november calls again

it is 4:30 p.m., and my phone rings. it must be dines, i think.

wrong. caller id alerts me that it is november. at 4:30? who cares what time it is? what does he want?

hello? i try to make my voice sound light and breezy.

you know, i realized that i dont even know your last name. ive talked to you several times, and ive never learned your last name.

hhhmmm...well, okay...why do you need to know? are you going to google me or something?

no, not at all. let me guess. it must be a filipino last name.

ah, actually, no. its italian. a city in italy.

okay...rome? florence? venice?

it starts with p, but its not pisa.

palermo?

hahaha...no. its p***a.

oh, okay. so, what are your plans for this weekend? i want to watch a movie.

this weekend? im free. youre lucky. ill come out to you. its my turn.

okay.

whats out anyway? oh, god, i have to tell you. i used to be a movie whore before i met you. i watched everything without question. but now. now, youve changed me. now i check the critiques before i watch a movie.

really???

yes. its frustrating because as we both know, there aint much to choose from out there.

why am i lucky?

im sorry. im just being vain. youre lucky because you get to spend saturday night with me.

hahaha. so, okay.

okay. so, are you wet?

hahaha. what?

no, i meant, because of the rain. i meant to say.

hahaha.

hey, so, what have you been doing?

he tells me that he cooks dinner for his family last week. his specialty? enchiladas and spanish rice.

we are on for saturday, except i remember i have a social for search. shit. it will end at 7:30 p.m., though.

i call him to tell him that if he wants to do something, it will have to be later on in the night. he says that its fine, and he gives me his home number.

i like november. i like him a lot. hes funny, easy, breezy, lemon squeezy. but hes not the buddhist. for which, i am very thankful.

by ee cummings

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

just a reminder

after a while

after a while, you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't mean security,
and you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises,
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes open,
with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
and learn to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,
and futures have a way of falling down in midflight
and after a while, you learn
that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
so you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
and you learn that you really can endure...
that you really are strong
and you really do have worth
and you learn and learn...
with every goodbye, you learn.

by veronica a. shoffstall

just another day in paradise

my friend is looking bad lately. his outer appearance manifests the shittiness hes feeling on the inside. today is the first day we actually talk for longer than 5 minutes.

hey, dont you say hi anymore? i ask him through my window.

hi.

so, how are you?

good. how are you?

fine. same life. pretty boring.

oh, really? well, youre the only one who leads a boring life. most of us lead exciting lives.

im glad your life is interesting. you need to tell me about it more.

do you have tea?

yes. would you like some?

yes, id like to have tea with you.

he comes in and eats his lunch and drinks tea. he makes small talk, and when i look at him, he raises his eyebrows at me.

we talk about kubric, how he really likes 2001: a space odyssey, and then i bring up eyes wide shut. i tell him i dont like the movie because i dont understand it. he says there is a message. and i tell him i dont get the message.

just because you dont get the message doesnt mean there is no message, he wisely tells me.

well, what IS the message?

i dont know, but here, try this.

he googles kubric, and he finds a webpage that analyzes the cruise-kidman flick, and he suggests i read it.

later on in the day, he comes over. i offer him a banana nut muffin, and he gives me a funny look and starts poking it.

dont play with it. why are you poking it like that?

because how will i know if i want to eat it if i dont play with it? i need to touch it before i put it in my mouth.

shut up. at this point, im blushing because my dirty mind is making dirty visuals. i turn away, and he is smiling at the pleasure of making me blush. he doesnt usually have the chance.

a moment later, he makes another sexual reference, and i look at him, and i aver with seriousness, you need to get laid.

so do you.

no, not me. im not going there again. not for awhile. uh, so how the hell are you?

he laughs at me. he looks at me to see my response. thank goodness his phone rings.

when we finally leave for the day, he looks at me and smiles at me like he has a secret. he is up to something. there is such sexual tension between us that it might be making him crazy.

blue eyes

are my weakness. so, tonite after the rose bowl walk, roca and i go to what is quickly becoming her favorite place. the boy who serves us has really beautiful eyes. he is sweet enough, new to the restaurant, and he goes to st. phillips.

after much small talk, he says to me, you guys are my favorite customers.

whatever, i tell him, i heard you tell people that at the other table.

no, i didnt. but if i said it, i was lying to them.

he isnt really flirting, but i feel myself blush at times when he looks at me and comes close to me. im not really a prude, except for tonite, when i am caught off-guard.

he offers dessert, but when i tell him im cold, he says to me, would you like coffee or some tea? i make the best mocha latte. id like to make you one.

oh? are you the only one who thinks its good, or are there any others who share your sentiments?

ive been told its good. ive made it in different places, at different restaurants, and they tell me that its really good. would you like one?

well, since youre touting your creation, i might as well try it, right, dr. frankenstein?

thats right. so, ill get right to it. if you dont like it, you dont have to pay for it.

okay, great.

he returns with a cup of his creation, and he says, ill walk away when you drink it so you wont have to tell me what you think until i come back.

i take a sip, and it is really good, surprisingly. it is neither too sweet nor too bitter. it is actually just right. he comes back, and he looks at me with his blue eyes. well?

its actually pretty good. thank you.

are you sure? youre not just saying that?

no, really, its good.

when he comes back to the table for the last time, he says good night, along with the rest of the schpiel that he mumbles through because he is nervous. when he walks away, i ask roca if she thinks i should write him a quick note. of course she thinks i should.

the note reads: thank you for making me a latte tonite. id like for you to make me another one before you leave for your cruise. maria (***) ***- ****

roca calls him over, and i tell him that this is not a receipt but a simple note for him. he takes it, thanks me, and says he hopes to see us again.

oh, youll see me again. if you call me, youll see me again.

i hate paying attention to something shiny in order to ignore the obvious pain that i am feeling. this boy and november are just distractions. ironically, the more i try to dismiss all thoughts of the buddhist, the stronger they hit me when i am not looking.

