Menopause Came Early for Me..Inside The Demigoddess' Twisted Mind

I have been neglecting this blog lately.

I should be able to churn out at least one post a week, right? Well, if I have a steady supply of awkward moments, I should be able to blog more.

Before I forget, remember my last post when I kissed my girl K? Well, here's the most interesting part:

Some people I know actually saw that as it happened. It is a really odd feeling when someone comes over to you and says something along the lines of.....

"So, I was also at (insert name of place) two Saturdays ago. I was there with (insert a few names I recognized)....We wanted to say hi but you were busy..."

The only consolation is the fact that I have blogged about it before they said they saw my craziness.

Menopause came early for me. Well, not really but the mood swings have become really bad and more frequent lately and sometimes, when I'm alone at my apartment, I feel like blowing my head off. Except, I don't have a gun. I'm trying to make that sound funny but I know I suck at making a joke out of this.

When I told my sister I wanted to give up my apartment, she was aghast. I love my apartment. It's not that the place is too big for me (because it isn't) or that it is expensive (it is in a nice neighborhood) but when I'm alone on some nights and when everyone else cannot go out with me and I am at the peak of a crazy mood swing, I start thinking of the gun that I don't have.

One of my best friends, Tess, wants me to stay with her every weekend. She can't hang out at my place or go to the movies or get drunk with me because she has kids so she invites me to sleep over instead. She jokes about a lot of things all the time but her jokes are, as they say, half-meant.

"I don't wanna discover you at your apartment, ten days later, to be hanging from the ceiling," she told me yesterday morning when we were smoking inside her room.

"Or with my brain matter scattered on the floor?" I quipped.

"Um, think of how much work your dead body will entail if you fail to choose the right way to die...." She said thoughtfully.

"You have a point..." I laughed.

My mother went as far as getting mad at me for never staying at my apartment on weekends. She says I'm always out and spending too much money. If only she knows how much NOT staying alone at home has helped keep her daughter alive, she wouln't even complain. My sister complains that I don't live in my apartment anymore. I don't because it's so eerily quiet and lonely.

Normal people are comfortable with being alone, for example, at home. As for me, I was never normal so my separation anxiety and fear of being alone has become so severe this week that I don't wanna go home and sleep alone. Instead, I work 14-16 hours just to be in an office with a lot of people and then sleep over at a friend's house for a few hours and then go home to shower and get dressed and then go back to work.

I don't know what is wrong with me now. I find that so many things are not turning out right in my world. So far, only work has remained constant and it is one of the few things that are keeping me sane.

Where do I find a shrink around Cebu City?

Perhaps My Happy Ending Does Not Include the Existence of A Man in My Life

Last Saturday turned out to be one of those rare days where I discover something about me and in the process totally confuse myself. Whenever I do something totally out of character, I blame it on the booze. Oh yes. Booze is always the culprit.

My girl friend K and I haven't seen each other in a long time. We had been planning to go out for months and the plan finally pushed through last Saturday. We both had "issues" with our love life and bashing our partners and hating every other couple we see who are happily dating seemed like a great way to spend our Saturday evening. Over beer and chicken, we talked animatedly about our sort of sad love stories. Less than three bottles of beer later, my eyes were drooping and I was feeling more honest and bitter than ever. Again, it is the booze's fault.

"I wonder if I really loved her... " K tells me.

To which I responded in my most bitter tone:

" I don't even get phone calls lately...and he claims to love me. Bullshit! There's this girl at the party I was at just a couple of hours ago and she can't even put down the phone because she is talking to her boyfriend--HAPPILY! And she gets phone calls from her boyfriend somewhere in the other side of the world MANY times a day. I rarely get one."

K responds by pouring more booze and offering the glass to me. I downed it in one gulp.

I love you, K. I told her. It was true. I have always loved her. She had been with me through a lot of the shitty stuff that happened in my life. I have known her three years and since we met, we had been wonderful friends.

The beauty of having K as one of my best friends is she understands my quirkiness and we connect on a deeply emotional and intellectual level. For three years, I have often wished that she was a guy and wished she would become my boyfriend. There are so many great qualities this woman has and if only she was a guy, she would be perfect for me.

I watched K, secretly wishing that my man is as beautiful, thoughtful, as understanding and in love with me the way K loves me. She held my hand and looked into my eyes, a mixture of sadness and empathy and love for me that I had never seen in the eyes of any man in my life.

I leaned over and kissed her. It was a deep kiss. She kissed me back with the same urgency and need that I felt for her.

If only she was a guy....

Then again, if she were a man, she probably won't be the same K that I know and love so much.

I pondered about all the frustration I am feeling right now in my current relationship. I wonder if I am just fooling myself into believing that a relationship with a man will actually work.

I struggle with myself and my loneliness daily. I try to hide my frustration because I am, after all, THE Demigoddess and I have been so successful in being strong in my current long distance relationship. Not only do I struggle with this relationship, I struggle with my cynicism and distrust of men. Will I be happy with a man when I had been so scarred by them?

