I just had to react to these two weird articles:
http://www.sunstar.com.ph/manila/local-news/2011/05/12/lawmaker-wants-distribution-sex-toys-regulated-155178
http://www.sunstar.com.ph/baguio/local-news/2011/10/18/banning-sex-toys-baguio-pushed-185776
While I admit they shouldn't be sold where minors can see them, it's speculation to say they lead to the demoralization of society and an increase in sex crimes. Regulate them if you will but banning them is plain ridiculous. Whether or not those toys exist, sex crimes will happen unless people, especially men, learn to respect women and not objectify them.
Toys can enhance a relationship, weirdly enough. It helps the couple have a sense of adventure and improve their intimacy. When it's sex with a person you trust, using them can definitely improve things in the bedroom. And when things aren't going right in the bedroom, they're the only things that can help you hang on to your sanity. (between the toys and a strong possibility to commit a more serious sin, I'd choose the toys any day. All I need are a fresh set of batteries and I can buzz my stress and frustration away).
So, Mr Counselor-for-a-day and Mr Congressman, please stay the hell away from my bedroom. We do not need a bunch of tight-a$$ed puritans running our lives.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Quiquay's Self Affirmations
Today I claim my life back.
No, I haven't run away. I'm still happily with the H (well, most days. That's another story). When I say I'm claiming my life back, I am going to try bringing back the old Quiquay - driven, motivated and ambitious to the core. I am going to plan my life and my own financial independence. I want that security. I now realize I can't keep expecting H to take us out of the doldrums. He's not going to leave his job when he loves everybody there. I know it's hard to find the camaraderie like they have. But the pay is peanuts and it's never going to be enough to support both of us if we want to have a more secure future. He's always going to sit there helplessly when all the usual avenues have been explored. Despite all his bluster about being the "rebel", the ironic thing is, he's as traditional as they come.
So again, it's got to be me. Unfortunately, I'm past the point where traditional potential employers would put my resume at the top of the pile and hire me. Being out of the corporate world for three years has ruined any chance of getting my old rate and level back, despite all my other accomplishments as a freelancer and micropreneur. I know I won't be hired at the rate and position I want. They will be asking me to start at a lower level if I'm lucky enough or ignore me altogether because I'm overqualified. So there you go. I can't get hired at my old level because I've been gone too long and I can't get hired at a lower level because I'm overqualified. What's a girl to do?
Why not hire herself? If I can't find the opportunities, I'll make them instead. I need to think out of the box. I'll make an honest-to-goodness business plan and a life plan for me. I will figure out to build something with no money, a laptop, internet connection and an idea. I did it five years ago, I can do it again. If the H wants to stick to where he is, that's his life. It's high time I forge my own path. He did say we should be like two plants growing side by side, not too intertwined that we'd choke each other. I used to think like that right after we got married. High time I untangled myself once more. Less stress for both of us. I can't wait for him to decide what to do with his life. I need to find solutions on my own.
(Now if only getting pregnant was that easy. About that issue, the ball is in his court so again, I told him it was his problem to solve and we're running out of time. Well it is. His problem to solve. After beating myself thinking what was wrong with me, the real question should have been, what was wrong with him?)
No, I haven't run away. I'm still happily with the H (well, most days. That's another story). When I say I'm claiming my life back, I am going to try bringing back the old Quiquay - driven, motivated and ambitious to the core. I am going to plan my life and my own financial independence. I want that security. I now realize I can't keep expecting H to take us out of the doldrums. He's not going to leave his job when he loves everybody there. I know it's hard to find the camaraderie like they have. But the pay is peanuts and it's never going to be enough to support both of us if we want to have a more secure future. He's always going to sit there helplessly when all the usual avenues have been explored. Despite all his bluster about being the "rebel", the ironic thing is, he's as traditional as they come.
So again, it's got to be me. Unfortunately, I'm past the point where traditional potential employers would put my resume at the top of the pile and hire me. Being out of the corporate world for three years has ruined any chance of getting my old rate and level back, despite all my other accomplishments as a freelancer and micropreneur. I know I won't be hired at the rate and position I want. They will be asking me to start at a lower level if I'm lucky enough or ignore me altogether because I'm overqualified. So there you go. I can't get hired at my old level because I've been gone too long and I can't get hired at a lower level because I'm overqualified. What's a girl to do?
Why not hire herself? If I can't find the opportunities, I'll make them instead. I need to think out of the box. I'll make an honest-to-goodness business plan and a life plan for me. I will figure out to build something with no money, a laptop, internet connection and an idea. I did it five years ago, I can do it again. If the H wants to stick to where he is, that's his life. It's high time I forge my own path. He did say we should be like two plants growing side by side, not too intertwined that we'd choke each other. I used to think like that right after we got married. High time I untangled myself once more. Less stress for both of us. I can't wait for him to decide what to do with his life. I need to find solutions on my own.
(Now if only getting pregnant was that easy. About that issue, the ball is in his court so again, I told him it was his problem to solve and we're running out of time. Well it is. His problem to solve. After beating myself thinking what was wrong with me, the real question should have been, what was wrong with him?)
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Boylet Chronicles - Letting Go
The strain of life just weighed me down too much last month that I literally took a breather and hied myself out of town to visit my childhood friends. Because I always took the night trip and for the life of me could not find my way to one of my girl friends' house on my own I asked another friend (the childhood friend ex-boylet) if I could crash at his place for a few hours until our friend could meet up or he could bring me to her place in the morning.
Thankfully he said yes and I got to his place all shivery and sleepy (it was darned cold!) in the wee hours of the morning. Given how things used to be between us it was admittedly not one of my better ideas because we both got nearly undone again. I said nearly, not all the way. There were just too many fellas in bed - him, me and two guilty consciences so we had a truce and finally, officially closed that chapter we never really discussed. And that was that. I'm a very easy girl to talk to.
Unfortunately, he stayed in bed (both of us clothed, by the way) and just about poured his heart out to me about his current and past relationships (me not included - he's always been a friend, not a boyfriend), his issues about his exes and as is the norm with our group, life in general (and that includes other friends and his numerous relatives). At 5 o'clock in the friggin' morning. And to me who has not gone to sleep for almost 24 hours and has not gotten enough sleep in the past 2 weeks. If I didn't love this guy (as a friend, that's all), I would have gladly wrung his neck or just plain ignored him so I could sleep. (Our friend - the girl I was to stay with - actually does that to him - fall asleep at a drop of a hat - and leave him frustrated that he couldn't continue his many stories. (hahaha!) )
But this is me and I sensed that he just wanted a friend to listen to him and help him figure out stuff so I stifled my yawns as I listened to his woes, tried to interpret the scenarios, admired his photos and encouraged him with his endeavors (and just about criticized his budding portfolio as well - hey, I know the trends and he's got a long way to go if he wants to be a professional). As I told our other friend, it was basically show and tell and it amused me as hell - despite being sleepy.
And I realized as I was on the ride home that what I missed from him after these last few years filled with unexpressed and unfulfilled sexual tension was the friendship. I was almost always the only female friend he would tell about the going-ons of his life that the others didn't know about. Hey, I may be loud and opinionated but I make a pretty good sounding board. And somehow, getting closure and letting go from the most unlikely source made me realize I do have it in me to somehow fix my life. And I will. One step at a time.
After getting some sleep and watching the film "Friends With Benefits" of all things, I finally said goodbye to him - the boylet part of the equation, that is (though physically, that has been over such a long time ago). For years we've been trying to avoid scenarios that would end up with us alone even for a few minutes because of what could possibly happen. Maybe this time we could both relax and be like we were before - just two really good friends. Sometimes, in order to be free you just have to let go.
Thankfully he said yes and I got to his place all shivery and sleepy (it was darned cold!) in the wee hours of the morning. Given how things used to be between us it was admittedly not one of my better ideas because we both got nearly undone again. I said nearly, not all the way. There were just too many fellas in bed - him, me and two guilty consciences so we had a truce and finally, officially closed that chapter we never really discussed. And that was that. I'm a very easy girl to talk to.
Unfortunately, he stayed in bed (both of us clothed, by the way) and just about poured his heart out to me about his current and past relationships (me not included - he's always been a friend, not a boyfriend), his issues about his exes and as is the norm with our group, life in general (and that includes other friends and his numerous relatives). At 5 o'clock in the friggin' morning. And to me who has not gone to sleep for almost 24 hours and has not gotten enough sleep in the past 2 weeks. If I didn't love this guy (as a friend, that's all), I would have gladly wrung his neck or just plain ignored him so I could sleep. (Our friend - the girl I was to stay with - actually does that to him - fall asleep at a drop of a hat - and leave him frustrated that he couldn't continue his many stories. (hahaha!) )
But this is me and I sensed that he just wanted a friend to listen to him and help him figure out stuff so I stifled my yawns as I listened to his woes, tried to interpret the scenarios, admired his photos and encouraged him with his endeavors (and just about criticized his budding portfolio as well - hey, I know the trends and he's got a long way to go if he wants to be a professional). As I told our other friend, it was basically show and tell and it amused me as hell - despite being sleepy.
