Of Plans and Cancellations

I hope yesterday's debacle won't be repeated on Thursday. I've made plans and should things come up and he decides to cancel said plans I will go ballistic. It's bad enough we had to cancel dinner on Valentines and Family Day plans because of work, but my day, c'mon!

Case in point: we made plans yesterday to go check out TIFF Bell Lightbox and the CN Tower because let's face it, when do we get to really do that as a family? Never. What with his busy schedule, it's a rarity for us to even spend an afternoon together. Yet just as we were preparing to go out he tells me a client [a good friend of his] needs logos, brochures and website done ASAP in preparation for a meeting slated Tuesday. My jaw dropped literally because we've had these plans in place since last week and he had the audacity to cancel on us in the last minute?

Infuriated, I locked myself in the room and barely spoke to him the entire day. Heck, if I had it my way, I'd take off with Kiddo for a week. But alas, living in Canada and frankly speaking still on maternity leave, I can barely afford such a getaway and honestly I don't have friends to have known well enough to aide me.

After a long day, he finally got the message, apologized and vowed he would make up for it. I have yet to see that come into fruition but I have high hopes. Another letdown would be, well, disastrous for him. I don't do disappointments well.

Keeping It Real

I had difficulty sleeping last night. Well, that's an understatement actually. I had trouble dozing off for the past two weeks. I mean I've been having strange dreams lately concerning weddings and getting abducted by strange men. I don't know why I keep getting those nightmares this week. Should I read into it or learn to shake it off?

Anyhow, last night was different though. Thoughts of current events swirled in my head and kept me up, pondering the night away. One particular thought puzzled me. I know what Amit or Eric would say, that I was overanalyzing things again, digging meaning to every word reading in between the lines. A really bad habit of mine but last night, hard as I've tried to put myself to sleep and not obsess about this one sentence, something deep down kept gnawing at me. Eating my insides and I knew there was no way I would be able to brush it off. And so, for 3 and half hours I lay awake, staring into the vacant space such as one would in a trance.

What is this thought, this one line that would bother me so and keep me up for 3 hours you ask? Simple really, six words. Six-friggin'-words that have rocked the very core of my being. I don't want to lose you. Thinking about it even now, sends chills down my spine. I have to pause and take a breather just having to type it right now.

As melodramatic as it sounds, I've never ever considered [heck even dreamed in my wildest of wildest dreams] to hear those six words from you. Never. After all, four failed relationships and a broken engagement later would have surely disillusioned one into thinking it would ever be possible to find someone who'd be willing enough to stick it through and actually have the gall [gut and balls] to confess just how much one would factor in the other's life. It just didn't seem to occur to me that someone like you would be capable of doing such a thing, let alone say it out loud.

It took me by surprise not because I refuse to see myself with you but because I don't think it plausible to stay together or even hope to stay together [suicidal instinct that would shatter me once things end badly] for such a long period of time. Remember once we talked about seeing ourselves three years down the road? That conversation we had kept bugging me. Although it thrills me to think, nay even consider, you wanting to be with me for that long, I must also face reality. I mean, people change and that's a known fact. As time passes, we too get older and our needs and desires change as well. This might help me get my point across.

I guess what I'm saying is, actually asking from you is to refrain from saying those things to me. Please understand that although I appreciate the sentiment you wanted to get across, I would rather not hear of such things for fear that later on I might hold onto it. Do acknowledge the fact that as a female, I too tend to put too much stock in every word you say. It's just one of the pitfalls of our species. Tell me you love to such an extent but please do not lead me to believe otherwise. Please, that is all I ask.

The Juggling Act

Is it just me? Or has time really passed by quickly and before you know it, June has come? LOL. I know, I've been way too busy lately I haven't had the time to actually update you with all the juicy tidbits that have been going on for the past month. For one, work has become bearable again as every one gears up for the new call list to start. Some agents from RRA were switched to PA and the team grows by the week. Every one's punching in numbers for the group and generally doing okay. The only sad part is our TL Thierry is still a slave-driving prick who constantly badgers us with pressured sales every single day. On a lighter note though, I've learned to adapt to his ways and just take every thing in stride. No use to get worked up with someone who has the emotional intelligence of a squash right? And as long as he leaves me alone, then we should be fine.

As for my personal life, well let's just say things are getting very interesting. Amit is wonderful. I think I'm way more into him than I expected and the crazy part is, he's into me too. Get this, he said HE LOVES ME and not just once but well, countless times now. I mean, who would've thought he'd feel that way towards me as well? Certainly never expected nor have even forseen this happen. He is surprisingly sweet and expressive. He showers me with displays of affection that could rival that of the Olympics. I'm telling you, this dude could kiss up a frenzy. His lips do mean business. LOL. 