im sick of this, though. i am sick of thinking about him, of hoping against hope that he will call, of waiting for closure. i am sick that he still invades my mind. he told me once he doesnt want to conquer me, but he wants to invade me for a little while. well, sweet man, mission accomplished.

im done.

why i laugh now...or puppets on a string

the stupid cat bitch (scb) tells gaya that if i were to leave, bear says that he will not replace me. how scb has access to this information is uncertain; the only thing i can think of is that mofo and scb have become so close and giggly and conspiratorial lately. i just laugh now.

you see, scb isnt really the friendly, social asshole she is trying to be. scb presents herself to be an anti-social, distant, quiet person. that she is acting completely different from her usual persona alerts me that something is up.

scb is very cunning, and she knows how to manipulate people. her puppets on a string are mofo and bear. i feel so badly for them, but stupid is as stupid does.

walk the line

i am running late because i actually do not want to go. my hair is wet, and i look good, but i dont feel good, so i probably dont look as good as i wish i did.

he calls as im speeding down this street, and he is being so funny as usual, so i do not hear the siren or notice the lights going off. i hang up with him quickly.

i pulled you over because you didnt stop at the stop sign. did you see it?

im sorry about that. no, i didnt.

was it because you were on the phone?

uh, no. it was because i was going too fast to see it. thank God officer fernandez has a sense of humor.

i finally make it to the theatre, but he isnt there yet. i call him, and he says he is parking. i buy our tickets, and i pace as i wait.

i glance inside the theatre, and i glimpse a movie poster of kurasawas ran. immediately, thoughts of the buddhist cripple me. when i ask him last week what movie he wants to see, he mentions that one. dammit, i wish i were with him.

i see november, and i present him with the tickets and rush him inside so i wont have to hug and kiss him. the stupid movie poster killed it for me.

we find a seat in the middle, and we settle in in time to watch the trailers. some movies seem exceptional, some cable bound.

when the movie starts, i am still thinking of the buddhist. i am thankful of the two-hour reprieve to be alone with my thoughts. i imagine that if i were there with the buddhist, my hands would have been warm and my lips kissed.

dammit. my expected recovery time is off. it is only three weeks ive had with him. i cant understand why he affects me still. i am baffled. ive allowed myself to grieve. when i feel like shit about him, i give myself permission to wallow in it. when he pops into my mind, i tolerate the memory. i do not dislike him; in fact, i still like him very much. but i need to close this off. for my sanity.

the movie ends, and i know that november doesnt like it. im not too keen on it, either, though i think joaquin phoenix and reese witherspoon both deserve oscars.

we leave the theatre, and he wants japanese. we walk to a restaurant two blocks away. it is an incredibly chilly night, but we dont get close to keep warm. we dont get close at all.

is there anything fun to do in your area? i ask.

of course. lots.

then why come out over here?

it was my turn to come out here. next time, youll come to me.

wow. okay.

he asks me some questions about where i grow up, and we talk about chicago. i miss the city more tonite. i think he is trying to figure out my age, so he asks how long ive been here. i tell him i move to la when i was 17, move to san diego for two years, move to sacramento for three more, and i move back to la and ive been here since.

he is doing the calculations in his head, but we are called to be seated. the sushi is floating around us in little boats, and i try not to focus on them. they seem so tasty, but none interest me. he takes a few of the dishes, and he waits for me to order mine.

he grabs my hand, and he begins to say a prayer.

thank You, God, for this food we are about to eat. thank You for bringing me and maria here in friendship. may our friendship grow stronger and deeper. amen.

wow, you didnt even pray about the food. you prayed more about me.

i did pray about the food, but i also prayed about you.

wow. okay.

the conversation was effortless, fun. he asks about what tv shows i watch (not many), i ask if he reads (he likes to, but he hasnt been), he asks why i dont like voodoo.

my phone rings, and it is matty. as i am talking to him, november is saying:

shes with me. november. november. shes having dinner with her good friend november.

wow. okay.

i apologize and tell him that my phone never rings this much when im alone. the conversation continues to flow, and we laugh, and we talk, and he brings up voodoo again.

hey, what did you end up telling her?

i told her, "im sorry, voodoo, but we have to make it another time because maria wants to talk to me about something."

you used me as a scapegoat?

hell yeah!!!

okay, but im going to tell her the truth: that you wanted to be alone with me. you know, you dashed her hopes when you uninvited her.

whatever.

im just letting you know. hey, there was this event that i wanted to invite you to, but i didnt have your phone number.

why didnt you ask voodoo? she has all my information.

i have other ways besides her. i tried, but i had actually given up.

you didnt try very hard.

oh, but i did. i totally tried.

i dont. not really. i think meeting him in november is a fluke, but i am hoping it isnt.

the dinner ends, and we walk to his car. we say goodbye uneventfully. he is such a sweet guy. next time, he says, i get to choose the movie.

should be interesting.

monday plans on a sunday night

the boy from november comes to movie night last night. we talk about his rather bad taste in romantic movies. it is fun, he is funny, and it is easy to play off his words. i like him then, i like him last night.

which is why it is rather flattering that he asks for my number. out of the blue. i realize that there is probably nothing behind the request, just a natural curiousity for my digits, but i am hopeful nonetheless. and if it allows me to heal from the superficial hurt from the buddhist, im game.

he asks for my number, then i do not know how all of a sudden we are making plans to watch a movie on monday. i ask him what he wants to watch, and he asks me, but i am not really interested in anything new playing.

i call him earlier tonite at the urging of cousine and anapi. while at dinner, i tell them of how the buddhist and i meet and what we do...then they convince me to call november.

he answers the phone, and i immediately sense the smile in his voice. we talk effortlessly about movies, and we decide to watch walk the line. he suggests capote and munich, but ive seen munich, and im not too interested in capote.

he asks me which time i prefer, and i tell him it depends if he wants an early dinner or a late one. he says early. so we agree to meet at 3:00 p.m. before the 5:00 p.m. show.

he calls a moment later to tell me he invited voodoo to watch it with us. i am stunned. i am disgusted. i am obviously not going. i manage to confess that i do not like voodoo, not in so many words, but just enough to let him know that i will not be joining them.

i apologize profusely to put him in an awkward position because i do not want to go out with him and her, but that he and she can watch the movie. i ask him for a raincheck.

he says he will call me right back, and when i ask him why, he says its because he is going to call voodoo to tell her she is uninvited.

to make a long story short, he and i will meet tomorrow at 4:45 p.m. instead of 3:00 p.m., and we will go out to dinner afterwards. this should be interesting.

its such a nice surprise...

