I Have a Confession

Been dating the same guy for over six years now and moving in together is one big issue we have talking about more seriously recently. It’s really late by “normal” standards. If we were any other couple, we’d be living together by now, either married or already on the second child, if not both. But we are taking things slow mainly because my boyfriend has issues at home he has to smooth out first and once things are okay, we can consider moving in. So basically I’m waiting on him, the ball is on his court. For now.


Ever since I moved here in New York late 2005, I’ve had the same roommate. Things are not only doing well between us, but they’re going so great that even despite getting married and having a child, we still live together. She found us the perfect place in Queens – three bedrooms, two on one side, and across is her room. We never had issues about food, money, cleanliness, noise or having people over. This is probably the best situation I could ask for, especially when I first moved here, completely broke and unemployed.
I pay for two rooms because half the year, my mom is in town. She needs to be here to keep her green card status. But the first sign of snow, she packs and bails and stay in the Philippines with my grandmother so she can stay warm. The room becomes available and if my roomie has visitors, or if her mom visits, she can use the spare room. It’s a system that works, and I really don’t want to mess with it.


When the time comes that my boyfriend is ready to move in with me, we would need to start looking for a place. Luckily, we are both employed – we can pretty much afford a place in the city. But between us, I am probably the cheap one. Even if we can afford it, I really don’t like the idea of putting all our income towards rent. It sounds stupid. Ideally, a two bedroom in Astoria or Williamsburg would be great. It’s close enough to the city. And if we decide to have kids, both our moms would be close enough to come over and baby sit, but still not too far that they would have to sleep over.
That means I would have to break this nice relationship I have with my roommate. Luckily, she knows a lot of people – she can find someone who’d want my room right away.
I’d like to think my mom would still want to keep that extra room. I honestly don’t mind paying for the rent, and it’s nice that she’ll be with people I know and trust.


So here’s the confession: once the ball is on my court, I know how ready I would be by then.

I Don’t Ask for Much

Well, maybe I do. I don’t know.

I’m 32, still unmarried with no kids while friends and family are popping babies left and right, and I keep hearing engagement announcements. It’s like when my mom told me about Longchamp handbags. Ever since she mentioned it to me, I keep seeing them. I like to think that since I do wanna get married and have kids, and it’s an itch I keep picking on, that I keep seeing it around me.

Wanting to get married one day, and slash or wanting to have kids are very personal decisions. Along the way, you wish you meet someone who has the same wants as you. The bf and I are still on a stand off on this issue. He hasn’t told me he does NOT want to get married, or he does NOT want kids. He’s pretty flippant about it, he has mentioned going the surrogate route, but there are days he would say he just can’t stand kids. And if the day comes he decides he does not want either and tells me about it, sure, it would break my heart – frankly, would probably kill my mother who’s pining for a grandchild – it would be hard, but I chose to be with this particular man, I’ll probably still stay with him. Love is being with him; Commitment on the other hand is staying with him.

I’ve said it before, and I’ve said it to my boyfriend, that we are both reading the same book. Things are shaky at the moment not because we don’t love each other or because we always argue. It’s because we are just reading different chapters. Not only do I read fast, but I started reading the book ahead of him. He’s still catching up, and maybe he’s taking his time. If there’s anything I have to worry about, it’s if maybe he stops reading because he’s tired. Relationships can be tiring, I know because I am tired. I’m tired because I keep nagging him to read faster.

Maybe the reason marriage and having kids has always been important to me is because I put a lot of value on family. My family is bat shit crazy on both sides. I think all families are anyway. But the ones I have are my bat shit crazy. It’s the tribe I belong in. It’s my unit. And if anyone of them does not approve of my boyfriend, tough shit because this is what I’m bringing in to the tribe and they have to accept it inasmuch as I accept whoever they bring in. And here lies the dilemma: I am not accepted in his tribe. I look at my boyfriend and I see a man who loves me but can’t hold my hand to bring me in the drum circle. There is no lack of trying on my side. I’ve reached out to unanswered calls. I’ve watched from outside the edge of his family as they buried their dead. I’ve cried for their lost and they don’t even know it. I actually have the best relationship with my boyfriend’s dad who passed away a few months ago. I still visit him on some weekends to talk to him about his son. I like to think he listens to my inane monologues comprised of worries of failing to make his son happy and promises to take care of him. And a lot of begging for him to intervene for my sake.

There is still doubt. I still hope that my boyfriend wouldn’t know the pain of thinking of the way he should have held me closer. We have a love that neither of us had written in our plans, hence the uncertainty. And it’s ok. We will be eventually be on the same page of our book. I just have to wait.

I Almost Got Run Over by a Bike

I don’t care for Citibike. It’s nice, I guess. Good for the environment. Makes money for the city. But honestly, I already have a hard time dodging pedestrians and cars, now I have to look out for bikes as well.

I was crossing 54th to Barnes and Noble after a being disappointed from not finding any Parker Pens in Sam Flax when in my periphery, I saw a bike careening towards me. I was busy diddling with my phone, chatting it up with four friends. My only saving grace was I have the light. On the other side, I can hear an old lady screaming.

I clenched. I did not run away. I did not scream, not even a yelp. I just waited to be hit.

