Saturday at last! If there’s one thing I love more than Friday nights, it has to be Saturday, and this one especially because this is the Saturday where I get to tie up some loose ends.One of the better reasons for liking Saturdays is having time off from editing, which means I could write freely, claim poetic license for grammatical inconsistencies, and not give a damn about Turabian or the Chicago Manual of Style.
Message sent! I ran a late breakfast at a fastfood place this morning and sent this text message to Grichelle [the reason why I adore this girl is that she—as her name seems to imply—is Rachelle with more grit]:
“Gurl missin you. Am having breakfast, 1 table across a Mr. Gotaway-deadringer [Mr. Gotaway is an old lust object; why “Gotaway”? Only Grich and I know why]. The catch: he has a li’l girl on a high chair. Jusko! Devoted dad ang drama. But still I chose this seat, and he’s actually playing eyecandy with me right now. How pathetic am I? Hahaha Mas cute pa nga siya kay Mr. Gotaway eh. Swear!”
Bruha replies: Hehe, well. Devoted dads are always attractive. Besides, he may only be babysitting a sister. Kumusta na kaya si Gotaway? It’s been a year since we last hung out—hehe if I can call it that. How… you?”
“Haha Am okay, but the last few days were stressful. No, definitely not a sis. There’s a ring, fourth finger, left hand. Aww, he wears his! Sweet. Makes him more attractive! Hahaha”
Bruha says: Aww, I’d like someone like that! Hehe. His gurl’s a lucky biatch! 😉 Where can [men like] these be found kasi? Ey, dinner naman tayo sa Friday. Will ask Ged to come. Miss ko na ang loko.”
Unfortunately, I don’t think they are on sale. Heck, not even for sale. Would have been worth maxing out my card on [I’m kidding, of course; fat chance, not after finally clearing out credit card mismanagement issues].
I was on leave for two days last week. Caught the flu, what with this weather seesaw thing going.And amidst the organizational rigodon and unicef’s breathing down Editorial’s neck for publication consignment deadliestline, I made arrangements to settle financial obligations to close my secondary credit card account. Whew, finally! Words of caution: do not believe the crap this telepeople tell you about getting another card and not being charged a membership fee if you don’t activate it. Vision is always 20/20 in hindsight.
Went through these without a smoke which I normally do when stressed out. Deep breathe in, breath out. My brand of meditation will kill me eventually, I know. I have not had a single puff since I got the sniffles last weekend and will get one [just one] when the coughing spell is down to zero.
While on my ride to Megamall after breakfast, or after Mr. I’m-cute-so-let’s-play-eyecandy-and-I-have-a-ring-but-I’m-wearing-it-so-you-still-find-me-cute-to-play-eyecandy-with had left with baby-on-her-high-chair, I felt my phone vibrate. Kinky? These damn Nokia people can bring out the perverts in each of us, don’t you think?
One message received, from a guy-I-can’t-profile. I can’t say he’s a suitor because he says “I love you” but can’t go beyond that. Can’t say he’s a guy I used to date, because I didn’t.Apparently, the message was sent to me “accidentally on purpose.”
You think I’m a snotty, assuming biatch for saying so?You’d change your mind if you were me, receiving at least one “missent” message from him every other day even if you don’t text him at all. That wouldn’t be possible even if he’d saved my number in his phonebook as Customer Service. As “Mama”? Hmm, maybe, assuming he sends text messages to his mom that often.
The last time he sent me a message he said: “My Ghod, Rache, you’re mean.Seems to me you take so much satisfaction from hurting me. Why can’t you just believe that I’ve loved you all this time, but I was scared? I hate you for this and for saying that I’m being ma-drama.”
That was 2 weeks ago, and I did not reply to this, thinking he was just having some sort of male PMS. From time to time he’d text me, calling me Pare, Reb, Kuya, and every other nickname possible, saying “Grabe, [fill in name here]. I’ve so many problems. When it rains it pours, talaga.”Why would I want to be mean to him, to someone so entertaining, right?His “missent” message today goes: “Thanks, Sha. Too many procedures at the hospital. Hope it all goes well. Thanks for supporting me. Luv u!”
Uuuyyy! Sige na nga, okay now, I’ll reply to you na: “Who’s this, please?”
I fondly remember an old guy buddy. One time, out of the blue, he told me, “No offense meant, Rache. If we weren’t such good friends, I’d definitely want to ‘do’ you. But I wouldn’t want to be your boyfriend. You’re too complicated. I don’t want anything that’s too tough too handle.”
Hahahaha Goddess gracious! I don’t know if that was a compliment or an insult! But hey, offense not taken, man =) It’s not your fault that I have more balls than you do hehe. And don’t worry, I really, really don’t want to complicate things with you. Did you even think if I’ve wanted “to do” you??? Bet you didn’t think of THAT. No offense meant. =)
I’d always go for a man with a good sense of humor. That’s a good thing, because supply is high. Men are funny.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m no man-eater. [Not that I’m saying I wouldn’t. Maybe if he were Ashton Kutcher, maybe I would haha]. I don’t hate their species. I’m not a bitter, jilted hag either. In fact, I currently love a guy who does give a damn about me. I just can’t help it when my brain starts spouting its opinion on men and their double standards. Oh, let’s not even get started. Their quintessential search for the virgin-whore, that one woman who’s good enough to take home to mom AND good enough to take home. PERIOD.And what’s with passing judgment on girls? If she refuses to cry because she doesn’t want to smear mascara all over her face and takes extra time to retouch her makeup, she’s superficial and kikay. But if she shows up at his doorstep looking a little windblown while his buddies are there, she’s embarrassing and helpless.If she’s smart, she’s probably a boring nerd; if she’s not, she’s a bimbo. If she’s good at household chores, she’s homely and domesticated; if she’s not, she’s a spoiled brat. If she’s career driven, she’s not feminine; if she’s not, she doesn’t have ambition. If she needs you, she’s clingy and dependent; if she doesn’t, she’s a snobbish bitch. The list goes on . . .
The thing is: Making someone appear bad doesn’t make us better. Besides, there’s always someone, man or woman, better than us.
So why be scared of competition?
Finally, after private reading at Powerbooks, I felt ready to go home.
I love Saturdays, even Saturday traffic. Okay, that is going overboard.
So, trying not to be bored while in public transport, I conclude: Mr. I’m-cute-so-let’s-play-eyecandy-and-I-have-a-ring-but-I’m-wearing-it-so-you-still-find-me-cute-to-play-eyecandy-with is attractive because he is obviously not a commitmentphobe. My inner devil’s advocate (DA) says: But he’s playing eyecandy with you! My reply: Still, he didn’t come sauntering to me and asking for contact information. My DA says: He’s married! I say: At least he shows it!
Grich, now, aren’t you worried about the way I think? Do you see what the absence of booze, ziggies, and you in my life does to me? Don’t you think we should fast track from Friday dinner next week to breakfast tomorrow?
But we still have to go out Friday night because Ged has to buy us dinner and drinks, right?