...when the boy you liked in november shows interest in you in february.

...waking up to a beautiful sky filled with looming rain clouds, but the sun beats them and shines through.

...having a teenager still end phone calls with i love you even though he says it like hes saying alright already goodbye.

...sitting behind a man who turned 100 years old today but doesnt look a day over 79.

...singing songs that fill me and let me know exactly who i am.

...seeing my newly engaged cousin act with such softness.

...being me and feeling comfortable about being me.

...rushing off to search.

breathe

i believe that sometimes i forget to breathe. not that i hold my breath, but i just dont take long, energizing breaths. but i do today at yoga. i always forget how such simple, easy movements give me strength and introduce me again to breathing.

but i have been holding my breath this week. ive been waiting for the buddhist to make some move, give me some indication that the last three weeks arent a dream from my overactive imagination. but alas, he hasnt. and i dont blame him. this is could become a wonderful romance, but lets face it, folks, it would end. and im glad he made the decision for the both of us to end it sooner rather than later.

so, now im back. from outer space. or from the innerspace known as my mind. i have to move on, move ahead. this is just a minor set back. it stings, and like an injection, there will be a bruise where he once was, but eventually, it will disappear. my mind is fascinating that it holds memories for no longer than necessary. i dont even remember the boys fathers face.

but i have a dream about the boys father last night. in the dream, we are in bed, negotiating whether or not to reconcile. the dream ends abruptly because i wake up with thoughts of the buddhist, so i do not know how we fare. i have these types of dreams of the boys father every so often, and it baffles me in the strangest of ways. for you see, i do not think of him consciously, but my subconscious offers another story.

for the record, i do not like the boys father. and i havent spoken to him for a long time. there is no need. he doesnt call me, and i dont call him. but because he doesnt call the boy, i think of him as scum. i have no respect for him. but i do appreciate that he is leaving us alone. i will not subject the boy to someone who thinks of us as a revolving door that he can pass at his will.

i realize something today as i am reading po bronsons new book, why do i love these people? as is the case of his last book, the phenomenal what should i do with my life?, po interviews people to get their stories. he then compiles the stories in a book, dedicating 5 to 8 pages a story. i love the reality of peoples lives, rather than reading a fictional characters tale.

i read a story entitled, the white guy. it is about how an irish guy marries into a filipino family. my heritage is very welcoming, but it can also be overwhelming. i hardly ever introduce boys to my family. the irish bloke was the last one they meet because i know how judgmental and consuming my family is. my family is amazing, but they are also annoying. they stick together against outsiders, and it takes awhile to break the shell. all in the name of love.

heres what i realize today while reading at vromans: i want to get married. its not a desperate urge, but a quiet sureness that i want to make a commitment to someone. i have never wanted this, even fantasize of having a marriageless partnership like tim robbins and susan sarandon and goldie hawn and kurt russell. i admire them for making a commitment to each other, regardless of social conventions.

but i want a marriage. i want to walk down the aisle. i dont want to plan a huge wedding, of course, but with the increasing number of family members on my side, i do not foresee anything other than. but if not a huge wedding, then an intimate one in church, before the eyes of God.

and it isnt only for God or for my family. it is also for the boy. he has become so gun-shy about letting anyone in our lives, which is why the buddhist no longer exists in my world. not because he doesnt like the buddhist. in fact, last saturday would have been the first meeting, but the boy doesnt trust men. after the dirty dealings of the irish bloke, i do not blame him.

but i do not want the boy to fear relationships. i want him to understand, as im trying to do, that it takes risks, and sometimes, the risks outweigh the rewards, but that is part of a fully lived life. i want him to acknowledge that love will bring pain but will also bring immeasurable happiness. but first, i have to acknowledge that, too. you see, my boy is just like me. the cats in the cradle, you know?

i pray i am worthy of love and worthy to be loved. i pray that my jadedness will melt away by way of love. i pray that the boy and i will finally meet someone with whom we can rest and who can take care of us.

the buddhist allowed a glimpse of what it would be like if i let my guard down. for this, i am thankful to him.

i dont really believe all this crap, but...

what are your love life secrets?

mine are...

Your Love Life Secrets Are

Looking back on your life, you will have a few true loves. You've been deeply wounded in the past, and you're still recovering from that hurt. You expect a lot from your lover - you want the full package. You tend to be very picky. In fights, you speak your mind and don't hold back. You know you're right, and you can get quite angry about it. A break-up usually comes as a shock to you. You always think things are going well.

********
what are the keys to your heart?

the keys to my heart are...

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who have a split personality - cold as ice on the outside but hot as fire in the heart. In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored. You'd like to your lover to think you are loyal and faithful... that you'll never change. You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please. Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage as something that will confine you. You are afraid of marriage. In this moment, you think of love as something you thirst for. You'll do anything for love, but you won't fall for it easily.

ho-hum

i am going to break up with my friend. what once was a refreshing act of aloofness and apathy now leaves an annoying taste in my mouth. he is an asshole. his words, not mine, until now.

this morning:

hurry up, and sign in. i want to wait for you, but i dont want to wait outside because its so cold im afraid my nipples are going to fall off, i tell him.

then dont wait for me outside. wait for me in here.

when he is ready, we walk slowly to the parking lot. no conversation. it is finally comfortable to be silent.

so, did you go? mago, a funny funny funny man, who is also my singing and acting partner, asks me.

yeah, i went this morning. and let me tell you, it felt good. chabro laughs and almost spits out his coffee.

noooohhh...not to the bathroom. to the dance last night. mago giggles at my bathroom humor.

