Just because...

Just because...

... I haven't referred to the incident for three decades doesn't mean I forgot it.

... it happened when I was a child doesn't mean it does not affect me as an adult.

... there was no penetration doesn't mean the abuse didn't happen.

... they were doing drugs does not excuse what they did.

... it wasn't my fault doesn't mean I'll feel clean for the rest of my life.

... I chose to ignore them does not mean I've forgiven them. 

... I was a victim doesn't mean I'll spend the rest of my life helpless.

... it happened to me doesn't mean I cannot forge meaningful relationships with others.

There is such a thing as karma and I know they will eventually burn for eternity. I chose to rise above the situation and I deserve my happiness.

Boylet Chronicles: A lady never makes the first move

This is a rather old entry I did but never posted. As you can see from the date, it was a looooooong time ago. Still, some of the lessons could still be used by others, I hope. The guy has long been forgotten and the memory has faded away. Read away....

041206

A lady the never makes the first move.

This rule has been drummed into my stubborn head too many times by the conservative society that I grew up in. But then again, it’s a rule I always chafed under. Now I’m desperately trying to resist the urge to make the first contact with the “guy”.

It’s nothing, really. Just a “hi!” or whatever “witty” nonsense I could conjure out of the hat. But it’s not a good idea. There’s nothing for us to talk about. And nothing for me to say to him , except, “Hey, you owe me P500.” For a disaster, I think I would just have to mark that as a loss. The money is still worth a big deal to a spendthrift like me but given the consequences, I think I could afford to lose that much.

So, how do I motivate myself not to ping him? I mean it’s harmless, right? It’s not as if I’m up to no good. But that’s just the problem. It almost always leads to that direction, though not because I want it to. Or maybe I do?

‘Sigh’. I think it would be more prudent to exercise more caution on my own. In my experience, men aren’t as smart in hiding their escapades as they think. (Just think of the bf.) The smartest thing that they do next is admit to it. Hahaha. Now that is a direction I don’t want him to take.

But it would be so tempting to use my considerable skills in retaliation to that disastrous outing. I mean the female in me wants to humiliate the guy but the romantic in me wants him to fall instead – with a great big “thud”! He would be a considerable opponent – with skills to match my own. That’s probably the reason why I fell flat on face the last encounter in the first place. It’s okay, he placed the blame squarely on his shoulders. But I don’t think he’s repented that much, much to my chagrin.

There are things going for me. He already has a notion that I rarely lie, especially with my emotions. He knows I’m candid and has the misfortune of being unable to refuse dares. But then he knows that I can selectively choose the facts that I disclose and the emotions that I show. Hmmm…… really tempting. I could really see how I could tweak this. This looks like a good match with a worthy adversary. But would it be a game I would be willing to play?

And what if I was too successful in making him fall for me? Would I be willing to break a relationship I helped create anyway? Would I be willing to break someone else’s heart? Would I be willing to make an enemy out of a friend? Would I want him anyway? What if I fell?

I have a very good relationship with the bf – someone I love very much. Would I throw that away simply because I could hardly resist this other one? Will I leave behind 5 years of a solid relationship for a temporary high? I don’t think these are questions I’m willing to face. Sometimes, some things are better left unsaid.

Besides, in all the flings I’ve encountered, I always end up with an unexpected ego-prize ---- I end up being the one they can’t get out of their head. The one that got away. The one they still fantasize.

Maybe I should be happy with that.

Or maybe I should just make this into another story.

Maybe I will. That seems to be a more constructive course of action.

Paradigm Shift

The guys used to want me for my body...

Now they only want me for my cookies.

No really, chocolate chip cookies. Or oatmeal cookies. Or brownies. Or whatever dessert I manage to concoct in my kitchen when the mood suits me. What's up with that?

Hey, I'm not complaining. I just find it weirdly (and privately) hilarious my cookies are now taking the center stage. This one time, Alpha guy dropped by for a quick visit because he "missed" me and once he got to my house, went immediately for the cookie jar.

And then there's the childhood friend who, whenever he finds out I'm heading their direction, I get a cryptic SMS saying, "Cookies!" And if you think that comes with strings attached, you've got it wrong. He'll drive by the shop, drop a belated "hi!", smooch internet time from this laptop to show me his latest pictures online ( I call it his 'Show and tell', grab his cookies and wave goodbye. It's like raising a teenager. Haha.

