Intimate dinners over big parties

December is still the most wonderful month for me. Since my social life is not as crazy-colorful as it was a decade or so ago, the very few parties and dinners become somewhat a good reason to pause for a moment and enjoy the happy season.

It was a Friday the 13th holiday party for our company this year.

Compared to previous years when I’d, in fact, bother with what to wear and would almost always come in a cocktail dress—I decided to go casual this year by wearing just a red top, skinny jeans and nude, pointed heels.

My decision to chill out this year was the realization that after the party itself, I don’t get another chance to wear my semi-formal pieces again since I hardly go out and socialize. All those dresses end up inside my closet waiting for another chance to strut in them again.

I think going casual this year was just okay; I still got compliments on how sexy gorgeous slim I looked but perhaps only because people hardly see me wear heels and tight-fitting jeans these days.

I have become your typical manang, I guess.

I’ve been attending corporate parties since I started working 22 long years ago and it made me realize that partying—like dating, is no longer this tita’s cup of tea.

Not that I’ve always been a perpetual bore. I have my wild party days, believe it or not. I would skip work to go clubbing and partying till the wee hours. There was even a time when my mother got so mad and would not speak to me for days after I got home reeking of alcohol one morning.

Right now it’s kinda hard to imagine I even went through that phase.

I’ve already hit what others call “social menopause” wherein the things I consider fun many years ago are not so fun anymore. It’s not that I have become a recluse because I was still taking pictures with friends and officemates during our holiday party, but unlike before I no longer go from table to table like some social butterfly.

I also liked it better just sitting and watching people than be with the twenty/thirty-somethings on the dancefloor. The loud thumping of the gigantic speakers plus the strobe lights is giving this old lady a slight headache.

I tell you, if not for the major raffle which they deliberately held off till 11PM, I would have gone home and tucked in early.

Alas, still no luck on any of the raffle prizes (which includes a trip to Japan and Maldives) so as soon as the raffle ended, my brother and I jumped on the shuttle service and called it a night.

Big parties exhaust me. It was more effort than it was worth.

***

I may no longer like big parties, but I still love intimate dinners.

I met with my BFFs for our annual wishlist reveal last Saturday. The four of us have been doing this gift-giving tradition for many years now and it’s something that we’d likely do until such time that we’re already handing out our senior discount cards.

The whole time, I thought we’d be having it at NIU by Vikings in SM Aura, so I was already there by 5:30 PM. When I checked on our group chat again, I realized it was actually at the other NIU branch which is at The Podium in Ortigas!

For a moment I’d like to take a rain check because there were hordes of people waiting for a ride by the entrance of SM Aura. If you knew how bad the traffic could get on a Saturday, you’d definitely be less enthusiastic to go anywhere that would require you to travel via EDSA. (Which is why I demanded that for the next year, I’d get to choose the venue—HA!)

Then again, a part of me wanted to go and see my friends because I haven’t seen any of them for a year. Besides, we have been planning for the wishlist reveal for months and I think I’d regret it very much if I don’t come.

By some cosmic miracle, I was able to book a Grab, albeit the unreasonably high fare, and got there just in time at 7PM.

Even if we only see each other once or twice a year if we’re lucky, expect that we’d compensate that through hours of tsismisan and catching up. I mean, what better way to do that but over unlimited food and drinks?

I also got a free cake and a giddy birthday song from my friends.

Four hours just went swooshing by and before I know it it's already almost 11 PM! I have enjoyed the night so much it made me lose track of the time.

I couldn’t help but compare how I was itching to go home the night before during our company party, and how I’d like so much to stay for another cup of coffee with my friends.

You can blame aging for this but I would choose an intimate, sit-down dinner with friends any day than partying with so many people.

I Could Not Ask For More

It was my 43rd birthday Friday last week. As with all birthdays, I took a four-day leave because I never liked working on my day as I feel I’m giving myself a great disservice when I do. Not to sound dramatic, but birthdays for me is very sacred.

It wasn’t as eventful as the previous years where my family and I would eat out, or when I spend it with friends over dinner. I didn’t even bother booking a staycation when I could have easily used my employee rate at one of our hotels. Nevertheless, it was one of my better birthdays as I spent the early part of the day with the Lord and by myself, while the latter part I was with the people who mattered.

Actually, my own birthday plans started last Thursday after work, when out of the blue I just thought of watching the new Chris Evans movie, Knives Out, alone at Greenbelt — which, by the way, is fun to watch for a murder mystery buff like me. Admittedly at first, I wanted to watch it only because of Chris, but the movie surprisingly was cleverly entertaining as it’s not your regular whodunit movie. No wonder it received good reviews.

After the movie, I went to the mall and bought something to wear for my birthday. I know that sounds like a five-year-old who must have new clothes for such an occasion, but heck, I actually did a little shopping for myself.

When I got home, I saw this gift lying on my bed which reads: Vayie, Happy birthday from Steve Rogers which was obviously in my older brother’s handwriting. It was quite heavy and even if I was excited to open it, I thought it would be best to do it on the day itself.

I was up early the next day like it was a usual workday. I read the first few birthday greetings on Facebook and Instagram which is always fun (Although part of me wonders how many of them really knew if Facebook hadn’t notified them. But hey—not complaining. I’m just happy to get a greeting).

I opened my kuya’s birthday present and I was particularly thrilled to see it’s a 1/6th scale Captain America collectible figure! He knew me too well to not give me clothes, bags or other girly stuff. And he knows the Captain America version I actually like the most! Happy sister, here.

Mommy, also an early riser, was the first family member to ever greet me and then she offered me coffee which I happily obliged. By 6:30 AM I was already on my way to Greenbelt Chapel for the early morning mass at 7:15 AM.

When I got there, I remembered that it’s also the First Friday of the month so there are more parishioners than the usual morning mass. I know saying this may sound hypocritical because I have missed quite a few birthday masses in the past, but this year reminded me how one must begin every birthday — thanking the Lord for another year of life full of blessings, grace and hope.

I no longer remember the last time I had communion; if I’m not mistaken probably more than ten years—and I have my reasons why. Finally, after a long time, I had one and it almost brought me to tears.

The mass ended a little over 8:00 AM and most establishments are still closed. This is absolutely my favorite time to get a coffee—when Starbucks has just opened and is not yet cramped with people. They gave me a slice of blueberry cheesecake for my birthday treat so I only have to pay for the caramel macchiato and mixed sandwiches (Aren’t birthday freebies cool?).

I chose a good spot outside, put my feet up on another chair, and just relaxed and enjoyed my coffee. I continued replying to all the birthday messages I’ve been getting, until it got so many I no longer able to keep up (presbyopia sucks!). Let it be known to those who have bothered to greet me, that the warm greetings put a sweet smile on my face.

The weather that morning was nippy, which added to the overall relaxing feel. There were quite a few people passing by and going by their usual routine, but still, it’s just the right amount of tranquility for me. I’ve always been a solitary person so sitting and watching people is something I revel.

