The Satirical Hard Facts About Being Single (Strictly For Ladies Only)

Whenever my memory pokes to remind me of my naive self in my 20s, I get a strong urge to hop on any time machine available to be able to hunt down the younger me from years back – and give her a couple of large slaps on each cheek so that she may wake up to her senses when it comes to dealing with the affairs of the heart.

Reading some single ladies – both young and old, including highly intelligent ones – blog about romantic love or lack of it in their lives these days makes me cringe and wonder if I had sounded that much asinine myself in the annals of this site. After all, this blog has been serving as my diary and memoir – where a huge lack of shame on my part must be exercised to target its purpose.

It’s impossible to chronicle my romantic past without somehow indulging in a moderate degree of male bashing here. It is something I have evaded for too long as there are a few male blog pals who have become dear to my heart; each of them earning a special place in my blogging world in distinctive ways. Basically, I like men as friends and as the opposite sex. But I need to set that fact aside in writing something like this for the enlightenment, hopefully, of women my kind. A blog buddy has given his blessings for me to go ahead. So if any of my other male pals comes across this post, may they have the better sense to skip reading and turn away. This piece is dedicated exclusively for female readers – the single ones to be precise.

I wish all single ladies, young and old, feel this way.

Listen, my dear ladies: Once you’ve reached your forties, you will make a fool of yourself if you treat the search for a good man a serious matter. When you begin approaching middle-age, a nice-looking single guy with good character and good intentions is already impossible to find. It’s not your fault. Blame it on the globe’s oversupply of our gender species. Now in case you attempt to make it with a dude younger than you – it’s gonna be pointless still. Unless your intention is pure torrid sex and lotsa fun. Men generally think in the “What’s in it for me?” mode. They are naturally inclined that way. As a result, we women will be a never-ending subject for exploitation and humiliation – if we don’t watch it. On the other hand, if you go for an older guy, well… I doubt a man your age or your senior will take an interested glance your direction by reason of your (maturing) good looks. You see, older men could only itch for girls young enough to be their daughters. Again, it’s their natural inclination. Just like when they glue themselves much into free porn and are busy subscribing to sites that exhibit very young poor girls from all over the world taking their clothes off online. If you’re a wife to one of them, you might ask, “What’s become of my role, then?” Not to worry, you still get the “honor” of being your husband’s caretaker in his twilight years. FYI: Why do ya think Japanese wives are in a hustle to divorce their husbands once retirement years come around? Simple. To claim both their freedom and the money from their pervert mates. Clever Asian gals, huh.

Others will advise you “Don’t lose hope. Keep on searching for the frog. For your Prince, I mean.” That is mighty old school. I say, let it go if it’s not meant to be. Let your rational mind rule your heart. You deserve the best things this planet can offer – including a True Love or The Real One meant for you. Not just anything and anyone. You don’t need to waste your precious time… nor your precious heart repeatedly.

Look, ladies, I do believe in soulmates. How else can you explain the few cases of undying commitment and amour (with lust) between a couple like Prince Charles and Camilla, Sting and Trudie Styler, John Lennon and Yoko Ono, Paul and Linda McCartney, etc. They definitely have what most other couples don’t have. Unions other than theirs are either based on fleeting attraction or pragmatic matters which require a lot of hard work for continuity. If you’ve really found the right one for you, Congrats. If not, ask yourself these questions: Don’t you have better things to do than settle for less than the real thing? Do you really need just any “distraction” to get you through life?

Remember as well: If it isn’t written in the cards for you to grow old with a man, no amount of whining and seductive verses on your blog can alter your single status. I mean, c’mon… Sure such verbal stunts tickle the dirty fantasies of your male readers. But that’s all. You still are plain entertainment, in their POV.

We can always choose to release ourselves from the bondage of vain hopes and the disappointment of unmet expectations. Don’t forget how blessed a woman is if she doesn’t take for granted the many things she actually enjoys on her solo flight such as her family & friends, her job, her hobbies, her freedom, her independence, and her sanity. If I hadn’t suffered the severest blow of my whole existence earlier this year, you’d still find me on my knees counting my lucky stars above. Life is awesomely beautiful, with or without a man on your side.

I swear that when I reach my 50s, which is some few years from now, I’ll be totally holding my peace about singlehood and go commit myself to the nunnery. Until then, let’s all try harder to be dignified about this “not having a man” thing. Do we have a deal, single ladies out there?

I remember a certain children’s song from my childhood: “Calm down, Sit down, Stop rocking the boat.” Aah, wrong lyrics. But you get the message, I’m sure.

