend (I think!).

We’d go out to parties or just hang out with friends. We did nothing major major. We were together for about 10 months when I started thinking of breaking up with him. The thrill had gone for me and I loved him dearly but more as a barkada than anything else. It was time to move on.

Just when I had practiced what I would say to him, he got seriously ill and was hospitalized for weeks. He never recovered. I was a young “byuda” at the tender age of 16. It was sad!

Since I was wracked with guilt over my “break-up” plan, I was scared to death that he would "visit" me from the other side. So for the whole summer after graduation (his funeral was on the day of my HS graduation - how dramatic can it get!), I slept in my parent's bedroom.

For the 2 months that I slept in my parents' bedroom, I woke up in the middle of the night to the rattling sound of the garden set chairs. It was on that set where Alfred and I used to hang out and talk. It was noisy! It was loud! It was distinct! But I will never understand how it is that I was the only one who woke up to that racket. It gave me palpitations and scared the life out of me!

One sunny Sunday afternoon, I was all alone in the house when I once again heard that rattling sound of metal chairs. I was again besieged with fear and panic. I found it difficult to breathe. Since the sun was out and I was pretty sure the neighbors would come to my rescue if I let out a bloodcurdling scream, I made one brave step after another towards the door to look out, expecting a tall, lanky guy sitting by his usual chair. Instead, I found our big dog under a metal chair scratching her ears with such gusto that her body knocked around the chairs and made those blasted rattling sound!

That night, I packed up my stuff from my parents’ bedroom and slept in my own bed like a log!

That bitch! (means female dog - what were you thinking?!?)

i need "S" in my life...i need it now!

A Body Age Test was being offered in the NPC premises wherein a device would be attached to your ear-clip or on a finger while taking deep breathes. The Test evaluates the overall health condition of one’s body and the body's aging speed vis-à-vis one’s calendar age.

Results of my Test showed that my body is aging faster than it should - my body age has accelerated by 4 years relative to my calendar age. I was told to take a healthier lifestyle in order to reverse the aging speed of my body.

I exercise regularly. I try to eat my daily dose of fruits and vegetables and grains and protein. So what else do I need to do?

As more employees took the test, the office was abuzz with talks on the results of their Body Tests. Some protested with disbelief; some were indignant; many placed blame on their work for the stress they’re in; a number expressed concern and worry.

There were also a number of women I chatted with who seemed to have the answer to reversing the aging speed. They were giggly and secretive about it. I had to use my powers of persuasion for them to share this seemingly effective secret to better health. Hints were dropped here and there until it finally dawned on me that what I needed was a good dose of “S” in my life.

I’ve never had “S” in my life. I’ve never tried it but those who had said it was good…and good for the health! I was advised to give it a try especially as I’m not getting any younger. I’ve also asked the opinion of my male friends in the office and they were literally pushing me to give it a try. I was told it’s an acquired taste - it might take me a bit of getting used to before I would actually get to like it since I’m not used to “S”.

Their persuasive powers were as good as mine. So now I’ve decided to give it a try real soon…maybe this week would be soon enough. I will give “S” a shot and see how it fares. I will finally get my dose of “S”…“S” as in Sustagen Premium (whatever did you think it was?)

kerengkeng update

Hola prenships! Or is it Jola in jejemon? I feel too old and tired for jejemon! But you, my prends, have assured me that one is never too old for kakerengkengan…well, at least the toned down and subtle variety anyway.

First of all, I would like to thank prenships who helped in my quest to join the world of kerengkengs. The response was surprisingly overwhelming. I didn’t know I needed that much help! Or that a lot of my prends have much to say on the matter. I really am such a late bloomer… in everything! (wink wink)

With the numerous replies I received, one common advice was ….smile more often! Do I really look that snotty? (not the nasal mucus kind but the slang lingo kind…as in snobbish) You know, I envy people with naturally smiling faces (or is it smiley faces?). It seems that they have a certain glow that draws people to them. I guess I simply am not one of them. I do try to put on a friendly face and a smile on but I feel like a mental retard with a smile on all the time! I don’t want to look more of an idiot than nature made me. And I feel like I’m developing face muscle cramps. But hey, if kakerengkengan starts with a smile…then smile away it is!

