The greatest thing in writing about strangers is that they are almost inanimate, no consideration of feelings. I play with what I think about them. They’re like puppets moved by strings. They can dance, swayed from my lead. They can never talk back because again, they are strangers. Strangers remain strangers. They don’t know who you are, absolutely no idea that there are stories written about them, and they don’t care.
The past is written with emotions, carefully woven with thoughts and crafted with chosen words. They told me that writing is a therapy. What makes it so special is that it can be gruesome, some things were buried and you have to unveil privacy like looking at an old photographs. Writing about it creates a dimension where recollection takes place, opening first chapter of your life, exposing to someone who bothers to care. Past is divided into two parts, like being filed in a different folder, residing at the deepest part of your heart. Some should be forgotten, kept as inactive file while some remains as a treasure and once in awhile actively runs shots of flashbacks providing you good hormones. The scariest part about writing them is that you know they are real.
Writing about learning is the easiest. It is kinder than writing descriptions of trapped feelings or a daily journal. Situations here are negative subject to change. The words that will be written are boastful and yes, with dignity.
Today is Thursday, 25th of September 2008. The islands were in the hands of the storm “Nina”. The winds were turbulent and the rain was scattered. The sky was gray and the sun was feeling discomfort. Today is not as ordinary as yesterday. It’s our 11th monthsary and my plan was again disregarded. I should’ve cleaned the apartment to spotless, made the beds, ran some errands, get the laundry, buy something for tonight’s dinner, and well yeah, taken a bath. I should’ve cleared the kitchen sink for a start, but instead I brewed the coffee, lighted a cigarette stick and rebooted the laptop.
Today, I’m going to write about her and how it started.
I was sort of thin last year. It was the time that I thought eating was pointless and I made alcohol my hobby. I don’t know why being depressed make me looked good, that’s what my friends say or probably they were just being polite. However, it makes me feel damn good like a revenge or something that I lost my fear in cameras and developed this passion of being captured in pictures. I was broken-hearted from having broken off with a live-in female partner. I was shoved out from our nest with her name tattooed on my ass. Besides drinking, I dated numerous lesbians. The story was classic.
I was desperate. I’m a type of person who believes that I can properly move on and that life is prettier if you share it with someone. I can almost make an ad that goes like this.
A powered lesbian, looking for a dynamic and aggressive applicant who is willing to take over the position that was left by the previous one.
Qualifications:
- Filipina Lesbian
- Preferably single
- Not more than 40 years old
- Graduated in school
- If the applicant is underage, please bring a copy of letter of consent with dry seal
- Willing to go under supervision within 3-6 months
- Lives within the vicinity of Metro Manila
- With pleasing personality
- With or without experience, yeah!
- Common sense and humor is a must!
Interested applicants may submit their resumes with colored whole body picture with white background together with a copy of an essay “Why would I apply for this job?” at jeni@pinoy.org and will be notified thru text being asked for a scheduled date.
Successful applicants will have a chance to be with the coolest lesbian in town and will be given a competitive compensation package.
Compensation Package:
- Love messages and phone calls especially on mornings and evenings depending on the amount of my load
- Free Load
- Stuffed toys, letters, poems, chocolates, flowers and luckily cellphone in which depends on the amount of my salary and these will be deductible on your free load
- Love services and more!
Anyway, instead of this, I hooked up with a clan. It’s a group of flirty lesbians who abuse Globe unlitxt to the max. It’s like a forum and chat on the internet but cheaper. They were a bunch of nonsense. They are alive 24 hours! It broke my cellphone and ran my battery to empty. It was crazy. That’s a good thing about craziness, it gives you an opportunity to experience the extraordinary. A clanmate, Nadjz had a clanmate named Men-men. She had a “single and looking” lawyer friend named Germaine.
We were set up by them to meet at an exclusive party. Secretly, I was bound to meet 2 of them. Germaine and Katsura, a girl from the clan. By 9pm, I met Men-men, a formal butch in her 30’s who wore polo, pare, tucked-in her pants. Leather belt is visible matched with leather shoes. The lesbian world that I am in was different. We were hippies, carefree, worships dirty pants, printed shirts and funky sneakers. She was yeah, “formal”. I was caught off-guard and the moment she spoke to me was like how a boss would talk to an employee, slow yet clear. At first she told me that Germaine was sick and was not able to meet me and she asked my name twice as if it’s hard to remember like Rumplestiltskin. She asked questions like I was being interviewed for a high-paying job.
“Iha, taga-saan ka ba?”
“Makati.”
Iha is a strong word and in my head I was thinking, should I say ‘Makati po?’ I was taught not to be rude with elders and should use appropriate responses like ‘po’ and ‘opo’.
“So anong ba ang trabaho mo?”
Her questions became weirder.
“Call center agent sa Makati” (po?)
“Kasi yung kaibigan ko naghahanap sya ng pwede nyang makusap..”
Like I was stupid or something. God! I tell you…I was like a chicken being dressed alive.