I love it when I am inside my own rabbit hole; when I’m left alone with my thoughts. I don’t get this much peace on regular days when it’s all noisy and busy and chaotic so I took pleasure with it. Having my caramel macchiato just the way I wanted it (with two Splenda) and a bite of the blueberry cheesecake which I got for free, added a boost to my endorphins.

About an hour later, I got a video call from my younger brother saying my nephew, Liam, wanted to greet me (my nephews were still sleeping when I left so I didn’t get any greetings from them earlier). I tell you — it was one of the best video calls I had so far.

I stayed at Starbucks for almost two hours and waited for the mall to open to do some quick shopping. I got home before lunch to rest for a while and change. I promised my nephews I’ll bring them to DreamPlay, which is a DreamWorks movies-inspired play center for kids located in City of Dreams Manila. Good thing that my older brother is also on leave, so he was able to accompany me and the kids.

Nothing beats that happy feeling seeing my nephews having a great time. Never mind if my brother and I paid the full admission price just to practically babysit the two — especially that it wasn’t cheap for a play center — because when I saw the twinkle in Gavin’s eyes and how loud Liam laughed as he played with the other kids, it’s all worth it.

The day ended with a little dinner at home. My nephews offered another birthday song for their tita and blew the candle with me.

Nothing much I know, but it was an awesome birthday nonetheless. It made me realize that as I get older, I no longer wanted to bust out birthday dinners or noisy parties. I don’t have to entertain guests and please them. I don’t even have to bother much about the details and the other stuff. I just wanted to spend some time with myself and with the people I love. Spending a part of it alone is not bad at all because I got to do the things I like to do.

I am just thankful for the people around me especially my family for being there.

I could not ask for more.

Hooray for the bidet!

It’s always discussed during Townhall meetings how our Center Director had been requesting our building administration if we can have bidets in our restrooms. We were allowed one bidet per restroom—but I guess our director persisted because just over the weekend, our facilities installed handheld bidets (Shattaf sprayers) on all of our cubicles!

My earliest memory of a bidet was at around 8 or 9 years old when I stayed at a cousin’s house (actually a cousin’s cousin) for the weekend. I noticed this slim tube attachment with a small valve and a nozzle on the side of their toilet bowl. When I turned it, projectile water came splashing directly to my face. Realizing what it’s for, I thought even then that it was a nifty idea.

Bidet installation is something that is often dropped because it requires additional plumbing. Add that to the water shortages that we experience every now and then. This is the reason why only a small percentage of establishments opt to have it on their restrooms. Most of us are left with no other choice but to use the next best (but very economical) alternative: The tabo (dipper).

However, even if it’s a fixture on most Filipino homes, public restrooms don’t usually provide tabo; sometimes not even clean water. You’d be lucky to even have a toilet paper available.

For this reason, I always bring wet wipes just in case. It is unsettling for me to do the number two and just wipe with a toilet paper. C’mon— if you accidentally touched crap will you just wipe it with a tissue? I don’t think so!

The thing with wet wipes—no matter how much they claim they're hypoallergenic—is that it can be irritating to our nether region.

Nothing beats that feeling when you are able to “release” and wash after. Personally, even wiping after peeing is just not enough because I don’t feel very clean.

And don’t get me started when it’s our time of the month! Washing when changing pads is a must and you can’t do that just by merely wiping as microbes can cause itching and infections like UTI.

This is why since that first bidet that was installed inside the WC cubicle of our restroom, I’ve always been one who’d wait for my turn for it even if the other cubicles are available. I feel that it’s just one of the few things that make everyday life a lot better.

And I know I’m not alone. Bidets are becoming popular that it might as well be mandatory on all public restrooms especially those that are found in the malls, terminal, train stations, gasoline stops, etc. It should not be just limited to upscale establishments because toilet hygiene is for everybody. 

Save it for another day

As I write this post, the Philippines is leading the Southeast Asian games medal tally. Something to be proud of, really, for Filipinos not just here in the Philippines but also overseas.

This is refreshing news after weeks of controversy over the ₱50-million cauldron, the complaints of unfinished venues and media center, issues in logistics and lack of provisions for both local and foreign athletes, participants being removed from the games for voicing out irregularities, etc.

While this was all going on, supporters of the administration were quick to defend the committee handling the games. It got irritating how some of them say that all of these are just attempts to put down the current administration, even if the complaints were pretty obvious as it came from the foreign delegates and athletes.

The other side has not stopped as well.

The 2019 Southeast Asian Games opening ceremony last Saturday, which was met with mostly good reviews and comments, was still not spared by a few who just can’t seem to set aside their political agenda for once to appreciate it. A writer described it like “perya” (tacky circus) and suggested they could have ballet dancers perform instead.

Supporters of President Duterte and the opposition (Liberal Party) were both having it on social media, throwing shade at each other and it already got so toxic I can’t even begin to describe it. It’s sad that respected news outlets and journalists had played their hand too; some of them would only report based on their personal biases.

I don’t think this is going to stop anytime soon because it’s all about propaganda. Now more than ever, it’s pretty easy to spread fake news, hate, and criticism because of social media. Even if fact-checking these days is easier and should be the first thing one should do, we all have gotten too lazy that we just impulsively react and share what we see.

But if you want to remain sane these days, then you should stay away from such discourse. This is the very reason I hardly join in on debates online or allow myself to get triggered by nasty headlines. Aside from the fact that I am neither pro-Duterte nor pro-LP, fighting over it will only be a waste of my time and energy.

I’m willing to bet that there are even some who hope that the games will fail, but let us not forget that the success of the SEA Games is the country’s success too. If it fails, it’s not only the Duterte administration that would go down, but the Philippines as well.

There’s nothing wrong with having a political stance but I believe there is a right time for everything. At the moment, what’s best is to set aside the differences and be pro-Filipino more than anything else. We should all stop the bickering on social media and just give our all-out support to our athletes, not to any political party.

Make no mistake though—after the games, I think it’s only right to order an audit on the expenses and investigation on some of the lapses that happened. If this government wanted faith from their people and at the same time silence their critics (if that will ever happen), then transparency is the way to go.

Until then let’s all WIN AS ONE.

Grateful Heart

Except if you’re a Filipino living in the States, Pinoys generally don’t observe Thanksgiving. For me at least, I’ve only been directly affected by that American holiday when I worked for an inbound call center more than a decade ago. It’s one of those rare times of the year when reps rejoice because of the low call volume.

A relative in the US told me that Thanksgiving Day, which is celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November, is a big deal for most Americans as Christmas Day would be for us Filipinos. Families gather together for a Thanksgiving feast of large roast turkey with stuffing and cranberry sauce. They usually have enough leftovers to last them for many days, that people in the office and in school would get sick of eating turkey in sandwiches, salads, casserole, pie, etc.

Another one of their age-old traditions is watching the NYC Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade in the morning and the NFL in mid-afternoon.