oh, hell no. no way.

i talk to them for a few until i realize that my friend is standing away from me, but still he is listening. i bid them adieu, and i ask my friend to walk me to my car to pick up the rest of my things.

on the way to the parking lot, a student says hi, and i ask another to open my door for me.

do you have to talk to everyone? its kind of annoying, he observes.

i know. youre right. im sorry. many people who walk with me have those sentiments. but you have all of my attention now, and everyone else will have to wait.

i really should subscribe to the paper so i have something to read during the day.

you can borrow this one, but i need it back.

okay.

hey, maybe you could look through it to see what you and i could do. they have lots of things to do for the weekend.

he looks at me like i am serious.

ugh, i was just kidding. what is the matter with you? why cant you take a joke anymore? where is my friend, what did you do with my partner in crime? i want him back.

wah wah wah.

we part, and he goes into his little corner of hell, and i in mine.

before he leaves, he drops by. we make small talk about this and that. drugs, alcohol. he says he retreats back into himself when he smokes out, but when he drinks, he is very courageous.

no wonder he is giggly during the play we go to two weeks ago. giggly and suggestive, like a virgin girl wanting to get laid without having to say anything.

it is raining out tonite. how romantic. too bad the buddhist is nowhere to be found. i hope he is well, safe, and happy. i have given up on this, and although it stings, i hold no faith that he will call. i leave it up to God because if it were up to me, i would be with him right now.

and if you cant tell, then let me make it clear. i do not always make the best decisions or choose the best options.

untitled

he calls yesterday, and i miss it because i am walking the rose bowl with my phone on vibrate, but i listen to his message when i stop to adjust my shoes.

happy valentines...anyway, i hope youre well...take care.

it may be my imagination, but he sounds pained. he also sounds as if there is more he wants to say, but he cant quite make himself say it. i can analyze those nine words, and i have, but i will spare you of it.

it may be my imagination, but i am over this. i am so disappointed in myself, in him, in how im fucked up when im with someone. i have not felt anything for someone in such a long time that im so out of practice.

it may be my imagination.

the valentines day card he gives me is very simple. i love his handwriting. its strong. its neat. i imagine him as he writes it.

he signs the card with something he writes in chinese above his name. i ask a student for a translation. she informs me that it is a famous saying. it reads, whatever you wish, you will receive.

i wish for him. i wish to swim in his essence, to smell his scent on me, my clothes. i wish for an uncomplicated time with him, for however long or however short. i wish for his lips to press against my lips, for his tongue to search for and finally find mine.

i wish for his hand to clasp my hand, for his eyes to smile upon me while im not looking. i wish for his arms to wrap around me as we sleep, and i wish for him to tighten his grip as i stir and try to move away from him.

i wish to make love to him, to fuck him, to do everything in between. i wish for multiple orgasms. i wish for laughter and tenderness. i wish for cuddling.

i wish for his forgiveness. i wish for his apology. i wish for his love. i wish for his strength. i wish for his vulnerability. i wish for his trust and respect, and i wish he accepts mine.

i wish for his understanding, his patience, his wisdom. i wish for his best.

i wish for him and me, together.

i wish for all of these and more, if it is in Gods will, because i know how true that saying is: be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.

a case of vd confusion

i am so clueless about valentines day. i think there is a missing gene in me that deals with love, committment, romance, and couplehood.

dont get me wrong. i love the idea of love. i love the feeling of floating, of smiling uncontrollably and inexplicably, of the butterflies in the stomach. fancy feelings. and when im in love, i am happy.

but i am also leery of it. i feel like im on punk'd or some hidden camera show, and that i should always be on high alert.

i remember the worst valentines day. i spend it with the red-haired boy. it is our second vd, but i do not remember the first one.

i go to work that day, wearing a green shirt, greeted by my boss with the question, wheres the red?

at first, i think he is talking about the red-haired boy, but i then catch on: he is wondering why im not wearing anything red. i tell him i like neon green, and i happen to think i look good in this shirt.

dont you have a boyfriend? arent you supposed to be celebrating this day?

uh, yeah, i guess. he mentioned going out to dinner tonite.

well, then, wheres the red?

im wearing red underwear. does that count?

only if i can see.

i walk away from him, not because i feel harassed, but because i dont wear any panties that day. he and i have that sort of relationship. he is a handsome, single, forty-something gay man, and im not his type.

we are allowed to leave early that day. david lets us out in case we have vd plans. when i get home, i take a shower to prepare for the vd dinner. as i am putting on lotion, i hear a noise in my bedroom.

hello? i call out. no response, more scruffling noises.

hello? louder, this time, with me clutching the toilet brush as weapon. if it wont hurt the intruder, itll at least cover him in shit.

the door to my bedroom opens, and the red-haired boy smiles sheepishly at me. he moves towards me, and he kisses me before i can say anything.

happy valentines day, he murmurs.

uh, thanks, but how the hell did you get into my house, and what the fuck are you doing here?

i got the key from mosa because i wanted to leave your gifts in the room, but you came home early.

you are so lucky i didnt cover you in shit, man. you scared me.

come here. he leads me to my bedroom, and i find a stuffed dog with a red bow around his neck and a card.

i know you want a real dog, baby, but we cant keep one here at the university apartments. but i promise that as soon as we can, you will have your dog. for now, i hope he will do. love, red-haired boy and stanley. stanley is the name i would have chosen for my dog at that time.

i hug the red-haired boy, and i kiss him for his thoughtfulness. and for the promise of a future. of course, i am very skeptical about a future with him because at 19, im not sure that a future with him is the kind of future i want.

he goes home to look pretty, and he picks me up an hour later for the vd dinner. i hate this pomp and circumstance; id rather just walk to the cafeteria and hang out with all of our single friends.

i try my best to not be a bitch because this whole thing is tiring me out, but i try for him. we are seated, and we look around at the other couples there. we comment on three couples who just sit there and look at everyone else except each other. we vow not to be like them.

our waitress comes to the table, and the red-haired boy asks if he could order for me. why not, i think, hes trying to be romantic.