And I realized as I was on the ride home that what I missed from him after these last few years filled with unexpressed and unfulfilled sexual tension was the friendship. I was almost always the only female friend he would tell about the going-ons of his life that the others didn't know about. Hey, I may be loud and opinionated but I make a pretty good sounding board. And somehow, getting closure and letting go from the most unlikely source made me realize I do have it in me to somehow fix my life. And I will. One step at a time.
After getting some sleep and watching the film "Friends With Benefits" of all things, I finally said goodbye to him - the boylet part of the equation, that is (though physically, that has been over such a long time ago). For years we've been trying to avoid scenarios that would end up with us alone even for a few minutes because of what could possibly happen. Maybe this time we could both relax and be like we were before - just two really good friends. Sometimes, in order to be free you just have to let go.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Sorry seems to be the hardest word (cliche as it may seem)
It's another big fight night and as much as I want to understand where the other is coming from, I can't. He says he didn't get to eat dinner because I came home late. He knows I told him I was meeting a friend for coffee and will be home late. I came home an hour later than what I said I would because of the downpour. Maybe it was thoughtless of me to assume he would cope just fine but all I got when I got home was a guy who was mad because I wasn't the obedient wife who came home early when he wanted to. And telling me this was the third time I did it. This coming from a guy who was lecturing a bunch of singletons the other night about giving their partners space and freedom to pursue their own interests and meet other people.
Because I didn't want to make the situation worse, I held my own tongue and refrained from mentioning he left me all hungry just last night because he came home two hours late (and worse, there was no food at the house so he said he was bringing home dinner). I lost count how many times this happened. Oh, and what about the times he left me waiting for nothing because he slept ahead and wasted the month's cycle? Oh, just about every month in the past few years. The last time we did it? Oh, that was last year. The last time I was satisfied? Five effing years ago.
But I held my tongue and just walked away after mumbling my apologies. I didn't want it to get worse. After all, according to him I should be content with my lot. But I'm not. I was never meant, nor had any intentions, to be a meek hausfrau. Sometimes you just have to pick your fights. This is not it.
Boy, but for the first time, I didn't want to say sorry. I'm tired of having to subjugate my needs for his. Unfortunately, love teaches us that some sacrifices have to be made. And once more, it has to be me. I had been thoughtless. But for once, I would love to hear a sincere sorry from his end. Then again, sorry seems to be the hardest word to say.
Because I didn't want to make the situation worse, I held my own tongue and refrained from mentioning he left me all hungry just last night because he came home two hours late (and worse, there was no food at the house so he said he was bringing home dinner). I lost count how many times this happened. Oh, and what about the times he left me waiting for nothing because he slept ahead and wasted the month's cycle? Oh, just about every month in the past few years. The last time we did it? Oh, that was last year. The last time I was satisfied? Five effing years ago.
But I held my tongue and just walked away after mumbling my apologies. I didn't want it to get worse. After all, according to him I should be content with my lot. But I'm not. I was never meant, nor had any intentions, to be a meek hausfrau. Sometimes you just have to pick your fights. This is not it.
Boy, but for the first time, I didn't want to say sorry. I'm tired of having to subjugate my needs for his. Unfortunately, love teaches us that some sacrifices have to be made. And once more, it has to be me. I had been thoughtless. But for once, I would love to hear a sincere sorry from his end. Then again, sorry seems to be the hardest word to say.
Monday, July 11, 2011
A (frustrated) Wife's Monologue (part 3)
I'm trying to breathe and stay in control at the moment but all I want to do is scream in frustration and break a lot of dishes (preferably at the hubby's head). After agreeing to have a go at the bedroom, he bails out on me again with another lame excuse (he fell asleep). This is the nth time in 3 1/2 years of marriage. I even had to explain that the ovum only lives 12-24 hours which makes the chances of catching it slim every time he delays. I am so near the breaking point I just want to have that big fight to know what to do next. The last thing I want to have is learned helplessness and that is so against my nature. Where's divine intervention when I need one?
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Random Rants 2
How do you tell someone about your painful past when it's something you've long buried in shame? How do you tell your family to stay clear of someone without exposing your "dirty laundry"? In this age of social media, it makes it even more difficult to avoid meeting people from your past you'd rather forget.
The last post had me ranting about the nerve of this cousin who wanted to befriend me in FB. I said "NO FREAKING WAY!" and ignored his request. But when he started commenting on my sisters' pages and pictures, I started to grow alarmed. As long as he's at the other end of the country, I can forget about him. But with cheap flights around these islands, I worry that it's only a matter of time before he tries to contact my pretty sisters in person and they suffer the same fate I did. I hope to God not.
Still, I know I won't be able to avoid it any longer. I need to keep them safe. In a sense it was probably luck I got the short end of the straw because I was strong enough to survive it and have some semblance of normal in my life (if by normal you mean functioning). The few girls I know who have more or less the same experience as I did still find it difficult to form healthy, long-lasting relationships with the opposite sex. Any wonder why we find it hard to trust men? The irony of it is, people look at us like it was our fault. (I was 5 years old, you idiot! My friend was 7. A friend was an adult already but she was wearing her rattiest work clothes with her hair in all directions. Someone tell me if we were out to get them in those states.)
So I will tell my sisters and pray they still love and respect me after saying my piece. (and forgiveness be damned but I hope guys like him rot in hell.)
The last post had me ranting about the nerve of this cousin who wanted to befriend me in FB. I said "NO FREAKING WAY!" and ignored his request. But when he started commenting on my sisters' pages and pictures, I started to grow alarmed. As long as he's at the other end of the country, I can forget about him. But with cheap flights around these islands, I worry that it's only a matter of time before he tries to contact my pretty sisters in person and they suffer the same fate I did. I hope to God not.
Still, I know I won't be able to avoid it any longer. I need to keep them safe. In a sense it was probably luck I got the short end of the straw because I was strong enough to survive it and have some semblance of normal in my life (if by normal you mean functioning). The few girls I know who have more or less the same experience as I did still find it difficult to form healthy, long-lasting relationships with the opposite sex. Any wonder why we find it hard to trust men? The irony of it is, people look at us like it was our fault. (I was 5 years old, you idiot! My friend was 7. A friend was an adult already but she was wearing her rattiest work clothes with her hair in all directions. Someone tell me if we were out to get them in those states.)
So I will tell my sisters and pray they still love and respect me after saying my piece. (and forgiveness be damned but I hope guys like him rot in hell.)
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Random Rants 1
I was having a nice week so far some time ago when one my Facebook notices almost had me spiralling out of control. A cousin who had molested me as a child wanted to join my network as a friend.
What the hell? He ruined my life decades ago and now he wants to connect with me? Is he out of his mind? I so wanted to hunt him down right then and there and slash him to ribbons without any regrets. I spent years distrusting the opposite sex. I ended relationships in my head long before they had any chance of blooming just because I was afraid they'd discover I wasn't lily-white. I grew up feeling bad about knowing about the birds and bees long before I should have discovered about it naturally. I made so many mistakes I shouldn't have. I grew up feeling dirty and guilty. And it wasn't my fault.
I studied human behavior because I wanted to understand myself and maybe learn how to heal. As a teenager, I flinched at almost every contact with the opposite sex. I shrugged off friendly arms on my shoulders. I stood stiffly at every hug. I even squirmed away from a non-threatening affectionate gesture from our community priest because he was a male. In my mind, I knew they meant me no harm but childhood trauma teaches you otherwise. I had male friends, sure, but I kept them at a distance. After a while, I realized I was not going anywhere with anyone unless I fixed myself. I needed to learn how to trust again.
Unfortunately, not a lot of people knew about my problem. I think only my mother, my aunt and that wastrel son of hers knew about it. My mother thought I was this normal kid trying to make good (it didn't help I was known for winning most of the competitions I joined in grade school and high school). I couldn't tell her my problems.
Fortunately, solitude, time, learning and a lot of understanding from friends have a good way of helping one heal. After years of silence, I finally told my closest friends about my secret. Thankfully, they accepted me the same way and they never changed their view of me. I think some of them promptly forgot about that fact soon after because they figured it didn't matter anyway. I am grateful for that. I just wish it was easier for me to forget as well. Unfortunately, it isn't easy because it still drives my behavior towards men.
The funny thing about being a victim is the feeling of guilt. As much as well-meaning counselors, family, friends and significant others tell you it's going to be alright, it never quite feels so. Because if it was going to be alright, why did it happen in the first place? Being molested, or whatever traumatic event that happened in one's life, even if one wasn't physically hurt, gives you this message that you are not safe. All your innocence or the things that made you secure, are suddenly wrenched away from you. No amount of showering and scrubbing yourself would ever rid you of that ugly feeling.
No matter how one looks so put-together, it takes a lot of effort not to shatter. If my experience is any indication, it can take a lifetime of assurances and love to heal. I don't know how I survived except I knew I wanted to live and to do so, I had to fix myself. Even if I did heal so haphazardly with a lot of glue and duct tape and help friends who didn't mind I was this flawed being, the thing was I still lived. And still living and loving.