After which they wait for Black Friday, the Friday following Thanksgiving Day. It’s the official start of the Christmas shopping season where many retail stores are on sale. I heard how a lot of people would camp out the stores to get the first dibs on the sale items. In recent years, Cyber Monday became a thing. It’s the Monday following Thanksgiving when retailers encourage people to shop online, to probably prevent frantic shoppers from raiding the stores on Black Friday.

“Parang mga baliw!” (They’re crazy!) — an older cousin (who had been in the US since the late `70s) once said, obviously not one to risk stampede for sale items.

***

While it all sounds like fun to me, it’s not like we’re missing out on anything just because we don’t have Thanksgiving. We have our own traditions worth mentioning.

If it’s just about spending time with family and friends over food, we have Noche Buena, Medya Noche and town fiestas for that.

If it’s about dashing to stores for sale, duh—we have that too. Make that all weekends from the beginning of ‘-ber’ months.

Turkey? I bet lechon is waaaay better.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not being a Thanksgiving grinch here like Chandler Bing. I’m not even going to burst your festive bubble by telling you about the genocide and slaughter behind the commemoration of this holiday. Instead, I’m here more to say that whether we celebrate it or not, one thing rings true: We should always focus on giving thanks for all our blessings.

My heart is full of gratitude that every day for me is actually Thanksgiving Day. No matter how tough circumstances may have been for me at times, I begin and end my day thanking the Lord for all the blessings, graces, lessons, hope and even trials that He gives me. Thanksgiving is not just for answered prayers because I know how some unanswered prayers lead us to a better way based on His grand plan.   

Remember: A grateful heart is a happy and contented heart.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Infinity plus 1

I woke up to sad news this morning. My former Math teacher and class adviser in junior high school passed away.

The details of his passing are still unclear as of this writing. From what I initially heard, his body is already showing early signs of decomposition because he had been dead for 2-3 days when he was found inside his condo unit.

This teacher was notorious for being strict. Unfortunately for me who’s struggling in his subject, he’s never short on the insults and the name-calling. I will never forget how he once threatened me; that he’ll throw a stapler right smack on my forehead because I was having a hard time solving an equation on the blackboard. (Do that at this day and age, and that will be enough to get him to Raffy Tulfo’s show.)

Except for when I was already in college, I was never, ever a teacher’s pet. When I look back and think about why some teachers didn’t like me back in high school, I honestly can’t find a justifiable reason. I mean — I know I might have been talkative in class, but I was never rowdy or unruly; I might have been a slacker at times, but I was never irresponsible; it may look like I was cold and indifferent, but I was never disrespectful.

Maybe it has something to do with how I come off to them. Perhaps it’s my overall mien that made me somewhat unlikeable to some members of the faculty. 

Then again, compared to other teachers who hated me just because, sir would only lose his cool on me during his class. And I really can’t blame him if he flips out on me. My brain cells usually go kaput when I am asked to solve an equation in front of the class.

I understand even then that his anger is more of frustration, especially when he knew I am pretty good at most of my subjects (and an academic scholar even). When the bell rings signaling the end of his class, nothing becomes personal. As a matter of fact, he’s particularly nice and fair to me. 

This sets him apart from the other teachers who resort to berating a pupil beyond the usual teacher-student interaction. Bully teachers criticize you not because you are struggling on the subject or for having bad behavior, but just because he or she doesn’t like you.  

I see nothing wrong with having a strict teacher if the purpose is to build up the student to be better. That’s how sir was to me. His approach may be to instill fear but it worked in earning my respect. It’s no wonder why despite his notoriety, he is well-loved by his former students.

Through infinity, sir. Rest in Peace. 

Potent

If you openly cough and sneeze around me without covering your mouth and nose, know that I will let you see that I’ll cover mine. I will let you know I’m utterly disgusted; I will let you feel that IT’S NOT OKAY.

Simply put, why would I even care if you get offended when you were the one who’s reckless and insensitive in the first place?

I took a jeepney ride to work one morning. This lady seated next to me had been coughing and she didn’t even bother to cover her freakin' mouth. Not an “excuse me” even. She just hacked for a good two minutes like she’s a cough and cold machine indiscriminately firing virus at us.

Because the jeepney is almost packed, the most I can do is to shift in my seat, take out my handkerchief (I always have one) and cover my mouth. The lady noticed my uneasiness and my not-so-amused face, but that didn’t stop her from barking some more. I seriously think she’s well aware that I’m bothered based on my disapproving looks, but I think part of her wanted to be stubborn and show me (or us) that she can be obnoxious and she doesn’t care.

I was so baffled at her lack of concern for the people around her in such a cramped space, to think that she looks like an employee in one of the buildings in Makati, so I assume she’s educated. I mean, where is her etiquette?  Even my four-year-old nephew, with his short limbs, knows how to cough inside of his elbows.   

***

I don’t get sick very often, but early this year, after watching the Chinese New Year festivities in Binondo, I caught one of the worst cough and flu ever (that is, even if I get the yearly flu vaccine). It was so bad it took me several weeks before I can fully recover.

I believe I got it after using a crowded public restroom inside Lucky Chinatown mall. I remember that while waiting, there’s this lady behind me who had been sniffing and coughing. As it looked like she’s a senior, I let her use the toilet first and then followed shortly afterward. 

Use your imagination.

I’m one who washes her hands thoroughly after every trip to the loo, but maybe the virus that got me (or I got) was airborne. Just thinking of this made me wonder how many ended up with the same symptoms considering that there’s so many of us in that very crowded room.

Infectious diseases unheard of decades ago, are on the rise. Viruses are more potent; outbreaks have been very common that some are even fatal. I go home to two little kids and an almost octogenarian mother. I don’t want to be a carrier of a virus that I may likely pass to them.

It’s hard enough to get sick but at least I have leaves that I can use and I have a comprehensive health plan paid for by my company. But that’s not the case for some of my other family members. If they get sick, it would spell a lot of trouble. And I’m not just talking about the hospitalization and medication costs, but more about their overall well-being.

So yes. You can call me squeamish or “maarte”, but if you don’t take steps in making sure that we won’t get what you have, be ready to see the disgust on my face. If you even dare call me out for behaving as such, then be prepared to hear my bitchy tirade on why I think you don’t have basic manners.     

And you can be sure I practice what I preach. When I have the colds or flu, especially if it’s severe, I call in sick and stay home. I don’t take mass public transport. If I’m well enough to come to the office but still coughing and having the sniffles, I make sure I have my face mask on, a bottle of alcohol and wipes within arm’s reach.

I keep my distance. When they get close enough, I let them know that I’m sick and I don’t want them to catch what I have. In short, I care for the people around me. So much so that I do the necessary measures to make sure I won’t transmit what I have.

Sadly, not everyone thinks the same. There are people who — when they feel miserable and sick — would like others to feel it too. These are the kind of people I would gladly punch in the face if I could.

Levels

I’d like to think years of one’s life as “levels” in a game. The higher the level, the higher the character progress — every level unlocked, the more badass you become. When you think of years as levels, it can take off that terrifying feeling one would normally have as he or she approaches another birthday. Your age — to put it simply, becomes some badge of honor.

