How Many Is Many
DocS was the one of the deans of the medical school where I came from. Because he was a member of a family-owned educational institution, he asked me and some of my classmates to help him conduct the annual physical examination of all of the elementary and highschool students of the said educational institution. We all rode in his van and he drove us towards the said institution, with me sitting in the front seat with him while the rest of my classmates sat at the back. As he started grilling us about school, the review, my former highschool classmate who is a niece of his, our conversation shifted to the more personal and interesting questions.
“So, [Mistress], when are you getting married?”
I laughed. “Di ko pa alam, DocS. Di ko pa po iniisip yan sa ngayon.”
“Why not? You should start thinking about settling down already.”
A polite smile was my only reply.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
My classmates laughed from the back. They were all aware of my sordid stories of the men who had come in and out of my life. “Uhhh… no.”
“Why not? Didn’t you have a boyfriend when I interviewed you during your application to the medical school?”
Uhhh… that was eons of years ago, I wanted to tell him. But instead I just smiled.
“And I think I saw you before with some guy, I just can’t remember when it was.”
“Which one, doc?” I asked him. After which my classmates laughed. They thought I have just incriminated myself to one of the deans from our school by implying that I was a slut.
“What? So you have had many boyfriends?”
I simply laughed him off and ignored his question.
Darna then whispered to me jokingly that I should just keep my mouth shut because I am forgetting that I was talking to the Dean of Student Affairs, who was the henchman for knowing the personal stories and reputations of all medical students in the medical school.
So, how many really is many? And how many boyfriends is appropriate enough? How many boyfriends will a girl have had to be labeled a slut? Does having had a number of boyfriends, regardless of whether or not I was monogamous to them (I was, by the way, 100% of the time!), of whether or not I slept with them, or whether or not I was truly madly deeply inlove with them, label me a slut? Does the simple fact that the number of guys whom I have called “My Boyfriend” are more than the number of fingers in my one hand evidence enough to categorize me as a slut?
I do not really consider myself a slut. Yes, I have had numerous relationships, a lot more than I would care to but I regretted none of them. I did not sleep with all of them. I do not wish to tell the actual number of boyfriends I have had but rest assured that I can still count them using the fingers in my hands. I will admit though that I have only fallen truly deeply madly inlove thrice in my life.
I once heard in some show at the Discovery Channel that a person will fall inlove about an average of three times in his entire lifetime.
So, does this mean that three is the magic number?
You tell me.
Rendezvous
“Scoot over, [Mistress]. I’m feeling sleepy.”
I scooted over to the side, my breasts practically flattened to the wall, as another classmate squeezed in his huge frame between myself and TheIdealMan in the miniscule bed. “Oh, guys, come on,” I muttered, “I can’t breathe in here!”
My classmates laughed. Another day at the PGI Quarters. A full-blown whole-day citywide brown-out and a 5:00 PM class with Dr. Lee at Radiology has resulted into my hanging out at the PGI Quarters at noon. I wasn’t really much of a siesta person so I figured, since the hospital has a generator and all, it would probably be a cooler place for killing time than sweating like a pig and dying of boredom at home. Of course, I had forgotten that lunchtime was usually the time of the day when the PGI Quarters was most packed.
Cocolee, official class clown-slash-heartthrob was in the middle of telling an anecdote about a former Psychiatry patient he met during his rotation at IM when my cellphone rang.
“Hello?”
Yup… It was Mcplayer.
“Meet me at the Doctor’s Quarters. The one near the Burn Ward?”
I smiled. “What time?”
“Now.”
I laughed. “Okay.”
A quick tug-of-war between my hair and the hairbrush, a few strokes with the lipstick and a couple spritz of my perfume and I was all-set. I was about to walk inconspicuously out the door when Eve called me. We were both under Dr. Lee’s class but she usually comes in early because of – get this! – her insatiable appetite to learn… Yes, I too believe she must be suffering from some kind of a disease… “Hey, [Mistress], where are you going?”
Think, [Mistress], think. “Uhmmm… lunch.”
“I’ll go with you. I haven’t had my lunch yet.”
“Uhmmm…” Shit! What the hell— “I’m having lunch with my Mom.”
Eve scrunched her face. “Oh, well. No thanks. I’ll just wait for Doc Badz instead.”
I simply nodded and headed towards the Burn Ward, a cat-ate-the-canary smile practically pasted on my face. There’s something incredibly naughty about keeping secrets. The mere fact that you’re keeping something from other people makes rendezvous-ing so much more… what’s the word?… Delicious?…
And there he was, waiting for me by the door of the Doctor’s Quarters.