What the hell? He ruined my life decades ago and now he wants to connect with me? Is he out of his mind? I so wanted to hunt him down right then and there and slash him to ribbons without any regrets. I spent years distrusting the opposite sex. I ended relationships in my head long before they had any chance of blooming just because I was afraid they'd discover I wasn't lily-white. I grew up feeling bad about knowing about the birds and bees long before I should have discovered about it naturally. I made so many mistakes I shouldn't have. I grew up feeling dirty and guilty. And it wasn't my fault.
I studied human behavior because I wanted to understand myself and maybe learn how to heal. As a teenager, I flinched at almost every contact with the opposite sex. I shrugged off friendly arms on my shoulders. I stood stiffly at every hug. I even squirmed away from a non-threatening affectionate gesture from our community priest because he was a male. In my mind, I knew they meant me no harm but childhood trauma teaches you otherwise. I had male friends, sure, but I kept them at a distance. After a while, I realized I was not going anywhere with anyone unless I fixed myself. I needed to learn how to trust again.
Unfortunately, not a lot of people knew about my problem. I think only my mother, my aunt and that wastrel son of hers knew about it. My mother thought I was this normal kid trying to make good (it didn't help I was known for winning most of the competitions I joined in grade school and high school). I couldn't tell her my problems.
Fortunately, solitude, time, learning and a lot of understanding from friends have a good way of helping one heal. After years of silence, I finally told my closest friends about my secret. Thankfully, they accepted me the same way and they never changed their view of me. I think some of them promptly forgot about that fact soon after because they figured it didn't matter anyway. I am grateful for that. I just wish it was easier for me to forget as well. Unfortunately, it isn't easy because it still drives my behavior towards men.
The funny thing about being a victim is the feeling of guilt. As much as well-meaning counselors, family, friends and significant others tell you it's going to be alright, it never quite feels so. Because if it was going to be alright, why did it happen in the first place? Being molested, or whatever traumatic event that happened in one's life, even if one wasn't physically hurt, gives you this message that you are not safe. All your innocence or the things that made you secure, are suddenly wrenched away from you. No amount of showering and scrubbing yourself would ever rid you of that ugly feeling.
No matter how one looks so put-together, it takes a lot of effort not to shatter. If my experience is any indication, it can take a lifetime of assurances and love to heal. I don't know how I survived except I knew I wanted to live and to do so, I had to fix myself. Even if I did heal so haphazardly with a lot of glue and duct tape and help friends who didn't mind I was this flawed being, the thing was I still lived. And still living and loving.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The Boylet Chronicles - Do's and Don'ts - Don't Get Caught
Let's admit it - there's something exciting about tempting fate, the thrill of getting away with something you shouldn't be doing, or be caught doing it. Remember the excitement of doing it in the most unexpected places and the danger of getting caught? Yeah, we've been there at least once in our lives. There's one rule you do have to remember - don't ever get caught!
What lies ahead when you do get caught? Oh, only embarrassment and a slew of other issues I'm sure you can do without. Like having to convince the guard or that unwanted audience to let you go. Getting a lecture from the police. Explaining to your friends why you couldn't wait to get a room. Or, heaven forbid, you're in a relationship and it becomes a deal breaker. Oh, the snickers, the knowing looks, the gossip behind your back, the embarrassment. Frankly, I'd rather not deal with all of those. It's hilarious on TV, not so in real life.
Yeah, we all like a little excitement. Believe me, I've done it in a car, at the office (a very long time ago), one of the dark corners of the campus (but I won't tell you where. LOL), the living room (while my sibling was sleeping in the other room) and in a hotel room with a bunch of friends (that earned the guy some dagger looks from me when the others were out of sight. No, they never suspected a thing. At least I hope so.). I can't say I didn't like it. It was something different from the usual stuff and the possibility of getting caught - but getting away with it - made those encounters very memorable (oh yes, very.) Remember trying not to let out that moan? The shushing and trying so hard to be quiet? (Oh, yessss.) Still, when the adrenaline and those feel-good hormones fade away, I wanted to smack my head for being stupid enough to take the risk.
I've been lucky enough not to get caught - so far. Well, I did - once. Coffee-break guy and I were chatting up a storm one night in campus when the guards shone a light in his car. Funny thing was, we weren't even doing anything but talk! Still, it was nice to learn that lesson early because I was more careful the next time. Make that a lot of next times. =)
'Sigh' Yes, I miss those days compared to my days of forced celibacy these days. Still, I'm glad I was careful because as far as the world knows, I'm this giggly, demure girl. (Boylets just know otherwise.)
What lies ahead when you do get caught? Oh, only embarrassment and a slew of other issues I'm sure you can do without. Like having to convince the guard or that unwanted audience to let you go. Getting a lecture from the police. Explaining to your friends why you couldn't wait to get a room. Or, heaven forbid, you're in a relationship and it becomes a deal breaker. Oh, the snickers, the knowing looks, the gossip behind your back, the embarrassment. Frankly, I'd rather not deal with all of those. It's hilarious on TV, not so in real life.
Yeah, we all like a little excitement. Believe me, I've done it in a car, at the office (a very long time ago), one of the dark corners of the campus (but I won't tell you where. LOL), the living room (while my sibling was sleeping in the other room) and in a hotel room with a bunch of friends (that earned the guy some dagger looks from me when the others were out of sight. No, they never suspected a thing. At least I hope so.). I can't say I didn't like it. It was something different from the usual stuff and the possibility of getting caught - but getting away with it - made those encounters very memorable (oh yes, very.) Remember trying not to let out that moan? The shushing and trying so hard to be quiet? (Oh, yessss.) Still, when the adrenaline and those feel-good hormones fade away, I wanted to smack my head for being stupid enough to take the risk.
I've been lucky enough not to get caught - so far. Well, I did - once. Coffee-break guy and I were chatting up a storm one night in campus when the guards shone a light in his car. Funny thing was, we weren't even doing anything but talk! Still, it was nice to learn that lesson early because I was more careful the next time. Make that a lot of next times. =)
'Sigh' Yes, I miss those days compared to my days of forced celibacy these days. Still, I'm glad I was careful because as far as the world knows, I'm this giggly, demure girl. (Boylets just know otherwise.)
Sunday, February 13, 2011
A (frustrated) Wife's Monologue (part 2)
Almost a year to the day I wrote the first part, the same issue rears its ugly head again. This time, I confess I was the guilty party - I was too frustrated to edit my word blurted a rather harsh line - "I wish you were man enough."
It was a typical night of banter when I uttered that line to myself in response to his laughing remark of "What? You don't think I'm man enough to wear it?" A few minutes before dinner I just got rejected again when I suggested we could make a go at it because I was ovulating (I know. Hormones and tempers don't mix). I know it was harsh and his anger was understandable.
I gave him a few minutes to cool off and tried to apologize. He was still fuming and said I might as well post it on Facebook for everybody to see. First, I rarely post about him or us and second, it's always something I find endearing about him. Now tell me if that's undermining him. My private life is just that - private.
Giving up is not in my blood so I tried again. I just got an angry "go find yourself another guy" followed by the silent treatment. I know I hurt him with that thoughtless remark and I accept that. I just wish he saw past that and try to find out what was eating me. I don't need another guy. I want my husband.
One of our friends gave us this book "The Act of Marriage" that advises Christian couples on the importance of sexual love. He refuses to read it. It doesn't really help me much in terms of my drive because it assumes the man is more driven than the wife and not vice versa. It doesn't even advocate masturbation. Great, so we're stuck. But it does say that a thoughtful partner would think about his wife's pleasure. Good luck to me on that.
One of the ironies of married life is that you still can't tell your partner about every opinion and thought you have. You still have to walk on eggshells to avoid upsetting the balance and you have to appear like a Stepford wife. But I'm not. I'm me. What the heck do I do now?
Post-Script: After doing some retail therapy and another apology from me (aided by an apology coupon stuck to a cute bunny coin bank), we kissed and made up. Lessons learned - filter my thoughts and men have fragile egos.
It was a typical night of banter when I uttered that line to myself in response to his laughing remark of "What? You don't think I'm man enough to wear it?" A few minutes before dinner I just got rejected again when I suggested we could make a go at it because I was ovulating (I know. Hormones and tempers don't mix). I know it was harsh and his anger was understandable.
I gave him a few minutes to cool off and tried to apologize. He was still fuming and said I might as well post it on Facebook for everybody to see. First, I rarely post about him or us and second, it's always something I find endearing about him. Now tell me if that's undermining him. My private life is just that - private.
Giving up is not in my blood so I tried again. I just got an angry "go find yourself another guy" followed by the silent treatment. I know I hurt him with that thoughtless remark and I accept that. I just wish he saw past that and try to find out what was eating me. I don't need another guy. I want my husband.
One of our friends gave us this book "The Act of Marriage" that advises Christian couples on the importance of sexual love. He refuses to read it. It doesn't really help me much in terms of my drive because it assumes the man is more driven than the wife and not vice versa. It doesn't even advocate masturbation. Great, so we're stuck. But it does say that a thoughtful partner would think about his wife's pleasure. Good luck to me on that.