I am about to unlock Level 43 of life in a few days. As far as badasses go, I think I have paid my dues and can already consider myself much better than when I was younger in handling whatever life hurls at me. I am at a point where I am the best version of myself.

For one, I stopped giving a f*** about many things. People who knew me since my early twenties can vouch that I was one who worries, complains and reacts too much about practically everything. I tend to burden myself with trivial things that don’t matter; I get triggered by current issues, social media posts, perceived inconveniences, and off-putting remarks.

Now, I hardly react impulsively. Even if I have an opinion on most things, I learned that it’s not always necessary to let people know about it. I have gotten calmer and more at peace with things that would otherwise provoke me before. I hardly participate in casual debates and arguments because I feel it’s no longer worth my time and energy. I’m getting too old for drama and petty issues.

On the contrary, while I may not volunteer my thoughts and views that much anymore (especially on social media platforms), but I developed a shorter wick when it comes to dealing with people with an attitude. Now more than ever, I have no reservations when calling out belligerent drivers, rude service crew, nasty coworker, etc. 

Let’s just say that I now know when to shut up as much I know when to speak up.

Like, how just recently, I confronted an officemate who told a friend of mine that I applied for a newly-opened position but didn’t make it. She even had the nerve to assume why I *didn’t* get it. If this happened to me before, I would just have chuckled it, to keep the peace, especially that the rumor wasn’t true anyway (not true as in I haven’t applied for any position for about four years now). But now I can’t seem to let something malicious like that to pass without me telling her that it’s not okay.

This may sound arrogant, but I also stopped striving to be liked. I have accepted that no matter what good I do, there will always be people who won’t like me. By taking this to heart, I stopped doing the extra mile just to please others. With it, I no longer need to explain myself all the time.

For most of my life, all I wanted was to get along with everybody. I cared so much how people see me, so I put up with a lot of things including bad behavior and treatment towards me. I even compromised my own beliefs and values in the process. When I hit forty, that went away. I have stopped making all the adjustments just to get other people’s approval. It has become more of love me or hate me and whichever they choose is just fine with me.

I have distanced myself from a lot of people who no longer serve me. I’ve learned to set boundaries because I finally now know what I want and what I deserve. After all, I always believed that how you are treated by people depends on what you allow them. Right now, the total number of people taking advantage of me is reduced to zero.

Don’t mistake these realizations as apathy. If for anything, it made me value the people who matter, however few. I nurture the real relationships I have remaining;  I have realized the importance of quality over quantity especially when it comes to friendship. I may have very few friends but I know that they are the best.

Not giving too much f*** made me more forgiving; to not hold grudges against people who wronged me. I no longer dwell on the things I lost—or of the past. When one accepts that people and things change, gratitude is easier.

Almost instantly, I have also become more forgiving of myself. I used to beat myself up for all the mistakes and failures I have in the past, including the wrong people I let in my life. That’s the thing about forgiveness: If you can forgive other people, you become as compassionate to yourself. It can become a part of one’s self-healing.

I also no longer compare myself to others and have accepted that we live different lives and timelines. That we have different priorities and opportunities. In reality, no one can really dictate how one should live another’s life. Some marry by 25, others by 45; some can get their dream jobs at 30, while some start their own business by 60. If I time my life based on how my contemporaries are doing, I would only be resenting my own existence. It’s also good to know that not everything I see on Facebook and IG is real and must be envied. After all, most of us post only the good stuff we want others to see.

But the most surprising lesson I learned about the accumulation of years is the understanding that I still have a lot to learn  — as opposed to what others think that age gives you the superciliousness of being an insufferable know-it-all. If for anything, getting by these levels humbled me a great deal. I have become more self-aware to realize I wasn’t the hotshot that I thought I was—and that it’s okay.

While being forty doesn’t make me an expert about life in general, it’s good that I’m learning a lot as I go through my fourth decade. Every year there’s something I view differently and it’s refreshing.

I believe that aging, so much so like death, is a debt we all pay. One day the physical and physiological changes will get the best of me. Time will come when I can no longer use the phrase“Older and wiser” any more than “Older and weaker”. Maybe when my cognitive deterioration starts, I’d probably morph to the grumpiest version of myself.

But until then, unlocking levels doesn’t sound that bad, right?

Stockholm Syndrome

When it comes to musical preference, I am what some would call “eclectic”. Although I’m partial to songs that came out around the '80s, saying that it’s my only predilection when it comes to music would be incorrect.

Mamma Mia! movies had been showing on cable and I always watch it every time it’s on. It got me playing my ABBA playlist on Spotify these days that early morning hours in the office are more bearable with the Swedish Pop quartet ringing in my ears.

It may be an acquired taste, but ABBA for me is one of the best acts to ever graced popular music. Benny and Björn wrote great songs and both Frida and Agnetha sang it amazingly well.

I grew up listening to my mom’s cassette tapes of this group so I was pretty much exposed. Mommy said they were two married couples who’re already separated (rumors of partner-swapping actually came out after); why I was told that trivia snippet at the tender age of five or six, I would never know.

For me to remember then who’s married to who—at least when looking at this cassette cover—I refer to the hair color: Brunette to brunette, blond to blonde. Now I know of course it’s Benny (the one with the beard) and Frida (dark hair), Björn (the guy with bangs decades before Beiber even did) and Agnetha (typical Nordic blonde).

L-R: Björn Ulvæus, Agnetha Fältskog, Anni-Frid "Frida" Lyngstad and Benny Andersson

I thought then that I only liked them because of my parents’ influence. It was only when I was in my teens that I realized that my bias had nothing to do with sentimentality or nostalgia—I really think they’re great.

But they are not the Beatles; they aren’t the epitome of cool. So I admit to being a closeted ABBA fan for most of my High School years, enjoying their songs in the privacy of my home where I was with the presence of fellow ABBA fans who will not look down on me for my choice of songs. If for anything, I’d usually sing “Take A Chance On Me” with my younger brother (he’d do the “Take a chance, take a chance, take a-take a chance-chance.”-part).

So I can understand why most people would have their prejudices. There’s the very '70s glam-rock, disco-pop vibe (just watch their music videos on YouTube with them wearing dated polyester pantsuits and platform boots and prepare to cringe). Their choice of instruments like marimba, flugelhorns, tambourine, and maracas was not everyone’s cup of tea. There’s so much hate for ABBA out there you’d think they’re the worst.

It’s no secret that the band broke up in the early '80s; a sad aftermath of their marriages crumbling. By then, punk, progressive rock, synth-pop and new wave dominated the scene while disco-pop/glam rock took the backseat. People who were born after those years naturally weren’t as exposed as I was and didn’t know much about them (except maybe as the group who sang the videoke and gay bar drags staple, “Dancing Queen”).

***

Good thing the film versions opened a new demographic as now I can hear the younger generation actually singing and liking their songs. My nephews, for instance, can sing most of their songs even without us forcing them to like it. Gavin finds “Voulez-Vouz” catchy that I caught him singing it. The smaller one, Liam, goes in a trance when he sees the “Mamma Mia!” and “Super Trouper” music videos.

