So now you tell me you’re satisfied
You strut around with your 10-month old baby and that wedding band in your finger, looking down on my warped views regarding love and my commitment issues. You thought I didn’t notice how you cringed in disdain when I told you how marriage is something I might not want to pursue given the relatively slim pickings of men actually worth marrying. How could you have changed this much? You who used to be fun and more flirty than I was. You who had no qualms about sleeping with rich chubby guys on your first date. You who had probably slept with more men than I did. You who laughed at my dating horror stories and my occasional embarrassing moments of naivety with men who were about to take advantage of me.
What happened to you?
Haven’t you noticed that things have been different between us after you got yourself pregnant? We used to be the best of friends. When you told me you had gotten yourself accidentally pregnant and you were marrying your on and off boyfriend, Muscles, for six years, I wondered why it took you a week to tell me. I suppose you probably were ashamed and had to wait for Muscles’ decision to do the right thing and marry you. How could you have been so dumb? I thought you were so much smarter than this. You who swear on the efficacy of Provera. You who frequently chastised me for not practicing safe sex as much as you did. You who laughed at my mastery of the Natural Family Planning method.
You who got yourself accidentally pregnant after a weekend of debauchery with the man whom you told me was possessive, emotionally weak, had unethical values and whom you have sworn to me repeatedly was not the right man for you.
So, who’s the smart one now?
And now you tell me that you’re deliriously happy. You have a baby, a husband and the security you needed which you didn’t get when you were still boyfriend-girlfriend. You have deluded yourself into thinking that getting married to you has made him change his ways. Go ahead, continue your delusions, while I keep my mouth shut and not tell you about how HotNurse told me that Muscles still flirts blatantly with his students. Of how a few days before you two got back together, Muscles told HotNurse that it will be a long time before he actually thinks of getting married to anyone. Of how Muscles was not ready to get married but was only forced to make that decision because he got you pregnant. Of how once when you were pregnant, HotNurse, Muscles and I went drinking and they made me swear not to tell you. Of how HotNurse and Muscles would go out with the rest of the boys and meet girls they would then end up having one-night-stands with, and then he would go back home to your loving arms and warm bed, telling you that he only went drinking.
How could you actually believe that getting married was the solution to an unwanted pregnancy? How could you believe that a mere sheet of paper was the catalyst that could make him change his ways? How could you be so darn ignorant so as to think that marriage has actually brought you security and contentment?
And you wonder why you’re getting fat despite having lost the post-partum weight. That’s stress. Somewhere in your subconscious, you know you are unhappy. You know you are not contented with the marriage. Despite that marriage certificate and the baby, you know there is still a void that he has not fulfilled in your life. And it’s eating you. And your body is manifesting your frustrations by refusing to hydrolyze the lipids in your system and fooling your hypothalamus to think that you will never reach that point of satiety.
You are one of the reasons why I no longer believe in the purity of marriage. You are one of the reasons why I would like to take my time in finding the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I no longer care that I am close to my 30’s and friends are worried that I might become That Pretty Girl in the group who remains single. If I ever get accidentally pregnant by someone who cannot provide for me a lifetime of bliss, I will keep the baby, allow him the opportunity to spend time with it but I will not marry him. I will take my time. I will not settle. I will make sure that in the end, I will not regret.
That unlike everybody else, I will truly be happy.
So go ahead. Convince yourself that you are happy. Look down on my series of broken hearts and failed relationships. Feel sorry for my current lifestyle of loneliness. Pity me for still being single and unattached. Persuade yourself that one day you will never hear your husband tell you the most hurtful words you will ever hear in your entire life: that he only married you because he got you pregnant. Convince yourself that unlike me, you are now living the life that you’ve always wanted. Go on, dream.
We both know anyway that’s all just a fantasy.
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It’s A Sign
I believe in God.
I don’t exactly attend mass regularly and I almost always forget to say my nightly prayers before I fall asleep. Still, I believe in a higher being who knows everything that we do and is responsible for everything that happens in our life.
So when HotNurse’s motorcycle gets a flat tire for the 3rd time since we started seeing each other, I knew it was a sign, that God was watching me and telling me to stop sleeping with someone who has a girlfriend.
“Shit!” he cursed, as he put the vehicle to a stop.
“We have a flat again?”
“Yeah. But I think there’s a nearby repair shop around here somewhere.”
As we waited for the repairman to do his thing on the motorcycle, I looked at HotNurse inquisitively. “Didn’t you just have the tires replaced last week?”
“Yeah, I know! I don’t know why this is happening to me! A couple of weeks ago, the front wheel got a flat. A week ago, the chains broke and I had to replace them. I had to change the tires as well, since I was already at the repair shop anyway. And now, this!”
“Haven’t you realized we’ve never been out together without your motorcycle falling out on us?”
He laughed. “I know!”
“Maybe God is trying to tell us something.”
“Like what?”
“That we’re both committing a sin against your girlfriend and we’re not even supposed to be seeing each other anymore.”
Hot Nurse didn’t laugh. I guess he didn’t find it as funny as I did.
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When I finally decided that
HotNurse and I should stop sleeping with each other, we fell into a comfortable relationship that played with my emotions just as much as if I was sleeping with him.
We were like bestfriends who flirted madly with each other.
He told me he had broken up with his girlfriend, but it hasn’t ended that amicably so he still needed to talk to her again after she get backs from her vacation outside the country. It was as if he was justifying his actions to want to sleep with other people, but not wanting to commit to them, since he believed that strictly speaking, he was still attached and unavailable.
Suffice it to say, he drove me crazy with all the mind games. And I tried pushing his buttons for as hard as I can push, just to see if I even mean anything more to him.