One of the ironies of married life is that you still can't tell your partner about every opinion and thought you have. You still have to walk on eggshells to avoid upsetting the balance and you have to appear like a Stepford wife. But I'm not. I'm me. What the heck do I do now?
Post-Script: After doing some retail therapy and another apology from me (aided by an apology coupon stuck to a cute bunny coin bank), we kissed and made up. Lessons learned - filter my thoughts and men have fragile egos.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Boylet Chronicles - The Pitfalls of Falling
"Why can't it be more than friendship?"
I was sitting at the next table when the guy I had a crush on (and a recent boylet at the time) asked this to my friend that I set him up with just that night. The guy was smitten.
Already feeling miserable from some extra-strong antibiotics my doctor prescribed the day before and wearing 5-inch heels for the company year-end party we attended, my heart dropped to the floor when his attraction transferred to my pretty friend. They were a perfect match (at least I thought so at that time). He was attractive in an intelligent way accented by that DJ-like voice. He was smart and articulate to boot. She was petite and pretty with a mean understanding of philosophy and science (which I conveniently forgot as soon as I finished college.) The funny thing was, it was my idea to introduce them to each other because I just wasn't that interested in the guy (or so I thought). On hindsight, he was rather clingy - which I really didn't like - but that's a story for another day. Let's just say I was hoping against hope he found me worth pursuing too. Just my luck that when I pushed him to the other direction, he willingly went that way.
So I sat there in that 24-hour fastfood joint with a smile plastered to my face, trying so hard not to stare at the tender looks he kept giving to my friend. For once, one of my matchmaking schemes did work though I never knew I would feel hurt. I wanted to snatch one of those looks for myself. I just had them a few days before!
However, I knew it wasn't meant to be. Meantime girls don't get lucky in that part. And I volunteered the matchmaking in the first place. Inherent kindness and a weird code of ethics compelled me to follow through. I was the meantime girl. The one he had in between. He did say we were both adults and knew what we were getting into. In principle, I was sticking to that.
I saw the romance bloom in front of my eyes. I plastered that smile to hide the loss, pain and letting go of something I couldn't have. Okay, okay. I didn't quite hide the pain very well but I blamed them on my fab heels, which by the time he remembered to ask about my welfare, I was already holding in my hands while I hobbled behind them barefoot.
I know, I know. I wasn't as casual about the encounter as I wanted to be. Female that I was, I still needed to feel something to do it with the guy. But I knew we didn't have a future anyway (and call it intuition because I was right not to go that way). Still, I wanted to say "Hey, he was mine first!". No, I didn't. I know a hopeless case when I see it. (Do credit me for having a bit of self-preservation.)
If I learned anything about that long-ago episode, it was to never, ever fall for the guy. Even just a bit. Oscar best actress awardee I am not. Not unless you have a really good excuse to look miserable (like really strong side-effects from meds or a bad decision to wear really high heels because they made your legs look good), just stay clear of falling for the guy.
I was sitting at the next table when the guy I had a crush on (and a recent boylet at the time) asked this to my friend that I set him up with just that night. The guy was smitten.
Already feeling miserable from some extra-strong antibiotics my doctor prescribed the day before and wearing 5-inch heels for the company year-end party we attended, my heart dropped to the floor when his attraction transferred to my pretty friend. They were a perfect match (at least I thought so at that time). He was attractive in an intelligent way accented by that DJ-like voice. He was smart and articulate to boot. She was petite and pretty with a mean understanding of philosophy and science (which I conveniently forgot as soon as I finished college.) The funny thing was, it was my idea to introduce them to each other because I just wasn't that interested in the guy (or so I thought). On hindsight, he was rather clingy - which I really didn't like - but that's a story for another day. Let's just say I was hoping against hope he found me worth pursuing too. Just my luck that when I pushed him to the other direction, he willingly went that way.
So I sat there in that 24-hour fastfood joint with a smile plastered to my face, trying so hard not to stare at the tender looks he kept giving to my friend. For once, one of my matchmaking schemes did work though I never knew I would feel hurt. I wanted to snatch one of those looks for myself. I just had them a few days before!
However, I knew it wasn't meant to be. Meantime girls don't get lucky in that part. And I volunteered the matchmaking in the first place. Inherent kindness and a weird code of ethics compelled me to follow through. I was the meantime girl. The one he had in between. He did say we were both adults and knew what we were getting into. In principle, I was sticking to that.
I saw the romance bloom in front of my eyes. I plastered that smile to hide the loss, pain and letting go of something I couldn't have. Okay, okay. I didn't quite hide the pain very well but I blamed them on my fab heels, which by the time he remembered to ask about my welfare, I was already holding in my hands while I hobbled behind them barefoot.
I know, I know. I wasn't as casual about the encounter as I wanted to be. Female that I was, I still needed to feel something to do it with the guy. But I knew we didn't have a future anyway (and call it intuition because I was right not to go that way). Still, I wanted to say "Hey, he was mine first!". No, I didn't. I know a hopeless case when I see it. (Do credit me for having a bit of self-preservation.)
If I learned anything about that long-ago episode, it was to never, ever fall for the guy. Even just a bit. Oscar best actress awardee I am not. Not unless you have a really good excuse to look miserable (like really strong side-effects from meds or a bad decision to wear really high heels because they made your legs look good), just stay clear of falling for the guy.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Wallflower Posts - The Other Side
"You? A wallflower? I don't believe it!"
A friend's shocked comments one coffee date ago had me explaining the weird phenomenon of Quiquay ending up as a wallflower. The poor guy couldn't believe loud, gregarious, passably cute me would ever end up as a wallflower. Oh, you better believe it, pal. I was a true-blue, certified bluestocking wallflower.
For a loud girl who loved to dance to end up as a wallflower seems impossible but I was. During prom, I remember watching in desperation as my crush danced with other girls and I had to dance with every other drooling minion my nemesis could command. It was also sweet torture to talk and smile at him in an after-prom party and pretend everything was fine. And like some weird plot that could only happen in TV-landia or my life, I also had to frustratingly wait in the sidelines and watch him court other girls while simultaneously acting as a gatekeeper between me and some suitors. In their world of bro-code, he couldn't even express interest in me - if he was ever interested.
College saw me with a little more guts to flirt but under the guise of friendship. I figured, as much as I was for the feminist movement (to an extent), guys still had to make the first move. So there was I, a bit aloof, sometimes friendly, still pining away for the crushes that never went beyond a smile and small talk.
Valentine's Day was especially torturous in the dorm as the resident assistants paged the pretty girls one by one to claim their flowers, cards, chocolates and dates at the lobby. After a freshman year of enduring that painful occasion, I resolved to stay out of my room every February 14. Unfortunately, in the following year, the images of balloons, roses, chocolates and hearts nearly had me snapping at everybody so I wished I was back in my room. Thankfully, some rather sadistic (?) professors scheduled their mid-term exams during the auspicious day so I was spared the maudlin effects of feeling sorry for myself and worried about my grades instead.
I was also supposed to be more able to interpret behavior because I was studying human behavior, right? Not. I was actually clueless about men. I figured, if he was interested, he'll find a way to be with me. But as I found out, the guys I met wanted easy and prettier pickings - girls they didn't have to court for a year and those who looked like models and dolls. Loud, opinionated, obstinate and just passably attractive little old me was just to prickly to be considered.
Incidentally, I just wanted a guy who could tell right in front of me how he felt and what he wanted. Weird enough, the boylets I eventually met did ask and told me exactly how they felt. Yeah, yeah, I know it's just that, but it was progress. Eventually, one did go beyond the prickly thorns and found his rose. It was the others' loss and his gain.
A friend's shocked comments one coffee date ago had me explaining the weird phenomenon of Quiquay ending up as a wallflower. The poor guy couldn't believe loud, gregarious, passably cute me would ever end up as a wallflower. Oh, you better believe it, pal. I was a true-blue, certified bluestocking wallflower.
For a loud girl who loved to dance to end up as a wallflower seems impossible but I was. During prom, I remember watching in desperation as my crush danced with other girls and I had to dance with every other drooling minion my nemesis could command. It was also sweet torture to talk and smile at him in an after-prom party and pretend everything was fine. And like some weird plot that could only happen in TV-landia or my life, I also had to frustratingly wait in the sidelines and watch him court other girls while simultaneously acting as a gatekeeper between me and some suitors. In their world of bro-code, he couldn't even express interest in me - if he was ever interested.
College saw me with a little more guts to flirt but under the guise of friendship. I figured, as much as I was for the feminist movement (to an extent), guys still had to make the first move. So there was I, a bit aloof, sometimes friendly, still pining away for the crushes that never went beyond a smile and small talk.
Valentine's Day was especially torturous in the dorm as the resident assistants paged the pretty girls one by one to claim their flowers, cards, chocolates and dates at the lobby. After a freshman year of enduring that painful occasion, I resolved to stay out of my room every February 14. Unfortunately, in the following year, the images of balloons, roses, chocolates and hearts nearly had me snapping at everybody so I wished I was back in my room. Thankfully, some rather sadistic (?) professors scheduled their mid-term exams during the auspicious day so I was spared the maudlin effects of feeling sorry for myself and worried about my grades instead.