The Heart That Recognizes No Time

Valentine’s Day might have rolled off without me as the other half of a romantic couple, but please, sing no doleful songs for me – because love still abounds within and around me. Love that I have for my son, for the few family members and friends I’ve still got, for the things that make me happy. Even though I have made the decision to eschew actual liaisons in my life, it still holds power upon my being as a woman… and I would forever have this need to write about it. A misty-eyed 14-year-old red-rose dreamer I remain.

Talking about the four-letter word that has consumed every female being on our planet since time immemorial, is there any higher mystery that has ever lived inside our minds and souls? How often have I seen women appeal for love in the same way they appeal for mercy in the face of life’s unforgiving peripheries? How many women like me have been taken in by its glowing illusions and promises?

In a land notable for people willing to die in the name of love; where round-the-clock “telenovelas” lord over TV ratings, and endless media themes speak of passion “conquering it all,” people here from all walks of life clutch stories of high and low from the annals of their beloved sentiments.

A measure of emotional chaos had already presided over a huge fraction of my younger years – courtesy of many a rambunctious affair of the heart. Could it have something to do with the precarious self-esteem I’ve carried around which stemmed from my childhood insecurities?

One delicate lesson I’ve learned from those years: The surest way to drive yourself batshit insane is to cling to the notion that love will stay, when it is in fact wiggling in all directions to depart from you.

So I’ve often found myself asking this question: What do I make of the rules when my heart usually does the thinking for me?

The rules of love I am always in danger of forgetting.

The rules of love I have, in helpless frustration, inked onto my skin.

It’s been more than a year since I’ve freed myself from any romantic entanglements on my side of the globe here. The main purpose of which is to keep me away from an internal cage I have long since escaped. I was starting to think I’d never get the brand of peace I’d been searching for. So I had to run away in hopes that tranquillity would be able to find me. Gradually somehow, it came and I got it. I almost couldn’t believe it. Simplicity and space had held dominion; allowing for sensible calm to reign inside of me; granting me a tempered existence…and a liberation that surprisingly gave me some of the most remarkable times of my life. So I began to think happiness would be here to stay. Finally. Then came the major blow last month that brought me to my very knees. The one that shattered my hopes for a continuous path layered with calm and beauty.

It’s like I’ve closed my eyes with a smile and dreamed of rainbows and butterflies. But when I opened them again, a totally different world has taken place. Completely.

*****

Months ago, I watched Rihanna’s tearful confession at the Oprah channel of how she still feels for the man who has assaulted her. She got castigated and maligned by the public as a result of that interview. I may not have gone through what she experienced, although as I watched her painfully shedding tears over a first love she just couldn’t let go, I somehow understood her. I don’t necessarily condone the actions that took place between Rihanna and Chris Brown. But the girl merely in need of drama in her life, they say? No. It’s just a woman in love who couldn’t help being true to her feelings.

When we were little children, my parents would watch popular reruns of Tom Jones’ musical show and made us dance every time he commences with the upbeat tune of “It’s Not Unusual.” Before the end of the show, he would belt out tender, ardent songs like “You’re My World” and “I know” – and my sister and I would listen. When we became young girls, we’d remember and be dreaming of the princes in our futures who would feel that way about us. Just like in those songs.

Then we all grew up…and we lived…and we learned.

You began to realize no man is worthy enough to make you consign your heart to prison once more. In the same vein you get jaded by the reality that princes do turn into frogs eventually.

Valentine’s Day – and what it stands for – will preserve its magic in my mind nevertheless. Besides, it’s always good to foster the feeling until the end of your days.

That‘s how you find the emotional girl in me. The girl who may be cited for not truly condemning drama in her life. A woman, to be more precise, who would turn 80 decades from now, and still be longing of walking along some rose-full field of dreams.

The woman with a heart that would probably never know of time.

 

November Babe Musings (Random Ruminations About Blogging and A Nondescript Existence)

Make no mistake. This seems to be the best time of my life, although nothing earth-shaking or exciting has been happening. I go to work on weekdays every morning. Go home at around 6pm. Read, eat, sleep, study, write. Very simple and quiet. It makes me wonder: how come I’m loving every minute of my present peaceful existence? Maybe I was meant to lead a run-of-the-mill life after all. To go through an average routine day in and day out. The kind I resisted in my younger years. I thought then fulfillment means seeking out what other people have. Heavy romance, material stuff, full schedule, night-outs with friends and flames. I thought having more people that constantly surround, recognize and validate me would make me feel better. That included working hard to keep my marriage afloat in order to maintain a stable family life. Yet during those periods when I was struggling to have it all, I was not happy and I felt miserable.