Even then I knew quite a number of ABBA songs even the obscure ones. Some of the not-so-known ABBA songs I unabashedly love include “Love Isn't Easy (But It Sure Is Hard Enough)”, “I Wonder (Departure)”, “Nina, Pretty Ballerina”, “People Need Love” and “Dance (While the Music Still Goes On)”.

I remember watching Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again on the cinema and when “Angel Eyes” was sung by Christine Baranski, Julie Walters and Amanda Seyfried, I found myself singing along with it, quite audibly, that the woman beside me had to ask: “Fan ka `no?” 

***

I also thank these movie musical adaptations because it also made me appreciate some of the other ABBA songs I didn’t know or like before. I remember not liking “Waterloo” that much but it kinda grew on me after a while. It was even included in The Martian soundtrack, where there was this scene when Matt Damon’s character, Mark Watney, grumbles on his crewmate's ABBA album.

“I’m definitely going to die up here if I have to listen to any more of this disco music.” — Yet he still plays it.

Many years ago, “Fernando” was a song used by a local candidate with the same surname for his campaign jingle that it became an earworm of some sort. For this reason, I never actually like it (much like “Chiquitita”), but then I loved how super diva Cher performed it with Andy Garcia in Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (I mean, what could go wrong with Cher?)

Thanks to the films, I have a newfound appreciation for songs like “Why Does It Have to Be Me?”, “My Life, My Love”, “Lay All Your Love On Me”, “I’ve Been Waiting For You” and “I Have A Dream”.

ABBA songs might even be described by some as tacky bubblegum pop but there’s no denying that most lyrics were poignant enough to tug heartstrings—almost melancholic. I read somewhere that it was like that because some of the songs were written just around the time that they were separating, so emotions are pretty raw. Either that or Swedes are sad by nature (How true, Garet?)

“The Winner Takes It All” is an example of such, with lyrics that go: “But tell me, does she kiss like I used to kiss you? Does it feel the same when she calls your name?”— that even if I was listening to this way back when I have not experienced any major, life-altering breakup as of yet, I can very much feel the pain.

Mothers with daughters growing up, “Slipping Through My Fingers” can hit them really hard. Meanwhile, “Mamma Mia!” is something of an anthem for a ‘marupok’ (like me?) as it tells about falling for the same person again despite being cheated on. I mean, it was pretty straightforward on its first few lines:

I’ve been cheated by you since I don't know when 
So I made up my mind, it must come to an end 
Look at me now, will I ever learn? 
I don't know how but I suddenly lose control. 

(BTW, anyone remembers a very young Lea Salonga singing “Thank You for The Music” once upon a time?)

***

If I were to be asked to name my favorite ABBA song, I definitely can’t just give one. For me, there is an ABBA song for every relevant feeling there is. The words are so emotionally precise you would wish you have thought of it. The best thing about most songs of ABBA is that even if it was lyrically sad, you just can't help but dance to it. Remember how Meryl Streep sang “Mamma Mia!” on the roof of the goat house in the first movie? 

However, if there’s one ABBA song that struck a chord even when I was younger, it would be “Knowing Me, Knowing You”, which I think was in an album released the same year I was born. (Coming close would have to be “Super Trouper” and “Angel Eyes”).

“Knowing Me, Knowing You” is probably the saddest breakup song for me and I wasn’t the only one who thinks so, as it was once voted as the saddest song ever. Sure, it obviously speaks of marital demise, but there are lines from it that I could totally relate to as the feeling is so familiar: 

Knowing me, knowing you 
There is nothing we can do 
Knowing me, knowing you 
We just have to face it this time we're through 
Breaking up is never easy, I know 
But I have to go 
Knowing me, knowing you 
It's the best I can do. 

Frida did the lead vocals on this one, while Agnetha provided the hauntingly sad echoes, “memories, good days, bad days”. I also love how the guys do the second voice (“this time we’re through, this time I know we’re really through”), which Jeremy Irvine (who played young Sam in Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again) did just as well. 

As I’ve said, it’s all about one’s innate musical taste whether to appreciate ABBA or not. Loving them or hating them is a matter of opinion. One can critique their ridiculously garish fashion (which, from what I read was deliberate to avoid tax), naysayers can go on and on telling us what’s so uncool about them, but to say they aren’t good and deserving of the recognition would surely set off the music snob in me. Prepare to be schooled what rhythm, melody and harmony truly mean in a time when autotune didn’t exist yet and make sure you can argue around it.  

I don’t really judge people based on their musical preference – unless they do the sneering first.

Too soon to let go

People around my age especially the ones who already have their own families often neglect themselves whether on purpose or not. It’s very much understandable that vanity takes the backseat when you have three kids who could drain all the remaining youth out of you. I should know—sometimes just staying home for a day with my two naughty nephews is enough for me to age on a cellular level.

While it’s generally acceptable for middle-aged people who have children to be a bit slack on the looks department for obvious reasons, it’s a different story for us single women in our forties. People will not be as forgiving only because we don’t have any excuse.

I may already be at the age when I give zero f*cks on what people say about me and almost unapologetic about the person that I am, but taking care of myself is a personal choice. After all, self-care is not vanity. Self-care is self-love.

Vanity aside, I try to look good as much as I could. I spend a good half an hour in front of the mirror every morning doing my “rituals”. It isn’t right to go and tell myself that I don’t give a rat’s ass on how I look anymore because anyway, “I’m getting old”.

I don’t want people to look at me with pity and say to themselves: “No wonder she’s single!”.

I take care of my hair—cover the grays if needed, because going “grombre” may look good on some but not on me (and frankly, not on the majority of women).

I may need massive doses of collagen to fight gravity from pulling down my face, but I will not stop trying.

I may unabashedly parade around the house with my tummy jutting out, but I still watch what I eat.

I always had a set of eyebags even when I was younger, but I fight dark circles as fiercely as I could with a good skin routine and enough sleep.

I get a manicure and a pedicure because getting old doesn’t automatically mean Nosferatu nails.

I set an appointment with the dentist twice a year for oral prophylaxis because I don’t want them to think that I’m into chewing tobacco now.

I still wax my legs because I don’t want to be mistaken for a Russian weightlifter when I wear shorts in public.

I know I can’t go out wearing those tank tops like I’m the eighth member of Momoland, but I still want to rock a bodycon dress when I want to.

Doing all of these doesn’t mean I’m trying desperately to look younger or counteract aging. I don’t intend to compete with women in their twenties, hell no. It’s more about looking and feeling good about myself at my current age. See, just because one is getting old, doesn’t mean she had to stop wanting to be attractive.

We all have heard it: “I’m giving up. I won’t fight it anymore!”—people in their mid-forties to fifties just throwing the towel. This was perhaps because they were clinging to how they once were. I noticed this surrender most from people who were actually good-looking when they were younger. They find it hard coming to terms with the fact that they are no longer as pretty or thin as they were.

