Going loca over Luka

At my age, I’m not very comfortable using the word “crush” anymore to describe someone I really like because I feel it’s the kind of feeling only teenagers get. Even for me, it’s kinda cringy already. 

But I will always have that giddy fangirl heart. These days, my fangirl heart beats only for the point guard of the Dallas Mavericks: Luka Dončić.

Now before you all go “Que Horror!” and remind me of the 23-year age difference, hear me out: I’m not a potential cougar at 46. I may have a crush on him, but I’m under no romantic, sexual delusions whatsoever—as what I unabashedly have before with my other celebrity crushes such as the likes of the Colins Farrell and Firth, Michael Fassbender and Chris Evans. (Yes, I fantasized about meeting and eventually marrying them). 

To simply put, I just really, really like Luka because he gives me the tingly, giggly, butterfly-ish feeling that I don’t get to feel often since I became a midlifer.

Besides, I don’t think I’ll ever be in a degree of devotion that will lead to some sort of a worship syndrome and obsession towards a Gen Z celebrity like Luka. I think I’m old enough to keep myself grounded and be a mature fan who just highly admires him. With his stature, I’m pretty sure he had millions of die-hard fans from the first day he set foot on court and I am no match compared to them. Frankly, I don’t think Luka himself would give me the time of day being that I’m not as ardent and fervent as the others that would watch him live on stadiums and follow his every move.

See, if you claim to be a fan of an athlete, others gauge it by regular game attendance, stalwart dedication and loyalty. I fall short on these since I’m relatively a new Luka fan, and I don’t think I can keep up with the diehards.

I loved basketball growing up but I wasn’t exactly an NBA fan. The last time I was invested was during the championship games of Miami Heat and Dallas Mavericks in the 2011 NBA Finals because I was then a fan of Dirk Nowitzki. After that, my interest in basketball just died down slowly with their absence in the succeeding playoffs and when teams like the Golden State Warriors dominated the Western Conference. 

Luka came to NBA at a time when I didn’t care much about basketball anymore. The first time I saw him was in a fan-made video of him seemingly flirting with a female referee: “[I'm] fouling in love with you” sometime during the 2020-2021 NBA season. He’s cute and all that, but I thought he was just a pretty face because I never saw him play (this was the pandemic, and I don’t watch NBA unless it’s the playoffs or the finals). I was too out of touch that I didn’t even know that Luka was the Rookie of the Year for the 2018-2019 season and a franchise leader for the Mavs. 

Even so, when my brothers would watch the NBA games, I’d always look for Luka, which of course won’t be there since his team never reached the finals. 

Then the FIBA Basketball World Cup 2023 was held recently here in Manila. My first question as the main opening ceremony drew near was, “Is Luka gonna be here?”. I was told that he won’t because his team, Slovenia, belongs to another group that will be playing in Okinawa Arena, Okinawa City. 

However, Slovenia got in the Quarterfinals and the games will be at the MOA Arena. By this time everybody who knew of my crush on him was telling me about it, but when I saw that the ticket price for the game, (to be anywhere within a fair distance from him) is between 11k-14k pesos, I knew I won’t be able to afford it. 

So like most people, I settled on watching Luka play on TV. And from then on, that’s all I’ve been doing. Now I understand the “Luka Magic” everybody was talking about. More than his looks, I was drawn to his skills. He does have a phenomenal talent, something that he had since he’s young and playing for Real Madrid. I’d find myself watching videos of him until the wee hours and just love seeing his on-court reactions, spectacular passes and jaw-dropping shots. Watching him is like escapism to me because it’s fun and exciting. These days I’m lacking so much of that.

Luka may be known as a big complainer and many had already expressed concerns about his on-court temper, but even his outbursts are strangely appealing to me. He’s so damn fine he’s almost faultless, my goodness. When others see it as temper, I see it as passion.

Now before some of you rain on my parade and remind me that I shouldn’t have this bazodee feeling for someone as young at him (He’s only 24, for Pete’s sake!), know that I am well aware of that. I even joked that his father, Sasa Dončić, is almost the same age as I am, that maybe I should go for the dad instead (LOL). And if you tell me that he has since been engaged to his long-time girlfriend, Anamaria, let me tell you that I’m rooting for them and I actually find them gorgeous as a couple.

I have the ain’t-no-way-I-have-a-chance-celebrity-crush but if it makes my day so much better, what could be so wrong with it? 

I mean, how could I not with that smile?