I was also supposed to be more able to interpret behavior because I was studying human behavior, right? Not. I was actually clueless about men. I figured, if he was interested, he'll find a way to be with me. But as I found out, the guys I met wanted easy and prettier pickings - girls they didn't have to court for a year and those who looked like models and dolls. Loud, opinionated, obstinate and just passably attractive little old me was just to prickly to be considered.
Incidentally, I just wanted a guy who could tell right in front of me how he felt and what he wanted. Weird enough, the boylets I eventually met did ask and told me exactly how they felt. Yeah, yeah, I know it's just that, but it was progress. Eventually, one did go beyond the prickly thorns and found his rose. It was the others' loss and his gain.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Boylet Chonicles - Boylets and "The Rules" Book
"The Rules" is a self-help book that basically tells females to let the man do the asking. Does that mean we have to wait in vain while they make up their minds whether they like us or not? Waiting - that we have to do. In vain? I don't think so. "The Rules" also advises women that they should just stay as fabulous and unique as they are and let the confidence attract the men like flowers to the bees. If they don't come - well, at least you went on with your life.
A friend also referred a book called "He's Just Not That Into You" which basically says the same - wait for the man to do the calling and asking. If the man really likes you, he'll do whatever is possible to be with you. If he doesn't call, he's not interested.
So how do "The Rules" relate to the boylets? If it's a booty call, it's a booty call, right?
Not all booty calls are created equal. Just as not all meantime girls are created equal. There are meantime girls that just settle for the scraps their boylets give them and then there are meantime girls who take their power on their own and explore the world for all its worth. These girls are not the sort to mope the guy's lack of commitment. They know they're fabulous just the way they are. Just because you agreed to a no-commitment physical relationship doesn't mean you ignore all common sense and let the guy have his way with you. You have to lay down the rules lest the guy think you're a doormat he can just walk over. Hey, he still has to respect you even after the fact (or sleepover. or act- whatever you call you-know-what).
Not that I claim to be the latter kind. I just figured it was useless wringing my hands and dissecting every single gesture as a declaration of their affection when I knew it was what it was. The strongest emotion they might have had would be a friendly fondness anyway. And I was in a safe place (but with a very whacked-out neurosis I don't even want to dive into) so that was that.
Anyway, long before I knew what "The Rules" were and what it contained, I let the guys do the asking. If I was free, then maybe we could go out. If I wasn't in the mood (or down with a really bad cold), I said no. One time a guy sent a text messages asking me out (you know what that means) and I was exchanging sexts (sexy, full of innuendos text messages) with him, little did he know I was in my ratty clothes, all red-nosed, bleary eyed and gargling warm salty water to ease my sore throat. I finally had to say, "No, I really can't" and tell him as much as his invitation appealed to me (hey, he was a major cutie!), I really didn't want him seeing me at my worst and catching my cold. Thankfully, he took no offense and asked me out again later. As much as we really didn't leave anything to imagination (pun intended), I wanted to retain a little bit of mystery. On how much mystery was left when he's probably seen all my hidden moles remains unknown. =)
I also had a unwritten rule then (not so unwritten now that I'm telling what it was) that I never leave the house once I've literally checked in for the day. Since I lived inside a village where public transport has a rather early curfew, I hated going out late in the evening. I am not about to stick my neck out for a guy who gives no consideration for my safety. If the guy wanted to see me, he'd have to really go out of his way and drive or take a cab to my place. It's a convenient way of knowing if the guy really wants you. If he does, he'll come and get you, come hell or high water.
(Oh, I know one guy who drove 30 or so kilometers to the girl's apartment late one evening. And since he didn't bring his cell, he had to stop at an internet shop to get her home phone number and find a payphone to call her before he went to her place. He wasn't even sure if she was awake. Now that's a lot of effort for an unsure thing.)
I've made one or two mistakes of being too available and true enough, they eventually went nowhere (translation - the guy lost interest). But those that I valued myself enough to make them do the effort of asking and impressing me - they came back for more. I actually had an argument with a friend about who was responsible for what until I told him he always initiated things and I wasn't even trying to seduce him at all. He shut up (and had to make up for that mini-fight. *wink*).
A cautionary tale for not following "The Rules". A friend made the first move by calling the guy who barely remembered her (he remembered me though) and practically initiated their first few dates together. Now the guy takes her for granted and hardly makes an effort to see her. She tried the rules on him but it was too late - he never saw her as someone worth pursuing.
Boyfriend or boylet material, always let them do the "active" pursuing. They love the challenge. You just have to cast the challenge first - but make it clear they have to work for it. If they're into you - they'll make every effort possible to be with you.
Not that I'm deluding myself and declaring me a femme fatale. I was more bemused and curious than flattered by the situation and wondered why they wanted a rather eccentric, opinionated, loud and curvy (read: chubby) female. I don't know how their mind works so I can't give you an answer for that.
But heed "The Rules" - even for such a casual thing. If the guy knows you're worth it he'll put on the effort to make you feel as good as he can. And come back for more. =p
A friend also referred a book called "He's Just Not That Into You" which basically says the same - wait for the man to do the calling and asking. If the man really likes you, he'll do whatever is possible to be with you. If he doesn't call, he's not interested.
So how do "The Rules" relate to the boylets? If it's a booty call, it's a booty call, right?
Not all booty calls are created equal. Just as not all meantime girls are created equal. There are meantime girls that just settle for the scraps their boylets give them and then there are meantime girls who take their power on their own and explore the world for all its worth. These girls are not the sort to mope the guy's lack of commitment. They know they're fabulous just the way they are. Just because you agreed to a no-commitment physical relationship doesn't mean you ignore all common sense and let the guy have his way with you. You have to lay down the rules lest the guy think you're a doormat he can just walk over. Hey, he still has to respect you even after the fact (or sleepover. or act- whatever you call you-know-what).
Not that I claim to be the latter kind. I just figured it was useless wringing my hands and dissecting every single gesture as a declaration of their affection when I knew it was what it was. The strongest emotion they might have had would be a friendly fondness anyway. And I was in a safe place (but with a very whacked-out neurosis I don't even want to dive into) so that was that.
Anyway, long before I knew what "The Rules" were and what it contained, I let the guys do the asking. If I was free, then maybe we could go out. If I wasn't in the mood (or down with a really bad cold), I said no. One time a guy sent a text messages asking me out (you know what that means) and I was exchanging sexts (sexy, full of innuendos text messages) with him, little did he know I was in my ratty clothes, all red-nosed, bleary eyed and gargling warm salty water to ease my sore throat. I finally had to say, "No, I really can't" and tell him as much as his invitation appealed to me (hey, he was a major cutie!), I really didn't want him seeing me at my worst and catching my cold. Thankfully, he took no offense and asked me out again later. As much as we really didn't leave anything to imagination (pun intended), I wanted to retain a little bit of mystery. On how much mystery was left when he's probably seen all my hidden moles remains unknown. =)
I also had a unwritten rule then (not so unwritten now that I'm telling what it was) that I never leave the house once I've literally checked in for the day. Since I lived inside a village where public transport has a rather early curfew, I hated going out late in the evening. I am not about to stick my neck out for a guy who gives no consideration for my safety. If the guy wanted to see me, he'd have to really go out of his way and drive or take a cab to my place. It's a convenient way of knowing if the guy really wants you. If he does, he'll come and get you, come hell or high water.
(Oh, I know one guy who drove 30 or so kilometers to the girl's apartment late one evening. And since he didn't bring his cell, he had to stop at an internet shop to get her home phone number and find a payphone to call her before he went to her place. He wasn't even sure if she was awake. Now that's a lot of effort for an unsure thing.)
I've made one or two mistakes of being too available and true enough, they eventually went nowhere (translation - the guy lost interest). But those that I valued myself enough to make them do the effort of asking and impressing me - they came back for more. I actually had an argument with a friend about who was responsible for what until I told him he always initiated things and I wasn't even trying to seduce him at all. He shut up (and had to make up for that mini-fight. *wink*).
A cautionary tale for not following "The Rules". A friend made the first move by calling the guy who barely remembered her (he remembered me though) and practically initiated their first few dates together. Now the guy takes her for granted and hardly makes an effort to see her. She tried the rules on him but it was too late - he never saw her as someone worth pursuing.
Boyfriend or boylet material, always let them do the "active" pursuing. They love the challenge. You just have to cast the challenge first - but make it clear they have to work for it. If they're into you - they'll make every effort possible to be with you.
Not that I'm deluding myself and declaring me a femme fatale. I was more bemused and curious than flattered by the situation and wondered why they wanted a rather eccentric, opinionated, loud and curvy (read: chubby) female. I don't know how their mind works so I can't give you an answer for that.
