Rain Part Deux
I eventually got used to the Frenchkissing.
But the thing about kissing that way is, once you started doing that, eventually it has to lead to something more. Your partner looks forward to covering the rest of the bases and wants to accomplish that soon. A day before I was about to fly home for semestral break, Rain and I went to watch a movie. As we kissed in the dark, he started putting his hands around my face. Eventually, he started kissing my earlobe and neck region and when his hand started going lower, aiming for my breasts, I finally panicked and grabbed his hand to stop him.
Repeatedly. As one failed attempt just made him want to do another.
And another.
And still another.
While I continually refused to let him.
It got to a point that I didn’t want him to even kiss me anymore, because it will only give him an opportunity to try to attempt to put his hand inside my shirt again. But I never got mad at him, just kept stopping him whenever he tried to cop a feel. When we left the moviehouse, it was as if nothing out of the ordinary happened and we did not even discuss the incident except for his passing comment that he was sleepy and that next time, we should sleep together in a place somewhere in Sta. Mesa. I mumbled yes, not really thinking much about it, assuming that sleeping together meant relaxing and simply talking with each other while resting our weary backs in a bed until we actually literally fall asleep, and I was completely unaware then that Sta. Mesa was filled with a lot of cheap motels that offered plenty of short-time bargains.
As I went through my vacation, I pondered how I was going to approach my situation with Rain. I was curious, yes, but I wasn’t ready for all that touching the breasts kind of thing. He was just going too fast for me, who hasn’t had much experience in this field. I was hoping we wouldn’t get to the touching of erogenous zones until after two to three months of us dating but clearly, this wasn’t going to be the case with Rain. Plus, I didn’t really love him enough for me to actually want to do these things with him. I needed a certain level of comfort to be able to even consider doing these things with a guy and I certainly wasn’t feeling it with him. Until finally, I realized that the best way for me to get out of this situation was to break up with him.
When I got back to the big city, I started being cold and I refused to take his calls. When he finally cornered me at home one Sunday evening, I didn’t even want to prolong the agony with useless chit-chat.
“Hey, I’ve been calling you up again and again. Why didn’t you return my calls?”
“I’ve been busy, Rain.”
“So, how have you been? I missed you, you know. Are we still on for mass tonight?”
“Listen, Rain, we need to break up.”
“What?”
“I’ve realized that I never really loved you in the first place.”
I think his jaw must have done some major dropping. His eyes looked slightly red. I don’t know if it was from holding back tears or from smoking pot (my cousins suspected that he probably smoked pot considering that his eyes looked partially shot most of the time and he lived in the next street from ours, where a lot of drug addicts apparently took residence).
He finally stood up from his seat. “So this is it then?”
“Yes.”
I really didn’t know of any comforting words to say to him. Plus I didn’t want to. I just wanted to get out of the relationship and get a clean break from him. The truth is, that was one of the most difficult things I had to do – to be heartless and a complete bitch to a guy who thought I was inlove with him. I’ve always been a nice girl, peace-loving, non-confrontational. Much as I might have toyed with Rain’s feelings a bit, making him think that I was inlove with him this whole time, I could have been nicer to him during the break-up. But I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea that there could still be any chance if he actually begged me. I seriously just wanted him to get out of my life so I can finally move on.
“Okay, goodbye then.”
“Goodbye.”
I called for him as he was about to walk out of the door. “Rain, I’m really sorry.”
He shrugged. “If that’s what you want, I respect that.”
I could only heave a huge sigh of relief as I watched the distance between us grow bigger and bigger.
Until I couldn’t see him anymore at all.
Why My Friends Should Never Set Me Up
HottestMama - not to be confused with HotMama, because Hottest is so much hotter - was an old classmate of mine from highschool who has been my favorite gimik buddy and partner in crime for the recent past few years.
Before she got herself pregnant and ended up getting married, that is.
When I told her that I had been recently seeing a married man, her married sensibilities were horribly offended and thus, she took it upon herself to set me with someone else. Pronto! She then decided to text a friend of her husband, SomeGuy, whom she has been wanting to set me up with for quite some time.
Hottest Mama: Hey SomeGuy! Dis s d prfct tym to start txtn [mistress]
SomeGuy: Y?
Seriously guys, if you are single and you wanted to meet girls, never ask the person who wants to set you up with her WHY you should go out with her friend. It’s a buzzkill. Do you even have to ask? It’s not as if she’ll actually want to set you up with someone really bad. Are you gay? Do you not want to meet someone special? Don’t you even want to get laid? If you weren’t interested in meeting someone new, just say so. Simple English never hurt anyone.
Seeing that SomeGuy was a no-show, she decided to tap the testosterone pool in her workplace and finally aimed in a winner at a guy we’ll call TheNurse. Not as hot as HotNurse but a nurse still.
The guy started texting me and I found out we both came from the same highschool, only he was two years younger than I was, he came from a family of nurses (like 89.99% of people in this darn country), he regularly watches the same cheesy girly-girly soap opera as I did and he used to go to the gym regularly but has stopped, hence he is now frequently teased by co-workers because he apparently resembled the protagonist in Kung Fu Panda.
And while we’re at it, if a girl tells you that, “Hey! I haven’t seen that movie yet but I’ve wanted to watch it,” and you know very well that said movie is showing at movie theaters, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she wants you to ask her if she’d like to watch the movie with you. Get a clue, for God’s sake.
But I disgress.
TheNurse didn’t exactly text me as much as I would have wanted him to in order to ensure me that he was definitely interested. But all in all, despite the fact that TheNurse wasn’t a great text conversationalist, I did find a few common interests so I mentally filed him as a “Maybe” in my mental file folder of guys I might consider going out with in the future if they asked me.
Now, like everything else in this country, dating nowadays utilizes two very important tools: texting and the Internet, or Friendster in particular. As my profile was private, he then asked me to add him up into my friends list so that he can view my complete profile and browse through my pictures. I did so the next day.
And then he just disappeared off the face of my inbox.
I didn’t hear from him anymore.
I started thinking, what the f**k? Was he intimidated by all the things I’ve written in my profile? Or maybe he thought I wasn’t pretty enough. I don’t think I looked that bad in my pictures. I actually looked fantastic in most as I tried to post only those which showed my good sides. The only ones who seemed dubious were those that were uploaded by a good friend which I just couldn’t find the heart to delete even if I looked like crap because I didn’t want to hurt my friend’s feelings if she noticed that I didn’t post them.
I started becoming insecure about my looks. I looked at my photos and began finding fault in every picture.
This picture makes me look fat.
This one makes me look like I just woke up.
This shows my chubby cheeks.
This one, I just look average and boring.
And then I clicked on HIS profile and saw him. The 1”x1”-sized default pic that was so blurred it was probably taken using an old 1 megapixel cameraphone, the numerous pictures shared with about 30 others of his highschool classmates probably taken 10 years ago, making his face look the size of a sesame seed, the only clear picture of him showing him with three other friends probably taken 5 years ago when he was still regularly going to the gym as he seemed to still look very much in shape, the stupid idiotic childish things he wrote in his profile that would have been funny for me, if I was still in highschool, that is.
And I felt better.
It wasn’t such a loss after all.