Perhaps, my happy ending does not include the existence of a man in my life. If that be the case, I will happily embrace my destiny.

Messing with the Wrong Woman

Of the many things that annoy me, it is married old men who hit on me that tick me off the most. On top of that, it is when the same men parade as a friend and then try to sweet-talk you into sleeping with them that makes me go ballistic.

Consider this conversation I had yesterday with a dude over SMS. If he knew he was gonna mess with the wrong woman, I bet he won't even consider sending me a message. I knew this dude from networking: friends of friends. Yesterday, he sent me a seemingly innocent message asking me where I was. I then told him I was chilling out somewhere and asked him "What's up, dude?"

Then he throws me a curve ball, totally unexpected considering (1) I never showed any interest whatsoever, (2) he is married and (3) he is waayyyy too old.

He says:

" I wanna spend time with you in a private room."

I nearly choked on my broccoli.

I had to re-evaluate the situation and choose between ignoring him or teaching him an unforgettable lesson.

"My time is not for free", I told him over text.

"Like how much?" he responds.

I wanted to see how far he will go, so I said "How much can you afford?"

He sends me a message back and tells me, "Name your price".

I left it at that for about an hour, all the while feeling sorry for his wife. Well, I have no idea what kind of relationship he has with his wife and I honestly don't care. I just wanted to give him a piece of my mind, though (because I'm a biatch like that).

So I sent him this message:

"I want you to read this many times before you send me a message again. I know your wife. I am not a prostitute. I wonder how many women you have propositioned? Get a prostitute for this kind of job. Frankly, I won't sleep with you for whatever price."

I know that wasn't right because..

....it wasn't harsh enough.

Okay, perhaps that was a bit harsh. But he started it and I didn't provoke him.

Still, I am not passing judgment and I am not gonna discuss morality here. What he does with his life is his choice. I just wanted to drive a point: I have a really harsh tongue especially for married, old men, who intend to cheat on their wives.


And I know that message won't stop him. If he wants to cheat on his wife, he will with another woman. It is only a matter of time before a woman--blinded with his money--will agree to go to bed with him on one condition: that he wears a paper bag over his head.

I have a harsh tongue and that's because this pissed me off. Sue me. Or leave a comment.

Quickie (Nope, not TMI)

I never wear jeans.

Until last weekend.

I had mentioned in a previous blog that I never wear jeans just because I don't like it. Well, in fact, I don't like the way it bulges around my midsection. I have always been very insecure about my weight. At five feet four and 120 pounds and some belly fat, I felt that wearing jeans made those lovehandles rather obvious.

Nearly two months ago, just around the time when I quit my last job and went on a thirty-day vacation (stuck at home was more like it) I started eating less and less. I didn’t call it dieting at first because I wasn’t very serious about losing weight. I have tried it many times but I didn’t have a strict weight loss plan so I had given up losing weight and just had to be content with being 120 pounds.

So during my 30-day vacation, I just didn’t need as much food because I didn’t do anything strenuous. About two weeks in, I noticed that my jeans skirts didn't fit snugly anymore. I continued eating as little as possible then went on a whole wheat bread-cucumber-lettuce-tomato meal twice a day for a few more weeks….

And what do you know? After “a handful” dizzy spells while my body was getting used to my new diet and that one time when I nearly passed out, I am finally back to wearing jeans again. I dropped from 120 to 105. Last Saturday, I wore jeans to the office after a looooong time. Hurrray for veggies! Nope, I don’t have the Jessica Alba body. Yet.

On another note, as you may have noticed, I hadn’t been posting and visiting blogs lately. My work takes much of my time but as I have mentioned many times before, I could lose my job but I will never stop being a blogger (I might slack off in blogging sometimes though but never at work). I promise to catch up. I wonder what juicy things you guys have been posting on your TMI’s, huh?

What other things have I been doing?

Being in love is one thing....

After S.H. (ehem, initials. Hint. Hint) visited me in April, I feel like I have found my direction again. After our first break up, I kind of let myself and my career slip out of my hands and I allowed myself to feel sad. I jumped into a relationship after that even if I knew from the start it was wrong for me. Now that things are better between me and Sevgilim (English: My Love), I think I have found my bearings again. We had a plan to be together in another country and now we’re back to working on making that happen.

Learning Turkish is (although impossibly hard!) one other thing that I spend a lot of my time on. It's always good to be able to communicate with the one you love using his language. He already knows English so I need to catch up and be serious about learning Turkish. I have always liked songs in other languages, too, and when I started listening to Turkish pop star Hande Yener, I fell in love with her music. Listening to music also helps in learning the language.

So, that's just a quick update about me.

I think things are looking up finally. I hope it stays this way for a long time.

And it is safe to say I am very in love and happy.

TMI Thursdays: Gay Bar FAIL

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, "how many readers can I estrange THIS week??" TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else's!***


Um, Excuse Me. Where Do I Find The "Gangbang" Room?