So, I started dating someone else, TheBusinessman. HotNurse was hurt but he just let me and instead got so pissed off drunk one time that he was ready to invite all his brothers from the fraternity to the club where TheBusinessman and I went to for our date.
The thing is I knew HotNurse liked me. And he knew I liked him. But I wanted more from him. I wanted him to commit to me. And he wasn’t ready for that.
So, we continued with our charade of constantly seeing each other, going to clubs together, attending school functions together. People frequently thought I was his new girlfriend and even if we tried to correct their misconceptions, the way he accompanied me to the bathroom or the sight of us holding hands made other people think that maybe we were just trying to keep our couple status a secret.
He bore grudges against my ex-boyfriends, introduced me to his family and relatives, accompanied me to places I had to go to, performed the duties and responsibilities of a typical boyfriend. I brought him along during our class outings, helped him out with his grandmother’s surgery, flirted with doctors from the hospital that I was close with to ask for drugs and sutures for him, skipped classes to accompany him as he watched over his grandmother at the ward and bought drugs with him at pharmacies outside the hospital. I was making a lot of sacrifices from my part, for someone who wasn’t even his girlfriend and I felt that anytime soon, it was all going to pay off and he was finally going to tell me how he really felt about me.
So I waited for him to profess his love for me.
But it was futile.
Maybe it was because he was happy getting the benefits of a girlfriend without the complications of sex or commitment that he didn’t feel the need to elevate our relationship to couple status. Maybe it was enough for him that I wasn’t seeing anyone and neither was he. With every step I took forward, I felt him take two steps back. I guess he didn’t want things to change between us and he was contented with what he was getting from me.
But I was tired. Tired of expecting more from him.
Tired of waiting for his declaration of love for me that would not come.
Tired of loving him without getting anything back in return.
I could have still tried to push his buttons, but I no longer wanted to. I finally resolved to accept the fact that he only had nothing but friendship for me and it was time that I let go of the notion that he loved me more than that.
So I started dating someone else, got myself a new boyfriend too soon, much to HotNurse’s shock and dismay. I didn’t care anymore what he thought. I felt that I had given him more than enough time to make his move. HotNurse and I remained friends but we began seeing less and less of each other until he got himself a new girlfriend as well.
HotNurse and I are both single now and he would still text me occasionally. He was fond of texting me to refer a sick friend of his, or to ask me for a particular diagnosis, for appropriate management and drugs or for possible laboratory procedures available in our area. I had started to think that I was nothing but a walking Harrisons’ IM/MIMS to him.
Still, that didn’t stop me from texting him back.
I admit some part of me is probably still inlove with the HotNurse who used to be my bestfriend, hence, why I can still never say “No” to him everytime he asked for my help. Some small part of me is probably still hoping that we can be together someday. I know we’d be good together. I just don’t know if he realizes that.
There’s a popular belief that couples who end up getting married to each other frequently resemble each other. JaneDoe once said that because he and I looked a lot alike, maybe we’d be the ones who will end up together someday.
Frankly, I still have mixed feelings about that.
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I met
HotNurse at the ward when I brought a patient in whom I had to weigh before I can calculate his appropriate drug dosage.
HotNurse was sitting behind the Nurse’s Station along with two other male nurses. The boys struck up a flirtatious conversation with me and I managed to make a simple weighing session – which ordinarily lasts less than a minute – take more than 5 minutes. I was loving the attention and I found one of them particularly cute. Therefore, it didn’t take me much persuasion to hand them my number and I left the ward, feeling all giddy and excited.
All three of the boys actually started texting me but it was HotNurse who struck the most interesting conversations with me. But the thing was, my flirtatious encounter at the ward with him and his friends happened in such a blur that the combination of awkwardness, shyness, dealing with the fears that I am not sounding witty enough, or smart enough or if maybe I’m showing too much teeth or maybe I’m not sucking my stomach in more all resulted to me not having caught them introducing their names. I couldn’t attach their name to the face or the person and this was a problem since I found HotNurse particularly likeable but I wasn’t sure which one he was from the two others.
Major dilemma since I had decided to meet him for drinks after my duty at the hospital.
When he finally texted me that he was parked right outside the ward, I looked outside and saw him, the cute one from the ward. I was relieved but slightly disappointed as well, since I didn’t realize that he was such a big man.
Now, I usually am not into big men and I personally preferred the tall lanky ones, but he was just simply too good-looking that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. We had a drink with a common friend of ours, the husband of one of my closest friends from highschool. I realized that HotNurse was one of the most fantastic conversationalists I have ever met. It didn’t take much for me to secretly fall inlove with him but it was just sadly not meant to be. He had a girlfriend which he was in a serious relationship with, and despite the fact that he also slept with a lot of other women, the thought of breaking up with his girlfriend to be in a serious relationship with me was not something that he would particularly consider.
Because I was not a virgin and I didn’t fit his standards for a trophy girlfriend.
So, instead, he used me. And I let him. Twice. After which he never showed his face to me again.
He still continued texting me, with the excuse that he couldn’t see me because he was reviewing for his NCLEX. When he finally passed, he came back, tempting me with joyrides, kwek-kwek at the Boulevard and a whole lot of drinking sessions. We got drunk and I found myself sleeping with him once again.
Used once again for the third time. And I knew that it finally had to stop.
The thing about sleeping with someone without any strings attached is that we, women, cannot usually separate our emotions from the banality of the act. The act of exchanging sexual fluids somehow magnifies our bond with that person. We cannot make ourselves simply enjoy the act for what it is – a dirty, sensual and orgasmic act – and for us to be able to truly lose ourself in the exhilaration, there always has to develop some sense of emotional attachment with the person we’re sleeping with.
This is why for women, sex is always the best when it’s with someone that you love.
That is the tragedy of a woman who is in a sexual relationship with someone who does not want to commit.
It almost always turns into an unrequited love.
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