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...

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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.