Oldie but Goody

Photo by Daphné Richard on Unsplash

Thank God for my gene pool because even if I’ll be turning 47 this December, I still don’t look like someone my age. That is not to say that I only look like I’m in my 20s either because I don’t. 

The forties are creeping in, more conspicuous than ever before. I just had my hair bleached today because grey hairs are peeking faster these days (my first time to ever bleach my hair and I botched it, BTW). 

While I can’t be considered “chubby”, I’m slightly paunchy. It became easier to keep the weight rather than lose it. Meanwhile, my double chin occupies about 30% of my face and no amount of contouring can hide it anymore.  It looked like Bibendum is on my face, which is what keeps me from taking close-up selfies lately because it shows no matter the angle. Barbie arms and collar bones are a thing of the past and I am only reminded that I had those once-upon-a-time looking at my old pictures.

Filling out online forms can be quite a slap in the face because I had to scroll all the way down when looking for my birth year which is 1976. It kinda reminds me of that Big Wheel on “The Price is Right”.

I was part of the last batch of Gen Xers so I well remember the analog world. When I tell younglings that I submitted typewritten term papers in high school and had taken typing and stenography subjects back in the day, they incredulously look at me as if I’m a Martian. Everything I know about Microsoft Word and Excel is all self-taught because my computer subjects then were MS-DOS and WordPerfect. Then again, it’s no surprise that we are tech-savvy in spite of, as Gen Xers are known to be resourceful and self-sufficient.

Mention “Post Malone” and I’d go, “Who?!”—which is very much like that old tita you know before who said the same thing in the very same tone when you talk about Chumbawamba. I no longer appreciate the songs that the younger people are into now, even if it’s a Taylor Swift song (Oh boy, I’ll get a lot of flak for this), for I simply just can’t relate to it anymore. I can be inside an elevator with a famous Korean or KPop celebrity, and I wouldn’t even know. The only reason why I know of things these days is from watching Tiktok and from my Gen Z nephews who school me when it comes to what’s cool and current.

Picture this: If the movie “Back to the Future” was made today and Marty McFly goes back 30 years, that will be the year 1993. Marty will be seeing me there as a high school senior. If my late boyfriend Alex slip by the pearly gates and was born again on the same year he died, he is now a 21-year-old young man (“Chances Are” reference there). I may not realize the passing of time as it happens, but when I think about it, it’s just mind-blowing. The years from 2010 onward went by so quickly like a flipping Rolodex.

I’m way past getting drunk and meeting people in bars because I prefer dining alone or with my closest friends. 9 PM is rather late for me and you can’t drag me anywhere since it became my official curfew. Regular Friday nights are spent in bed snacking on Coke and chips while watching shows on the Crime Investigation Network.

Dating has become much more difficult, for I’m no longer as interested in meeting men (except if you look like Luka Dončić then let’s talk). With my life experience, I have acquired a superpower: I can now see through men’s bullshit. Meanwhile, the very few who expressed interest and were persistent enough must really like me, because why would they even put up with a forty-year-old when there are much younger, prettier women around? So yes, I may be seeing somebody now who likes me, but we’re just chill ♡. These days it’s all about enjoying each other’s company because relationships are already hard as they come.

I no longer have the energy—and I don’t mean energy for doing chores, going out etc.,—but the energy to deal with other people’s negativity. I try to avoid them like the plague. But yes, I can be physically tired doing nothing, which can be very strange. 

I became very dependent on my reading glasses as I can’t see anything close to my nose without it. I started noticing my failing eyesight when I hit forty and it got worse in just a couple of years. Even looking at computer screen now, which is already about two feet away, is already blurrier too.

Don't get me started about the body pains. I can go on and on talking about it on a separate post. Just the past week, I woke up with a very painful groin pain on the left side. The good news is that I don’t think it’s anything serious, but more like muscle strain. For days I can’t do the sukhasana (Indian sit) or squat on the toilet bowl. Back pains are a common occurrence too that I got used to it. Every night I reek of Tiger Balm and I have Poy-Sian within reach. When I get up from bed in the morning, my bone creaks like an old floorboard.

My freaking body is telling me I’m not young anymore. Doctor visits are getting to be more frequent, whether it’s for my pre-existing illnesses or something new like plantar fasciitis.

In the blink of an eye, my nephews are no longer babies anymore. I will not be surprised if I wake up tomorrow and both are taller than me. What’s more sad to think is that in a few year’s time, I won’t be as cool to them as I am now.

I see some of my former classmates are already sending their kids off to college. While I’ve stopped comparing my life to those of my contemporaries knowing we lead different lives, it seems automatic to me already to compute for the year when their kid was born and think what I was doing that very same year. 