One friend commented for me to just continue with what I have started doing – wearing more girly outfits and shoes. It was then I realized that I have been (I guess subconsciously) for quite sometime making efforts to be more kerengkeng. One time, I attended a dinner party by the pool. The friends I went to the party with were wearing blouses and pants… I was wearing a kind of short-hemmed dress (for a tall girl it would have been a mini-dress or could even pass for a long blouse). They were all surprised and said, in not so many words, that I might just be a bit overdressed. I told them I didn’t care if all the guests were wearing pants or shorts or even bikinis…I WAS GOING TO THE PARTY IN MY DRESS!!! With matching cute wedge heeled sandals of course!

And speaking of shoes, just recently, I was in Edsa Shangrila strutting my butt down the halls of the mall and practicing my friendly smile when I realized another thing - kakerengkengan kills…the feet at least! As I was looking for the resto where I was to attend a dinner party, my smile was slowly turning into grimace. And it was because of these blasted heels! And the dinner was buffet! I have to walk to get food!?!

Kakerengkengan may kill my feet but heck, it’s proving to be fun! ‘til my next update….here’s a kerengkeng smile for you! c yah!

ang kerengkeng, bow!

I sent a shoutout (is that the right term?) on FB regarding flirtations. In it I asked, “at what age can single ladies still make kerengkeng?” I was trying to get a feel on the matter and as it turned out, many of my FB friends were encouraging – that is, encouraging me (and I suppose all single ladies as young as me) to make ‘kerengkeng’ RIGHT NOW! Although many were of the position that there is no age limit for single ladies to endeavor such…ahhh activity, it was deemed wise not to waste precious time lest one turns wrinkly and “kakerengkengan” becomes a nauseous experience for the onlookers.

I have always deemed myself as an artistic individual and I’ve ventured into various forms of arts – performance arts, fine arts, literary arts, the arts of singing and dancing and even a bit of culinary arts, – but I must admit I’m not so keen on the art of flirtation. I guess I don't have the talent (or is it skill) for it. During a discussion of sorts among friends, I was told that I lacked “kakerengkengan”, hence, the state of my love life…or lack of it. Well-meaning friends (and even those not-so-prenships – close tayo?) insist that I should learn and practice making “karengkengan”.

So, now that we have that settled (that I should be making “karengkeng”), the question I have for you now is how. I simply have no idea. This “karengkengan” stuff baffles me. Do I bat my eyelashes as if I just lost my contacts (and I don’t even wear contacts)? Do I wink at a guy until it looks like I have eye tics? Is putting my butt out effective or would it just make me look like I have scoliosis? Thrusting my breasts out? What breasts? And just so you know, stroking or toying with my hair doesn’t work for me – I look like an idiot! And don’t even think about suggesting that I lick my lips or touch my lips/teeth with my tongue – EWWW!

My more conservative friends gave me this piece of advice – “to simply be myself but to smile more”. But “being myself” does not work!!! If it did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place. And I’ve been smiling for so long, my cheeks hurt!

I do go out on dates and it can be exhausting (that doesn’t sound right – no subliminal meaning intended here). Maybe I’m just meant to be “friends” with all my dates (so showbiz!). Maybe I just have to accept the fact that I’m not the “kerengkeng” type…or maybe it’s my friends who need to accept this. Or maybe….just maybe, the right “kerengkeng” move can do the trick. So…any tricks?

P.S. I didn’t post this on fb and just limited it to prenships (and a few not-so-prenships who I think can help…hehehe ). Don't see this as a desperate ploy, i'm just following advice and exploring options (yeah, right!).