he orders a dish that i have no interest in eating, and i tell him that before he finishes the order. he ignores me, and i am incredulous. when the waitress leaves, i tell him that i wont eat what he orders for me, and i ask if he could change it to something less, but he dismisses me, confident that i will change my mind once i see the dish.

this is a battle of wills, and i will not lose. when the meal comes, i push it aside, and i tell him again, thank you for thinking that i would eat this, but its not appetizing to me. im sorry, but i cant eat it.

just...eat...the...damned...food, he says through gritted teeth.

i...dont...want...it...dammit, i say through a forced smile. i push my chair back, grab my coat, and i leave the table. i am all set to go home, when i realize, the red-haired boy drove, idiot.

i go back to the table, and i sit across from him. he doesnt look up, continuing to enjoy his meal. he doesnt address me; instead, he acts as if he is on a date with himself.

when he finishes, he asks for the check, pays for the meal, and tells me in a not-so-nice voice, lets go.

i walk in front of him, and rather than grabbing my hand as he usually does, he stuffs his own hands into his coat pocket.

in the car, he tells me, dont you ever fucking leave me like that again.

i didnt leave you. i came back.

that was really fucked up. what the hell is wrong with you?

i remain quiet, pondering what the hell is wrong with me. im still thinking about it when he parks the car.

you know what is wrong with me? i hate valentines day, and i feel so awkward and weird pretending to be something im not. i hate this. i dont want to be in a relationship anymore.

then, goodbye. and take your food.

i walk out of the car, into my apartment, and i explain to my roommates why i am home instead of having sex at his place. they eat my leftovers, while i recall the details of the night.

a few hours later, there is a knock on the door. i open it to find the red-haired boy standing there.

i didnt get you a gift, i apologize. and im sorry for tonite. im such an ass.

you acted very badly.

do you want to spank me?

you deserve it, you know. but im still pissed at your behavior.

i know. dammit, im an ass. cant you see that?

the problem is that he does see it. he overlooks it because he loves me.

we spend three more vds together, each one much like the last one. we finally end the relationship for good because i meet the man who will be the father of my son. however, my vds havent improved much since.

i love the idea of love. i just wish i can turn that concept into a part of my reality.

day two

i can separate my heart from my mind in all matters, but sometimes, in this case, it will take a lot of shiny objects to take my attention from my thoughts and feelings.

i miss the buddhist. i miss him now, again, two days after he breaks it off with me. i will not chase him or beg him to be with me because it is not my character. i will, however, seek closure in any form. im considering sleeping it off or better yet, writing to him, apologizing for any misunderstandings from my rapid fire bitchiness, wishing the best for him, thanking him for letting me feel again. after all, it has been two years.

i know that this has no chance in hell, with our age differences, our career goals, our current situations, but it would have been fun. i do not regret what we did, the sex carnal, the sweetness so needed. i cannot even wish to have him again, not in the same way as before.

tainted. i tell him on saturday that he is tainted. he laughs and says i am the second person to call him that. i do not recall why i say that to him. i do not mean to say it as an insult, just an observation. i wish now that i know what i mean, in what context.

it has been two long years since ive felt this extended for someone. it is tiring for me, i realize now, to be with him because it is unlike me to be in a "relationship". it is effortless for me to exist in a world where i am only looking at other relationships instead of being in one. i do not see myself walking next to someone, holding his hand, feeling overwhelming love or whatever it is i am feeling at the moment, living it out for the rest of our days. that is reserved for people who are willing and ready and able. i am nothing of the sort. i have the desire, but i do not have the ability or willingness, and i am hardly ready. that was proven to me this weekend.

despite how much i like this guy, i really do know that it is temporary. that is part of the appeal, knowing that he, like me, is not into committments, that he is not "my type", that i am not "his type". i know all this as i enter into a one night stand that turns into a three-week adventure.

but it is over now, and i am feeling somewhat relieved, and yet, sad. the weight of its ending is on my shoulders, my heart, my face. i am thankful for this feeling, for any feeling for that matter, and i am glad that i had this chance to stretch out the heart muscles.

i will be better in two more days. usually, my recovery time is three days, but this was more extensive and a bit more involved. it sinks in last night that it is over, and when i wake up this morning, i feel lighter. but now, as i sit here and write this, i know that i have to go through this path of psuedo-hurting before i am back to my usual self.

for all that he is and for all that he isnt, he is worth it.

the last weekend

friday night, he calls me to let me know he is home at his fathers house and that he is ready to hang out. i am tired, but i am so excited to finally see him.

i drive to him, and when he gets into my car he hands me flowers and a card.

happy valentines. he signs it with a buddhist saying written in chinese or japanese. i am so happy that i do not hear his explanation about what it says.

i kiss him hard, and i look at him for a second, unable to believe that i am with him again. i start driving, and he holds my hand. he looks at me, and he smiles, and i smile and feel this incredible feeling of rightness.

i am in love with him. but i know there is a great difference between being in love and loving. when im in love, i know that i will fall out of love. when i love, it is for a lifetime. it may not be active, but it is there in my heart, popping up at the most inconvenient times to remind me that i am capable of such deep feelings.

we drive to the church because i want to show him where i feel the most myself. he likes it, the mural, the illuminated stained glass saints, the property. i park on the street, and before i realize it, i am confessing why i am fucked up, and i begin to talk about the irish bloke.

he listens to me, not saying anything, and i divulge what i am able to without breaking down or falling apart. when i feel im finished, i ask him to come with me. i drive us to colorado, and i find the place.

we sit on the bed, and i cannot imagine anyone i would rather be with at this particular moment. we get under the covers, and we begin to kiss. i am ready to fuck him, make love to him, be with him in any way he wants.

we make love first. he is incredibly sweet, and when he is entering me, he finds my hands, and he clasps them in his. i cum when he is in me, when he cums, and again while he is coming down from his orgasm.

we lay next to each other, and we talk. we cuddle, and i tell him that i dont cuddle, and he looks at me like maybe we arent cuddling.