I could have grown plain tired of them all.

Or maybe, this certain “maturity” has given me a new appreciation for the things that truly matter.

Funny, falling in love with an illusion has become more appealing to me. A trick of the light so distant it’s beyond anyone’s grasp. If it breaks my heart, I figure, there will be fewer complications. Lesser damage, I suppose. And I get to go through crap which is unlike the ones I experienced in my past.

And maybe too, I am not making much sense at all.

There seems to be some paradox that exist within me these days. One undeniable paradox I’ve got to deal at this point: even though I seem to have finally found my balance, guilt creeps in everytime thoughts of someone dear to me – whose life is fast slipping away – come to mind. Everything is going well, yet the person who has been instrumental to my current equanimity will be leaving me for good anytime soon. An inescapable reality that at times leaves me in a bind. Complete utopia continues to elude me.

This blogging thing also feels like there’s a whole new world in here which I may never get to understand. I simply want to be myself and be able to express everything. As in everything that’s on my mind. But I’m afraid that’s not always possible. I have to keep on reminding myself there will always be people who won’t feel comfortable with my honesty and some of the things I’ve got to say. It might have been a principal reason why I’ve been passive in the two years this blog has been in existence. This medium I never intended for some particular ends. Certainly not to become popular, do business, start a romance, widen my network, or harbor any hidden agenda. As I’ve repeatedly said before, I just wanted to put my f%*#ing thoughts down.

But I’d hate to be misunderstood. Clicking Like and commenting on other blogs should be practised with more caution I guess. I like reading so much though – ditto for appreciating good prose and the writer’s corresponding prowess. You see, I take pleasure in reading – a thousand times more than writing itself.

Because of time constraints, I admit to regularly following only around three to four bloggers. I’m not the kind of person who needs an array of people to cheer me up. If something in my life works well, I tend to stick with it until the end of time. Same goes for food, jobs, friendships, hobbies, relationships, etc. The fewer the choices, the better for me. Why am I always guilt-stricken when I receive a Like from a co-blogger? For the reason that my present state of affairs can’t allow me to reciprocate or accommodate them all. Shame on me. I do hope to add more blogs in my Follow list as soon as more elements in my lifestyle permit me to.

There remain quite a few things I wish to write here. I’ve chickened out for some time because I’ve come to feel more shy. The fact that I am no angel, committed heavy mistakes in my past, and my life hasn’t been that phenomenal, I worried about what my fellow bloggers might think. It’s a cop out I know. I need to do what I’ve set out to do.

I remain in awe of this blogging world we hope to inhabit for eternity. But it seems both my heart and mind have a lot to learn still.

The woman you see and know here and whose words you read on the pages of this site is no different from the woman that I am at my side of the globe. If ever you find the fancy to offer a handshake, my sole request could only be: Do it warmly; make it every bit as true as the loyalty and friendship I’m willing to extend – in all sincerity. I won’t ask or need anything else from you, my fellow bloggers.

Just please don’t let me settle for less.

 

June Babe Musings

The verdict has been out. Our current Chief Justice of the Supreme Court just got impeached for his major offense of failing to declare his statement of assets, liabilities, and net worth honestly. The drama that dragged on for months on end here like a tiresome soap opera has finally concluded. I’m relieved it’s over, hoping the dust will settle soon, paving the way for a new paradigm of governance in our country.

Early weeks of May also has seen torrential rains that are quite uncommon within the period that is still considered to be the peak of summer season. I have not gone to any of our beaches yet. So I guess that spells the end for my prospect to become this year’s undisputed beach babe. 🙂

I actually envy those with motherlands having four wondrous seasons. Winter.. Autumn.. Spring.. (I left Summer out coz I ain’t a fan of the sun’s oppressive rays and heat) I’ve seen these splendid seasons on movies and photos and had people who have regularly experienced them described their splendor to me. And I go, “ Wow..” or “Oh, oh wow..” Everytime..

My side of the globe has got only two seasons. Summer and Rainy. Just like Black and White. Nothing paramount in between. What a drab.. I wonder if my life is like having four seasons instead of two.  I find myself contemplating on that..

What would my favorite season be? I think I might adore Winter because of the snow. Snow falling everywhere can be the most magnificent sight in this world. Besides, I love the color white in everything, like I’m forever basking in its heavenly glow. Autumn will come in second for the mild, lovely somber mood it can bring. Legends of the Fall is one title I’ve kept to heart for my whimsical love-of-words why and wherefore even though I’ve never watched the movie. Same for the faint melancholy I fancy in the phrase The Autumn of One’s Life.   

a rare ladies’ night out for me during the weekend. That’s me on the left wearing a green shirt

“Marj, you work too much.” A seemingly nonchalant soft remark from the last guy I had been seeing while we were having dinner several months back. That was after he learned I had been working on Sundays closing down a few minor business transactions.