I could say this though, and I don't even care if he gets to read it, I may not say it much but I love him. I love him to a point that it scares me sometimes because it makes me feel vulnerable, pathetic and weak. I hate feeling this way and actually allowing him into my life means giving him the power to hurt me and yet still trust him not to. And this is the part where he asks me to trust him, the same way he seems to trust me. See my dilemma there? LOL.

(To be continued...)

The Big Move

Move in with me. It's the the most logical thing to do. We both get away from the [unnecessary] stress with our parents and I know I love snuggling and hanging out with you. So why not move in? Honestly, waking up beside you every morning is a great way to start the day! What I'm saying is, give it a thought. I'd really love for us to move in together.

As we were strolling along the corner of St. John and Stephanie Street, he finds this quiet community park nestled among shady poplars hidden in the concrete jungle. It was a typical community park, except it was located with just a few meters from Downtown T.O. which was a good thing by the way. Think of it as living somewhere along Global City only actually closer to Makati. We sit on the bench and enjoy the cool breeze as dusk was settling in.

I like it here. This looks like a good neighborhood to live in. I'm pretty sure that [building/high rise apartment] has elevators.Hmm. What do you think? Would you want to live here?

I give him a quizzical look and quickly addressed the fact that the thought has never crossed my mind. I mean seriously to move in with him is a huge thing, not only with my family. I panicked a little, tried to buy time by stalling with a, "why would you ask me? Why would my opinion matter?"

I mean, if we were hypothetically to live together, would you be okay with this area? What do you think? I'm asking your opinion. I mean, look. It's close to Downtown and the TTC, and it's more cost effective to actually move in together because you'd be able to save up for your nursing exam instead of worrying with paying the rent and all the bullshit crap your dad subjects you to paying. Plus, I know I want to be with you and actually hang out with you so moving in together satisfies those goals. 

He did have a valid argument and the proposal is tempting. However, I'm too much of a chickenshit to say yes because of the implications saying yes might mean for my family. My parents would either kill me or disown me. I don't even think Mum would understand even if she found out what has been happening recently with Pop and I. 

It's all about the money. He expects me to pay for every bloody bill in the house including rent! I mean, hello! I make between $600-800 before taxes so I don't have the capacity to actually do that. I have my Visa bill to worry about enough as it is. He expects me to pay for every bloody bill while he loafs around and just goes about the house as he pleases. Stupid lazy ass! And every one expects me to SAVE? How the fuck is that possible huh? Plus when I have company [i.e. le boyfriend] over he makes a huge fuss about it. What the fuck! Seriously, I can consider this my place because as earlier established I actually pay for the place: food, bills, rent, hydro - you name it, i pay for it. It's just under his name but it's my money. My hard-earned money that I get called on for whenever I go out on dates with le boyfriend.

I really want you to [move in]. I think I love you. I mean, I love spending time with you and hanging out. I love kissing you, snuggling with you, holding you close. I can't get enough of you.If this isn't love, then you tell me. I  do love you. Do you love me?

Then my heart goes on overdrive and I find myself absentmindedly nodding. What a relief to finally hear him say those words! Sometimes life surprises you and you're just right where you belong, in the safe and loving arms of someone who actually cares for you.

The L-Word

To be beloved is all I need,

And whom I love, I love indeed.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge(1772-1834)

How apt the quotation is for today. As usual, le boyfriend came over last night [as he had the previous nights, he's becoming quite a regular fixture in the house. I don't think Pop would've minded anyhow] and we were snuggling on the couch as we normally would, watching flicks from trusty old Mac. I fed him Pancit and Orange Chicken, well what's left of it anyway, for dinner as we cozied up once more and started talking. He is amazing, as boyfriends go but there's something about him that really stands out from the other dudes I've dated. With him, it's easy, effortless; he makes me feel comfortable to certain extent where I can be myself and not worry. Well, at least that's what he tells me although I still do tend to worry a lot. LOL. The comfort level between us has reached to a point where I feel like I could be completely honest with him. Heck, I even talk to him about my ambivalent thoughts towards Number 4. It sounds cruel I know, but he presses me to go on. He warrants complete honesty. No illusions or lies, but just honest brutal truth no matter how ugly or hurtful it is.