But the biker tried to turn. He swerved too fast though. He started falling and he skidded.

I helped him get up and grabbed his bag. I actually apologized. I blurted something in the line of “I have the light” but he started yelling. I thought he was calling me a stupid bitch. And then I saw that he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking behind me. To the old lady. And as I turned, I realized what was happening. She was yelling at him for not slowing down. She was yelling that he could have ran over an old lady.

In my own near miss accident, no one was paying attention to me. No one even noticed my new eyeglasses.


Getting Old and Growing Up

Just saw a recent episode of New Girl. Early on the episode, Nick was talking to a homeless guy (not the first time he did this) looking for advice about making decisions as a grown up. He just lost his father and felt that everything can be taken away from you unexpectedly, and that he worries about his relationship with roommate Jess.

I thought, “Grow up, Nick.”

— — —

I’m still conflicted about my boyfriend’s dad passing away. Passing away – I hate that term. Sounds like he just happen to be in the area, walking from point A to Point B, and he just passed by me. But in this case, he did. I saw tears, grief, mourning during the wake – and I honestly felt sad. I don’t know if it’s because I felt bad for everyone there, the same way I felt sad when I saw A Walk to Remember, the same way I cry over sad movies. I don’t know if it’s because I felt bad for my boyfriend and his siblings, and being sad is the only closest I could feel to losing a parent since I’ve never lost one and I can’t find anything to compare it with. Maybe I just felt sad because I don’t know my boyfriend’s dad, and now I never will.

I don’t know what my boyfriend is going through. I feel helpless because there’s nothing I can offer to help. I do not have the tools for this. But in a very selfish way, he does not know what I’m going through either. He’s mourning because he lost something he had. I’m mourning for something I’ll never know.

— — —

I had cousins come over from Toronto and had a good time taking them around the city. Granted that it’s the most tourist-y areas in the city, I know by the abundance of pictures they took that they enjoyed the lights of Times Square and the view in Battery Park. Also introduced them to halal street meat, also known as heaven in a styro plate. Pictures were uploaded on Facebook, and I gleefully viewed every single one of them.

My favorite one was of my mom when she was visiting them the week before. She was surrounded by her “grandkids” – my cousins’ children, none of them older than ten. She looked very happy.

— — —

My body is killing me. I must have slept in an awkward angle because the muscles over my right shoulder blade are together in deciding I should be in physical pain for the length of whatever time frame they agree on. I had a massage to loosen them up, and I did get some relief that lasted the duration of the massage. It’s been a few days and the pain is slowly going away, but it is still uncomfortable to sit up straight.

Nothing is sexier than the red bear prints tattooed on my back next to Salonpas heating patches and smelling like a hospice.

— — —

I’m worried I’m getting old too fast. I’m worried my dad will be taken away from me unexpectedly. I’m worried my mom would be too old to play with my non-existent child. I’m worried my shoulder and back would be too frail for me to hold up a child.

And I thought, “Grow up, Ken.”

Forty Days and 40 Nights

Updates during Lent

I moved to the US around July 2002, which makes 40 Days and 40 Nights probably one of the movies I last saw in the Philippines. IMDB says about the movie:

After a brutal breakup, a young man vows to stay celibate during the 40 days of Lent, but finds the girl of his dreams and is unable to do anything about it.

I can totally relate to that. Except I didn’t have a break. And the young man is youngish. I wasn’t celibate. And change “girl” to “iPod”.

For Lent this year, I gave up my iPod. I’m almost positive this is not the first time I’ve done it. But I have the newest iPod at the moment, with a camera and can do Instagram, and has Vine. It’s harder to let go of this iPod, and I find myself constantly looking for WiFi hotspots when I’m out ad about the city. Also, I discovered podcasts, and I’ve spent hours and hours of listening to comedians talk about mundane everyday stuff, of catching up with the news by watching Rachel Maddow’s previous night’s episode that I can never catch live on tv, of being mesmerized by Ira Glass’ voice. I know they are hungry kids in Africa, and somebody is probably being molested at this very moment, but I am not thinking of either when I say I don’t think I can’t live with my iPod and giving it up for forty days and forty nights is probably gonna be hard. But I did it, come Ash Wednesday morning, I got a cross on my forehead and I turned off my iPod.

I use my iPod primarily for tuning out everyone for my 45-minute commute in the subway. It’s a good way to remove yourself from the time and space continuum – swipe your Metrocard, hop on the M or the R train, drown myself to a podcast, then POOF, it’s been 45 minutes and it’s time to get off the train. Without it, I had no idea how to kill time in the train.

I ended up reading for the most of the time. I really can’t read and listen to my iPod, so the intellectual hobby of reading was let go in favor of chatter of funny people. And I realized how much I do love reading. I used to say I love bookstores and libraries because it’s filled with knowledge I do not know and ideas I’ve never thought of, and I like physical books bound in paper and I like surrounding myself in my room with them because these are the tangible evidence of the knowledge I do know and ideas I have thought of. Luckily, I have a mom and a dad that are both readers.

So here I am now, Easter morning, roughly six weeks after I washed the ash off my forehead – I turned on my iPod and was inundated with software and app updates. I clicked Update All, grabbed my phone and fired up my Kindle app and continued reading The Shining which I am reading for the first time.