I have this friend who was once a print ad model and for most of her life, she’s what you’d call beautiful. She enjoyed a fair share of admirers and popularity within her peers.

Not that she’s unattractive now, but since hitting forty, the changes that were gradual then has become so obvious now. She gained weight, her hair started graying and some wrinkles and droops started showing in her face that it threw her in a pit of depression. Now she has told me she’s giving up and letting father time take the wheel. While we are not on the same boat because for me at least, it’s too soon to let go, I understand why she’s conceding.

Looking at my pictures from seven years ago when my double chin is nonexistent can be quite depressing. But while it is what it is, I can’t just do nothing about it. Embracing aging doesn’t mean neglecting how you look because that will be just wrong. It’s more about having a better awareness of yourself and knowing what’s good for you.

So forgive me if I ain’t gonna stop taking care of myself anytime soon. Anyway, someday I will be too old to even care how I looked. Until that day comes, I will try to keep pushing the envelope.

It’s no longer about looking young, but more about still looking good even as I age. 

Going 'loco' over kimono

I don’t know how my fascination started but in just a couple of months, I have managed to collect a piece of clothing that I never even fancy before: the kimono.

While I’m not referring to the traditional Japanese garment worn by maikos and geishas, the inspiration for this casual T-shaped outerwear in different variations we see today came from it.

People at home noticed my sudden penchant for it, especially when they see it’s what’s being delivered at home from all the online shopping I do lately.

Most of the kimonos I own are just short ones that fall right by the hips, often used as a coverup instead of the knitted cardigan, but I also have those that are long enough to go down the legs.

I think kimono should be a staple in every woman’s wardrobe. It’s lighter to wear than any cardigan or pullover. This item of clothing is especially versatile for a tropical country like ours where it’s super cold inside office buildings because air-conditioning is on full-blast but must take off any outerwear once you step outside where it is crazy balmy and humid.

I always go for a laid-back look even at the office where dress codes are not as strict. A kimono can make any simple outfit (jeans or shorts and a plain shirt) dressier and elegant. The material is usually made from silk (but I do have some made of cotton), which is flowy, light and airy. I just love how it feels on the skin. The kimono also works a good cover-up for all those nasty love handles especially if I’m wearing a tight-fitting shirt or dress underneath. Just wear it over any clothes and it instantly hides all those unsightly bulges. 

What can I say? Daisukidesu!

Phone talk

Sorry for not having blogged for so long. I’ve been really busy at work.

Do you still remember all of the mobile phones you've ever owned? I thought I do, but the truth is my memory failed me and I have actually forgotten owning some while making this list. Thank goodness I had my old posts from my other blog archived to flex my brain muscles, and it surprised me to know that I have owned 16 units total!

Nokia 3210 – My first ever cellphone. I bought it for around 8K immediately after getting my commission from selling industrial pumps when I was a Sales Engineer. I believe it was the first phone released without the antenna that it easily fits right inside one’s pocket. Who remembers adding backlight and acetate on their LCD screens? Mine had James Van Der Beek on acetate. Yuck. 

Nokia 7650 – Kuya had to buy two of this in 2003—one for him and one for me, using his credit card. It’s the very first Nokia phone with a built-in VGA camera. The colored screen is also entirely new at the time. Only a handful of us from my former office had it and everyone else was just amazed at what it can do.

Another cool thing about this phone is the Polyphonic ringtone! I enjoyed message alerts tones anywhere from True by Spandau Ballet, Under Pressure by Queen, Burn by Usher, Ignition by R. Kelly to Hey Ya! by Outkast.

I remember how it gave me a mild heart attack after I dropped it on a pail of water when it fell off my pocket. But we all know the durability of old phones especially if we’re talking of Nokia. I only had to turn off the phone and not use it for many days (who did the trick of leaving it submerged in a bowl of uncooked rice to let it dry out? I did!) and it looked like it never even took a good swim.

Let me tell you this—they can all boast about the high-tech phones available now, but at least when it comes to durability, Nokia will always be the best.

Sony Ericsson k608 (Silver) – My first “hand-me-down” phone. When my 7650 conked out after years of a good run, my older brother gave me this phone. This one has a 1.3-megapixel camera with LED flash.

Sony Ericsson Cybershot k800i - One of my most trusted camera phone I used/abused in my early years of blogging. Most of the pictures posted on my old blog were taken by this phone with its 3.2-megapixel resolution, autofocus lens, and Xenon (gasps!) flash unit. The results then were fantastic.

If not for the emergence of smartphones and people taking pity on me when they see me still using my K800, I wouldn’t even replace it.

Samsung Champ – The cutest one ever, got it free from a broadband subscription in September of 2010. The screen measures only 2.4” but has a 1.3-megapixel camera. Believe it or not, it may be small but it’s actually a touchscreen phone, only that you have to use the stylus the size smaller than a Q-Tip that came with it. It had a fancy message alert tone I liked because I know that when I hear it, it’s a message from my then-boyfriend.

The hitch? No WiFi connectivity.

BlackBerry Bold 9000 – My very first BlackBerry and QWERTY phone. I bought it after receiving my very first STI (Short Term Incentive) at my current company back in 2011. It worked well for a while until the trackball became problematic. It would get stuck which made it difficult to navigate and scroll through sites like Twitter and Facebook. Troubleshooting articles suggested wiping the trackball with alcohol to get it to move but doing this on a regular basis irritated the hell out of me.

Finally, the battery swelled from overcharging (something that will happen again in one of my later phones) and it made me realize it’s time to let it go.

BlackBerry Bold 9000

BlackBerry Torch 9800 – This was sent by a relative from the States October of 2013 and was then locked to AT&T. I loved this so much—because I always liked how badass a sliding phone looked (reminiscent of the Nokia 7650) and BBM was the in-thing then (BB Social, peeps!). It has a 5-megapixel camera with a 3.20-inch display.

The downside has always been the faulty flex (the sliding mechanism) which I had to replace twice over a short period of time. When I realized that the problem will persist no matter what I do, I had no choice but to sell it online.

BlackBerry Torch 9800

iPhone 3GS – My very first iPhone bought second-hand from Greenhills as I needed an immediate replacement for the BlackBerry Torch. It packs a 3.15-megapixel camera and I was overwhelmed at the 32GB storage of this phone that I have movies, music and hundreds of pictures saved on it. At the time I had this, there’s already the iPhone 4S so the software was an outdated iOS 4.1 which does not support even the most basic third-party apps. It had many limitations that a “jailbreak” had to be performed so I could at least add the other applications (Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Skype, etc.). Having this phone meant that I would have to bring it to a technician every time an update for one of the apps is needed because if I try using the Apps store, I always get that error that my phone’s version cannot support it.

After only a few weeks of using, it suggested a software update and when I went ahead with it—it turned the phone into a brick. This was very frustrating for me that I ended up selling it back to the same store in Greenhills, but this time, at a lower price.

