The Ugly Truth

On a first conventional date or in conversations leading to future romantic involvements, it’s almost a stencil for partners to ask questions about past relationships. I personally, dread answering anything of such manner. I don’t recall answering any of these questions directly. Why do people even ask such questions? Isn’t it a bit too personal to reveal on the first date? How about waiting a year or two to get that touchy?


“How many relationships have you had?”
Ermmm…. Do flings that last longer than actual relationships count? Do relationships that last for less than a month count? How bout boys I dated that I denied dating? Oh, or the boys that took the best of my commitment phobia out of me?


“When was your last relationship?”
Ermmmm….. Does the four months trying-to-break-up count as me being in the relationship? Once again, are they asking about my “relationship-relationship” or are they just referring to my relationships? Hmm…..how bout defining “relationship” for me please?


“Why did you end things?”
Ermmm……….should I be up front with my commitment phob? Is it ethically okey to break up with someone because he was clingy? How do I explain things like : My ex-boyfriend tried to jump off my balcony every time I tried to end things” or I hated the way the dude numbered everything he said or “My ex-boyfriend thought that he was the son of god/ Archangel Michael’s evil twin brother/ the fallen angel put on earth to save the earth from dooms day in the year 2012, and that I was the chosen one to bare his child that will be the next messiah on earth … HOW???


When I sense the conversation heading that way, I usually change the subject. And to shut the persistent ones up, I slash off a couple of people from my “ex-boyfriend” list according to the numbers that made it to my “real relationships” list… which is approximately in the region of four…maybe.


I never ask questions related to relationships, and I try to avid this conversation for as long as possible, stretching it to the last thread. In fact, I refrain from even mentioning the “R” word. If I were to psychoanalyze myself, I would say that I have inner fears, and somewhere deep down inside, I am subconsciously anxious about being the second best, or knowing that my date is still hung up on some other chick, or worse, he got dumped by the woman that he loved. To the contrary, I’d rather date a dumper than a dumped for two reasons; he didn’t really fancy the girl that much, plus, if he has a history of dumping people- that could mean that he has a commitment phobia- which could mean that the future relationship wouldn’t last that long- which is perfect!, in most instances.


I rate the depth of my relationships by its duration. If it lasts for more than six months, there must be some sort of heart involved in it, meaningggggggggggg….it's kinda about time to talk about the past relationships, as part of the whole “getting to know each other better” thingy. So now, all the bits and pieces of random mentions come together to form a jigsaw puzzle. We finally know. The only problem is, I haven’t seen the actors in the play…. and that jigsaw puzzle I mentioned, it kinda looks like a perfect painting that only God could have painted. Gorgeous looking women with never ending legs dancing away with my man under the moonlight; beautiful lustrous hair on a face with dimples having a picnic in the park with the sunray shining on her milky skin, women that sing with angel voices and write poetry for my man, endless joy and laughter and over pouring love beaming through their smiles. Nothing near to the truth….or is it??


This isn’t the illusion of insanity; this is bang your head on the hard wall nuts! Mystery sucks, it really fucks with your mind. So the question is, do I really have to know to get to know the person better? How bad a policy is “you are what you are now”? This might just be me justifying myself, but I don’t think you should judge someone based on their past relationship. I guess that works for me, in many ways. Not knowing leads to not comparing which leads to you just being you, and not trying to live up to some picture perfect image of “the best girlfriend he has ever had”.

Your betrayal, your deceit,
So carefully planned; right from the start,
So flawlessly executed; all the way through,
So much hurt anticipated; right to the end,
Nothing else seemed real, except for the lies.

Your betrayal, your deceit,
It’s an emotional ambush,
Effortlessly explained, hastily forgotten,
Is it yours, or is it my denial?

Your betrayal, your deceit,
Wrapped itself in sympathy, stole itself forgiveness,
With a promise of a dawn of a new day,
And a pledged to make it right again,
A mission for a journey to what it was.

It is the empathy that you take for granted,
When you described your soul to me,
It was the trust that you befooled,
When your were reborn in my eyes again,
Your regret embraced, forgiveness showered,
But yet, your promise lingers.

New Year with a pop!!

It’s my first day of work and I’m taking this few minutes to share with you a pick from the top of my mind. Honestly, its been on top of my mind for the past two days. Every time i fly into a "normal" mode, i think of the incident and i start blushing. OMG.

BLUSHHHHH*

Two days ago, about 9 of us from the office including Kat J gathered for a pool/ house party. They day went on great; it was lovely and all. There were much wine and alcohol going around, which nobody really hesitated to consume. Kat and i had our own concoction of a cocktail called "fuck it". We downed our “fuck its” with full of gusto, much needed gusto, before discovering a new cocktail called “I don’t know what the fuck that is”. .

Time passed by joyously, and the herd decided to move to the pool. I put on my pink little bikini and jumped into the pool along with Leon and two other (most adorablestttt in the whole wide world) volunteers from the office. The swim was quite a splash. Like first time guppies in the water, we quickly swam towards the water slide. We queued in one by one, and did a belly toss down the slide. I was the last to go.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeeee......plop!!!

The water below was barely four feet high. I got up to get my balance, as I starred at the others to get approval of my "amazing" belly toss. I looked straight ahead at the others and I saw a mortified look on one of the volunteers face, and he, looked at me with his hands on his man boobs, saying "FIX it !". My natural reaction was "Huh???". "Fix what?" I asked. Then he repeated himself, "FIX IT" !!, pointing to his boob again.

I looked down my chest, and there it was... my shameless nipple against the shimmer of my pink bikini, popping out of the bikini top. I hastily pulled up my bikini, and avoided all eye contact. I contemplated keeping the story to myself, but I had to explain my “suddenly-weird behavior” to the boyfriend. Instead of some support to the local voyeur, I think I made his day to his funny bone.

To avoid further awkwardness, I came clean and laughed about It along with the others. I felt like dying. I tried to convince Kat to kinda flash one of her nipples as a test of friendship. I still wish she had….

So here I am, sitting. Dreading the walk of shame as I procrastinate collecting my monthly salary with the fear that I might bump into “the –one- that- saw- IT”. The morning kinda completed itself as my colleagues decided to fill Charlene in on my “wardrobe malfunction” as they would call it.

So…I guess , my new year kinda started with a “pop”. The Big Guy didn’t bother to spare me for the new year. I hope it dusnt pave my luck for the rest of the year.