you didnt let me finish. i dont like cuddling with anyone, except you.

he finds that appealing, and he kisses me. we are on our way again to some exquisite sex, and this time, i want him to fuck me hard. i go down on him, and i let his cock grow in my mouth. i underestimated the size of it, and when he is fully erect, i see why i experience some pain. two words: length and girth. in proportion. damn, im lucky.

i start to suck him, and he grabs my hair and head with one hand, and he holds my hand with his other. this erotic intimacy turns me on. i take him in deeply, and i let the tip of his cock tickle my throat. he lets out a groan when i do this, and i love pleasing him, so i do it more.

when i stop to look at him, he says, dont stop. ever. ever.

does that mean forever, or does it mean ever? i dont care at the moment. i mount him, and i grind against him, and after i cum, i suck what he has done to me.

i lie next to him, and he turns me to my side with my legs over each other, and he enters me this way. it is painful because he is big, and im tight, but i realize that i love this pain. i love when he exerts this pain on me.

when we finish, he lays on top of me, and i hold him. i am in bliss, and i am in love.

baby? i say.

whats up?

im in love with you. right now. and i felt it, so i said it.

he kisses me. no need for a response. i dont want any. its all about me at this point anyway.

as we fall asleep, and he is holding me. he holds me tightly, and whereas before, i feel strangled, now, i feel safe. i tell him the other week that i feel safe with him, and he tells me that i should.

we wake up, and he takes a shower. when he gets back into bed, i am horny, but he wants to be seduced to taking off his clothes. it was a challenge, but i manage it well.

we fuck again, in the same position as before, and it hurts so bloody much. but i cum this way intensely, and i wonder if there will be a time when i wont want to take him in this way.

we head out for lunch. at lunch, he reveals that he writes, but out of respect for his father writer, he doesnt write much now.

after lunch, he kisses me good bye and tells me he will call me when he finishes with his errands. if i had known then that that will be the last time i will kiss him, i would have held him longer and kissed him more softly.

hindsight is 20/20. i have no regrets about meeting him and spending time with him. i do regret that it lasted only for 3 weeks. i would have wanted more, even though the end result will be the same.

buddhist sematary

have you ever watched the stephen king novel-turned-to-movie "pet sematary"? the premise is simple: do not bury anything or anyone in the pet sematary because if you do, they will come back to life. and while they may be the same looking person, they sure as hell will not be the same thing. thing being the operative word.

and so it is with the buddhist. we spend the night together last night, have a wonderful time earlier this morning/afternoon, then, we make plans to hook up later in the night. he calls when he is finished with his errands, then bam!!!!!

i do not know what happened during the phone call, but he ends it abruptly. i dont even know what i say or what he interprets. i think we are both tired, and he needs to cool off, but let me call again the time of death of the buddhist at 5:30 p.m. february 11.

this will be the last time i call it.

illiteracy with the boys

i realize today how i cannot read boys. or men. or my son. or any person with a male organ. i have difficulty with signs, thinking that there is more to a communication than actually is. men are simple, arent they? they say what they want, say what they mean, mean what they say, blah blah blah.

fp and i talk today for the first time since, as he claims, i kicked him out of my room because i was talking to my friend. could i have been that rude and insensitive? i dont remember, but im sure there is some truth to what he says. he has beautiful eyes.

from september of the year that exbf leaves to july of last year, we have a sexual relationship. we fuck in different places, in questionable locales. that might have been the only exciting part of it. he is not terribly sexy or fanfuckingtabulous in any way, except for the tongue ring he used on me once. there is nothing to keep me interested, so the "relationship" ends as abruptly and as quietly as it starts.

today, he is sweet, talkative, impervious to my flirtation. i am affected by his eyes, by his tattoos, by his friendliness. and then, the fp that drove me away surfaces. he and i are beginning to banter when he does the stupidest thing. he hits my ass. he doesnt slap it. he hits it. punches it, i think. or hits it awkwardly. i am too stunned to react because i was on the phone with roca, and i see ansa walk in to see this happening. just like the way he fucks, everything turns uncomfortable.

but im not illiterate with him. he really is simple. or i just dont care to read him. no, gentle readers. it is my friend that i cannot comprehend.

i think i really should remember one thing about him: he is a friend. a friend i enjoy the company of. a friend i can look at for moments at a time because i can never hold his gaze or him mine. a friend that sometimes challenges me to think in ways i wouldnt normally think. a friend i can spend long stretches of time with and still keep my pants on. just a friend.

i invite him to have lunch with me on sunday. he tells me to give him a call. it might be good for our friendship to take it out of the environment where it started. i want to give it a chance, not because i think it will lead to sex, but because i hope it will make it stronger. i think he needs me as much as i need him, but neither of us want to admit it.

i simply and quietly adore this person. he has an essence about him that intrigues and frustrates me. he is deep, but he is also surface. he tells me today that he likes to cuddle.

13 years ago

tomorrow is a certain boys birthday, and i am so wildly in love with him. he is truly a gift; one i dont know i deserve, but one i am certainly thankful for.

this boy is wonderful, despite the changes he is undergoing. i still remember that day, 13 years ago, when i meet him for the first time, when i hold him in my arms, when he sleeps next to me.

in the early days of our relationship, when he sleeps for long stretches of time, i develop a fear that he may not be breathing, so i wake him. he stirs, looks at me, and returns to his dreams.

its been me and him only, except for the 5 years of commotion that we spend with the irish bloke. i prefer it that way, although in all honesty, there are times i know it would be easier if i have help. but i wont settle.

hard to believe its been 13 years since ive met him, since he has been in my life. i love it really, being chosen to undertake this responsibility. i love it, and i honor it.

im not very good at it, looking at it traditionally. im not very conventional, and it sometimes bothers me. i want to be more for him, more for myself, but...im limited.

i hate that about myself really. i hate that i cannot make myself be anything other than who i am, and sometimes it is not enough. sometimes its too much. sometimes i feel like goldilocks.