She continues,“Lawyer sya sa DSWD..”
She pauses like to impress me that ‘hey, my friend is big time okay, so I need a proper screening’. My ego was insulted. Who is this lawyer friend of yours anyway? Is she God? Baka mamaya pulpol na lawyer lang yan! If I know, notaryong lawyer lang yan! These thoughts boost 2 bars of my ego..and patience. It helped me not to throw rude remarks at the most tempting moment. I let her finished her sentence.
“Maliit sya katulad ko.”
And I said, “okay…”
“Eto ba ang number mo?”
After she verified..
“Okay, Ite-text ka na lang nya.”
See? Like I didn’t pass the interview. Like we’ll let you know if you pass or not. Later on, Nadjz told me about Men-men’s comment - Bakit hindi raw ako naka-dress. Ang sa’akin naman e hotel ba ito? Pwet mo!
I went upstairs, drank bottles of beers with Penguin and clanmates; danced and rocked with the band and spend the remaining wee hours in bed with Katsura.
Two days after, I received a message from Germaine. She was apologizing for ditching me. The message was odd. The time is way passed by although her message creates an impact because it means triumph. I passed the fucking interview wearing pants.
I was challenged. Men-men, I was challenged. Thank you.
The exchange of messages through text was awful. The messages she sent were forwarded quotes. They were limited. One in the morning and one in the evening. It was pathetic. Mind you, it goes on for a week and I lost interest.
As I was doing my work, talking to an American boring me about her woes of her cancelled flight, Germaine texted me to meet her after work. Like preparing for another job interview, I should know something about her so I surfed the net and read her friendster profile. Would that be enough? Should I browse volumes of law books or memorize the preamble maybe? No. I decided to be myself. I decided to slap her with who I really am. I decided to wear pants, shirt and my trusty Chucks. I accessorized myself with rubber and leather bands. Goddamn, I will tell you that I sported a tattoo on my back.
I nervously walked to the hotel’s lobby. That would be at Renaissance’s in Makati. She came from a boring conference or training of some sort. I already saw her from the outside window seated alone, wearing pink polo in the lightest shade. She was so gay. She’s a live carbon copy of Men-men. I’m no longer doubtful about ‘birds of the same feather, flock together’. She recognized me, I don’t know why, so I just politely smiled.
We walked at Greenbelt Park. I considered her poor in Dating 101. She’s cheap. She told me to bring her somewhere inexpensive, not that I’m going to ask her to treat me or anything like that but I responded by telling her to eat our first dinner at the food court in which she declines by the way.
We settled ourselves in Gloria Mariz. She ordered herself Vigan longganiza and since I have the idea that it might be a dutch treat, I ordered coffee. I ordered coffee with a lie. I stirred my coffee with a concoction of lies. I ordered coffee because she’s a lawyer. I ordered coffee because it’s formal. I might probably order tea if the setting will be in England. I have this crazy thought that even if I wore jeans instead of a skirt, the cup of coffee would make me look formal. Business meetings were always conducted with coffee. Hence, coffee can be labeled as formal. Maturity is formal.
So now I am “formal”. Should I begin reciting the preamble now? What will be the conversation flow? Will it be about sex? I mean sexual harassment maybe? I almost slap myself. Why would I have to pretend in order for her to like me? Would I really want her to like me? I have rights you know. I have the right to express my feelings. I have the right to be myself. I am thinking a lot of rights that evening and I know she mastered all the rights that was constituted by law. After my first cup of coffee, I shifted myself in ordering a bottle of cold beer.
She was pleasant and calm. She wore glasses and her eyes were blinder than mine. Her pink polo was like chosen on purpose, it radiates the gentleness of her face. Her voice is a comfort like blanket during your sleepless nights. She was blessed with perfect teeth. Her hands were small like how literature describes a modest English woman. She glances and her glance shifts to stare. Her eyes twinkle. She can set the mood. I can almost feel tiny little hearts are falling. It made me feel the month of February. She has the ability of making you talk, making you laugh, making you sad. She has the ability to unlock different versions of feelings. She was fascinating. To me she was absolutely wonderful!
The next day was considered by her as a date. Poems were written about me and each poem was recited like how Filipinos serenade Filipinas thru haranas. For a whimsical moment she left me speechless, I was dazed with poetry and soon the magic began.
There are millions of stuffs about her that I can write. I can write how I missed her smell if she’s not around and why being away from her makes me sad. I can write how I wanted to kiss her good mornings and then again kiss her good nights. She wanders inside of me like poetry written on a priceless script producing scrolls of parcels. I can write anything about her in volumes and I can write about her for life. I want to write about her cruelty and how I reacted. I want to write about our differences and how we learn to work things out. I wanted so much to write about her and our lives together. I want to write about this sometime.
For now I have written how simple poetry became a conversation of love. The words that are written are only limited to the feelings that I wanted to describe. Living with her is more than amazing, it’s more than enough.
Happy Monthsary Nini and I love you!
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment