medically inclined

Belated Happy Thanksgiving!    
What are you thankful for?

I just met this medical representative from Schering-Plough last Thursday night and no, he isn’t my Thanksgiving dinner. He took me to Mountain View I swear the place is becoming too redundant. What’s this, a deja-fuck? Besides the fact that he actually has a stable job and he is related to James Yap, he is nice and bastos at the same time. I’ve never met anyone who is so open with his sex life I was glad it was dark that time or he might see me blush like mad. Hot flashes, yeah.     

And he is really sweet. After dropping me home he called me up and talked for hours and yes, Globe, he’s making you rich. And I’m having goosebumps because he’s not my type yet everythinggg about him is amaaaziiing. He is the polo-barong-laptop-carrying-mini XDA sporter-guy who is so normal I get all edgy. There must be something wrong with him. There should be. There is not one single too-good-to-be-real kind of guy out there who isn’t hiding a freaky side to him. Weelll, I hate that I’m taller by 2 inches and my Janylyns are not helping. My head was spinning too and getting deaf from the argument going inside my head:

He is just after what every man is after. You should know better by now!
We’ve gone out for two dates straight. It was wholesome.
It always IS wholesome right before the sex.
He wanted to bring me to his company’s Christmas Party.
Scary honey, it means he’s desperate.
A guy like him isn’t cut out to be desperate.
Shut up.
He calls all the time.
Try masturbating.
I’m not gonna marry the guy.
Make him pay for a weekend at Shang.

Yet he took me to the Loft. I was with Mitz, Kit, Rj, and Sheila at Starbucks last Friday when he picked me up unbeknown st to my friends. Promise, I will tell them later. I had my favorite nonsexual drink, a Coke Light, with lemon. He had a shot of Vodka Tonic. He talked about his family in Manila and he told me how his 2 year-assignment in Cebu was a blast except that he never really had a girlfriend here. He talked about his girlfriend in Manila whom he had been living together with for three years. He talked about his last sexual contact (how gynecologically appropriate) two months ago. He talked a lot, period. In between his stories, he went, “So, do you ever chuva chuva.. How do you feel..When was…?” and it is just those moments that you feel embarrassed to narrate your story because you’d feel its his turn to think that you talk a lot so I only gave sentences that merits an answer and he was back to talking about himself. It was 1am and I was running late for work and I was like, To hell. He knew the office was just around the corner but he took me home anyway.

Deciding whether a guy will respect you or not after he sleeps over is such a subjective rule and I wanted to know who made that up because its totally BS. He’s gonna call tonight and he might see me even if I’m going out with my girls. This is getting scarier by the minute. Enjoy the weekend everyone.

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my niche in the red light district

My apartment is situated at the heart of the city. To be specific, it is near the red light district cause that’s where the Cebuanos’ heart is. Ü At past midnight, it is normal to see the streets filled with cars from the number of strip clubs that are lined up near the highway and the numerous pimps and call girls stationed at their designated posts.

Since my work is at 1am, and I am referring to my normal job in PS, I leave the house at 12am and hail a cab outside.

In a span of 10-30 minutes waiting, a lot can happen. Everyday.

A car usually stops by, a window is rolled down and a face that is hardly discernible goes, “Hi, babe.” I smirk, walk a few steps and turn away.

Or a car was persistent and followed me where I went. I shook my head and politely said, “No,” while muttering “Go away,” under my breath.

Or a black Crosswind turned around in circles and the driver shouted ‘psst’ until I gave him the finger and he stopped and asked, “Where can I take you?” between ragged breaths. Even if I’m running late, there is no way I’d be tempted to go. If he has the face of Steven Strait ,  I’d happily hop on without questions. Haha.

Or a car full of men drove by and waved and I waved back, and to my horror they stopped the car, turned around and asked me to hop on. I was late already at that time and doing 8 men in 30 minutes will make me later so no, I shook my head again.

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not a book

           An ex’s friend texted me tonight, “Mahilig ka pala sa junior.”

           I was baffled.

          Junior who, or junior what?

          Because my ex is a junior, you know ****, jr., he must talking about some guy. Or a guy’s some.

          Then I got all defensive and my just saloned-arched brow rose.

         “Hey, m single n I can c huever I want. We’re friends so I rili don’t nid ur judgement. But, muah. Take care sweetie, Missed seeing u around.”

          Hey, we all judge. That’s all we ever do it’s becoming everyone’s favorite pastime. We judge people by how they dress (slut), how they talk (jologs), and even how they think (bobo). It would be pure hypocrisy if I claim I’ve never judged but I’m starting to kick that habit because if there’s one person people are likely to judge, it would be me.

          I heard what people have been talking about me since the breakup and it’s fun because they don’t know shit. My friends also bore the brunt of these hate talk and I feel bad because people’s brains are so fucked up from all that sun exposure they can no longer think logically or open-mindedly.

         I’m telling my friends now that whatever they do, I still got their backs. Even if they’ve killed someone, stolen something, been sued for estaffa, or even snagged a boyfriend, I would never turn my back on them. I will never turn my back on you. I don’t know but I’m the last person in this world to ever hold a grudge against anyone. It’s not healthy. We’re friends. I’ve known you for so long I can already blackmail you to your mom. I’ve seen you sleep with your cheeks wet from your drool. I held your hair while you puked all over my car. I’ve covered your ass when I was telling your mom you were with me when you were just banging your bf on a school night. I was with you while you were banging your bf. Haha. I know that you can also say the same thing for me. Saying that you’re my friend isn’t just a verbal claim, its more than a regular blood compact or the spitting kind where you go pweh pweh to your palm and you shake hands. It is very heavy – the word friend and I don’t take that for granted, people.

          So I won’t judge. If you go, “Gang, I’m hiding from the world because people are after me. I’ve stolen their money,”, I’ll tell you the directions to my house and let you stay there.

          To the text message, I got defensive because I was hurt. I wasn’t expecting you to do the same but I was just expecting you to be a friend.

          Oh, where are my Benson and Hedges…

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