Last night though as he read the previous blog entry, I honestly thought he would get up and leave or get pissed about it. Instead he read it intently, calmly, looked at me straight in the eye and asked me, "do you want to know if I love you or not?" Caught offguard and surprised, I found myself staring dead straight and could not even look at him. I mean, all this time I thought he had reservations as to using the L-word and last night, I was proven wrong. He waited for my answer, took my hand and pressed it gently. I stalled for a while, thinking of a better way of putting things. He was waiting, so I finally caved and gave a weak, "yes?" His reply was unexpected. For a moment there, I actually sat motionless, still staring into dead space as I listened to the words that were coming out of his mouth. Open-mouthed, I think he was aware of how surprised I was and although his response wasn't perfect or what I wanted to hear, it was at the very least acceptable. There was a varying degree of truth in it.

He said he didn't know what LOVE is and that he could not tell whether or not what he felt toward me deserved the word. He continued by recounting that most of his fundamental years were spent watching TV and that his parents as busy as they were, weren't the best examples of it. He claims he grew up not knowing what constitutes love and how best to discern whether you love someone. He then reassured me that although he can't say that he loves me because he doesn't know what LOVE is, he knows these things for a fact: he loves being around me. If he could have his way, he'd be with me every day and night. He can't stop and won't kissing me. He wants me, needs me. If that doesn't merit love, then I don't know what is. 

The Veil Has Been Lifted

Once the illusion wears off only two things are bound to happen: either you wake up and discern reality was a far better place to be in or you fall flat, face first and realize what a stupid web you've found yourself tangled into. So which one would it be? After having the talk with A, and going through that last entry in Tabs, an epiphany burst forth and then there was clarity. As I pondered further last night, evaluating and reevaluating how far this thing [we have] has come, the realization hit me in the face so hard it knocked me off my feet. I had to lie down for quite some time before I could piece out the words. Okay, that may have sounded a tad dramatic, but I always seem to have a flair for that. LOL.

I think that whatever this thing is [with A], it's more loosely based on physical attraction. I'm not saying it's possible not to go further than that given a shared level of trust and intimacy, however, the chances of this transitioning into a full-blown relationship [in my terms] are slim. We have different sets of values and norms that govern our morals, but that isn't the issue here. I think it stems mostly from the fact that the North American culture has developed a widely prevalent stigma surrounding the use of the L-word. People living on this side of the pond have difficulty articulating and are very apprehensive about it, which is kind of ironic in itself because the displays of affection more often than not speak volumes of the emotion behind them, whether it be lust or love driving it. So, why is it difficult to tell rather than show? Verbalization is the key in any relationship, that's basically how we communicate. We speak and an exchange of thoughts occur. Mankind would not have survived if not for communication, let alone verbalization which is also the fundamental, very core of any language and culture. Alrighty. might have gone too intellectual on that front. Now, on to the topic. 

A relationship for me is more than physical attraction given that there is a shared level of intimacy surrounding it. With that being said, I cannot consider this thing we have as a relationship since there hasn't been any verbal declaration on both parties. We may use the labels boyfriend-girlfriend but unless there is some form of verbal declaration, then we are just exclusively dating and hold no claim whatsoever to each other. Saying those three words and eight letters is fairly easy in the Filipino culture, we articulate it more often than not whether we truly mean it or use it as some form of a cruel sick joke. My point is, we say it regardless and knowing all that, and your slight aversion to the topic on hand, made me think twice. Perhaps I've been hasty as well on this aspect, and a reevaluation must be warranted on my part.

(To be continued...)

Boyfriend-Girlfriend And The Exclusions

How weird is it that I find myself not so much into using labels to define the current relationship I have with A, and him wanting to take things a step further into exclusivity by using labels to delineate his territory? LOL. I don't know what's the matter with me and labels, I used to be so into them. Now, it feels like I've outgrown them or something. Or maybe, I'm just not in that stage yet where I feel the need and comfort to use such terms of endearment. I guess one could say that I've grown quite cynical to it given the string of unsuccessful relationships in the past. It's not so much about the exclusivity that unnerves me, rather the probability that this might end up badly and I've to regain a sense of self and rebuild my world. I want to avoid any complexity until I fully heal from the past hurt.

I hate to admit this, but I still think about and have dreams of Number 4. Like today, I woke up at 5:17 in the morning literally a few minutes prior to sunrise and the first thought that came to mind was him. Despite the current relationship status characterized by the easy-breezy nature I have with A, Number 4 seems to always pop in my head every so often. Nostalgia perhaps? I don't know. A has been such a sweetheart about it, he's been so gracious with the fact that it's okay for me to talk about it. He's amazing. I know you'll be reading this soon enough, now don't get cocky! 