From afar, I can just imagine that expression on his face, as he watched me walk towards him. Those intense eyes, boring through me, as if he was planning to eat me up in one unexpected moment. The lips partly pouting, partly smirking, as if he knew something about me that even I didn’t know… He was very dangerous grounds, I know, but somehow, sparks flew and I was hooked to him like Mighty Bond between the pads of your fingers.
Mcplayer smiled at me and tugged on my hand as I walked into the Doctor’s Quarters. “Hi, baby,” he greeted, kissing me lightly on the cheek.
I grinned. “Hey, have you had lunch yet?”
“Yes. You?”
I nodded. “So, how was your day?”
He started playing with my hair, twirling them in between his fingers. “Don’t ask,” he answered, rolling his eyes for emphasis. “It was quite toxic at the ward this morning. Thank God that’s all done now. At least, now I finally get to rest.” He then leaned his head on my lap and closed his eyes.
“Oh, poor you,” I teased and started playing with his hair.
He laughed. “Stop! You’ll mess up my hair.” He then grabbed my hands and held them firmly, his fingers fitting perfectly in between my own.
I swatted him playfuly. “So, aren’t you going to ask how my day is?”
He looked at me guiltily. “Oh, haven’t I asked you yet?”
I laughed and pretended to look mad. “Heh!”
He laughed and held me closer. “Uyyy… hahaha… You’re mad at me…I’m sorry, baby. I’m just so tired. Okay, so how was your day?”
“I found out Rockstar got his new girlfriend pregnant.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Rockstar, your ex?”
I nodded.
“With the same girlfriend who was the reason why you two broke up?”
I pretended to look offended. “Did you have to remind me?… Yeah, I guess so. I heard his parents are having a problem right now because they can’t exactly get married yet since the girl is only 16 years old.”
“What did you feel when you heard the news?”
“I don’t know. Mixed emotions. Mostly, I felt surprised.”
“Knowing Rockstar, were you actually even surprised?”
“No. I was just surprised that it actually happened. I kinda felt sorry for him because from what I heard, he’s still jobless until now and now he’s become one of the statistics that he used to vow he would never become – an unwed father.”
“Too bad for him… Baby, that’s karma.”
“Yeah. I guess… Actually, I felt sad as well. More for myself, not for him.”
“Why? Do you still miss him?”
I laughed. “No… Honestly, I think I felt sad because… how come he got his girlfriend pregnant and not me?”
He laughed. “Aba! And you mean you actually wanted him to get you pregnant?”
I giggled. “Hehehe…Just kidding.”
“You know, it’s quite easy to get anyone pregnant. What’s difficult is to raise children.”
“Yes, dad,” I teased, kissing him quickly on the lips. “I was just joking.”
“But if you really want a baby,” he turned and before I knew it, my back was practically reclining on the white standardized sheets of the hospital bed, “I am quite easy to talk to. You want us to start making one now?”
I laughed. “Heh! You’re so bad!”
“No, I’m just being a good friend. You know, I’m always ready to lend a helping hand… So, if you really want to get pregnant now, I’ll lend you my body. Free of charge.”
I smiled. “You’re crazy!” I told him, before giving him a quick smack.
He then looked at me inquisitively. “Honestly speaking, I am not going to get mad. Do you think you’re completely over him?”
I looked at him and found myself surprised by what I saw in his eyes. It was fear, fear that he was actually going to lose me… Ha! I guess he has realized it so much earlier than I did… What started out as friendship, a fling, a relationship that was just supposed to test the waters has finally turned out to be so much more. Damn hell… how was it that I never realized it until now? Or maybe I was just so much in denial about it, afraid of getting hurt again, that I didn’t want to face what’s right there infront of me?… Until now…
Oh, shit. What the hell am I gonna do?
“I’m over him.”
“How sure are you?”
I looked at him. “I just do.”
He kissed the back of my hand and didn’t say another word.
“Baby?” I called.
“Yeah?”
“Wanna know something?”
“What?”
“I’m just as scared about this as you are.”
He turned to me, smiled and kissed my forehead. He understood. Words weren’t needed because he felt it too. And it was clearly enough for now.
My Grey’s Anatomy Moment
If you ever watched Grey’s Anatomy, you might have been familiar with Patrick Dempsey’s role as the hot neurosurgeon Dr. Derek Shepherd or Mcdreamy, as he was nicknamed by the surgical interns, who had an on-and-off relationship with the show’s protagonist, Meredith Grey, played by Ellen Pompeo.
I too had my Mcdreamy and his name was Mcplayer.
Mcplayer was one of the most brilliant non-married surgeons in the hospital where I once worked. We first met while I was still a clerk and he was my senior resident. We had a professional student-teacher relationship and because he was known to be brilliant in his field, I was at first glad to be under his team.