But heed "The Rules" - even for such a casual thing. If the guy knows you're worth it he'll put on the effort to make you feel as good as he can. And come back for more. =p
Sunday, January 30, 2011
The Boylet Chronicles - Do's and Don'ts Part 2 - The Kissing Game
Any self-respecting, dating girl will tell you, it's all about the kiss. Relationships - permanent or otherwise, have been made or broken by kisses. Literally. Despite all the crap women have been served, we still subscribe to the fairy tale that there's this magical kiss that tells us he's the one.
Clueless men will ask - what's all the big fuss about kissing? If the objective is sex, does one need to bother with the preliminaries? If a man thinks that way, it's a wonder how he manages to hook up in the first place - unless he looks like hunky Papa P that he could get away on looks alone.
Evolutionary psychologists suggest that kissing as a mating behavior started as a way to test potential partners' immune system. In short, our salivas are supposed to contain neurochemicals that are tested if we're compatible with each other, not to mention if we're healthy and fertile. If that's the case, won't saliva exchange be enough? Why go through all the myth that kissing is magic if it's just a neurochemical reaction?
Well, if kissing's going to be SOP (standard operating procedure) in preliminary mating rituals, we might as well wring all the pleasure we could from the act. Besides, nature also added a lot of nerve endings in our lips so might as well enjoy it.
=)
Clueless men will ask - what's all the big fuss about kissing? If the objective is sex, does one need to bother with the preliminaries? If a man thinks that way, it's a wonder how he manages to hook up in the first place - unless he looks like hunky Papa P that he could get away on looks alone.
Evolutionary psychologists suggest that kissing as a mating behavior started as a way to test potential partners' immune system. In short, our salivas are supposed to contain neurochemicals that are tested if we're compatible with each other, not to mention if we're healthy and fertile. If that's the case, won't saliva exchange be enough? Why go through all the myth that kissing is magic if it's just a neurochemical reaction?
Well, if kissing's going to be SOP (standard operating procedure) in preliminary mating rituals, we might as well wring all the pleasure we could from the act. Besides, nature also added a lot of nerve endings in our lips so might as well enjoy it.
=)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
The Boylet Chronicles - Do's and Don't's
I generally like most of the guys I dated before I met the eventual H and he all but laid his claim on me. This one boylet, who we can call Safari Guy, was cooky and sweet but managed to be awkward and so full of himself in one go. What happened between us could be a lesson on boylet do's and don'ts. Just because a girl is willing doesn't mean you have to take advantage of her. For goodness' sake, think about her pleasure as well.
I met SG during a trip a long, long time ago. He was the perfect summer fling. He was kinda cute and sweet so our group decided he was safe and we teased him mercilessly.
We hit off and became friends soon after. There was an underlying attraction but we ignored it. He decided I wasn't his type (I was too loud, kikay and Pinay for his taste) and I sensed that reluctance in him so I focused my energies on healing from a trauma which happened a few months before he met me and crushing on more unattainable, crush-ng-bayan type guys.
We soon became each other's sounding board on all teenage angsts under the sun. And because for some weird reason guys tell me almost everything - those bordering to too much information territory - we had some serious discussions about attraction and the opposite sex.
One day, while taking a walk around the campus after watching a movie, we sat down and just thought - what the heck - and kissed. It was everything awkward teenagers thought it would be - downright uncomfortable, wet and sloppy. Well, we both didn't know what to do but I sort of expected him to have a bit more finesse. For a sensitive guy he claimed to be, he sure couldn't read any of the cues I sent him.
So there's a do - do make sure you at least like the friend you're hooking up with. We did like each other. But that episode convinced me trying to explore our relationship was going to lead nowhere. And there's your don't - for goodness sake, at least know what you're doing first. Especially the basics. And kissing is basic. You still have to woo the girl with your skills. He thought it was in the bag. He thought wrong.
I had a friend who once told me (after a less than stellar performance from him) he thought he knew all there was to know about making love to a woman but he was wrong. I simply told him I hated doing all the work - so be a man, know how to make the woman happy and reap the rewards later. That's always a do.
I met SG during a trip a long, long time ago. He was the perfect summer fling. He was kinda cute and sweet so our group decided he was safe and we teased him mercilessly.
We hit off and became friends soon after. There was an underlying attraction but we ignored it. He decided I wasn't his type (I was too loud, kikay and Pinay for his taste) and I sensed that reluctance in him so I focused my energies on healing from a trauma which happened a few months before he met me and crushing on more unattainable, crush-ng-bayan type guys.
We soon became each other's sounding board on all teenage angsts under the sun. And because for some weird reason guys tell me almost everything - those bordering to too much information territory - we had some serious discussions about attraction and the opposite sex.
One day, while taking a walk around the campus after watching a movie, we sat down and just thought - what the heck - and kissed. It was everything awkward teenagers thought it would be - downright uncomfortable, wet and sloppy. Well, we both didn't know what to do but I sort of expected him to have a bit more finesse. For a sensitive guy he claimed to be, he sure couldn't read any of the cues I sent him.
So there's a do - do make sure you at least like the friend you're hooking up with. We did like each other. But that episode convinced me trying to explore our relationship was going to lead nowhere. And there's your don't - for goodness sake, at least know what you're doing first. Especially the basics. And kissing is basic. You still have to woo the girl with your skills. He thought it was in the bag. He thought wrong.
I had a friend who once told me (after a less than stellar performance from him) he thought he knew all there was to know about making love to a woman but he was wrong. I simply told him I hated doing all the work - so be a man, know how to make the woman happy and reap the rewards later. That's always a do.
Monday, January 24, 2011
The Boylet Chronicles - The Beginning
Disclosures:
I am not a femme fatale. If you asked me what made me appealing to men you would probably get a blank stare. I honestly have no idea. And no, I am not one of those pretty girls who are unaware of their looks. Oh, I know the way I look. Every self-respecting kikay girl knows how to make the best of her features. Still, it boggles my mind why guys would be interested in a chubby, cheeky, button-nosed girl like me (past and present). Maybe they liked my wit and personality? Who knows? I never asked.
Anyway, this entry isn't about my body issues (which I don't care much for anyway) but the boylets out there (not always my story though) who, in one way or the other, have helped me cope with the various issues of my life - directly and indirectly. Yes, not all men are jerks and if they were jerks, their bulls**t certainly never got past me.
Well, these events are from another lifetime (as in really long ago) but in a fit of pique (or boredom), I just thought it might be fun to write a semi-fictionalized version of that life. Here goes...
*********************
The beginning....
As a no-boyfriend-since-birth singleton working in the big city, I grew up envying all my friends who were lucky enough to land boyfriends in school or at work. I wanted the tweetums and the drama and the idea of having someone to take care of me. I hardly dated because my workhours rarely gave me the opportunity to mingle and all the guys that were left in my workplace were lecherous old men and unappealing guys. Most of my friends went off to law, med or grad school so I was usually left on my own trying to make a living, climbing up the career ladder and chaperoning two college-aged siblings.
From time to time I would meet with my school buddies and go out with them. Unfortunately, these only happened once in a blue moon so in the end, it still wasn't much of a social life. After a year or two of this scenario, I simply gave up looking and just met my friends for the sheer fun of it.
One of them was a friend I'll call E, a guy I met in one of the organizations I belonged to in college and who loved to dance. E is a tall American with a cute accent when he speaks in Filipino. He was a scholar taking post-graduate Philippine Studies courses. How that related to Physics (his undergrad), I had no idea.
Since he loved to dance and he needed a partner to practice with, I got roped along his weekly dancing sessions. We started meeting every weekend for an hour or so to practice his moves. I mainly did it for the sheer joy of dancing. (No matter how sexily you shake those hips, if you just love to dance, it's just moving to the music - nothing sexual in it, I swear.)
One Saturday night, after making arrangements with our other friends to get together, each and every one bailed out on him. In the end, we were the only ones left to go out. We had a blast - dancing the salsa in one Mexican restaurant and swinging in a disco place. Finally, after a few hours of dancing and drinking (mostly dancing), we decided to call it a night and go home.
Just our luck. The cab we got ran out of gas a few minutes from the house and the driver had to park at the nearby station and get out to get gas. I was chatting away when he suddenly became quiet. As soon as the cabbie left to get gas and water, he turned to me and said, "I like you."
Okay. I just shrugged this off as typical American bluntness and took it with a grain of salt. I replied, "Thanks." I knew he had a crush on me in college but it was nothing like a really strong physical attraction to me. I guess he just found me cute and that was that.
But then he leaned over and kissed me. Lightly. On the lips. Uh-oh. Warning bells rang in my head - he's a friend! Why is he kissing me? A good kisser against an ignoramus like me? No chance at all. I sat there stunned and speechless after that.
The cabbie just took a minute to put water in his carburator and gas in his tank and then we were on our way. I guess I was too stunned because I forgot to ask him to drop me off the house, which was a few blocks before his place. Since he was giving me a tape of all the dances we've been practicing (see, that old - we still used cassette tapes!), I just figured I'll breeze in and out with his tape and take another cab home.
No such luck. As soon as he closed the door to his apartment, he pulled me towards him and kissed me full on the lips - no light starters for this one. It was an assault I had no defenses for. Nor did I want to fight the onslaught. I was feeling lightheaded and all sorts of gooey inside.