I guess what I'm saying is, anxiety's getting the best of me. I'm at a point where I'm cowering and could not even muster to express how I truly feel. No, it's not compromising to an extent nor settling. I just feel like there's something vital missing in the relationship dynamic. Something which would elucidate things for me. Fuck. I can't even say it out loud. 

In Too Deep

Perturbed and I can't help feeling it's my fault. Last night, an altercation ensued between A and his dad because of my unwanted presence in the building. As ironic as it sounds, both of our dads are racially biased and could not tolerate our liking for one another. As Eric put it, a regular case of the Montagues and Capulets hating each other's guts. And the truth of the matter is, I don't actually know what to feel about it. What I can tell you though is that I feel really uncomfortable having to witness that last night and having A kicked out of the house because of his preference to hang out and date a non-Hindu girl. Don't get me wrong, I think it's kind of sweet the way he actually positioned things in regards to the way he feels towards me and his pop's racial biases, it's just a little too much. Again, as Eric has said infantile in the sense that it feels like getting way caught up into things over our head.

It is pretty noble, I must admit and the fact that we've only been going steady just under a month? It's kind of endearing. It makes me want to think that A's the real deal despite our inability to communicate which I must be accountable for. He adheres to a self inflicted dose of veracity where he'd rather hear the truth no matter how ugly, perverse or thwarted it may be, and that I love about him. He makes me want to believe that I am worthy enough to be taken care of, let alone get noticed. He makes me feel attractive and sexy, as he says I ought to be. Funny, isn't it? But for the first time, I actually feel my deflated self worth get back into shape; that somehow I've regained a sense of my own innate hotness. LOL. I am such a deluded moron.

A lot of events have taken place lately, mainly at work with the uneventual dismissal of our beloved TL Kamran with whom I've worked with from the good old RVG days to RRA. He was the best TL in the team and alwats rallied his troops through all the ups and downs in the campaign, and with him gone at Vox it just doesn't feel the same. I hate the way the upper echelon [which comprised by the way of blasted pompous arrogant pricks] handled the situation. An incident arose a day before that some leeches took advantage of and which poor Kam fell for. Four agents were suspended for miscoding calls and instead of appropriately punishing the concerned, the bloodsucking parasites fed on this opportunity to get ahead in terms of career advancement and gotten rid of Kam instead. It doesn't make any sense though, he wasn't even given due process. I feel for the fellow. And my TL sucks by the way, I hate him to the core because he is one helluva slave-driver. What an insensitive SOB, he held a pizza party literally the day after Kam was let go.

I know, I'm ranting here. Must also be because a lot of people have been leaving work. I mean, the longer I stay there, the crappier I feel about myself having to say that pretentious BS every single day just so huge corporations could milk people out of their hard-earned money. It sickens me. 

(To be continued...)

Going Steady And The Privileges It Entails

I'm happy. Well, not entirely but I'm glad to say that the recent status change has brought out a lot of the old me. I guess you haven't heard the news? We've managed to keep it hush-hush for some time now but I'm positive as soon as he walks in by Saturday, everyone's bound to notice the difference. So what's bothering me about it? Well for starters, the way A showers me with PDA [which I'm so opposed to, by the way] is a tad too much for my taste. PDA in reference to my culture meant some handholding and a few pecks [mouth or cheek, take your pick] involved but none of the groping and tongue-tugging kisses which seem to be the norm in western culture. Exclusively dating someone also entitles one a claim to certain privileges [sex, for example] that a naive virginal girl like me would find scandalously inappropriate, let alone give in to.

It's not that I don't like where we're going because I do like the fact that you're opening up to me after a year or so of total seclusion. The fact that you're sharing things with me, bits and pieces of your dark past mystifies me. Trusting me alone after getting to know me for just under 4 months is a huge step on your part. I understand that. It's just where we're heading to that scares me a little, knowing you're hoping to claim that privilege someday. Time and again you say you're not pressuring me. But as each day passes, the intensity and passion you put into those kisses grow exponentially. And I wouldn't want that. Sex isn't just sex for me. It actually means something because not only do you share yourself physically in the act, you're actually allowing yourself to be one with the other in a spiritual sense. Two becoming one, perfectly complementing the other in the act of complete submission. 

I guess what I'm saying is, the fact that you're looking forward to it scares me. It does. And as much as I like you, I could give NOT in to that. I'm not ready. Not at all. I'm not even going to use having been declined twice as an excuse. Sounds like a downer isn't it? Well, I suggest you take a step back and reconsider your options. You have plenty of time before we  get way in too deep.