It was not love at first sight.
Mcplayer was not really as good-looking as Mcdreamy. He was short, but smart and very charming, a true testament of the phrase “Small but Terrible.” Like all famous brilliant minds, he was moody and was known for his temper. I, who was better known for my analyzing skills and not for my technical, was not an easy student to teach. Many times he would slap my hand hard if I was holding the forceps the wrong way during my suturing. My co-clerk and I were petrified of him so since there were two residents in our team, she and I would fight over who gets to assist the junior resident since nobody wants to assist Mcplayer and receive the brunt of his short temper first thing in the morning during our bedside rounds.
When I finished my rotation in Surgery and moved to another department of the hospital, we would occasionally bump with each other at the hallways, at the Clerk’s Quarters, where he frequently hung-out for a smoke, or during inter-departmental referrals. It was then that he started openly flirting with me. I was surprised by this overture and didn’t really take him seriously at first. He did, after all, have a reputation as a player and I was still intimidated by him. But I liked the attention so I started flirting back, subtly of course, and only when none of my classmates were around.
It came to a point that he had started sending me text messages to say he missed me, wherein I was letting him hold my hand affectionately and occasionally, cornering me in the toilet, for a quick kiss. I was single and bored at that time. I figured, okay, no harm in killing time with his guy until someone better comes along, so I played along with his flirtations until my rotation at the hospital ended.
The night after my last day of clerkship, he called me up on my cellphone.
“I want to see you.”
I laughed. “What? It’s the middle of the night.”
“Come on, let’s go out on a date. Are you free?”
I checked my watch. It was past 9 in the evening. “I’m already at home. You know I can’t go out anymore once I arrive at the house already.”
“Come on. Just get out for a while. We won’t take too long.”
I contemplated telling him goodnight and turning my phone off.
“Come on. Where do you live?”
I sighed in exasperation and I gave him instructions to the way to our house. “You can’t come over. My parents are here.”
“Just sneak out for a while. I’m driving and on my way there now.”
Annoyed but feeling somewhat excited, I told my parents I just had to load my cellphone at a nearby store and then I snuck out. I met him at the corner going into our subdivision and I hurriedly snuck into the front seat. We then drove towards my house and parked his car a couple blocks away from ours.
And then, he kissed me – lips, mouth, tongues all going into the crevices of my mouth – as if he had been dating me for a long time.
Now, as a Filipina, I had been brought up conservatively, but not strictly, by goal-oriented parents. Prior to Mcplayer, I’ve never just “hooked up” with anybody that quickly. I never kiss on first dates, did not have one-night stands (and still don’t, mind you!), only sleep with boyfriends I’m actually inlove with and never ever let strangers into my mouth without dinner and a movie first. Even when I started dating someone exclusively, it takes a few days before I start kissing a guy the French way.
But it must have been the dry spell – I haven’t exactly made out with anybody for almost a year prior to that – or the excitement of an older and so much more intelligent man – after all, how many clerks can brag that they have made out with the most wanted bachelor surgeon in the hospital? – that I found myself letting him kiss me and kissing him back as well.
So, like teenagers parked in some Lover’s Lane, we made out and interspersed conversations in between with major smooching sessions. Until we must have been making serious Titanic fogging on the windows, that the next thing he blurted out from the corner of his mouth while doing serious liplock with me was:
“Blow me, [mistress].”
Enter sound of album screeching to a halt.
I pulled away from him. Did I just hear him right? “Excuse me?”
“I said, blow me, [mistress].
I laughed. “Are you horny?”
“Yes, it’s your fault.”
Are guys really that easily stimulated? A simple tonguelock and they get a hard-on? I haven’t even made use of my moves yet. Hell, my hands haven’t even traveled anywhere below his clavicle.
“You’re serious?”
He smiled, looking a little pained – from the serious case of blue balls that he was developing probably. “Yes.”
I am sooo not giving a complete stranger a blowjob, a few meters away from my house, even if he is the hottest bachelor in town. It just totally goes against all my principles.
“Uhmmm… I can’t.”
“Come on… please?”
“No.”
“Come on… I’m so horny.”
I rolled my eyes. “How about we compromise?”
So we did. When I left his car a few minutes later, I was still shaking my head in disbelief how through some strange perverted way that even I until now cannot fathom, I had made out this well-known figure from the hospital, whose name will probably grace the pages of journals of the Philippine Surgery Association in the near future.
So now, he got himself a major case of the blue balls.
I, on the other hand, got myself a boyfriend.
- i only wish we could have looked this cute when we made out in his car -