His lips were surprisingly soft but firmly persuasive. I had expected it to be all sloppy and wet but it wasn't. Sloppy, that is. He let his tongue slide between my lips, which made me gasp in surprise. He immediately took advantage and deepened the kiss.
My knees were all wobbly at this point and being a good partner, he gently guided me to a chair and settled me in his lap. He seemed content in kissing this novice and he laughed softly when I mewled in contentment.
It seemed that the kiss would go on and on when we heard shuffling and the doorknob turning. We hurriedly pulled apart but there was no time to get off his lap. It was his flatmate. The guy was discreet enough to go straight to his room with hardly a glance at us but the damage had been done. It broke the moment.
I took his tape and took a new cab home a few moments after that. We still met the next weekend to practice our moves but things never went as far as it did the last time. I shrugged off the incident at the back of my mind until my friend asked me years later if it was okay they went out on a date. Huh? Oh, I was the excuse she gave her parents just in case anyone asked her where she was. =) cheeky girl. Laughing at the situation, I shooed her away and gave her my blessings. A kiss does not a couple make.
I am not a femme fatale. If you asked me what made me appealing to men you would probably get a blank stare. I honestly have no idea. And no, I am not one of those pretty girls who are unaware of their looks. Oh, I know the way I look. Every self-respecting kikay girl knows how to make the best of her features. Still, it boggles my mind why guys would be interested in a chubby, cheeky, button-nosed girl like me (past and present). Maybe they liked my wit and personality? Who knows? I never asked.
Anyway, this entry isn't about my body issues (which I don't care much for anyway) but the boylets out there (not always my story though) who, in one way or the other, have helped me cope with the various issues of my life - directly and indirectly. Yes, not all men are jerks and if they were jerks, their bulls**t certainly never got past me.
Well, these events are from another lifetime (as in really long ago) but in a fit of pique (or boredom), I just thought it might be fun to write a semi-fictionalized version of that life. Here goes...
*********************
The beginning....
As a no-boyfriend-since-birth singleton working in the big city, I grew up envying all my friends who were lucky enough to land boyfriends in school or at work. I wanted the tweetums and the drama and the idea of having someone to take care of me. I hardly dated because my workhours rarely gave me the opportunity to mingle and all the guys that were left in my workplace were lecherous old men and unappealing guys. Most of my friends went off to law, med or grad school so I was usually left on my own trying to make a living, climbing up the career ladder and chaperoning two college-aged siblings.
From time to time I would meet with my school buddies and go out with them. Unfortunately, these only happened once in a blue moon so in the end, it still wasn't much of a social life. After a year or two of this scenario, I simply gave up looking and just met my friends for the sheer fun of it.
One of them was a friend I'll call E, a guy I met in one of the organizations I belonged to in college and who loved to dance. E is a tall American with a cute accent when he speaks in Filipino. He was a scholar taking post-graduate Philippine Studies courses. How that related to Physics (his undergrad), I had no idea.
Since he loved to dance and he needed a partner to practice with, I got roped along his weekly dancing sessions. We started meeting every weekend for an hour or so to practice his moves. I mainly did it for the sheer joy of dancing. (No matter how sexily you shake those hips, if you just love to dance, it's just moving to the music - nothing sexual in it, I swear.)
One Saturday night, after making arrangements with our other friends to get together, each and every one bailed out on him. In the end, we were the only ones left to go out. We had a blast - dancing the salsa in one Mexican restaurant and swinging in a disco place. Finally, after a few hours of dancing and drinking (mostly dancing), we decided to call it a night and go home.
Just our luck. The cab we got ran out of gas a few minutes from the house and the driver had to park at the nearby station and get out to get gas. I was chatting away when he suddenly became quiet. As soon as the cabbie left to get gas and water, he turned to me and said, "I like you."
Okay. I just shrugged this off as typical American bluntness and took it with a grain of salt. I replied, "Thanks." I knew he had a crush on me in college but it was nothing like a really strong physical attraction to me. I guess he just found me cute and that was that.
But then he leaned over and kissed me. Lightly. On the lips. Uh-oh. Warning bells rang in my head - he's a friend! Why is he kissing me? A good kisser against an ignoramus like me? No chance at all. I sat there stunned and speechless after that.
The cabbie just took a minute to put water in his carburator and gas in his tank and then we were on our way. I guess I was too stunned because I forgot to ask him to drop me off the house, which was a few blocks before his place. Since he was giving me a tape of all the dances we've been practicing (see, that old - we still used cassette tapes!), I just figured I'll breeze in and out with his tape and take another cab home.
No such luck. As soon as he closed the door to his apartment, he pulled me towards him and kissed me full on the lips - no light starters for this one. It was an assault I had no defenses for. Nor did I want to fight the onslaught. I was feeling lightheaded and all sorts of gooey inside.
His lips were surprisingly soft but firmly persuasive. I had expected it to be all sloppy and wet but it wasn't. Sloppy, that is. He let his tongue slide between my lips, which made me gasp in surprise. He immediately took advantage and deepened the kiss.
My knees were all wobbly at this point and being a good partner, he gently guided me to a chair and settled me in his lap. He seemed content in kissing this novice and he laughed softly when I mewled in contentment.
It seemed that the kiss would go on and on when we heard shuffling and the doorknob turning. We hurriedly pulled apart but there was no time to get off his lap. It was his flatmate. The guy was discreet enough to go straight to his room with hardly a glance at us but the damage had been done. It broke the moment.
I took his tape and took a new cab home a few moments after that. We still met the next weekend to practice our moves but things never went as far as it did the last time. I shrugged off the incident at the back of my mind until my friend asked me years later if it was okay they went out on a date. Huh? Oh, I was the excuse she gave her parents just in case anyone asked her where she was. =) cheeky girl. Laughing at the situation, I shooed her away and gave her my blessings. A kiss does not a couple make.
The Boylet Chronicles - Gag Order
Sometimes a girl has a weird set of ethics.
Mine willed me to ask coffee-break friend if it would be alright to blog about the boylets. I figured since future topics might involve him I ought to ask if it was okay to write about the topic. It took him an hour or so to respond to the inquiry and not surprisingly, I got a resounding NO.
Well, he is right that any detail I write about is inviting trouble. However, since I don't think I would become a blogging superstar anyway, I think I could write about situations and opinions in general but never about the particulars. I don't think that's going to land me in hot water anyway.
Still, it would've been fun to write about him. He would probably have taken top prize. =)
Mine willed me to ask coffee-break friend if it would be alright to blog about the boylets. I figured since future topics might involve him I ought to ask if it was okay to write about the topic. It took him an hour or so to respond to the inquiry and not surprisingly, I got a resounding NO.
Well, he is right that any detail I write about is inviting trouble. However, since I don't think I would become a blogging superstar anyway, I think I could write about situations and opinions in general but never about the particulars. I don't think that's going to land me in hot water anyway.
Still, it would've been fun to write about him. He would probably have taken top prize. =)
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Boylet - A Definition
First things first. Let's define both words:
boy - (noun) a male child from birth to puberty
-let - (noun) suffix,small one
Therefore a boylet is a small boy? Not. As some blogs metioned, at first take you's think the same way too. However, the origin of the language came from gay-speak for "fling material", like asking "Saan ba may boylet dito?" A boylet is neither boy nor boyfriend.
A boylet is not a boyfriend with commitment rights and all that the title entails. The boylet does not have a committed relationship to the object of lust (or affection, however you put it). For all intents and purposes, a boylet is a casual fling. He's there for sex. And maybe a friendly ear and occasional (hot) date as well. But it's never an affair of the heart. There are unwritten rules, you know.
Now some people may ask, "a casual fling? But why?". Just because. Sometimes, you just want it without worrying about issues like commitment and maintenance. You just want to do it with someone safe and reasonable expectations. It's not the guy that you had a one-night stand (though, sometimes, that's all they get.)
Sounds like every guy's fantasy, right?
No. Guys have feelings and insecurities too. You never call a boylet a boylet to his face, even if he knows it. I don't even think of them as boylets. They're friends who just happen to be doing it with the girl (or guy, to be gender-fair) when the occasion permits it. In and out of that bedroom (or whatever venue you wish), they remain friends. Or at least as neutral accquaintances. Sadly, an intimate exchange of bodily fluids doesn't always translate to intimate feelings at all.
Which just occured to me.... maybe it's time to write down some rules after all. It might help someone out there.
boy - (noun) a male child from birth to puberty
-let - (noun) suffix,small one
Therefore a boylet is a small boy? Not. As some blogs metioned, at first take you's think the same way too. However, the origin of the language came from gay-speak for "fling material", like asking "Saan ba may boylet dito?" A boylet is neither boy nor boyfriend.
A boylet is not a boyfriend with commitment rights and all that the title entails. The boylet does not have a committed relationship to the object of lust (or affection, however you put it). For all intents and purposes, a boylet is a casual fling. He's there for sex. And maybe a friendly ear and occasional (hot) date as well. But it's never an affair of the heart. There are unwritten rules, you know.