Sony Xperia Go – I got this sometime in 2013 and it boasts a 5-megapixel camera but it was the worst unit I’ve ever owned, bar none. After just a few months of using it, the side-most part of the keypad just stopped working no matter how hard I press it. In order for me to type the affected letters, I had to rotate the phone. However, when I rotate the phone, I think it’s the spacebar that wouldn’t work. This got so aggravating to me at the time to think I bought this brand new.

When I checked the Xperia Support Forum, it became pretty clear that this issue is not particular to me. My kuya and I sold the unit and I swore off Xperia phones for good.

Cherry Mobile s3 Flare Octa – Bought this in 2015. It’s locally made, reasonably priced as I think I bought it for less than 5K. Not bad for a phone with a 5” screen and 13-megapixel camera. Yup, 13-freaking-megapixel! This started me flooding your feeds with my selfies.

Cherry Mobile Flare S3

Blackberry Curve 9320 – The first phone I got when I switched to Postpaid. Yes, all my previous phones before this were all prepaid. I got this while I still have my Cherry mobile because I love  the ease of BlackBerry phones. I don’t do much browsing on this unit for obvious reasons (as I have the Cherry mobile), but texting/messaging was particularly easy for me with the QWERTY keypad. It’s one of the few phones I owned that is still with me.

BlackBerry Curver 9320

iPhone 5S – After the BB Curve, this was the next unit I got from my Globe postpaid plan. It was an Apple Certified refurbished, which is why I got it a little cheaper, and it served me well for quite some time. Looking back, most of my IG posts from about 4 to 5 years ago were taken by this 8-megapixel rear, 1.2-megapixel front camera phone.

iPhone 6 Plus – My fat fingers can’t further cope at the 4” display so I swapped my iPhone 5S to an iPhone 6 Plus only because of the bigger 5.5" screen. Facetime and iMessage became a breeze with this unit.

Huawei Nova 2i – When my iPhone 5S plan ended two years ago, I sold my iPhone 6 Plus (I was getting unhappy with it because it’s laggy for no reason) and thought of getting a new unit. I was supposed to get a Samsung J2 Prime for the same plan but read the reviews for this unit (plus my guy friend who worked for Globe had a lot of good things to say about it) and it made me get this instead. I never looked back at any other phone brands since. Huawei had been my favorite. I got great pictures from our 2017 HK trip thanks to my Nova 2i.

Huawei Nova 3i – I had a phone upgrade last February after the battery swelling of my Nova 2i. See, I’m one who would leave my phone charging overnight with my WiFi or cellular data on so go figure. It almost had the same specifications as with the 2i except that this one has a wider 6.3" display and better resolution. I am so satisfied with this unit because it takes good pictures and it never lags that I absolutely had no plans of even replacing it.

***

I went to the Globe store last September 22 with my kuya, cousin Nancy and nephew Gavin with the intention to downgrade my Huawei 2i plan from 1499 to either 999 or 799. Getting a new phone for myself was never something I planned to do because, as I’ve said, I only got the Huawei Nova 3i last February.

I was thinking of getting whatever unit is free on the downgraded plan (I can choose from a Huawei Y7 Pro 2019, Oppo A5s or Samsung Galaxy A10S or A20s) and give it to Gavin as a reward for getting good grades in school.

It was actually my older brother who wanted to get the Huawei flagship phone that day as it coincides with the end of his existing contract. However, for whatever hypnosis my kuya and cousin did to me, I was convinced to get a new phone even with a plan downgrade, pay extra (since my contract ends on the 10th of this month) and just pay the cashout.

So I got out of the store with the Huawei P30 Pro.

Gavin got my Huawei Nova 3i and his dad, my younger brother, got my Nova 2i after getting the battery replaced.

In short, everyone’s happy.

***

I am not sure if Huawei enjoys the same popularity in the US considering this, but this Chinese brand is getting a large chunk of the market everywhere else. They can all go and scare us Huawei users following the US trade ban months ago, with Google removing Huawei Mate X and P30 Pro from Android.com last May, but eventually added it back to the Android recommended website last August.

I always joked that Huawei is the only thing Chinese apart from siomai I like.

***

Judging by the previous units I’ve owned, one can deduce that I was not particularly picky about my cellphone. Truth is when people start talking about specs, I don’t get impressed at all only because I don’t understand the need for some of it.

For one, I don’t play games on my phone (I never played Plants vs. Zombies, Candy Crush or even Mobile Legends—like, ever) and I don’t binge-watch Netflix or YouTube videos. I don’t even listen to music (even with a Spotify account) from it. As long as I can browse, take good pictures and the screen is big enough for my fatty fingers, I’m happy. So maybe getting this high-end phone is probably moot for a non-techie like me, but I have to admit I’m loving my phone and I thank my companions that day for convincing me to get it.

The Leica Quad Camera System is what’s responsible for taking good pictures on this phone. I’ve never owned a smartphone, not even a digital camera that gives off such vibrant pictures. Even if I haven’t tried the camera that much yet (since I haven’t traveled anywhere the past few months), it is what I like most about it.

Although if I may be honest, when it comes to looking “real” on my portraits, this unbiased article says it all. Apart from that though, I would choose Huawei over an iPhone anytime (no offense to my wonderful, gorgeous friends who are satisfied iPhone users).

Another thing I love about this is the super-fast charging. I can do away with charging my phone at night. All I need to do is plug it when I wake up in the morning and as soon as I stepped out of the shower, it’s already fully charged. 70% charge in 30 minutes! Very good for a lazy and forgetful user like me.

Huawei P30 Pro, released just March of this year, is a beauty. It’s available in many colors but the only one available at the Globe store is the Aurora (I would love the Amber Sunrise—but it costs more since it’s only available in 512GB and mine was 256GB). Friends and officemates love checking my phone and would sneak taking their selfies with it any chance they get.

The only drawback of having a flagship phone is the fact that the accessories for it are much expensive too. A tempered glass already cost me 1K! I also invested in a good slim-armor, military-grade Spigen case which is pricey in itself because the unit is made of glass—every butterfingers’ nightmare.

I am fascinated with the evolution of cellphones over the years even with just the ones I owned. 20 years ago, when I have my Nokia 3210, if you tell me then what phones today can do, I wouldn’t even believe it.

I am excited but also somewhat scared of what phones can do in another 5-15 years.

Remembering my salad days

Watching “13 Going On 30” last night gave me the feels. I’ve watched it a bunch of times and unlike me, that movie never gets old. I still find it funny, warm and charming. (Let us not forget the fantastic soundtrack—I have been LSS-ing on Madonna’s “Crazy For You” since this morning).

Skip this post if you have heard or read about this before—but my teenage years were probably the least favorite time of my life. Puberty hit me like a ton of bricks. I was awkward, clumsy and unattractive. I can lay claim that I have the longest ugly phase in the history of ugly phases. It was agonizing and depressing. While girls my age were already blooming and enjoying a myriad of admirers, I was gauche, scrawny, dark-skinned and buck-toothed.