“You think so?” was all I could manage in response. We broke up soon after. Thinking about it, I guess I simply fell naturally in a sort of routine then. I never consider myself a workaholic, because I really am not one. But at that time, there seemed to be no better way to spend my time productively.

Gone is my penchant to casually hang out with colleagues or pals just for the sake of spending time away. For some inexplicable reason (getting older perhaps?), they cease to be my cup of tea. And these days I only go to the mall for the sake of getting my main form of exercise which is, walking. A year ago when I discovered the joy of reading and writing blogs, I was in seventh heaven with my new-found avocation as I find myself spending my time rewardingly indulging in my favorite language. I admit to have never tried Skype yet. (Yes, you must be thinking from what hollow cave did I rush from) Webcam I had done only twice some time ago with a cousin who migrated to Canada.

only 1 bottle of Red Horse and I was done. Ok, perhaps 1 & 1/2, I swear 🙂

I told one of my colleagues the other day I wish I could just spend most of my time reading blogs, honing my “blogging” skills by simply writing. But the thing is, I’ve got a full-time job. An 8-5 Monday to Friday act. When I get home, I’m already a bit worn-out, what with holding a full-class schedule at school.

There’s a confession I’ve got to make when it comes to my reading and following blogs. I confess to following only three or four blogs currently using RSS Feed. These are the ones that have smacked me compellingly enough to become their religious follower way back. I’ll be totally honest in admitting I can’t get myself to click Follow easily even after some bloggers did acknowledge my post by Liking it. The sole reason is that I hardly have the time to follow more than a few blogs. The last thing I want to do is follow a blog ostensibly as it isn’t fair to the blogger who’s been keeping the “Followed” blog. So I sincerely apologize for that..

Before winding up my musings here, let me mention two of my most favorites for now that freezes me right on my track. There’s this intelligent lady blogger who can dish out loads of wisdom in exceptional, no frills, smooth-flowing writing style, whether she does it with her sagacious comments to other blogs, or putting out twenty-four-carat post pieces in her own site. It’s like I’m getting life lessons from a much wiser sister. I do feel fortunate to be one of her followers.

Then there’s this young talented, bright blogger who keeps an adorable blog writing his way into women’s hearts with beautiful, at times metaphorical prose of unsent romantic letters that mention of unicorns, and flowers blooming in secret gardens.. creating worlds beyond time and distance..
Somehow he makes me want to believe again in faithful hearts and pure, undying love. Exquisite..

Girl bonding in Eastwood Centre

The Delight of Being “One of the Boys”

Having a relationship with a man can be emotionally draining for me. I have often struggled with the notion that the presence of a man in my life in a romantic sense isn’t worth it at all if he can’t make me happy. I guess I’m such a dreamer when it comes to love. I’ve been told recently that the kind of love we dream of is increasingly impossible to find especially as one gets older. Sad but true. I can be ok with that though. I resolve I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than compromise my ideals. But I’ll expound on that next time in another post. Meanwhile, what I want to express here is the kind of pleasure I get in having men as simply “buddies.” Just plain, good ole buddies. Because men are such interesting species despite their frailties and uh, “wickedness.”  I do like men but they can occasionally or often be a “pain in the ass.” Having one as a boyfriend most probably would just give me trouble than pure bliss. So why don’t I just enjoy them as mere pals or chums? I must be a whiz gal to come up with that, right?

I’ve always enjoyed the company of the opposite gender. Sure I’ve had rotten experiences with a few of them in the romance department, but that doesn’t dismay me in continuing to build or nurture friendships with them. They can be really nice and delightful as comrades. It’s always been a pleasure having them around in my life. A lot of laughter and joy has ensued in my life because these particular breed of humans are humorous, fun and breezy to be with. They lack the pettiness that you usually find in female friends. And I like the fact that in contrast to women, men will never tire you of empty verbiage (unless of course the man is gay). They are not that fond too of non-stop talking. Just like me. Yours truly is usually quiet and reserved.