but i love the boy. and i hope that the love will carry him through his trials and tribulations. i hope that i am a good influence to him. i hope he learns only the best from me.

this boy is my anchor. he saves me from myself. he grounds me. he humbles me. he raises me up. he inspires me. he motivates me. he loves me. he says so himself.

it comes down to this

i want to fuck my friend to get it over with, to relieve sexual tension, to just make sure he knows how i feel. i bring him a coffee cake muffin and include a note with it that says how much i enjoyed last friday night and that i hope i dont fuck it up.

he comes over today and reads the note. i love the outfit he has on: white long-sleeved shirt, untucked and jeans. when he is disheveled, i am so turned on. his hair is growing out now, and i want to grab it from the back, the way the buddhist grabs mine.

he tells me he is going out on friday with another filipina girl, and he wonders what it is about him and filipinas. i dont touch it because i dont know the answer. i know he wants me to respond, but i cant. it is rather stupid.

my friend intrigues me. he is such a sheep, with no balls, but i am so attracted to that. although i find myself annoyed that he is such a self-confessed coward, i cannot help but make up scenarios where he will grow balls and kiss me hard.

so, it comes down to this. five months of skirting the issue of sex. it is time to take initiative. i will fight my laziness and find a way to seduce him. let me look into my bag of tricks, and try something that i havent done lately. he likes my writing, so perhaps i will tempt him letters that display emotions? i have already planted the seed that i am much better with paper and pen than with speech.

saturday night

he tells me that he waits until saturday to call because i tell him to.

i dont think i said that, i start.

you did. you said you were busy all week and to call you on saturday.

i dont remember that. in fact, i called the time of death on tuesday. i thought i was just another saturday night for you.

no, not at all. it was a long week. a very long week. did you get my message yesterday?

that was you? im sorry, but i didnt recognize the voice. i hardly get calls on my phone, so i thought it was a wrong number or something. so, what are you doing tonite?

im going to study with a buddy.

oh? okay. what are you going to study?

it depends. what are you going to teach me?

well, you already know english, so it probably wont be that. but i have office hours tonite, if youd like to stop by. hey, i have a great idea. some friends are going to dinner. want to join us?

yes.

really? good. around 7:30?

very good.

i pick him up at his place at around 8 o'clock, and as soon as he enters the car, i am at ease. he leans over to kiss me on the cheek so naturally that it seems like he has been doing it forever.

we talk about our week. i tell him that i honestly didnt think i was going to see him again, but im glad it works out. we arrive at chan dara in larchmont village, and i park the car down the street. i kiss him, and the butterflies start fluttering their wings. i dont know how many there are, but i have to catch my breath.

we walk towards the restaurant, and he pulls me close to him. this is how i want to walk with him always: next to him, in his arms, resting my head on his shoulders. he kisses the top of my head every few steps, and i know that i am lucky.

dapel meets us at the door, and i give him a hug. he looks good tonite; hard to believe he is 41. i do wish that he meets someone amazing who will bring out his amazing qualities.

we are seated, and we tell the buddhist how we meet. the buddhist puts his arm on my chair and casually plays with my hair. when the food comes, the buddhist serves me first, dapel next, himself last. i love this courtesy. it is important to have refined manners.

dinner is great. the conversation is effortless. being with dapel and the buddhist, priceless. when the buddhist leaves the table to fetch dapel a new fork, dapel mentions to me that he thinks the buddhist is smitten with me. i cannot stop smiling.

after dinner, we walk back to my car, the buddhist and i. he kisses me deeply, holds me tightly, and looks me in the eyes seriously. i tell him that i fuck things up, and that i may not be the best one to attach oneself to. he agrees, and he says he isnt either. then, he kisses me again, and he tells me i am silly.

we get in the car, and we drive around, past the amphitheatre where my friend and i were the night before. i am so physically attracted to him that i ask him if he wants to go somewhere to be alone. i want to fuck him, i tell him.

forty minutes later, we are sitting on a bed.

come here, baby, i ask.

he comes closer to me, and he kisses me. he undresses me slowly, and he takes his own clothes off after. he lies against me, skin to skin, kissing me, exploring me.

he lifts my knees up and pushes them back towards my chest, and he enters me. i am tight, and it hurts that way, so i bring my legs down.

he is careful to not fuck me too hard because he knows i am experiencing some pain, so he develops a slow, steady rhythm. i move with him, feeling him watching me, holding back until i cum.

he turns me over and fucks me from behind, kissing my back and neck as he does. i push my ass against him, he entering deeper with every grind. when i finally cum, he releases, too.

i lie on my stomach next to him, while he caresses my back. he gets up abruptly, and when i ask where he is going, he tells me he is going to get lotion so he can massage my back.

massage my back. after sex. mindblowing. this guy is a keeper. he finds some lotion, and he straddles me. he gently but firmly kneads my knots from my neck to the top of my ass and back again. i do not know which is more intense - the sex or the massage - but i do not care. i love this.

when he finishes, i am in bliss, and he is kissing me again. he turns me over, and he finds my clit. he is touching me in ways that i have never been touched before, and i cum at least four times this way. he sucks my nipples as i cum or he kisses me hard, making my orgasms more powerful. the whole time my body is shaking, he is holding me tightly, closely.

we lie next to each other, talking, laughing. this, i find, is my favorite part. this is when we share. normally, i hate the whole cuddling business, but with him, i would have it no other way.

we laugh, we talk, we kiss, we smile. he is so attentive to me, and i realize that i have missed this connection with someone. it really takes my breath away.

i tell him that i need to leave, so i gather my clothes. i put on my tank top, and i look at him sitting there watching me. he smiles at me, and i go to him and hug him.

he holds me tightly, kisses me, and rubs my back. i do not want to let go of him; it feels so good to be held by him, to be kissed by him. i kiss his cheeks, his forehead; he kisses my neck, my shoulders. i straddle him, and i move against him. slowly. my clit rubbing against him.

i look at him, his eyes are closed. he opens them to match my gaze, and he pushes me down on my back. he kisses me hard, softly, gently, roughly. he enters me as he is doing so, and i receive him without pain.