I can’t even say I’m “getting old” for I’m at that point already. I never dread celebrating my birthdays until I reached 45. That’s when everything sinks in. The pandemic may have contributed to my mixed feelings about aging, but it’s also the fact that I can no longer deny my actual age. It was when I stopped feeling young. Humbled by this realization, there was that acceptance that I’m already past my prime. Very sobering. 

Getting underhanded comments about my age didn’t help, but I’ve learned to just ignore it. Sometimes I would tell them that it’s a relief to reach this age, because I know for a fact that I won’t be around when this world has gone to the dogs with all the craziness we see in the society now. 

Then again, I will never be less grateful for the gift of years. Just recently, a female grade school classmate suddenly died of stroke. I mean, they say no one dies before their time, but at 46? When that happens you tend to think of your own mortality when people your age (or younger) dies. When you are faced with that reality you learn to be more thankful despite of. 

I’m old, I know, but it’s okay. The good things about aging still outweigh the bad. Besides, all of us are heading there anyway so I might as well enjoy the roller-coaster ride.

I Just Want To Eat in Peace

This happened many months ago. I’ve just been to the nearby drugstore and had some spare change enough to buy me a chicken meal at Mang Inasal.

It was around the off-peak hours of the day, so the place wasn’t as packed and there were many vacant seats. After ordering, I sat on a table at the back with wide windows facing a not-so-busy street. I thought that since I’m far from the entrance and the counter, no one will bother me there.

While waiting for my order, I was approached by a well-dressed man carrying eco bags and offered me pastillas and other sweets.

I usually don’t buy from vendors who approach you inside fast-food restaurants and food courts. Not only that I find this rather annoying (usually they even join you at your table), but also because I know for a fact that most of these vendors are handled by syndicates. They sell everything from candies to ballpens and are usually priced higher. I was once duped by a teenage boy selling three generic pens with pull-out calendars for 100 pesos. He said he’s doing this because he’s supporting himself in school. When I got home, two of the pens are no good. 

Since then when approached by these peddlers I usually shake my head and politely decline, hoping that would be enough for them to go away.

So, this is exactly what I did to the man. I think I even said, “Hindi po.”

“Kahit isa lang, wala pa kasi akong benta.” (Just buy one. I haven’t sold any yet.) He said.

“Pasensiya na, wala po akong extrang money na dala.” (I’m sorry but I didn’t bring extra money.) I answered.

I wasn’t lying. I remember I only brought my coin purse that day because I was only running a quick errand. So even if I wanted to, I know I won’t have enough to buy whatever it was he’s peddling.

“Kahit magkano lang.” (Any amount will do.) The man insisted, his persistence ticked me slightly.

My order came and he was still standing by my table. “Hindi po. Sorry pero wala po.” I gestured.

I think these vendors deliberately approach people who are eating because for most of us, it’s when we are at our most vulnerable. It adds to the “guilt trip”, as if telling us we’re there eating food while they are here making a living.

“Kahit bente pesos?” (Not even twenty pesos?) The vendor asked.

I shook my head.

“Kahit sampung piso?” (Not even ten pesos?) He says again.

Obviously, the man is no longer there to make a sale or ask for any donation, but more to rile me up. He was enjoying my discomfiture. I called the crew who was standing a few feet away cleaning the trays (who I think knows what’s happening and yet wasn’t doing anything). 

“Sir..." I called out to the crew, '“Please naman po. Kakain po ako eh.” I appealed to him. Still, the employee didn’t even say anything. Aren’t establishments like this have a “No Solicitation” policy?

“Kahit piso?” (Not even a peso?) The vendor continued.

Defeated, I took out a five-peso coin from my purse and tried handing it to him.

“Huwag na po. Salamat na lang.” (Never mind. Thank you.) He said, smugly.

“Kunin mo na!”  (Take it!) I said, with a hint of exasperation as I placed the coin on the table.

He dramatically pushes back the coin towards me using his index finger and snickered, “Huwag po. Salamat na lang po.” 

The peddler went to the next table where other customers were seated, and I was left there trying to make sense of what happened. After all that asking for any amount, I only gave him a chance to show me up in order to make me look like a schmuck.

And if that wasn’t enough, when the vendor was about to leave, he looked right back at me and said: “Ma’m salamat na lang ha? Salamat. Salamat.” 

Was he trying to make me feel guilty from what has transpired? Maybe. Was I pissed? Very.

People are strange. I just want to eat my chicken in peace.