Attending high school in an all-girls Catholic institution was particularly unforgiving as I was surrounded every day by a lot of beautiful schoolmates who seem oblivious that there exists a twilight zone-level of awkwardness. It was no secret how I didn’t fit in and was sometimes bullied because of how I looked. Boys wanted nothing to do with me as they fancy a certain type of girls—the kind that I’d never ever be. For one, I have no breasts—and my gangly frame was always the subject of a cruel joke.

Just like in the movie, I wanted desperately to be a part of a popular clique in school, but I wasn’t pretty enough—or not at all—to be one of them. Undeterred, I offered to make their projects and homework or do favors, almost subservient, but even that wasn’t enough to get me a chance to even “sit with them”.

Some teachers also made my life a living hell so to speak, as this was not yet the age of political correctness and appropriateness. Imagine being told by my P.E. teacher that I can’t join the singkil dance because “para sa maganda lang 'yun.” (only for the beautiful). OK—granted that there’s truth to what she said, but the fact that she did it so bluntly was just wrong and hurtful. I bet if it happened now, that teacher would have faced serious disciplinary action.

At least I met like-minded friends in my senior year and it made my last year in high school bearable because otherwise, it would have been awful.

And so what I lacked in sex appeal and grace, I tried compensating with my other skills such as writing, or my ability to know a lot of film, music and general trivia, or the fact that I chose a sport that wasn’t physical or strenuous, and actually excelled on it.

Overall though, those years for me practically sucked. My self-esteem was very low and I found myself resenting a lot of things. Somehow my personality mirrored the ugliness I felt, as I became aloof, unsociable and petulant if only to protect me from further abuse and rejection.

***

I may not have turned into a swan, but when I got in a Co-Ed college, things have changed. I can’t pinpoint what it was but the guys started noticing me. I was still skinny, awkward and insecure, but maybe some of my physical features improved slightly, and I somewhat acquired grace and poise that I began to receive attention from the opposite sex.

Suddenly, I have an admirer in every class (no joke) and I supposed it wasn’t because I got attractive and went through some fantastic physical transformation, but because I was the brainy and well-behaved girl in class. Even so, the experience was so new to me that I don’t even know how to react to the attention. All my teen years I was so used to being invisible and just merely existing and now guys are taking notice.

I remember this basketball varsity player who brought a camera to our English class because he wanted to take a picture of me (take note that this was long before the time of digital cameras and smartphones). He didn’t approach me for he was too shy, that his friends had to ask our teacher for permission to take my picture.

I was like—ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?! They wanted me to pose for a picture in front of the whole class? I remember how embarrassed I was especially when the teacher joined in the teasing. Naturally, I turned the request down and said I will just give him a picture, which I don’t think I ever did.

Then there’s the volleyball varsity player (oh yeah, jocks looooove me) who sings the chorus of this song every time he sees me around. And I mean EVERY.SINGLE.TIME. It doesn’t matter if I was at the second floor of the building and he’s down the school quadrangle, or if I was sitting in my class and he’s passing by the corridor, I would suddenly hear him singing the lines serenading me. God, it was crazy.

Then there are guys who are just extremely shy, like this one in my History class, who, even if the entire class knew how much he liked me (he told everyone but me)—wouldn’t even talk to me! The most he did the entire semester was to stare. When I catch him looking, he’d look away.

Guys are weird like that.

*** 

The movie also tells us that sometimes, the popular boys don’t always end up the ones we like when we get older. If you’ve seen the movie, there’s this part where Jenna (Garner) saw the school’s heartthrob and prom king, Chris Grandy, now a cab driver. Now, while there’s nothing wrong ending up a cab driver, it only shows that sometimes the guys we really like while growing up, wouldn’t turn out to be the guy we want.

So much like my long-time college crush for instance.

It was the first day of my first class in my freshman years when I saw him enter the classroom. You know how it is in movies where the scene goes into slow-mo and the camera pans to the face of the admirer gaping? That’s exactly what happened. He was dreamy and so good-looking almost a dead ringer for a ‘90s Onemig Bondoc. He’s the kind that could pass for a teen actor back in the day.

Deep inside I was screaming: “Oh shit, I am so going to enjoy this class very much!”, not knowing that we will be in the same class on most of our subjects.

Well, aside from sharing the same classes (we have the same course), nothing happened all those four years except how he accidentally found out through a friend that I had this huge crush on him. While he didn’t act on it, I know he enjoyed it and probably bragged it to his fraternity brothers. A Dean’s Lister crushing on the underachiever who had no interest in school? Straight out of an unmade John Hughes movie, right? Whether he admits it or not, he took pleasure on that.

Many years after, we crossed paths again and don’t ask me what the heck happened but he became my boyfriend. I have to admit that I was thrilled at first as this was the guy I was crushing on all those years. He’s the reason why even if there were other guys interested in me at the time, nothing took off because it was him I liked and was waiting for.

It was only when he was already my boyfriend that I realized he’s not the guy for me. There was so much about him that turned me off and times when I can’t even stand him. I may have been attracted to him as he was good-looking, but take that away we have nothing in common. I realized I wasted the best years of my life waiting for him and when I had him, he wasn't half the man I envisioned him to be.

***

Which brings me now to my Matt Flamhaff, the not-so-popular guy who stuck with me all those years: My best guy friend.

As he’s now happily married and with kids, I’d rather not name or even describe him except by saying that he’s probably one of those guys, who never became my boyfriend, that truly loved me warts and all.

He’s the “buddy” who was there to accompany and fetch me to school, hangs-out the house for hours he almost became a fixture. The very few who have put up with me and all my insecurities, stubbornness, and immaturity.

He’s someone unfortunate enough to be in the line of fire during the worst of my mood swings. I can be myself around him knowing I’d never get judged for it. To put it simply, he just likes me for me.

Like Matt and Jenna in the film, doing things with my best boy bud no matter how laid-back, was lots of fun. Sure, we never shared Razzles but we had our own good times together. The best times for me will always be how he stays up really late at our house with us just talking about bands, crushes, tsismis, pop culture, music videos, etc. I always like that he’s very down-to-earth, funny, smart, loyal and kind.

Even if we knew then that we love each other very much, a love with no commitment and intimacy, we are conscious of where we stand. Even if we have a strong emotional bond and genuine feelings for each other, it wasn’t meant to be more than friends. None of us crossed the line.

Without explanation or recourse, we kinda grew apart. He went his way and I went mine. He had relationships and I had mine. For a while, we tried going back to the way we were but something was pulling us farther apart. Besides, there were already other people in the equation unlike before when there’s just the two of us. Life happened, I guess. No arguments or drama, it just fizzled out.

Even so, my time with my own Matt Flamhaff was real, pure, uncomplicated and beautiful.

*** 

And just like that, I will be turning 43 by December. While always thankful for every birthday, it’s totally different from adding years in your thirties. So many thoughts are creeping in, mostly about getting old and how you are getting closer and closer to the fifties.

My salad days may have been chewed away eons ago but memories of it, both the good and bad, are still worth remembering. After all, the lessons learned from it were priceless.

I survived. I thrived.