I used to live in a city that might as well be considered the strip club capital of the province. You would find strip clubs and gay bars just as easily as you would find a convenience store.

Sometimes, when I pass by this particular club, I would find girls propositioning foreigners and inviting them inside the club by saying "Chicken Legs, sir". The name of this particular club is "Chicken Legs". Don't ask why the bar owner chose that name.. Didn't you ever wonder why there is chicken porn?

A few weeks before my (first) wedding, my friends and I decided to go to a gay bar called "Tarzan Boi". The creativity of these bar owners never fail to amaze me. On hindsight, I think it was me who convinced the other girls to go to a gay bar rather than them being "thoughtful friends" who wanted to show me other naked men before I get hitched. Unfortunately (or fortunately) they are not that kind of friends.

When we arrived, the place wasn't very packed. We huddled at the door, shoving each other to move away from the entrance and screaming to our nearest companion: "You first. No you go in first!" for about 30 seconds before one of us tripped over a wire and the rest rushed to the nearest couch to avoid getting smacked in the head. We all piled up on the couch closest to the stage.

My friends were naturally shy and conservative but there they were, forced to look upon (read: check out) the dancers' packages because what good is a front row seat at a gay bar if you don't check out the dancers' packages, right? Tell me, is there someone out there who went to a gay bar who really wanted to see how graceful the dancers are?

(cricket sounds...)

No one. Yeah, I thought so.

About an hour later, we were all very tipsy and started to get really chatty and noisy.

Yours truly had been curious for sometime so I asked:

"Dude, how do they keep their dicks up for hours?"

I said it in the dialect so I assure you it sounded sexier, er, more vulgar.

"Viagra, of course," the rest of the girls chorused.

"I don't think so." I retorted. "Can one of you ask? Friend 1, can you ask him how these dudes keep their erection for hours?"

And having said that, I instructed her to take the flashlight and turn it on and off so that one of the waiters will come to our table and maybe, along with giving him our orders, we can also ask if he knew how these guys keep their erections.

But then, that flashlight wasn't really used to get the waiter's attention.

Within a few moments, the lights dimmed.

The crowd grew silent.

And the dancer on stage stopped dancing, approached my friend and gave her a lap dance.

Some time within that 2-3 minute lap dance, my friend had squirmed like a live shrimp, grimaced, threatened to shave my head while the rest of us urged her to "touch it, touch it or I will break this (bottle) on your head".


And as the dancer shimmied and "lap danced" at her face, she pointed a finger gingerly at his package, touched the dick and grimaced, squirmed and threatened some more. She should have touched more. She had to pay for that dance eventually.

Later....

Full bladders needed to be emptied after nearly two hours of drinking beer. I went first and asked the waiter for directions to the ladies' room.

"It's just beside the stage. There are two doors. It's the one on the right side."

I made my way to the restroom, trying my best to act composed and walk straight.

I pushed the door open. I pushed with more strength than I needed only to realize I wasnt pushing any door. It was just a curtain and there wasn't a door behind that curtain.

I stumbled inside and lo and behold...

It was the dancers' dressing room.

They were all butt-naked. A few of them turned around, holding their dicks in their hands.

I wish I can say I closed my eyes. I didn't.
I also really wish I can say I stayed but I didn't.

I took one look at the guys jerking off while chatting with the rest of the boys, to let the vision sink in my memory before (I got married) I stumbled out of the door and back to my friends.

They had seen me going inside the dressing room that was clearly labeled on top of the door frame as the "Dressing Room: Dancers Only." Red-faced and embarassed, I begged if we can just all go home.

I confirmed one thing, though, and made sure I told my friends about it: their dicks only look huge when they are wearing underwear.

I'm pretty sure all my friends still thought I was lucky.

In Which I Admit I Love Drama

This is totally out of character and melodramatic but I will post it on my blog if only to remind me years from now that I was capable of...

(drum roll....)


listening to Jennifer Love Hewitt's cheesy love songs.

Alright, for all the JLH fans out there, I actually love some of her songs and some of her movies. Several days ago, I was on YouTube watching the movie If Only. If you haven't seen the movie, click here and become a movie pirate by watching it online.

So this is what that movie is all about.

After his impetuous musician girlfriend, Samantha, dies in an accident shortly after they had a fight (and nearly broke up), a grief-stricken British businessman, Ian Wyndham, living in London gets a chance to relive the day all over again, in the hope of changing the events that led up to her getting killed.

-source: www.imdb.com

The synopsis doesn't sound like it's a really awesome, ass-kicking love story and is in no way up there in my top love story movies list that includes The Notebook. What made me cry tons was the part where the dude realized how much he loved the girl only after she died.

It's really uberdramatic but like every other woman I know, I like drama once in a while.

Sadly and unfortunately true, we only realize how important our loved ones are after they're gone.

* * * * *

In memory of my friend, Marie Irish Gail Garma, who loved Jennifer Love Hewitt and who was murdered in 2006.