If you truly want to enjoy them as the opposite gender, you have to do away with mushy emotions and deal with them in a direct, casual manner. You don’t need to understand them perfectly well if you just want to be pals with them. They’re very simple to deal with. They can be easy to please. They may get impatient though when they have to conduct themselves in shades of gray, so their choices must be strictly limited to black and white. That is, if you don’t want them to become bona fide pricks. I swear they’ll thank you dearly if you could go straight to the point when you talk to them. Any attempt for a sappy exchange is a waste of time. Likewise, sharing of soulful sentiments can be a herculean task. The downside with having them as friends is the frustration you’ll get by the shallowness of your communication with each other. They can’t be arsed to want to talk about deep feelings, except if they’re in danger of getting dumped in their jobs. In case you don’t know, only one thing can rightfully obsess them.  And that is their job or work.

I guess John Gray got it so right in telling that Men are from Mars, Women from Venus. Men and women seem to have come from different planets indeed. No need to even mention the asteroids and other heavenly bodies that may get in between. 🙂

In my case, I may not fully comprehend their behavior and actions but I pretty much have an idea what goes on in a man’s psyche. I can switch my mode of thinking to their level once I start hanging around or dealing with them. Most men I’ve dealt and transacted with at work have sort of complimented me on how I could be comfortable in their presence. Ehem. I believe I had a lot of practice in my younger years. I wasn’t the flowery, delicate kind of girl then. I raced around, played basketball, climbed trees, participated in other sports, and chased dragonflies with the other boys in the neighborhood. Most of the best friends I had from grade school to university were male. When I was young, my brother and I were the best of pals, which goes to say he became my favorite sibling. And as you may all know by now, my father is my favorite parent as he figures heavily in some of my posts here.

Having them as buddies and having them as lovers are totally distinct. Given my current status, do they sometimes misinterpret my friendliness and harbor the idea I’d be willing to hook up with them? Of course they do. I believe all men welcome those thoughts in the company of their female close friends. But once I’ve managed to enlighten them with the truth subtly, they eventually get the message that their companionship and goodwill are the only things I need from them.

Last year, only three male teachers were left for permanency status in our school (the rest are all female). A gay man in his late 30s, a married man in his mid 30s and a straight guy in his mid- 20s who’s been engaged to his girlfriend for years. So I felt safe when I penetrated my way into their exclusive club to become a fellow camaraderie. You see, I have this ability to be quite friendly if I choose to. It didn’t take long before I totally blended and was considered to be “one of the guys.” For several months, it had been great to be part of the group. Hanging around during break time, having lunch together, shooting the breeze about plenty of matters in our lives. And you can just imagine the things I heard when they talked about women. When I’m with them, I don’t expect them to treat me any differently. I’m older than these male colleagues of mine but delightfully, they tend to forget that when we’re having a conversation or kidding around.

As expected, most good things never last. Alas, late last year the “straight” guy had to quit teaching for the greener pastures of a call center job. It wouldn’t be fun anymore without him so we sort of disbanded. Things couldn’t be the same without our “youngest brother.”

We still keep in touch once in a while and are still friendly toward one another. Yet I’ve come to miss those times every now and then. It’s such a pleasure having men as friends. That much will always be true for me.

Attachment and The Sentimental Fool That I Am

I stand for the belief that any form of love should feel breezy,

like the cool winds of a calm December morning..

because love isn’t meant to cause torment or any kind of struggle.

And if I fail to reap the wonder and ease it’s supposed to bring,

then it’ll remain as an unfulfilled longing

I’m willing to let go for all eternity..                 –January marj 2012

 

There goes another brief missive that I posted on my FB wall this weekend. These lines naturally came up to me in a span of forty five minutes while at work a couple of days ago, although I do have an idea now what moved me to write this topic. Definitely a few certain some ones who have recently figured on my mind..

You may already know this about me. Saying goodbye sucks. I even get attached to things which make purging my stuff an arduous and agonizing task.

My colleagues have repeatedly advised me against getting attached to anything, or rather anyone. They could sense it. Letting go has always been difficult for a sentimental fool that I am. Why do you think becoming a cold-hearted Juliet is one of my aspirations this year?

Recent events have me pondering why I shouldn’t open myself up so as not to risk becoming vulnerable to any more “unnecessary” pain. As it’s such a sure thing for a heartbreak coming down the pike, don’t you think?

For the times when I’ve read how attachment has become one of the major causes of human suffering, this question has hounded me for the longest period. Is it possible to stay away from circumstances that will have me crying buckets of tears caused by emotional threads I sometimes inadvertently weave?

And so it got me remembering the words written by my all-time favorite role model Helen Gurley Brown, “Why couldn’t you just have enjoyed the headiness of it all without being so federal case out of your brain about the whole thing?

You couldn’t. You never can, and you must never apologize to yourself for the one you’ve given all that passion to. It could only be that way at that special time, and if you cared, you cared..”

Very well said.