I was forced to learn baking by my then-pregnant and migraine-prone mom when I was 10 years old so we could have snacks for recess breaks at school. As active kids, we definitely needed to learn how to cook and bake our own food because our parents wouldn't give us an allowance and one of them was out of commission for a few months.

After those few months, I hardly held the mixer or the spatula for the next 20 years. I even protested when the H bought this 5-burner range saying it was too big. But he loved cooking and he owns the kitchen so I said, what the heck? I eat what he cooks with relish anyway- well, most of the time.

A few months later, my mother suddenly showed up at our doorstep and simply said, "Let's make some fruitcake!" It's a tradition in our place where nearly each family had their own version. After a few days she left with nearly all of the fruitcake with her, happy that she was able to continue with tradition.

After that event, I decided to experiment with some recipes, with my cookies apparently being the most successful, since the h and the sis would happily munch them, even fighting for the last piece. Then my friends followed. Oh yes, some catfights and grudges have happened because of those cookies, particularly between childhood friend and another close friend. One time the former ate like 10 for breakfast and another 5 during lunch and left crumbs for the other one. Goodness.

Well, it is kind of nice to be looked at another way other than a booty call but it does take some adjusting to be seen as a food source. Literally. Talk about paradigm shift. Haha

Maybe There's Something Wrong With Me?

... like I'm not pretty enough.
... or slim enough.
... or sexy enough.
... or interesting enough.
... or smart enough.
... or good in bed enough.

If any of those reasons is the case, can someone please explain how I got two indecent proposals from two ex-boylets (coffee break friend and the buddy) last week? And include one very interested look from childhood friend when he saw a clip of me from dance class while fiddling with my phone.

To answer your next question, I politely declined all of them.

But it was tempting. =) In the meantime, ang haba ng hair ng lola mo! Hahaha.

New Year, Same Issues

Most of the time I look forward to the new year and the hope it brings. This year I'm a little bit skeptical the bedroom situation will get better.

I finally went to the OB-Gyne when my period didn't arrive on schedule. Normally, I'm as regular as a calendar so two weeks of delay was too much. No, I'm not pregnant - as I informed one too many nurse and doctor. Even I'm not stupid enough to ask for an appointment without knowing if I was pregnant or not. Besides, it's impossible to get preggy without a sperm donor and that has not been on the menu for several months now (oh, don't get me started).

As it is, it's my PCOS (poly-cystic ovarian syndrome - it's when your eggs don't mature as planned and look like cysts) that's causing the hold-up. And the doctor casually added that the largest of my asymptomatic myomas has grown to the size of a small fist (and that I had two more grape-sized ones) and should be removed through surgery. She added that they don't necessarily affect my fertility since they're outside the uterine wall but just to make my pregnancy a bit more comfortable they should be removed. Oh, she said this nonchalantly, by the way.

So there I was, trying to nod and be as calm as the doctor was while inside I was panicking and thinking frantically "You want to cut me up to remove these things; I'll be forced to give birth through C-section and you want me to be calm?" I swear, if I wasn't so shocked I would've scratched her pretty preggy eyes out.

So I told everything to the H, stressing that there was nothing really wrong with me except the pesky PCOS and the optional myoma surgery. I could solve the PCOS with a round of Clomiphene - which might make the myoma larger. Or shrink the myoma through pills - which might aggravate the PCOS. Grrr. And throughout this exchange, the disinterested hubby (who still hasn't gone to a doctor to check his inability to get that thing up) just nodded his head and said he'll check the coverage with the HMO.

I know it's a guy thing not to admit there's anything wrong with him (err.... no decent sex for five years and there nothing wrong????) but maybe it's time to step back and think about someone else's welfare instead of his stupid pride. I'm the one being asked by the doctor to get cut up (the surgery is a major one). I'm the one being asked all these "when are you going to have a baby" questions and it's taking everything in my power not to yell "I don't know." Well, I've started referring all questions to the H. The next time someone asks me that question again, I am really going to be snarky and bitchy. I have done what I can. And I hate not having control over it.