Filipino vs. non-Filipino

I kind of get why Mum and Dad are totally against the idea of me dating non-Filipino men not only because of the huge culture clash [and no, that doesn't mean they're racially biased okay, Grammar-Nazi Eric and Amit?] but also because they're fully aware that it's a whole other different ball game here in Canada. They know that guys might [and will] take advantage of my naivete and innocence [?]. LOL.

I guess the apprehension mostly stems from the fact that both of my parents still see me as their little girl who needs a lot of protection, which is kind of sweet in a sense but their overbearing demeanor on the subject puts a damper on things. I love my parents though they may sometimes drive me mental with their stupid house rules. And I do appreciate the fact that at the ripe age of 22, they still feel the need to cushion me from every thing and every one else.

So that's that. Now, I shall attempt to discuss the difference between Filipino men and non-Filipino men with regards to dating. I've come across numerous articles in the Web pertaining to the subject and found that most tend to dwell on racist issues. There's this one article that I found very helpful. Here is an excerpt of that article.

I once dated a Filipino guy named Leonard and it was great. We dated for 3 1/2 years. He was sweet, romantic, considerate, and he really knew how to take care of me. Most importantly, my parents adored him. We met through our parents obviously. He was the ideal man, the kind every Filipino parent dreamed about. So why didn't things work out between us? Besides personal differences, our relationship was too perfect. It all came too easily for me, almost predictable. I know. I have a tendency to fuck things up but what's love without a little heat and passion? But that's an entirely different story. If I continued to stay with Leonard I knew where our relationship would go, how we would end up, and I was too young to find out. Two years from, we would have gotten married and had a very traditional Filipino wedding. We would have lived with my parents until we were financially settled and eventually have five kids named Boy, Baby, Ligaya, Roberto and Don Don. Then we would live the rest of our lives in routine, coming home from our lousy jobs to feed the kids. At the end of our day we would go to separate spaces while I watched my soap operas on YouTube. My husband would watch his karate DVDs and we would have no sex. From what I witness that's how most Filipino couples ended up. If that's what was in store for me, I didn't want to be part of that relationship.

But after dating Leonard, I never realized how simple it was to be with a Filipino man. I found that dating Asian or Filipino men were easier. What I meant by easier was that there's less to work with. Asian men are familiar with the unspoken rules of our culture. You don't have to remind them to take their shoes off when they walk into somebody's home. They'll immediately greet my parents and relatives when I take them to family gatherings. They know to call my parent "Tita" and "Tito" rather than their last names because it's more respectful...

Asian men are similar to trained puppy dogs. They're cute and obedient. Everybody loves them. Who wouldn't love a guy who already knows all the rules without having to remind them what they are? It's one less thing you have to worry about and it makes life so much easier, but highly predictable and more or less boring.

I totally agree especially with the part about taking the shoes off when you enter the house. It's a huge part of our culture, a golden rule per se when you are welcomed into any Asian home. Just the way it is. However, they can get pretty predictable and very territorial [well, most of the guys I've dated] to some degree. And that is where the argument is presented. Asian men tend to adhere to a state of constancy; they like doing things in a customary way. 

Non-Asian men however are different. How did I come about this conclusion, you ask? The premise is that non-Asian men, non-Filipino to be exact tend to be more aggressive and forthright about every thing. They most usually say whatever they want without a care in the world what people would think. They're brash, dangerous and fun. A hell of a lot fun to be with, if you ask me. I must admit though that I have yet to comprehend the psyche of non-Asian men. And for this purpose, issues about interracial dating [stereotypes] come up.

Interracial dating is a difficult subject to broach to my parents especially my dad who is quite figuratively born yesterday and has only one viewpoint on the matter: his. Mum is much more lenient on this issue but nevertheless shares Dad's trepidation about the whole thing. Both simply dread the day I bring home a non-Filipino dude. I'm pretty sure they'll disown me; Dad would. LOL. I remember one time Mum got all hysterical and called me on my more-than-the-usual-going-out habits and told me to take necessary precautions [?] whenever out with people [and by people, she meant non-Filipinos] inciting my distant cousins as examples of what to avoid. I love my Mum but she can sometimes get at par with Dad for being hands down ridiculous. LOL.

The contention of this comparison to begin with is not only to address the cultural differences present in every facet of society, especially in a diversified dating community such as that in Toronto, but to also try to elucidate further my parents' standpoint on the matter at hand. This post does not seek to make racist judgements, nor does it seek to confine one's assumption on the matter. This is merely my take on interracial dating and what it means to my family.