Now some people may ask, "a casual fling? But why?". Just because. Sometimes, you just want it without worrying about issues like commitment and maintenance. You just want to do it with someone safe and reasonable expectations. It's not the guy that you had a one-night stand (though, sometimes, that's all they get.)
Sounds like every guy's fantasy, right?
No. Guys have feelings and insecurities too. You never call a boylet a boylet to his face, even if he knows it. I don't even think of them as boylets. They're friends who just happen to be doing it with the girl (or guy, to be gender-fair) when the occasion permits it. In and out of that bedroom (or whatever venue you wish), they remain friends. Or at least as neutral accquaintances. Sadly, an intimate exchange of bodily fluids doesn't always translate to intimate feelings at all.
Which just occured to me.... maybe it's time to write down some rules after all. It might help someone out there.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
The Boylet Chronicles - The Rules
This isn't a how-to on how to find your own boylet. Honestly, I have no idea how to look for one, I haven't looked for one at all and I'm not looking for one. (That part of my life is over). I don't have a face or body that would launch a thousand ships, much less a paper boat. In that past chapter of my life, the guys just happened to appear when I wasn't even looking and things just fell into place. In short, they were friends long before anything happened.
This is, however, a basic list of rules I tried to follow and could be helpful for others as well. Here goes...
1. NEVER fall in love. This is a given. Forget the fairy tale that he'll come to his senses and see you for the gorgeous and enchanting creature that you are once he sees what he could have. It's not going to happen. If you have good chemistry in bed, he might want to go back. But just for sex. It's the bitter truth so if you can't separate the feeling from the act, don't even go there.
If feelings of conflict (or affection) do appear, give it free rein in your mind - just there, no where else - for around a week or two. Suppressed emotions have a tendency to pop out of nowhere when ignored so just entertain them for a while. Just don't ever contact him, write about it - that includes you FB status- or do anything you would probably regret later. We all have our fantasies of infatuation and love and happily-ever-after but sadly, they don't translate to real life. I think you just need to flush out the feel-good and attachment hormones or endorphins you probably got from an incredibly hot encounter with the guy. By all means, milk it for all its worth (pun intended). After that time period (or a few weeks more, give or take), you'd have probably bored with your thoughts and moved on to the next lust-worthy object (like the latest "it" bag by the store window) or hunky papa P.
2. Be safe. You're friends, not committed partners. You don't know who's he with and neither does he know who you're with (unless you have a total disclosure agreement). Even if you're both healthy, you still have to ensure your safety. It's better not to have to worry about consequences after the act. It's the responsible thing to do. If he won't wear protection, or you don't protect yourself, just make sure you're ready for the consequences if anything unexpected happens.
3. Communicate. Yes, it's mostly a booty call. It's mutually benefitial for both of you. Still, both of you need to communicate what you like and need from the other. Trust me, it'll make for more fun sessions - and a better friendship (if both of you do talk about other stuff). Think of it was a good way to practice for your future significant other.
4. Trust. A no-brainer. Not that you should expect him to be monogamous with you. It's simply making sure he's not a jerk, a leacher, a blabber-mouth or heaven forbid - a serial killer.
5. Be open to new experiences. It's supposed to be an adventure. Try some stuff you haven't done yet for variety - as long as you're comfy doing it. Like a car escapade or the conference room. Just be careful. =)
6. But know your limits. If your friend is into something you're not really into, you don't like or would likely get you into trouble, tell him. And be firm in refusing the offer. You're not obliged to follow his whims. That's why it's a casual thing. If he insists, drop him like a hot potato. There are other fishes in the sea.
7. Keep it between yourselves. Your relationship/transaction with the boylet is between you and him. Keep out discussions of your significant others (ex or otherwise) outside if you don't want to complicate your life. (Unless you're a closet drama queen who is itching to pit two men against each other for your affections. Quit the fantasy, it never ends up well). Or, you can talk about it if you're really good friends who can talk about your exes (or current) with an objective mind.
8. Have fun. It's just sex and it could be fun. Make the O's count. Let go and enjoy the experience.
By all means, there are other unwritten rules out there but these are the major ones I could think of and had followed successfully. It's probably why even when the casual fling ended, I was still friends with the guy. Of course, having a friend who isn't a jerk in the first place helps a lot. =)
This is, however, a basic list of rules I tried to follow and could be helpful for others as well. Here goes...
1. NEVER fall in love. This is a given. Forget the fairy tale that he'll come to his senses and see you for the gorgeous and enchanting creature that you are once he sees what he could have. It's not going to happen. If you have good chemistry in bed, he might want to go back. But just for sex. It's the bitter truth so if you can't separate the feeling from the act, don't even go there.
If feelings of conflict (or affection) do appear, give it free rein in your mind - just there, no where else - for around a week or two. Suppressed emotions have a tendency to pop out of nowhere when ignored so just entertain them for a while. Just don't ever contact him, write about it - that includes you FB status- or do anything you would probably regret later. We all have our fantasies of infatuation and love and happily-ever-after but sadly, they don't translate to real life. I think you just need to flush out the feel-good and attachment hormones or endorphins you probably got from an incredibly hot encounter with the guy. By all means, milk it for all its worth (pun intended). After that time period (or a few weeks more, give or take), you'd have probably bored with your thoughts and moved on to the next lust-worthy object (like the latest "it" bag by the store window) or hunky papa P.
2. Be safe. You're friends, not committed partners. You don't know who's he with and neither does he know who you're with (unless you have a total disclosure agreement). Even if you're both healthy, you still have to ensure your safety. It's better not to have to worry about consequences after the act. It's the responsible thing to do. If he won't wear protection, or you don't protect yourself, just make sure you're ready for the consequences if anything unexpected happens.
3. Communicate. Yes, it's mostly a booty call. It's mutually benefitial for both of you. Still, both of you need to communicate what you like and need from the other. Trust me, it'll make for more fun sessions - and a better friendship (if both of you do talk about other stuff). Think of it was a good way to practice for your future significant other.
4. Trust. A no-brainer. Not that you should expect him to be monogamous with you. It's simply making sure he's not a jerk, a leacher, a blabber-mouth or heaven forbid - a serial killer.
5. Be open to new experiences. It's supposed to be an adventure. Try some stuff you haven't done yet for variety - as long as you're comfy doing it. Like a car escapade or the conference room. Just be careful. =)
6. But know your limits. If your friend is into something you're not really into, you don't like or would likely get you into trouble, tell him. And be firm in refusing the offer. You're not obliged to follow his whims. That's why it's a casual thing. If he insists, drop him like a hot potato. There are other fishes in the sea.
7. Keep it between yourselves. Your relationship/transaction with the boylet is between you and him. Keep out discussions of your significant others (ex or otherwise) outside if you don't want to complicate your life. (Unless you're a closet drama queen who is itching to pit two men against each other for your affections. Quit the fantasy, it never ends up well). Or, you can talk about it if you're really good friends who can talk about your exes (or current) with an objective mind.
8. Have fun. It's just sex and it could be fun. Make the O's count. Let go and enjoy the experience.
By all means, there are other unwritten rules out there but these are the major ones I could think of and had followed successfully. It's probably why even when the casual fling ended, I was still friends with the guy. Of course, having a friend who isn't a jerk in the first place helps a lot. =)
Friday, January 21, 2011
Quiquay -the writer
After several days of frantic writing and proofreading for a client, there is surprisingly little left for me to do for the next few days. I do have several projects lined up but at least I still have the luxury of a few days before turning them in.
So what to do? I've been churning my head for something creative to do when it hit me - write something! But what? Another essay on my recent angst? An advice column? I haven't been the least inspired in that alley lately so I thought I'd give voice to all the fantasies going inside my head for a change.
Well, the blog is about life, love and lust, isn't it? Why not try my hand at the last topic? Unless of course, like previous efforts, I'd blush at my own efforts and stop just when things are getting interesting. Then maybe I'd try my hand at a sexier brand of lit. =)
Hey, just because I'm this boring wife right now doesn't mean I can't have an active imagination anymore. =)
So what to do? I've been churning my head for something creative to do when it hit me - write something! But what? Another essay on my recent angst? An advice column? I haven't been the least inspired in that alley lately so I thought I'd give voice to all the fantasies going inside my head for a change.
Well, the blog is about life, love and lust, isn't it? Why not try my hand at the last topic? Unless of course, like previous efforts, I'd blush at my own efforts and stop just when things are getting interesting. Then maybe I'd try my hand at a sexier brand of lit. =)
Hey, just because I'm this boring wife right now doesn't mean I can't have an active imagination anymore. =)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Break Time
I have the weirdest friends - and yes, I'm also weird enough to be friends with most of the ex-boylets. Former co-worker Papa J was feel...
-
First things first. Let's define both words: boy - (noun) a male child from birth to puberty -let - (noun) suffix ,small one Therefore a...
-
I read this blog from a link a former coach posted over at FB. http://thoughtcatalog.com/wes-janisen/2013/08/you-should-fall-for-someone-who... -
Any self-respecting, dating girl will tell you, it's all about the kiss. Relationships - permanent or otherwise, have been made or broke...