250wordsmith

Every time I attempt to begin spilling the contents of my head and my heart, I feel my body resisting, my brain blocking the flow - this is writer’s block.

So it is 3:38 in the morning, left over cheesecake and my Twinings Chamomile tea on my cluttered desk. I have just taken a bath after waking up from a fitful sleep. My calendar for the week is full and I started Monday by working from 8 in the morning till 12 mn.

Mind you, my afterhours were all volunteer work, a far cry from the past lives I’ve led: first as an inverted socialite who hid behind corners in clubs and preferred smoking in the pavement with beer in hand while contemplating life’s mysteries with likeminded souls, then to being the reclusive homemaker who would scrub the bathroom floor till midnight or until I am satisfied, smoking in the laundry area while crying over lost loves or thinking more about life’s mysteries or talking to friends abroad over the phone while being discontent over my plight in the locality. So now, life is a lot different. I have since given up the stick and life has been good: I no longer have the luxury of time to languish over my drama.

But it is 3:45 in the morning, and I am acutely aware that my ex soulmate is still in town. I think that romance is my drug and infatuation my high. He will be leaving anytime soon, and it will have been three years since we last saw each other.

Three years ago, we watched a cheesy Filipino horror movie with my cousin who’s his neighborhood buddy. That wouldn’t be such a big deal if I didn’t see my cousin everyday at school. He’s the good uncle who brings his sister’s son to class. Before I’d learned that ex soulmate was in town, I saw this cousin walking down the former’s street… I had a feeling the one who left me has arrived.

I think it is just female pride and force of habit that holds me back from moving on. A couple of times since I found out, I’ve been resisting the urge to find a way to corner him - in attempts to see him spill his guts, I don’t know. According to Greg Behrendt, he’s just not that into me. And I accept that. No matter how I try to convince myself (the me who adhere’s to Greg’s principle) that I know him, ex soulmate, enough to say that it’s his pride that holding him back from cruising past my street, that he has accepted that we have burned bridges and that he is no longer willing to try it out again to me, and even to make amends, it is still stubborn, foolish hope that wakes me up at 3:33 in the morning, wondering if at this point until I am sure that he has left Philippine shores, wondering if we will at least bump into each other, lock eyes after all these time.

To me, there is no use in consoling myself with “I should just be thankful that we didn’t end up together because…” I’ve tried that and it didn’t work. Perhaps the viral Dr. Seuss quote would be more apt: “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” Still sounds sad to me.

He was the closest, CLOSEST, I had to true love. And if I were true to my own side of this so called love, I would bless him as I let him go as I’d always had. For all my mistakes in love in the past, the only mistake I’m committing in this love is holding on, hoping on.

Believe me, I’ve tried getting over him by going out with others. I only felt cheap that way. Should I be cursed to this infatuation - I ask the Lord to bring the good out of the pain.

It’s been exactly 3 years since 2009, the last time we saw each other. The last time we’d promised each other that the next time we’d see each other we would be together.

Twinings, kick in. It’s 4:05 in the morning. Good night.

Before Adam and Eve,
To save us all from unnecessary
Heartache,
God should have created
Greg Behrendt first…
That’s what BFF said.

Why oh why
Didn’t they tell me
When I was little
What Greg has told us
In our face?

Well, I was too busy
Reading crap
About the jerk with the heart of gold
(Written by women
Before Greg was born)

Right BFF,
Learning Greg’s lessons
Long before puberty
Throughout adolescence
And majoring on it in adulthood
Would’ve probably saved
Us time and men…

And like you said,
The heartaches…

I love these lightbulb girlfriend moments!

Morning
8 o’clock’s good
No reminders yet
9 o’clock, I’m ok
At 10, I shake hands with two boys
One, your sister’s nephew
The other, our common friend’s boy
If that’s not enough
My brother hangs out
With your cousin’s cousin
The one who handed me
The Hello Kitty goodies you sent me
Light years ago -
Was he the same bearer
Who brought the
Michelle Branch
Vanessa Carlton
& Musiq Soulchild
CD’s that you handpicked for me
Fresh from the NY record bars?
(Yes, the greeting card that came with it
Said that I’m your angel)
And then, tonight, I upload
A photograph of the playground that we shared
And the neighborhood comes knocking
On my facebook wall
With memories of childhood games unique to our locality
And other personal anecdotes and such
And I think of you and me
And at which spot we kissed at around this time -
And then awoken from that reverie, your cousin gives my photo
A thumbs up.
And I remind myself
That I am empowered enough to say to myself
“You’re not that into me.”
So I can listen to Michelle Branch’s
Everywhere -
My favorite song -
Minus the special effects of
Hollywood delusions that is
Topbilled by you.
Almost midnight and I’m still writing poetry
About the jerk who shares my park -
Aaargh -
“You’re in everyone I see,
So tell me, do you see me.”

Correction:
It wasn’t disinterest on their part
It was their brat-hood,
Asshole nation
I-want-her-I-want-you mentality
Wrapped in the melts-in-your-mouth
Chocolate candy kisses
Of “innocent” long lost loves
Found while their promises were
Shackled to some other perfect love
From another mindset
Which totally ruined the moment
For him and me
- and for those cheap precious moments
they unknowingly cashed in on my
Naive nostalgia
Yeah yeah
- I’m not excusing their behavior -
They knew what they were doing
Being jerks in mush
Sentimental fools who rushed in
To ruin whatever future -
Man, this specific, unrepentant male bashing
Regrouping, rethinking, reorganizing
At the end of the day
Whew!
Relief (^^’)

Ok, this tumblr’s folding
After 11 years of self-deception
Excusing their disinterest
While whining, moping
Wishing
That they were

REALLY INTO ME

(no, I’m not really
closing the store;
drama mama mode)

Dear Greg,
I’m finally getting the message of your book which could only be read by someone who is tired of pining, or is in a pining-hiatus.

The stubborn, dumb-female part of me wants to inquire if these characteristics in men are unique to Caucasians. I wonder if they should be true to Filipinos as well. It’s your guess that I know the answer.

Thank God that I have finally snapped out of swimming in romantic movies where guys do send mixed signals. I forget that many of these movies are written by women, or by men who like to trick women into thinking (whatever they want women to think).

Yes, the principle is EASY PEASY to understand. He’ll find a way to
1. call you
2. look your number up if he doesn’t have it
3. email you
4. ask you out.

Sexist as it is, I do buy the idea that men should make the first move. Having actively participated in women’s lib, I still feel pangs of shame whenever I recall my brazen moves. So, begrudgingly so, I concede, even if it is the most politically incorrect of notions: men should make the first move; the corollary of which states that women should wait. Fine.

He’s just not that into me. And so I move on with my chin up.

If only I would always be rational like this. It’s empowering actually.

Thanks, Greg.

250wordsmith

Reading now: He’s Just Not That Into You by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo.
Am empowered. Sometimes you just have to hear the god-honest truth.

He’s Just Not That Into You. P.E.R.I.O.D.