he fucks me, saying my name as and when i request. i cum, and he cums, and while he is still in me, i cum again. i ask him not to move, i am pulsating on his cock. he is excited by this, and he becomes hard in me. we fuck again, and we move with each other. it is more carnal now, more physical, more my style.

afterwards, he holds me, and i fall asleep in his arms. when i wake up, i realize i need to leave. i promise to see him in the morning, early.

when i get home, i cannot sleep. i sit there on my makeshift bed, watching some infomercial about some useless product made to look good at 4 in the morning.

at 8 o'clock the next morning, i call him to tell him i will be there in 20 minutes. when i pick him up, he kisses me hello, and i invite him to breakfast. he says he needs to go to temple, so breakfast is out of the question.

we stop by a starfucks, and i say something snippy to him. i immediately apologize for being such a bitch, but i explain to him that this ugliness rears its head when i have had only 3 hours of sleep. he looks at me, and he gives me a hug to signify he forgives me.

i wonder if there will be a time when i can touch you without getting wet, i say out loud.

he smiles, and he shakes his head. the things that come out of your mouth.

i know. im sorry. but i just wonder, you know? and i wonder if there will be a time when i will kiss you when i wont need to catch my breath from the overwhelming feeling of it?

i hope not. i hope you will always feel that.

me, too, love. me, too.

two days

god, grant me the serenity to accept the things i cannot change, the courage to change the things i can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

friday. there is a message on my voice mail. i wrongly assume it is azul, and i leave a message on his voice mail addressing the message left on mine. he sends off a text message saying that he had not called me and to take care. if it isnt him leaving me a message, could it have been the buddhist?

my friend and i head off to luminarias after work for appetizers and drinks before going off to the play. he is unusually quiet but flirtatious when he talks to me. he mentions something about how people should have the courage to do something if they want to do it. i do not know what he is talking about, so i ignore it.

he is braver now, bolder. i wrongly assume that he will finally have the balls to do make a move on me. we drive to the play, and he is giddy. he is giggly and talkative, and i wonder where it is coming from. we explore the amphitheatre, and he had an opportunity to make a move, but he doesnt.

the doors open, and we sit in such close quarters. i sometimes get claustrophobic in such small spaces, but i am okay for 2 1/2 hours.

during the play, there are moments when he could have and i could have, but neither of us didnt. this proves to be a rather wise choice, in hindsight. the play is over, and we go to hop.

i return to the scene of the crime because i miss the buddhist tremendously. my friend and i talk, and i am tired of the dance. we leave after a few hours, and we drive back to my car in silence. at the parking lot, i get out of the car, and i get into mine.

i call him on my way home to tell him that i wish we dont work together. he asks why, and i tell him it is because i think that if we dont work together, we would have a chance to consummate our friendship.

we talk for awhile, and when i get home, i think someone makes a statement that someone is supposed to call the other. i dont remember.

saturday. i wake up incredulous that i spend so much time with someone, and i do not get laid. the best thing to do? go to the gym.

i head off to meet dines for coffee before actually working out. at starfucks, nikolai finds me, makes small talk, and promises to come back after he orders.

dines takes a seat next to me. we talk about nikolai, and after a few moments he appears. he sits between me and dines, and we talk about nothing in particular. curiously, he touches my knees more than once and acts really friendly. huggy, touchy, feely.

a side note: i am not attracted at all to nikolai. dines is the one who is all gaga for him when they first meet. i think part of the reason she joins the gym is because he sells her the package. he asks me out in november the year before last, and i am hesitant. i tell dines then, but she does not believe me until he comes up to us, and asks for my number in front of her. thank goodness that in all the time nik and i have known each other, we have not gone out. we have just remained acquaintances.

he finally leaves, and dines and i talk about lines' husband the asshole. he is just a person no one likes. too bad hes part of their family. what an aberration.

we work out for only 30 minutes because i am so late for my nieces birthday celebration. i get home, and i decide to take a shower.

my phone rings as i am putting on lotion. restricted number, my phone warns. its probably my sister urging me to get the fuck over to her house.

hello? i ask.

hello.

my breath stops for a second. i hear the familiarity in his voice, but i cannot hope.

who is this?

its me.

who is me?

and then i smile. im glad it is him.

my favorite color

dines sets up a dinner, and i invite roca and anapi. lizne is supposed to come, but she declines because of the distance. the girl is, after all, 9 months pregnant. shes showing a lot, and im sure it is very difficult to move around.

i exchange emails with azul, which is my favorite color. we give each other our phone numbers, and he text messages me. i call him, and i casually bring up that he should come and have dinner with us.

he meets me at mi piace, and i tell him that we should play a game with the girls.

after the introductions, the fun begins.

where did you meet? someone asks.

ill let her tell you the story, he says.

we met at a bookstore, i spin. i followed him around like a stalker. where did you end up, sweetie? erotic fiction?

i dont remember, but is that what its called?

azul and i meet because i respond to a post he had. it is insignificant now, especially when i find out how dull he is.

birthday eve

i hate birthdays, except the birth of my child. i dont know how to celebrate them. i dont like the whole birthday dinner, cake, song, etc. i am uncomfortable at my own celebrations, and i wish i can sleep through it. tomorrow is the 37th year of my birth, and i like that number. i fancy the number 7.

my friend has been ultra flirty with me today. i still cant make myself feel any kind of chemical reaction to him, but i have until friday. actually, i probably wont do anything with him other than watch that play. i have intentions, but he makes it clear that he wont cheat on his wife.

thats not even what this is about. i dont have a desire to get naked with him. i do point out earlier that he has been so aggressive towards me lately. we have a weird relationship.

i adore reps. i love talking to him because when we get off the phone, i smile. he uplifts me, and i hope that someday, we meet.

i ask him today if i am just a time filler for him, and he doesnt hesitate to say no. i ask him if i take up his time, and he says no. i ask him if i am just an afterthought, and again, he responds no. i want to be more to him, but he wants to take the time to get to know me. for this, i am falling.