24/07

Man, I am so friggin' stressed out. Last week, it was OT/all-nighters to death. This week, it was no-ventilador sweating to death. Hot dayym! These hot summer nights are killing me. I swear to God I swear to God, tomorrow I am totally getting myself my second electric fan in 3 days. Long story but basically, it's all for the love of Momsie-poo.

Which provides the segue I was looking for. I just celebrated my 24th year of being yesterday, woohoo! Mom was in town and we had dinner together with Cuzzy dearest and her kuya. First time I spent my special day with anyone from the homefront in 6 years, which in itself is cause for some major wine-and-dine action. But what's even more remarkable--at least to my mind--is the fact of my extended, erm, celibacy.. Doggone it! So there, I finally said it.

Now hold your horses, if I may offer a short elaboration. Celibacy is herein described as the condition of quasi-self-imposed independence from any form of official entanglement with the opposite sex. You might probably be wondering about the quasi part. You see, I used to think it would be pretty simple: Steer clear of all things that hint at a possible Romeo and Juliet not-so-happy ever after, and vindication will be yours when you finally meet Prince Charming at a time that you're ready for him. Coz you know, the modern Cosmo girl has to be able to schedule these things well. Otherwise, all hell would break loose and there goes your chance at a storybook ending. Although to be honest, you don't really subscribe to the whole dashing Prince Charming myth. But well, you know, a girl's gotta try. At this point, your luck's been limited mostly to Pinocchios--cute and loads of fun at best, but also afflicted with the legendary Pinoy propensity for lying and two-timing.

It's all well and good, this little theory of yours. But you know how those tacky telenovelas start out, right? No real complications at the beginning, but then you get a sense of disconnectedness that you can't quite put your finger on. You notice this only happens during the most unlikely of times, when out of the blue you feel that cloying little twinge of.. well, nothingness.. gnawing at your insides 'til you actually take a breather from the Cosmo girl routine long enough to attempt to give this thing a name. And the epiphany is that after all this time, after so long a wait, you feel you're finally ready. You honest-to-goodness actually wanna give it a go, the whole relationship thing. The tragedy is that you just can't find anyone to do it with. Just where have all the cowboys gone, that's what you'd like to know.. Imagine that. Almost a quarter of a hundred years of solitude. Boy, García Márquez would have been proud.

Then there's the occasional pang of remembrance for what could have been. You probably got lucky a couple of times, you know. Like in the movies, you never saw it coming. But somehow, the magic wasn't there. Or okay, maybe it was, but your head was floating too far above the clouds to see the fireworks going on down below. And you are all about the fireworks, aren't you? But all you had were dreams and hopes and ideals and fear and confusion. The never-ending parade of questions that follow a doomed affair. Or so you thought. But there you go. That's Varbaridad 101 for you: ego, superego, id. Life is a rollercoaster. And then, nothingness.

Welcome to the rest of your life.